#is it a brilliant feat of architecture? yes

[lowpolybread]

this is just what happens when you visit st louis

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS 1x04: I Plunge to My Death

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Try Again | Loki x OC

Chapter 1 - (Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

Summary: Enjoying a holiday in Greece until a dreadful call changes it all...

Note: Ohhh I've posted it! okay, first of all, I am open to making a tag list to those interested, just tell me in the comments and I'll put you in. Two, this is the fastest fic i've finished and to me that's astonishing because as you may notice, most of my fics take me months to complete and in finishing this in a few nights is a feat to me. And third, understand that i am going back to class on Monday and thus i might not have as much time to update this as much but i promise i will be working on it and have patience with me. I am unreliable in consistency but I can promise results, even if the time is indefinite. The second chapter is in the works so bear with me and i hope you enjoy!

The sun rests low on the horizon, slowly dipping down amongst the waves. It turns the water a gorgeous shade of gold and the sky flies past in a flurry of bright and brilliant colours. Though as slow as the bright star sinks, it still let off a bit of heat. A welcoming warmth caressing the tanning skin of those still out, enjoying the last rays of the day before heading inside to avoid the chill night.

A child plays in the sand. Building castles of great architecture and collects shells and rocks of all forms and sizes, anything piquing his interests really. A bucket sat beside him and in it rests all his collected treasures. He uses some of the colourful shells and stones to decorate his castle, giving it colour amongst the muted tones of sand.

His mother sits not far from him, basking in the last of the heated rays before the inevitable task of packing up for the day. She watches her boy, clad only in his swim trunks, unruly obsidian curls bouncing at every movement as he fiddles and plays with his toys in sand.

A warm yet solemn smile painted her thin lips as she watched over her young one, seeing features oh so similar to her husbands. From his ivory skin and up to his emerald eyes, their son was but a copy of his father. The spitting image save for the too few features he had of her, like the scattered bloom of freckles that decorated the bridge of his small nose and cheeks.

He also seems to have gotten mannerisms eerily similar that of his father, despite the brief and few memories he had of him in their short time. The pick at his hands and furrow that would rest on his brows whenever he was confused or sad was just so like her husbands. It brought an overwhelming need to be protect him from the dangers of the world, but she knew that as he grew, she won’t be able to protect him from everything and the best she could do was to teach him how to protect himself. But as of now, she would do just about everything to keep him safe.

Just as the sun began to descend the horizon, the boy abruptly stood up and walked over to where his mother lay beneath an umbrella, clutching tight on the offering he wished to show his mother.

‘Mama!’ he called out as he reached near her.

‘Yes, my darling?’ she replies warmly.

‘Wook at what I found mama’ he urged for her to look once he reached the tail end of her towel, plopping down on her lap, causing her to grunt at the sudden weight while he thrusts his hands to her face, the offering in question presented. She moves to sit up, the young boy still in her lap as she adjusted her position and lifts her Ray-Ban’s to her head so to properly see whatever it was he so wanted her to well, see.

In his small hands, lay a green sea stone. Big enough to dwarf the small hands of a child like his own yet still small in the eyes of others. It rests softly in her son’s palms, smooth surfaced, and tinted seafoam, she understood why it would pick at her son’s interest.

‘That is beautiful love’ she praises, earning a prideful look from the little boy, his chest puffing out as his grin stretched much like a Cheshire cat. It earned a hearty chuckle from the mother, watching her son’s actions. Joyous and confident, much like how his father was before.

‘May I?’ she asked and once a nod was returned, she plucked the stone from his hands, holding it up to the sky. She hoped that what was left of the day was enough for the light to pass through the translucent glass and it did. The stone glowed bright like the waters before them.

A look of awe shaped the boy’s face, his mouth hung open as he stared at the rock, but the mother’s gaze only strayed for a bit before turning back to her son. The look on his face made every hardship worth it and yet again, it brought another wide grin to her face.

Pressing a quick kiss to his temples, she gave the rock back to him and still, he stared at it as if it contained magic. Taking the moment with his attention pre-occupied, she brushed away the sands stuck to his skin, from his face to his pale torso, she brushed away as much as she could, but the rest would have to be washed away when they get back to their room.

Speaking of which, she glanced at the sun, the sky a canvas of pinks, oranges and violets as the sun sunk down low enough and it now meant that it was time for them to pack up and head back inside.

Her gaze lingered in the horizon until a tiny voice called her back.

‘Mama’ the child called for her.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Do you think papa would wike this?’ he asked, turning her attention back to him. There had been few and brief times that his father was asked about and often this was the question asked. The other times he’d ask were always of his father’s character. Stories of the man were told and a picture of him was kept among the boy’s things as a remembrance, but it had been a long while since he’s asked of him again.

She stared at the orbs identical to her son’s fathers and she couldn’t help but think of him. His charming smile, his careful touch, his loving gaze, and intoxicating smell. She longed to be back in his once safe arms, but she couldn’t, and that truth is to be accepted.

‘Yes he would luv’ she answers. The truth was, knowing her husband, he’d love anything and everything their little boy gave him. From a card on Father’s Day and his birthdays down to a piece of cereal the boy had been eating, the man would have been grateful for anything his boy gave him.

 ‘Bwilliant’ he murmurs, and she just knows he will keep it safely stashed amongst the other things he thinks his father would like. It warmed her heart to have a son so kind and giving. It made her proud that he was growing up to be as so and she just hoped her husband would be as well.

‘Alright darling, we have to go pack up now. Go get your stuff and then we can go back to the room so you can have a bath and then dinner’ she explains to the young boy, tucking away the curtain of curls that hid his face behind his ears before cupping his cheek and giving his little button nose a kiss, causing him to giggle in her hold, his face scrunching up. ‘Alright?’

‘Okay mama’ he nodded to her command and set off to get his toys and treasures from the sand. Watching him pick up his stuff, she began to pack up as well. Tidying up the drinks and towel she had brough and place them in her bag before brushing off the bit of sand that stuck to her skin before putting on the blue summer dress atop her swimsuit for when they head back to their room.

The boy trudged back to her with a heavy bucket in hand and his kiddie camera slung around his neck. The bucket nearly overfilled with all the stones and shells he collected, along with the beach toys he used to make the castle.

Dropping it with a heavy grunt, the boy huffed and puffed at the exertion, causing his mother to stifle a laugh yet still a sound managed to escape, her hand immediately flying to muffle the sound but seeing it went unnoticed, she relaxed and dropped it.

‘A bit heavy love?’ she asks.

‘A wot heavy’ he says, emphasizing the word like a true drama king. Wonder who he got that from?

‘Alright. Now, do you want to wear a shirt before we go back?’ she asks, offering him the top he wore earlier.

‘No tank you’ he declines, shaking his head.

‘Alrighty then’ she puts his shirt back in the bag before slinging it on her left shoulder and picking up the castle shaped bucket (which did weigh a lot, no wonder her son panting) with her left hand. Her right: out in offering for the young boy to hold as they slowly walked back to their hotel.

‘Did you have fun today?’ the mother asked as the walked along the beach.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he shouted in enthusiasm, jumping up and down. The mother could only smile at the boy’s joyous behaviour, glad that she could give him fun memories to look back on.

The rest of their walk was filled with conversation about what the new thing’s he discovered about the sea life, the castle he so artistically constructed and the promise of coming back here another day and by the time they reached the lobby of the resort, the mother could see how the exhaustion of the day was taking a toll on her little boy.

‘Ahh, Miss Ackland’ Mr Birch, the evening manager greeted from behind the reception ‘good day I presume?’ he questions, noting how tuckered out her normally energetic son was started to sag against her. With a brief glance to the boy and a small chuckle, she nodded.

‘Yes, it was good day. Especially for this one’ she replies, rubbing a thumb over the hand in her grasp, hoping to at least rouse the child until he’s eaten dinner.

The man chuckles a bit, seeing how unresponsive the boy is to her attempts. ‘My, the young tyke seems real knackered.’ he comments with an accent much like her own yet the way the words flow so smoothly would have anyone wrapped in a trance,

‘Yah well, all day out in the beach seems to do that’ she responds politely.

‘Well, best not keep you from your young one and leave you to it. Have a nice evening miss.’ he bids her well off with a gentle smile that would leave any woman with a common-sense to a puddle, yet she has her immunity, and she power through with it.

‘Actually, would you mind sending some food to our room in 15, 20 minutes? We haven’t had the chance to get some dinner and I’m hoping to feed at least a little into him before he’s off for the night.’ She requests of the manager, really wishing to at least have her boy a few bites before going dead to the world.

‘Certainly miss.’ He dutily responds, already picking up a phone to call the kitchen ‘Just the usual ma’am?’  he asks of the meal, turning to her with the phone to his ear.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you Mr. Birch’ she says with a kind grin, faintly hearing his conversation as mother and son walked away.

‘Yes, to the Amphitrite suite in fifteen minutes… Thank you’.

---

Once the pair arrived back to their room, the sun had finally set, casting a now dark canvas, littered with twinkling stars, though it went unnoticed to the weary boy who had let go of his mothers’ hand as soon as they entered and dropped with a thud on the chalk white cushions once he was near enough while his mother, Ms. Ackland, relieved herself of the heavy weight she had been trudging since the beach.

‘Leo’ she called to the boy softly, opting to not chastise the young one when he was already weary. ‘Come on darling. Quick bath and some dinner then off to bed, sleepy head’

‘But I’m not sleepy’ he whined, an indicator of his true predicament, even as he refuses.

‘Well, a quick wash and some supper then’ she bargained even though she knew he’d out like a light by halfway through dinner and when she received no response, she added ‘and we’ll also wash up the shells and rocks you collected, and you can sort through them after.’ And with that, his head shot up, his curls bobbing as he ran (well more speed walk than run) with what energy he had left to her side, awaiting for her instructions and wanting to get his bucket of treasures so he could wash them.

With the young one finally clean and sand free, dressed in his favourite dark blue pyjamas, they set off to the sitting room portion of the suite, just in time for room service to arrive with their supper. Since Leo had his attention to his rocks and shells (fully washed and draining on a colander borrowed from the hotel), his mother was the one that had gone to get the food, still wearing her blue summer dress since there wasn’t enough time for her to get cleaned herself but she planned on doing so after her little boy had gone to bed.

She thanked the room service and closed the door of the suite before fixing up the plate of food and brought it to where little Leo was pre-occupied, seemingly sorting the rocks by colour and size on the towel laid out before him while he let the shells dry out in the colander a little bit longer. She sat beside him, setting the plate a good distance away from his work area and began to feed her little man.

The rest of that time had been quiet, save for the thud of rocks on the whitewashed coffee table and the occasional murmur to open his mouth so the mother could feed him bites of the pork Souvlaki. In between bites, she’d offer her opinion, helping out a bit on his activity but not once has he said anything. Only responding in nods and a shake of his head, another symptom of his fatigue and true to her word, with the plate half cleared, she noticed the lack of hands working through the rocks and a weight leaning on her. Turning her head, she found the boy sound asleep, a rock he had been looking at still in his grasp but the lack of movement and the slow and steady breaths he let out was enough for her to know.

Pushing the plate aside, she carded a hand through his curls, making him curl up more beside her and all that did was take her back to when it was her husband that did the same thing. Head on her lap, she would comb through his raven locks and all that would do was press a face farther onto her stomach, arms wrapping around her waist so he could pull her closer.

This was most endearing when she has pregnant. Her beloved would whisper to her belly in a hushed tone. Her hand, as always, in his head of hair and when her nails would start to scratch at his scalp, a content sigh always left him before he burrowed in the warm mass of her stomach.

Thinking back, those were near the last good moments she had of just the two of them. A loving husband, doting and caring to his beloved wife as the two prepared the arrival of their little one. So cheery and full of life, once was he and now all she could help but do is miss those moments, let alone the man he was back then.

After a small while, the mother took the boy in her arms and having done this so many times before, it was an instant that the boy instinctively wraps himself in his mothers’ hold, arms circling her neck, legs locking behind her as he laid his little head to her chest, right over where her heart beat a rhythm that often lulled him to sleep. She planted a kiss at the top of his head, right on his unruly curls at she took him to the bedroom.

Laying him down in the middle of the queen-sized bed, she laid with him for a bit to make sure he would no longer stir before carefully untangling herself from his hold. She propped some of the pillows beside him, just to make sure he wouldn’t move to far to edge and fall and covered him with his blankie before deciding it was enough and she left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Taking a survey of the suite, she figured on tidying up and finishing what was left of supper before taking a shower herself, wanting to be rid of the day’s clothes and into her own pyjamas while she indulged on some wine in the balcony.

Nearly giddy at the thought, she set off in doing so and half an hour later, she emerges from the ensuite in fresh clothes, warmed somewhat by a thin green cardigan she put over.

The mother then set off to the kitchenette where a good bottle of wine chilled in the mini fridge. Now without any distractions or hesitation, she took a wine glass the concierge so kindly provided, and poured herself a hearty amount, tasting the aged, fermented juice and relishing at the thought of getting lost from her head for a few hours after a glass or two.

With the glass near empty, it was then that she remembered that she hasn’t even touched her phone nearly the whole day and seeing it sat on the counter, with a quick reach, she had it in her hand. She wasn’t surprised of the lack of notifications, so she set it down and finished the last of her glass’s contents. What did surprise her though was the call that connected a minute later, the familiar name on the ID catching her unexpectedly.

She answered the call before it dropped, wanting to hear from the man after a while of no contact.

‘Thor’ she starts, putting the phone to her ear as she poured herself another glass. ‘Long time’

‘Yeah, um. It has, hasn’t it?’ his deep voice grumbles through the phone’s speaker.

‘Five months to be exact’ she clarifies, bringing the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’ he started to explain himself, but she cuts him off.

‘No. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I could have called but I didn’t, and I am as much to blame’ she clarifies, regretting making the comment when she didn’t want to take apologies when she was just as much at fault as he was.

‘Right, alright. Um, where’s little Leo?’ he asks, diverting the conversation to the boy so to get out of that uncomfortable subject. 

‘Ohh, he’s already in bed. Sorry. Had a long day’.

‘Wow, that early. It’s just a little before nine. Usually, he’d still be very active. Well from what I can remember that is.’ The blond man chuckles, remembering the nights he’d spend with the very energetic child.

‘Actually, it’s about ten before 11 here.’

‘Her- Wudduya mean here? Aren’t you in town?’ the man asks, clearly very confused and he sounds it and that is her fault.

‘Ohh, were in Santorini on holiday. Sorry, I haven’t informed anyone really and I would have you but-’ you haven’t called, and I couldn’t make the call myself the last bit went unsaid but the both of them knew.

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He pauses for a while, leaving a pregnant silence to fill until he did. ‘Well, is it good there?’

‘Very’ she responds immediately, uncomfortable by that gap. ‘it’s beautiful. The water, the architecture, the culture, the people, it’s absolutely wonderful.’ She describes, looking to the balcony where there was a perfect view of the sea. ‘Leo’s enjoying himself too. Playing in the beach all day, making sandcastles and he collects shells and rocks that take his interest and earlier he went about to sorting them, but the little man fell asleep halfway into dinner. Too worn out from the day to even finish his sorting.’ She giggles a bit, remembering how the little boy looked all curled up beside her.

‘Seems like you’re having a good time.’ The man responds, a bit despondent but she didn’t hear that.

‘We are.’ She says with a bit of pride ‘we are’ she repeats though this time she’s uncertain and dejected because a part of her is guilty. For actually having a good time and without the man she loves. And another part.. just wants him. To be here with them. To enjoy this with them but, we can’t have all we want now can we.

She faintly heard someone talking, someone angry and that was followed by the sound of the phone shuffling before she heard Thor again.

‘Sorry Em, could you hold for a minute?’ he requests, and she answers back yes but before she could ask anymore, he mutes.

She put the phone on speaker and set it down, taking a gulp of her wine and as promised, after a minute, he came and called her back.

‘I’m back. You still there?’

‘Yah’ she manages before swallowing her drink ‘still here. Everything alright?’ she asks, wondering who it was that was so angry (though she should have known).

‘Yeah. Everything’s just fine’ he replies, sounding out breath.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. Terrific’ he says with far too much cheer, it annoyed her enough to know it was fake.

‘Thor.’ She says firmly, setting her glass down the marble counter ‘What’s going on?’ she demands sternly, using the voice she rarely would use to chastise Leo with when on bad behaviour, not wanting some half-arsed answer.

Again, a long of silence stretched on until with a heavy sigh, he began.

‘He’s in hospital again.’ He confesses and she shakes her head, knowing well who he meant. Irritated was she, evidently enough to pick up her glass and divide its contents into half.

‘He’s always in hospital’ she replies after swallowing, swirling the liquid around the glass and she watches in fascination, wanting to get her head from what he just said.

‘No. This is different.’ He presses, knowing the times he’s said this before were for minor and abrasive accounts.

‘What do you mean?’ she pesters, her voice now wobbly as a burst of possibilities swirled in her head.

‘He um- ‘he stops himself, swallowing the hard pill because knowing her, telling her this would only tear her apart. ‘He rang me earlier.’ That enough was a giveaway that something was wrong, the severity was the only missing piece. ‘He was in pain, and he could barely let out anything before he dropped the phone and groaned in agony.’ Her breathing hitched then, tears welling her eyes while her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I got to him as soon as I could, and when I found him, he was on the floor, in pain’ He hated repeating that but all he could do was relay the accounts of what happened as it was still all so fresh and hope he could filter it as much as possible. ‘I called for an ambulance and tried to get him to tell me what was happening, but he couldn’t even respond’ he chokes, remembering the sight and it flashes before his eyes, as if he was reliving the whole painful ordeal again.

Emma on the other hand, had tears quietly running her cheeks, hand still tightly clasped to her mouth for fear she would let out a sob that would not only alert Thor but Leo as well. Her mind ran rampant, creating images and images of her pained husband, lying helplessly in pain on the floor, asking for help to no one because of his solitude. Not knowing if he there was anyone coming at all.

Guilt held a tighter grip on her breaking heart as her mind convinced herself that it was her fault that he was alone. She should have been there. She shouldn’t have left. She should have taken care of him and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was if it she had just stayed and cared for him. But she didn’t and she wasn’t there when he was helplessly lying on the ground, wondering if the last thing he’d see was the dirt and bottles that undoubtedly littered the floors around him instead of his beloved wife and darling son.

She swallowed back the sob itching to escape her lips, desperate on not making a sound.

Her mind was taking a turn in the labyrinth it already was, taking her to unknown ends of painful scenarios her unyielding mind procures when she still doesn’t have the pieces to the whole story.

A creep of silence then went on for the benefit of both. Time for them to compose themselves before the once boisterous man continued.

‘The ambulance-’ he begins once more, though demurely ‘-arrived quickly. And they took him to the hospital immediately, seeing the state he was. Even the doctors didn’t know what was happening to him, but they gave him morphine for the pain.’ He somewhat assures and it relieves her a bit knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. ‘They let him rest for a bit before they took him for tests. He’s resting now though. They’re keeping him for the night under observation but there was talk that the stay might be indefinite until they figured out what was wrong. Just in case another attack happened but you know him’ he teases lightly, not wanting to drown in the dampening mood this whole conversation, hell this whole ordeal has taken and neither did she so, she appreciates the lightening.

And she also knew what he meant. Her husband hated hospitals. Even stepping one foot inside churned his insides enough and being a patient? We’ll she knew enough to give her an idea of what happened.

It didn’t help her to think of his reaction to being told that he had to stay the night. Scared as he might have already been, the prospect of staying even longer undoubtedly terrified him and thus she concluded that he refused the longer stay.

Thinking of it, the only time he was at some sort of ease while in the hospital was when they took baby Leo for his newborn check up and even then he was anxious. The check-up had been a necessary. Just to assure the new parents that their little one was alright and properly checked on since a homebirth lacked that formality. The man himself had been the one to insist on the homebirth and Emma didn’t object to that, wanting to give the man a sort of peace as they brought their child to the world. His fears only eased once the doctor told them that everything is just as it should be about their newborn and there and only then did he relax as he rejoice on the fact that they had a health baby boy.

That clued her enough of his fear of hospitals and that information didn’t help her at all now.

‘The doctors are coming back in the morning for the results but after that, he insists on leaving’ he continuous to inform her, wary of her lack of response.

She hasn’t said anything since the start of his recount. Not a sound could be heard from her end of the line, and it unnerve him, making him check to see if the call was still on and it was. It took him a few good minutes, but he deduced why she was so silent.

He knew his sister well and the things he’s regaled to her… he just knew it was breaking her being apart.

‘Emma’ he called out, wanting to be sure he was still taking to someone. ‘you still there?’

‘yah’ she muttered, barely audible but he heard.

She had sunken to the floor, leaning against the counters as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she silently cried. Her phone still sat atop the island, her call with her brother-in-law still ongoing yet there she was, listening, tears running her cheeks as she listened to him describe the torment her beloved endured.

‘He needs you’ the man murmurs, pleading for his brother’s sake that she come back. He knew his little brother wouldn’t take it if these pains continued on and he feared the day he would give up. And without the person he loves most, the person that had been his solace long before, his rock and home, he is terrified of that end coming too soon.

The woman could only swallow at the man’s words before clamping a hand on her mouth and burying her head to her knees as an unrelenting sob escapes her. She had no control of it and the others that followed but she did have control of how loud they would come to so she did her best to make as little sound as she possibly could.

Try as she did though, Thor heard her. Muffled as it was, he knew that sound better than he liked to admit and not once did his heart break not break for her every time.

‘just… please come back’ he begs her once more, intending to end the call and leave her to some privacy. He stays on for a bit longer and just as he was about to press the end button, she called out to him, saying his name in an unsteady voice, congested and clear that she had been crying.

Two days she wanted to say. Give her two days and she would do everything she could to be there as soon as possible but what left her mouth wasn’t so. ‘Take care of him for me’ she pleads her own, on the brink of another fit of sobs but she held on till the call ended.

‘Always’ he responds before ending the call and with that her resolve crumbles.

Once again, her hand flies to cover her mouth, going in to cover and muffle the onslaught of sobs she had no hope of controlling but… they never came. Whether it was for some preservation for Leo’s deep sleep or her sudden inability to, they never come. What took its place though was a rush of tears and a heavy heart.

Leaning back on the limewashed cupboards, she let her tears run and her heart sink for she thought she deserved it. The guilt eating at her from the inside. Churning her stomach to knots and crushing her heart to shreds. It manipulated her. Turning her to the villain at the heart of this mess when she had done nothing but protect herself and her son from the tragedy that was once a happy family.

Her mind was a cruel and fickle thing. Making her believe the lies it comes up with and without the one person who knew how to lead her out of the labyrinth, she was lost. Facing every new dreaded possibility at every dead end without escape or clue on how to get out because the person that always led her to the exit, became the reason she was lost and missed it.

She didn’t blame him though. Despite what the others do, not once did she blame the poor tortured soul of her husbands’ because how could she. She could have helped him and stayed by him, just as she vowed but breaking that promise lost her the right to blame, not that she would.

In sickness and in health… clearly she didn’t hold her promise on that.

She drew her knees back to her chest, letting her heart wrench while a hand rose to reach for the bottle of wine that still sat on the bench. Once she got that down, Emma took a big swig right out of the bottle, never minding the glass she used before. Her only goal. To suffer and hope she’d be numb enough to stop the tears from flowing.

And that’s how she spent the rest of the night. Sat on the kitchenette floor of her suite, back against the cupboards as she let her tears dry out while burning a bottles’ worth of wine through her liver, letting her guilt and sorrow drape over her as it would a child under a tablecloth on Halloween.

(Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

[everlastiingiimmortals]

Doctor of Truth

Name: Dr. Andreas “Veritas Ratio” Costa Species: Human ? Occupation: Intelligentsia Guild Member, self-proclaimed Doctor of Truth Region of Origin: Lauren Wreath Galaxy Height: 6'2’’ Age: Unknown -- appears mid 30s Birthday: September 23rd

Ship Status: His sexuality is intelligence (pansexual)

A brilliant man, professor, and -- yes -- doctor, both medical and scholarly, with eight doctorates by the time he graduated from university. Andreas Costa (self-named Veritas Ratio in the pursuit of truth and logic) is a candid, blunt, and strong-willed professor and "Mundanite" of the Intelligentsia Guild. He has incredibly high standards and even greater strictness, sparing little patience for stupidity, viewed by him as the lack of critical thinking. His scathing tongue is only rivaled by the strength and precision of his throwing arm. Those who end up taking his classes usually end up falling by the wayside in the wake of his extreme teaching methods, but this is in fact his goal; only those who learn to persevere to the end of his classes, regardless of their final score, have understood his lessons: to analyze and criticize oneself and one's environment to exhaust the truth and eradicate any room for ignorance and error. These alumni of his, few as they may number, proceed to become the most brilliant leads in their fields. Without a doubt, Ratio's teaching methods have proven to be effective despite the incredibly low completion rate of his courses. In fact, one could consider Ratio a sculptor of geniuses, challenging the notion of "genius" being an innate trait and creating something extraordinary out of the mundane.

Despite his harsh attitude, his dogged pursuit of the elimination of ignorance has earned him the description of "a passionate hand gripping an icy sword," and his revolutionizing of education and dedication to knowledge and creativity since he was a boy has been acknowledged with much love, admiration, and support by fellow academics far and wide.

Abilities

High intelligence: Dr. Ratio is widely considered by many, especially his students and assistants, to be a genius regardless of his lack of position within the Genius Society. Having eight doctorates is no small feat, and that's not all; Ratio enrolled in university at an incredibly early age, having only been in high school by the time of his professor's sponsorship.

Precision: Ratio is incredibly precise and detailed in both mind and body, with the accuracy and steadiness of hand to create blueprints with little aid and aim a projectile to perfectly strike any target.

Mental Prodigy: Ratio has not just photographic memory, but also the prodigious ability of mental calculation; he does not need to use a calculator or write down calculations to solve even complex mathematical equations.

Sculpting: Aside from his prowess in all manner of STEM fields and philosophy, Ratio also enjoys several forms of art -- most notably pottery and stone sculpting. Though sculpting overlaps with engineering in the form of masonry and architecture, Ratio also has made a plethora of marble statues and vases.

Read More: Honkai Star Rail Wiki

Updated: 03.11.2024

[innately-pretentious]

Finally, I Found You. (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

Request: Hey! I looooved your Klaus headcanons and was wondering if you could write about when him and the reader are reunited in the 60s??? Totally fine if not, have a nice day!

A/N: Awh thank you so much, I hope this is alright dude! I am really tempted to turn this into a series tho... if you want that?? Even if this is really rough and kind of rushed. Kinda angsty? Kinda sad? Very fluffy. Enjoy!

Being spat out of a spinning vortex into a dingy alley was enough to stress anybody out, especially after a rather terrifying and life threatening encounter with your sister initiating the apocalypse. Navigating through the twenty first century was difficult enough, but being catapulted into a completely new decade with nothing but your bag and clothes you were wearing just about topped that.

Letting out a cry as you hit the ground and groaning as you rolled over and tried to get our bearings. Glancing around to see if you could locate any of your siblings whom you were with only a few minutes previously, you stood up and brushed yourself off, you began calling out their names. Sadly with no success, there was no response, you were alone.

You continued pacing along the pavement, trying to come up with a plan of action. Deciding you couldn’t improve your situation much from the alley, you emerged into a busy street and began wandering down the road. Progressing along the street, you could not help but take notice of the architecture and clothing surrounding you. Definitely not similar to the modern aesthetics you were used to. Flagging down an approachable looking woman and kid you asked what year it was, sharing peculiar look she confirmed your suspicions. It was July 24th 1962. Brilliant.

Trying hard not to think the worst of your situation, you mind wandered to Klaus. The two of you had hardly been apart for more than one night over the course of your year long relationship, your stomach dropped at the thought of him being isolated in a random time period, unable to contact anyone, nobody to help. A small part of you wished Ben was with him, but you were completely clueless as to how this whole time travel business worked. You attempted to brush that thought aside for the time being, first you had to find somewhere to stay. Sleeping rough with nothing but the clothes on your back did not sound appealing, luckily you had some spare cash in your bag for a room for a few days, giving you sometime to formulate a plan.

The first night was definitely the hardest. Deciding to find the cheapest hotel you could, you booked a room for the night, collecting the keys and collapsing on the mattress. As soon as you got into the uncomfortable bed you knew sleep would not come tonight, the double bed was not helping either. You spent the majority of the night on your side, laying there and glancing at the opposite side of the mattress, where he should be sleeping. It felt too empty without Klaus hogging the blanket. You couldn’t help the collection of memories the two of you shared popping into your mind. Lazy weekday nights, limbs draped absentmindedly over one another, Klaus’ hand tracing soft patterns into your shoulder as you talked about absolute nonsense for hours. Both dreading when the morning came as you would have to leave his arms. Growing up in Hargreeves’ mansion you would constantly sneak into his room, even before you were together. Your ability to turn invisible was a great help, coming to comfort him if your father pushed him too hard again was almost a nightly occurrence. You loved the way he would relax as soon as he felt you lift up the blanket and settle in next to him, knowing he wouldn’t have be alone.

You smiled at the thought of him, he always had to be close to you. Even in his sleep you caught him reaching for you sleepily or rolling his leg onto you in an attempt to pull you closer. You often wondered if he even knew he was doing it or if it was entirely subconscious. After everything he went through growing up it was no surprise he had clingy tendencies. You wouldn’t change him for anything, if he needed you close, you had no problem obliging him. If it made him feel safe you would do it.

It was at this point the tears started to fall. For someone who had been through so much to then be stuck somewhere, unable to reach you, made your heart ache. Tomorrow you would figure something out, however futile it may be, you were determined to at least try and make a life for yourself here.

3 Months Later:

The three months had not been easy, by any means. It had mainly consisted of you on the road, finding work pretty much wherever would take you. Getting the car you were currently driving was a feat in itself, stealing an automobile had never been on your bucket list. You never liked using your power to steal, however, it was your only mode of transport and occasional place to sleep. You always coaxed Klaus not to just take things, he would be shocked if he could see you now, the look on his face would be priceless! On the bright side, you could have picked a worse car, with five seats, a convertible roof and playable radio, you had risen in worse rides.

More memories surfaced in your mind, ones where you took Klaus out for a drive out of the city during the beginning of his sobriety. This started as an attempt to inject a new lust for life into him, show him there was more to the world than just powder in the back alleys. Soon your little road trip became a weekly occurrence, driving with Klaus and losing track of time, just each other for company. You loved him dearly but you both decided it would be more beneficial if you were the one behind the wheel, not that he cared, he was given full control of the music this way. He insisted on having the windows down and the music loud, staring at you with his pupils slightly dilated, feeling doped up on life rather than various pills. You loved how radiant he looked, you even let him get away with wailing along to the lyrics on the radio, at least for a while…

“Klaus, I love you, but I’m gonna need my eardrums in the future,”

“Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m gracing them with my dulcet tones?”

You couldn’t help but jokingly glare at him. Once again he was never to far away from you, laughing and giving your thigh a squeeze as you watch the city disappear behind you, along with his worries.

Dragging yourself back to the present (well, 1962), you gripped the steering wheel, forcing yourself to focus on the road instead of the bittersweet memories you held. They were the only things you had left of him, and you hoped that wherever he was, he was safe.

You decided to return to the town where it all began, Dallas, Texas. You were in need of some new clothes and a quick bite to eat before you got back on the road, in search for another short-term job to earn some much needed cash. A second-hand shop would probably be the most budget friendly option for clothes, ringing the bell as you opened the door, you began to flick through the various fabrics and patterns of clothing. One of the things you loved about this decade was the flamboyant clothing, he would have thrived here. Gathering quite a large armful of clothes, you decided to go try a few on, just looking through your selection one last time before you committed to the changing room.

You were ripped from your thoughts by a loud thud on the window, resulting in you dropping the bundle of clothes you had accumulated during your browsing. Huffing and turning your attention to the window, ready for some kind of confrontation, although, nothing could be further from your assumption.

Your eyes met with the same hazel ones you had been gazing into for the last year, unmistakable hands with tattoos were firmly placed on the glass. His jaw was slack and his eyes were wide as he gawked through the glass. You began to shake as you drank in the sight of him, your chest tightened and you found it increasingly difficult to breathe. You wanted to run into his arms, but you weren’t sure if your legs would carry you. You couldn’t feel anything except the racing of you heart. Time seemed to still as you just stared at one another.

He was the first to break the gaze, tripping over himself in an attempt to reach the door. He forced the door open so forcefully that the bell nearly fell off, it didn’t stop him though. Running down the shopping aisle, pushing the racks aside as he continued towards you, knocking over a few clothing racks, not slowing down as he slammed into your open arms. The impact of the force sending the two of you tumbling to the ground, both of you gripping onto the other in fear they may disappear again. He could feel you shaking in his hold, overwhelmed with the entire situation, he kept his grip firm around you, letting you know that he is here and you are safe. He doesn’t plan on leaving you.

Finally managing to pull his face from the crook of your neck, you held his face in your hands, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. You weren’t aware you were crying until you felt his calloused hands brush away a stray tear from your cheek.

“It’s really you isn’t it?” You managed to choke out, you must have looked insane to the shopkeeper, both of you smiling and sobbing, curled up on his shop floor.

“Of course it’s me, nobody could recreate this amount of beauty and personality twice,” he joked and cracked a smile. That typical Klaus smile you missed so much. Even in a time like this, supposedly sentimental, he still had to get a wisecrack in.

“You’re such an idiot Klaus, only you could compliment yourself in a time like this,” you said, you weren’t sure if you were crying or laughing at this point, but you knew you were finally happy.

“I’ve had to do it myself for a while since you were absent,” he said, you couldn’t miss the subtle sadness that passed over his features.

“Come on then Y/N”, he groaned as he stood up, offering a hand to help you, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You glanced up at him before you accepted his hand, his hair was longer than before and he looked healthier, but he was undeniably still your Klaus. You placed you hand in his and let him drag you up, resting his arm around your waist, slightly tighter than he used to. You allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, re-familiarising yourself with his body. The two of you definitely had a long conversation ahead, you allowed him to drag you to the nearest diner, excited to unburden yourselves after finally finding each other.

[ryrycaptain]

My Juliet - PBB 2020

Hello and welcome to my fic for the PBB this year. I took inspiration from reading Romeo and Juliet to create this story. I’ll be forever grateful for ilikestopwatches who helped me so much with this fic. I’d also like to thank Divy for making some amazing art to go along with my fic. 

ao3 link

Dan was growing tired of following the lively man in front of him. He had a mop of brown curls resting on his head and green eyes that were framed by a lopsided pair of glasses. They’d already covered the dressing rooms, prop room, and wardrobe, and he was starting to sweat from the beating sun. “Ah here we are, sir,” the man, PJ called out, “the stage.”

Dan gasped in disbelief. He’d never been to the Globe Theatre before, and to see the stage he would be performing on in person was thrilling. The woodwork was intricate, and the stage was strong under his feet. “It’s amazing,” he cheered.

“It surely is a beautiful feat of architecture.”

At the end of the stage, people were spread out busying themselves with their scripts, but one person in particular caught his eye. The man had brown hair with the slightest tint of red and sparkling blue eyes that were framed by a simple pair of glasses. He looked to be in his early thirties, and he was currently staring intensely at the paper in front of him. “Who’s that?” Dan asked PJ.

PJ gave him a look of confusion. “That’s Philip Lester. He’s the author of the play.”

“Oh I’ve heard of him. He’s one of my biggest inspirations, but I’ve never seen him before.”

PJ nodded curtly and clapped his hands together. Everyone looked towards them and Dan’s cheeks flushed at the attention. “This is Daniel Howell, everyone. He will be playing the lovely Juliet. Please give him a warm welcome.”

With that, PJ started walking towards Phil which left Dan awkwardly standing alone on the stage before someone waved him over. He walked over carefully, wary of breaking something if he stepped too hard or breathed too loud. The man who had waved him over was even taller than Dan, which was a surprising feat since Dan was almost 6 feet tall, and had a shock of red hair framing his face. “My name is Christopher, but you can call me Kit. I’ll be playing the charming Romeo,” the redhead said.

“Um it’s nice to meet you. I’m Daniel but you can call me Dan,” he said, shaking his hand.

“Would you like to practise with me?” Kit asked. “We have a lot of lines together.”

Dan laughed. “I suppose I can make some time to practise with you.”

—

Dan had spent a good hour going over the script with Kit, and he had to admit that the story was brilliant. He could tell the play would be a huge hit with the plot twists and romantic storyline. He wasn’t totally surprised though because Lester’s plays always seemed to amaze him. Speaking of Philip Lester, he was currently perched on a seat in the highest viewing room and yelling at Kit.

“No. No. No. You’re doing it all wrong, Kit,” Philip sighed. “You sound too happy about your recent breakup. The whole point of this scene is to show Romeo’s impulsive behavior. You must be saddened by the loss of your relationship.”

“Ok,” Kit said. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!”

“That’s better, but I still feel like I am watching someone recite lines not mope about their lost love. You must practise this scene. Now, go on and take a break.”

“Yes, Sir,” Kit replied before walking over to the water where Dan was.

“I promise you he’s not always like this,” Kit stated after seeing the worry in Dan’s eyes. “I was an understudy for one of his other shows. He has a soft side, but it takes him some time to de-stress.”

Dan nodded. “I understand.”

Although he tried to play it off as a causal concern, Dan was worried he’d be cut from the show if he didn’t meet Philip’s expectations the first time around. He wasn’t a big name and it was a miracle for him to have a lead part in a Lester original. He needed this role to launch his career.

Pursuing his dream of acting was a huge risk, and his parents were doubtful of him. They were expecting him to earn money and to start a family in the near future and didn’t believe he could do that by playing dress up on a stage, and Dan needed to prove them wrong.

“What’s going through your mind,” Kit said, interrupting his thoughts.

“This is my first major role, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” Dan stated.

“I’m sure you have what it takes,” Kit encouraged. “After all, Philip does most of the scouting for his plays so the chances he picked you himself are high.”

Dan felt slightly reassured by that fact but also intimidated by the idea that Philip had seen him perform before. It had taken him a while to perfect his character and he didn’t want to seem incapable. He just had to hope for the best.

——

It was time for Dan to get on stage and to say he was nervous was an understatement. The actors who were playing the nurse and Lady Capulet seemed nice enough, and had some experience acting.

Philip seemed pleased enough with their performance and only commented on a few minor things throughout the run of the show. When they were done with their scene, Dan was pulled aside by a woman named Louise who needed to take his measurements and have him try on a few pieces of clothing. She led him through the halls of the theatre and into a room that was filled to the brim with various costumes and fabrics.

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess, dear. I’ve been a bit busy these days,” she hummed. “Can you step up onto that stool.”

She had long blonde hair and bags under her eyes. She looked exhausted and Dan wondered how many hours she spent at the theatre a day.

He stepped on the platform and she started measuring him with the tape measure that had been hanging on her shoulders. “You’re very nicely built, but I don’t think I have any previous outfits that would fit you. It’s a shame I’ll have to start this one from scratch,” she sighed. “Now to pick a colour!”

Her excitement was cut short by a knock on the door. “Mrs Pentland, may I come in?” A rough voice sounded from outside the door. Dan recognised the owner to be Philip and started to panic.

“Calm down, now,” she whispered to Dan before directing her answer to Philip. “Yes, come in sir.”

Philip let himself in and looked at Dan with a scrutinising gaze. “I was unaware you had company.”

“It’s no big deal, sir. Daniel and I were just deciding which colour dress he’d be wearing.”

“Ah, I believe you’ll make the right decision,” he said with a nod. He turned to Dan and stuck out his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Philip Lester the director and writer of this play, but you can call me Phil.”

Dan took his hand timidly and shook it. “My name is Daniel Howell, sir. I prefer Dan though.”

“Yes, my Juliet,” Phil stated, making Dan blush. “What got you into acting?”

“Ah, I've always been a fan of the art. My parents took me to a show when I was younger and it’s been my dream to star in one since then.”

“Sounds similar to how I got into theatre although I’m much too shy to be a performer. I’ve always had a knack for writing though. I guess it all worked out in the end.”

“Of course, sir. Someone with as much talent as you is destined to be famous.”

“Can I ask you why you choose to portray women? I know it’s an essential job within the theatre but I rarely meet men who are excited to portray the role,” Phil said, deflecting Dan’s comment.

“I’ve always enjoyed trying on my mother’s dresses and messing around with her makeup. It seems a bit odd, but I like to take advantage of it.”

“I don’t think it’s odd at all,” Phil said with a twinkle in his eye. “I personally believe normalness leads to sadness. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get back before PJ does anything rash with the scene. I’ll see you on stage, Dan.”

He nodded to Louise and shut the door behind himself on his way out. “See, he isn’t as intimidating as he seems,” Louise chuckled, “Now which colour should we go for?”

——

Dan walked out of the room with a smile on his face and a little more confident now that he could imagine the dress he’d be wearing. He wondered if it’d be made of the same itchy material that the ones for his last production were. He would have liked to imagine that the dress would be made of silk but he didn’t know how much they put towards costumes here.

He was stuck in his own fantasy world when he bumped into someone. He immediately bent down to collect his things with a muttered sorry. A hand touched his and he looked up to see Phil staring back at him curiously. “You’re still here? It’s getting pretty late.”

Dan blushed. “Louise and I got caught up talking about the costumes.”

“Oh, do you have experience too?" Phil asked, handing Dan the things he had picked up.

They both stood up and started walking towards the entrance. They weren’t going nearly as fast as they could have, almost like they had mutually decided that they wanted to prolong their conversation.

“I’ve sewn some clothes before but besides that I don’t have any experience. It’s always been an interest of mine.”

Phil nodded. “I’m sure Louise appreciates the company. I worry she gets lonely sometimes.”

“She sounds like she’s important to you,” Dan hums.

“Ah, she’s a family friend, nothing more. She’s already happily married with two kids. I’m afraid our parents would force us to marry if she wasn’t.”

“Oh, so you're single?”

“Yes. I’ve always been dedicated to my work, and it leaves me little time to meet people. Besides, the women my parents set me up with are unbearable. I assume you’ve got someone. You’re young and handsome after all.”

“No, it’s just me,” Dan answered. If he was being honest, he’d never met a woman he was interested in. He found men more intriguing but he would never admit that. He would eventually be married off, and it was for the best. That was just how it was.

“Oh,” Phil stated, “I thought you’d have women lining up to marry you.”

“My family isn’t the best off,” Dan admitted. “My father owns a small shop but that’s our main source of income right now. I hope to change that with this job. After all, my brother is going to university soon.”

“Ah, university. Those were some of the best years of my life. I miss my professors sometimes. They were always my biggest supporters,” Phil mused.

“That sounds charming. I never got to go, not that I really wanted to anyways.”

“That’s interesting. You took a big risk, unless you have some sort of craft you’ve perfected.”

“My only skills are in business, and I don’t have anywhere near enough money to run my own. Besides, I’m happy with my job right now. I’ve already met some nice people.”

“The cast and crew are exceptionally kind though they can get rowdy, especially when they’re under the influence of alcohol.”

“A lot of men are,” Dan agreed.

They were nearing the main doors, and Dan was surprisingly disappointed for their conversation to end. Phil didn’t bore him to death like the others he’d conversed with, and they actually had a solid conversation.

Dan yawned, startling himself back into reality. “You should head home,” Phil stated. “I hope it’s not too long of a walk to your house. It is quite cold and I can’t have my Juliet getting sick.”

“I’ll make sure to bundle up,” he assured the older man. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dan.”

——

Dan had been standing in the same spot for the past twenty minutes, and even though he was supposed to pretend that he was chatting with others, he was watching Phil direct Kit and the others around the stage.

Phil looked nothing like the shy, nervous version of himself that Dan’d met. On this stage, Phil looked like he was in his element. His voice was firm, and he commanded the attention of the actors around him.

Everyone was starting to look tired, as they were four hours into practice, and people weren’t putting as much effort into their lines. Phil was clearly starting to get annoyed, as his jaw was clenched and his unoccupied hand formed a fist.

He watched as PJ walked his way and waved him over. “What’s wrong, Dan?” PJ said. The exhaustion was clear in his voice, and he glared at Dan. Dan didn’t take offense, because if he was directing a play he’d probably be glaring daggers at everyone too.

“Phil seems to be getting angry, and everyone is exhausted. Do you think we could take a break? Just for everyone to relax a bit,” Dan pleaded.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, but I’ve got to see what Phil says.”

“Can you go ask him now?”

PJ nodded and walked over to where Phil was directed and pulled him aside. Dan watched as they interacted, and Phil’s jaw slowly relaxed. He nodded and called out for everyone to take a break.

Dan exited the stage and grabbed his water. It was nearing summer, and it was almost unbearable to work out in the heat. The canopy above the stage blocked out the harsh sun, but the humidity still hung in the air.

“Thanks for saving me.” Dan jumped and looked over to see Phil looking at him with a grin on his face.

“You looked like you were about to murder someone,” Dan stated.

“I might have if you hadn’t asked for a break. I don’t know how difficult it is to stay in a straight line, but the torchbearers could not stay behind each other. We all know that movement causes the audience to get distracted.”

Dan hummed in agreement. “It takes a lot of power not to fidget, but if they’ve been in previous productions then they should know better.”

“Well enough about them. What did you do after practice yesterday?” Phil asked.

“Ah, I just went home and practised my lines. I’ve found that there aren’t many things to do on the weekdays,” Dan explained.

“How about you and I go to the archery range? I try to practise from time to time, but I'm afraid I'm becoming a bit rusty,” Phil suggested.

“I’m not sure. I’ve barely touched my bow since I finished learning how to shoot,” Dan stated.

“Perfect!” Phil exclaimed. “That means we can be horrible together. Now what's your address? I would feel awful if I didn’t give you a ride.”

Dan was still unsure about going to the range with Phil. If he was being honest, he became quite fond of the eccentric playwright and he wasn’t sure if he could risk it. Phil was clearly not interested in men. It was a sin after all. Dan needed to put a stop to his growing crush on Phil, but he couldn't resist the pleading eyes the other man was sending his way. Sighing in defeat, Dan muttered his address to Phil and, with their plans arranged, Phil skipped off with a grin on his face.

____

When Phil had said he would give Dan a ride, Dan had been expecting a carriage, seeing as he was a famous playwright and could afford one. Instead, he was met with Phil and a single horse. He blinked at the scene in front of him, wondering if he was seeing things properly. There was no way Phil expected him to walk. After all, Phil had specifically offered him a ride.

Dan looked up at Phil with a blank expression and realised the man was talking, “much farther away from the theatre than you. Dan are you listening?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Are you okay? You look a bit dazed.”

“I’m just wondering how I’m getting to the range,” Dan stated.

“Oh, you’ll have to ride behind me. You see my brother is borrowing Dante today so this is our only option,” Phil stated. “Unless you want to walk of course.”

Dan knew that Phil had meant the last part as a joke but he seriously considered it. He didn’t know how well he could handle being so close to Phil, especially with his crush on him. He decided that he couldn’t walk seeing as they were in a crowded city which meant the next range was more than a few miles away. “How do I get on then?” Dan stated as confidently as he could.

“Just stick your foot in the stirrup and hoist yourself up.”

Dan followed his instructions, and got up onto the horse. He tried to distance himself from Phil but it caught the attention of the other man. “What are you doing? You’ll fall off if you don’t hold on,” Phil laughed.

“Sorry,” Dan muttered, putting his arms around Phil’s middle.

Phil dug his heel into the horse’s side and it took off down the streets. Dan gripped onto Phil tighter, and watched as the scenery passed by them. He’d only ridden a horse once when he was younger, so to be high on top of one was quite intimidating. “Are you scared?” Phil shouted back.

“No.”

“Ok, Dan, I believe you, but can you let go a bit? You’re suffocating me.”

Dan blushed in embarrassment, loosening his grip. He didn’t mean to hold on so tight, but the speed of the horse had startled him. “Sorry.”

The rest of their ride proceeded with much less awkwardness, and a comfortable silence encompassed them.

When they arrived at the range there were very few people. It shouldn’t have surprised Dan seeing as it was the middle of the day and most men were at work. They went to find a target to practice on and finally settled on one that was positioned on the outskirts of the range.

Dan watched as Phil set his quiver of arrows down in the grass and fiddled with his bow. “Who’s going first?” Phil asked.

“Definitely you,” Dan answered.

“You’re really going to make me embarrass myself first?”

“I don’t want to be the first one to embarrass themselves.”

“Very well then.”

Phil picked up an arrow and positioned himself in front of the target. He stood for a moment, aiming to the best of his ability, and then he let go. The arrow whizzed across the range and hit the innermost white ring. “I thought you were out of practice!” Dan groaned.

Phil smiled. “I promise it’s just luck. Now it’s your turn.”

Phil stepped away and Dan took his place. He picked a bow out of his quiver and aimed at the target. His hands were shaking, and his pulse was racing so he knew he was going to do horribly. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Phil though, so he took a deep breath and hoped for the best before letting the arrow fly. When Dan looked up he saw the arrow lodged into the outermost ring.

Phil chuckled behind him and Dan spun around at him. “You can’t make fun of me. Unlike you, I was telling the truth when I said I was out of practice,” Dan huffed.

“What? Do you need a quick lesson from the master?” Phil cooed.

“I suppose I could use one,” Dan muttered.

When Dan agreed, he thought Phil would show him how to aim and shoot, but instead Phil came up behind him and handed Dan an arrow. He fit his hands over Dan’s and positioned the bow correctly.

Phil’s hands were slightly cold but his body radiated a comforting heat, and Dan felt warmer just from standing by the other man. Dan's heart was beating rapidly and he couldn’t stop thinking about how compromising the position that they were in was.

“Let go,” Phil whispered, breaking him from his thoughts.

Dan let go of the arrow and watched as the arrow launched into the innermost black ring. “See you've got it,” Phil muttered.

Suddenly realising they were still together, Dan blushed and pulled away to face Phil. “I’m still not as good as you are. Besides you did most of the work that time,” Dan huffed.

Phil grinned, “You’ll just have to keep practising.”

Phil picked up his bow again and quickly aimed the arrow at the target. Dan watched as it flew and hit into the yellow circle at the centre of the target. “Bullseye!” Phil exclaimed.

Dan rolled his eyes. His competitive side was finally coming out. “Ok, Philip. Let’s play ten rounds and whoever gets the most points wins.”

“What does the winner get?”

“I suppose the winner can pick a punishment for the loser.”

“It’s on then.”

——

Dan ended up winning. He was surprised he’d beaten Phil and his years of experience, but when he thought about it, Phil had given Dan a lot of tips during their match. Phil had definitely let him win. “Did you let me win?” Dan scoffed.

“Of course not, Daniel. You won fair and square,” Phil laughed. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

Dan still didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to question Phil anymore. “Now, since you’ve won, you have to pick a punishment for me.”

Dan thought about it for a second until his stomach grumbled. He assumed Phil could afford much better food than the stale biscuits and bitter coffee Dan had based his diet on. “I suppose you can buy me dinner. I am quite hungry,” Dan suggested.

“That’s not much of a punishment,” Phil commented

“No, but I’m starving right now so I’ll let it slide,” Dan hummed.

“Alright, I suppose I can treat you to dinner. Is there any specific place you’d like to go?” Phil stated, picking up his quiver.

“No, it’s your choice. I don’t eat out much,” Dan said following the other’s lead.

“Ah, are you a chef?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I can cook a few meals.”

They walked back to their horse where Phil had put her in a stall. Phil led her out and gave her a few sugar cubes before using the stirrups to pull himself up on the horse. Dan followed suit and they were off again, heading back to the city.

——

Dan didn’t think Phil would take him somewhere fancy but, to his surprise, Phil did. There was a musician playing the piano softly on the stage with tables surrounding the raised platform. Candles decorated each table and customers sat in sharp suits and flowing dresses. “I don’t think we’re dressed well enough for this,” Dan whispered to Phil.

“Sure we are,” Phil stated. “Most of these people are on first dates anyway. They want to make a good impression.”

Dan blushed at the thought of it being a date. Sure he might have had a tiny crush on Phil, but nothing would come of that. Maybe if they were born in a more accepting time but in their day it wasn’t going to be accepted anytime soon.

“Right this way, sirs,” a waiter spoke.

Dan followed the man around the outskirts of the table and watched as they sat the menus down at a table. It was a bit secluded from the rest of the tables, and Dan instantly sighed in relief.

Phil sat across from him and picked up one of the menus so Dan copied him. The writing was riddled with flourishes and Dan couldn’t read it very well. His face heated up. He’d had an education, but it wasn’t one of the best. His parents couldn’t afford to send him off to a fancy private school like the other boys his age.

“What do you recommend?” Dan asked Phil.

“I usually get the chicken, but the lamb is also quite good.”

Dan nodded. “Lamb sounds nice.”

“Yes, the chefs here make the best in the city.”

They sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company and the soft melody from the piano, until the waiter came back. They placed their orders and at the end Phil spoke up. “Do you drink?”

“Occasionally,” Dan remarked, “but if you're drinking, I’ll drink with you.”

Phil nodded. “We’ll have two glasses of your best wine then.”

——

They might have had more than just a glass each, and maybe Dan was having a hard time controlling his stupid limbs, but that wasn’t anyone else's business was it? He was using all of his energy not to trip, but it was bound to happen. He never drank so he wasn’t surprised that he was such a lightweight. He didn’t regret it though. He’d had a wonderful night, and it was nice to be free from his nerves for once.

Unlike Dan, Phil wasn’t drunk. At least he didn’t seem to be. He’d had a glass more than Dan but he was perfectly composed and Dan wasn’t sure if it was impressive or not.

Phil was leading him out of the restaurant with his hand clasped firmly onto Dan’s shoulder. They made their way to where the horse was being kept in a small set of stables behind the building. A nice man led the horse out, and Dan looked at it warily. “Do you think you can get up?” Phil asked.

Dan's face flushed red. He definitely could not climb the horse drunk. After all, he could barely climb it sober. “If you can't, don’t attempt it. I need my Juliet to have fully functioning limbs for the play.”

“Then I guess I won’t be getting on the horse,” Dan muttered.

“We can walk then,” Phil stated.

“No that isn’t fair. I can walk home from here and you can ride back to your house.”

“You’re far too drunk to walk home alone. You’d definitely get robbed. I’ll walk you home.”

“What about the horse?”

“She’ll follow us.”

Dan nodded and followed Phil down the road. They were only a few blocks from his house so it wouldn’t take long for them to get there, but Dan still felt guilty for making Phil walk.

They chatted about the play, their holiday plans, and a variety of other things. Dan learned more about Phil’s family which was made up of his mother, father, and his brother, Martyn, as well as his sister in law, Cornelia. Phil seemed to have a strong bond with his family, and, unlike Dan’s parents, his seemed to be supportive of his career.

After around ten minutes they finally stopped in front of Dan’s door. Dan blushed thinking about the times he’d been in this position with the girls he’d courted. He remembered his manners and thanked Phil. “Dinner was delicious. I hope we can hang out again sometime soon.”

“It was my pleasure. After all, I lost our bet.”

“I still don’t understand how that happened,” Dan laughed.

“I told you I was a bit rusty.”

“Yes but your first few shots were amazing.”

Phil shrugged. “I guess it was luck.”

There was a lapse in conversation then, and Dan wasn’t intent on leaving Phil just yet. He must have been more drunk than he originally thought because the next thing he knew he was kissing Phil.

Dan pulled away quickly when he realised what he was doing. He was blushing fiercely and he was internally groaning at his stupidity. He’d risked both of their safety and made a fool of himself. He was likely going to get cut from the cast if not worse.

“I’m going to go in now,” Dan muttered. “Goodbye.”

Dan rushed inside and slammed the door leaving Phil to stare blankly at the spot where Dan had disappeared from.

——

When Dad woke up the next morning he had an awful hangover and an even worse memory of the night before. He didn’t feel like getting himself out of bed but he somehow managed to get himself up. He dragged himself to his wardrobe and threw some clothing on before leaving the house and walking to the coffee place he frequented.

When he stepped in the door he immediately shrank into himself. Sitting at one of the tables was Phil with a newspaper in his hand and a cup of coffee in front of him.

Dan almost snuck out of the coffee shop successfully but then Phil made eye contact with him. Dan had no choice but to stay at the shop. He hoped if he acted normal then Phil would forget everything that happened.

He walked toward the counter and ordered a coffee. When it was done he sat at his normal table in the corner of the room. For a few minutes, Dan watched the people passing outside before he heard a chair scrape across from him. “Morning,” Phil stated, sitting down across from Dan.

“Good morning,” Dan muttered.

“Would you like to talk about last night?”

Dan stared at Phil in surprise. He didn’t think Phil was a very blunt person but he guessed there was no beating around the bush when it came to the kiss.

“I want to apologise-" Dan started.

“No I’m not mad.”

“What?”

“I thought you would catch on eventually but I guess you didn’t.”

“What are you saying?”

“I like you Dan. I know it’s wrong but I don’t think you’re going to judge me.”

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

“You are a bit dense.”

“I am not.”

“Ok, Daniel.”

“Can I ask what made you wait?”

“I had to make sure you weren’t a homophobe. After all, we don’t live in the most accepting age.”

Dan nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Phil was hesitant because of the world they lived in. Honestly, this was a fairy tale come true, but then again, there would never be a fairy tale about two men.

“What do you want to do then?” Dan asked.

“Well I think I’d like to take you on a date.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

[iamliberalartsgt]

The City and the Concept

City 3: Venice

It’s one of those cities that is already larger-than-life  before you even pay a visit. There’s something about the seemingly other-worldly canal network, the romantic gondola rides, and the postcards of the sun rising over St. Mark’s Square building up in your mind that creates this brilliant concept called Venice.

Grand Canal

Venice, of course, isn’t alone a city that doubles as a concept- I’d go so far as to say that any major city has its own concept to go with it. Any visitor of New York City can remember their own concept of the city before and after seeing the Statue of Liberty; the same could be said of Paris and the Eiffel Tower, Agra and the Taj Mahal, etc. In many cases, a city may truly live up to its concept, and it some cases, it may only be worth that postcard.

St. Mark’s Square

What I learned in two short days there is that the city of Venice far surpassed the concept of Venice. The canals, gondolas, the sunrises- all amazing, yes. What can’t fit in a postcard, however, is the way Venice manages to stimulate every one of your senses- the scent of a fresh panini blending with the salt water droplets in the air, the slow drip of a melting gelato onto your fingers, the basket of Skittles that is the color palette of the houses in Burano, the crash of small waves against the walls of the canals, the fizzle of sparkling water on your tongue- all blended together and tied with  Burano lace ribbon.

Gelato by the Canal

Burano

Handmade glass in Murano

St. Mark’s Basilica

In class, Dr. Kemling gave us a brief history of the formation of the city. Understanding the way the city was built, from the timbers holding the city up to way all canals connect to the Grand Canal transforms the simple experience of walking around the city into a close observation of the architecture and engineering feats surrounding you.

The Four Tetrarchs

After attending a couple of museums the first day (one of which housed Leonardo’s Vitruvian man), we had the rest of the time to ourselves. My friends and I opted to walk around a bit and take in the city, experience the famous Gondola ride, and visit the beautiful islands North of Venice- Murano and Burano.

I still find the distinction a bit confusing, but Murano is famous for its handmade glasswork.

Burano, on the other hand, is famous for its multicolored houses and lace.

Each island was beautiful for its own respective reason- a theme I found to recur throughout all of Venice and all of Italy.

The Italian leg of this trip has reached in conclusion, and I look forward to visiting in the future, whenever that may be.  From now on, each city we visit will be in a different country!

Sunrise over the beach in Lido di Venezia.

Now onto Budapest! Wish me luck not habitually saying “Ciao” or “Grazie” to any confused Hungarian!

Alla prossima avventura!

-Rehan

[rehankhaki-blog]

The City and The Concept

City 3: Venice

It’s one of those cities that is already larger-than-life  before you even pay a visit. There’s something about the seemingly other-worldly canal network, the romantic gondola rides, and the postcards of the sun rising over St. Mark’s Square building up in your mind that creates this brilliant concept called Venice.

  Grand Canal

Venice, of course, isn’t alone a city that doubles as a concept- I’d go so far as to say that any major city has its own concept to go with it. Any visitor of New York City can remember their own concept of the city before and after seeing the Statue of Liberty; the same could be said of Paris and the Eiffel Tower, Agra and the Taj Mahal, etc. In many cases, a city may truly live up to its concept, and it some cases, it may only be worth that postcard.

St. Mark’s Square

What I learned in two short days there is that the city of Venice far surpassed the concept of Venice. The canals, gondolas, the sunrises- all amazing, yes. What can’t fit in a postcard, however, is the way Venice manages to stimulate every one of your senses- the scent of a fresh panini blending with the salt water droplets in the air, the slow drip of a melting gelato onto your fingers, the basket of Skittles that is the color palette of the houses in Burano, the crash of small waves against the walls of the canals, the fizzle of sparkling water on your tongue- all blended together and tied with  Burano lace ribbon.

Gelato by the Canal

Burano

Handmade glass in Murano

St. Mark’s Basilica

In class, Dr. Kemling gave us a brief history of the formation of the city. Understanding the way the city was built, from the timbers holding the city up to way all canals connect to the Grand Canal transforms the simple experience of walking around the city into a close observation of the architecture and engineering feats surrounding you.

 The Four Tetrarchs

After attending a couple of museums the first day (one of which housed Leonardo’s Vitruvian man), we had the rest of the time to ourselves. My friends and I opted to walk around a bit and take in the city, experience the famous Gondola ride, and visit the beautiful islands North of Venice- Murano and Burano.

I still find the distinction a bit confusing, but Murano is famous for its handmade glasswork.

Burano, on the other hand, is famous for its multicolored houses and lace.

 Each island was beautiful for its own respective reason- a theme I found to recur throughout all of Venice and all of Italy.

The Italian leg of this trip has reached in conclusion, and I look forward to visiting in the future, whenever that may be.  From now on, each city we visit will be in a different country!

Sunrise over the beach in Lido di Venezia.

Now onto Budapest! Wish me luck not habitually saying “Ciao” or “Grazie” to any confused Hungarian!

Alla prossima avventura!

-Rehan

[elefant-records]

THE HEPBURNS (feat. Estella Rosa) "Architecture Of The Ages" LP/CD

LP format is a Limited Edition in Clear Vinyl

The band formed by Matt Jones, Mike Thomas and Les Mun, THE HEPBURNS, has always been considered one of the most exquisite bands to come out of the C86 era. They have worked with labels as prestigious as Cherry Red and Radio Khartoum, and when they have felt more comfortable self-releasing material, they have done that. Yes, they have many things in common with THE BRILLIANT CORNERS, THE HIT PARADE and THE WEATHER PROPHETS, but their elegant arrangements and harmonies, their admiration for Burt Bacharach and soundtracks by Ennio Morricone and John Barry, add a touch of delicious sophistication to their sound – a sound which is completed with the characters that Matt includes in the songs: charming losers stuck in impossible situations, somewhere between humor and tragedy.

In the middle of the pandemic, Matt met Estella Rosa, the singer for the jangle pop duet NAH and founder of the blog Fadewayradiate, through an interview. They were soon talking about doing a song together. In just three months, they had recorded a full album with 10 songs. “Architecture Of The Ages” is the fruit of the recent confinement, and this confinement is inevitably present in the lyrics, but Matt Jones sublimates it, delving into the opposition of extasy and flow, movement and suspension. It is a way of seeing life through contrasts and contradictions, with those characters that are so close and so far away, resigned, accepting their bitter role. Musically, the album is another example of their exquisite compositions, their infinite sweetness (maybe it is their poppiest album, and that is saying a lot), their abilities with the arrangements. All of which fits perfectly with Estella Rosa’s voice.

SmartURL: THE HEPBURNS (feat. Estella Rosa) "Architecture Of The Ages" LP/CD  https://links.altafonte.com/er0zypm VIDEO-CLIP: THE HEPBURNS feat. ESTELLA ROSA - The Other Side Of Grey  https://youtu.be/4h5jFv6XUsE THE HEPBURNS feat. ESTELLA ROSA - Five Miles Of Line  https://youtu.be/GdXyay4UmQE

[nevoisland]

10 Amazing Things You'll Only See In Dubai

10 Amazing Things You'll Only See In Dubai10 Amazing Things You'll Only See In Dubai.Dubai is the largest city in the United Arab Emirates and it is known for luxury shopping, ultramodern architecture,gold atm machines,dubai police cars,,exotic pets and a lively nightlife scene,. Dubai is a pretty wealthy place. With all that money people are always coming up with crazy things to spend it on. The end result is some of the strangest sights you'll only see in Dubai. Here are 10 outrageous things you'll only see in Dubai. Visit My Website Here : www.nevosisland.com No matter how weird things you will only see in dubai, interesting facts may sound to foreigners, it is undoubtedly one of the best cities to live in. Dubai is the safest city on the planet with an almost zero crime rate. Yes, women walk without any fear even at 2 in the morning. Achieving this in a city with 85% expats is no mean feat. SUBSCRIBE TO MY CHANNEL NOW https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHPlqErOgI8pQp4G-W7MbPA?sub_confirmation=1 Check Out These Top Trending Playlists; 1-https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyDjbvdllsdo6zVxGJG5MUsZq_EM2Znmf 2-https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyDjbvdllsdqOnLimPjwF1dcW5phtXxpj The way Arabs have channelized their wealth into building Dubai into a brilliant city of world records is inspirational. 👋 CONNECT WITH ME ON SOCIAL MEDIA 👋 WEBSITE - https://www.nevosisland.com FACEBOOK - https://www.facebook.com/nevoisland TWITTER - https://twitter.com/nevosisland INSTAGRAM10 Amazing Things You'll Only See In Dubai.Dubai is the largest city in the United Arab Emirates and it is known for luxury shopping, ultramodern architecture,gold atm machines,dubai police cars,,exotic pets and a lively nightlife scene,. Dubai is a pretty wealthy place. With all that money people are always coming up with crazy things to spend it on. The end result is some of the strangest sights you'll only see in Dubai. Here are 10 outrageous things you'll only see in Dubai. Visit My Website Here : www.nevosisland.com No matter how weird things you will only see in dubai, interesting facts may sound to foreigners, it is undoubtedly one of the best cities to live in. Dubai is the safest city on the planet with an almost zero crime rate. Yes, women walk without any fear even at 2 in the morning. Achieving this in a city with 85% expats is no mean feat. SUBSCRIBE TO MY CHANNEL NOW https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHPlqErOgI8pQp4G-W7MbPA?sub_confirmation=1 Check Out These Top Trending Playlists; 1-https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyDjbvdllsdo6zVxGJG5MUsZq_EM2Znmf 2-https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyDjbvdllsdqOnLimPjwF1dcW5phtXxpj The way Arabs have channelized their wealth into building Dubai into a brilliant city of world records is inspirational. 👋 CONNECT WITH ME ON SOCIAL MEDIA 👋 WEBSITE - https://www.nevosisland.com FACEBOOK - https://www.facebook.com/nevoisland TWITTER - https://twitter.com/nevosisland INSTAGRAM Read the full article

[learnarabiconline]

10 Inventions You Didn't Know Came From Muslims

It is often said that no religion has had a greater impact on our world and its culture than Christianity. It is certainly true that many of our greatest works of art and literature were inspired by the Bible and the ministry of Jesus. However, in the Western world, we have a tendency to become so caught up in Christian contributions that we overlook those which came from Islam. Believe it or not, Islam has contributed just as much to our society as Christianity. We're not just talking about Islamic strongholds - such as the Middle East - when we say that. Even in the West, we rely on inventions and ideas which have their roots in Islam on a daily basis. Don't believe us? Check out the inventions listed below. Here are 10 brilliant inventions you didn't know came from Muslims.

1- The Toothbrush

In anti-Islamic propaganda, we often see Muslims depicted as unhygienic. In reality, however, Muslims are mandated to keep themselves clean by their very doctrine. The most obvious example of this is the commandment of wudu, which requires Muslims to wash their hands, mouth, arms, head, feet, and even nostrils before praying. A lesser-known example is the invention of the toothbrush.

2. Flying Machines

Everybody knows that the airplane was invented by the Wright brothers. However, Wilbur and Orville, as clever as they were, were not the first people to dream up a flying machine. For centuries, inventors had been attempting to craft a machine by which humankind could soar with birds. Famed 15th-century polymath Leonardo da Vinci even went so far as to create blueprints for a flying machine all the way back in 1485. Yet even the great da Vinci could not claim to be the originator of the flying machine. That honor belongs to Abbas ibn Firnas, who beat his Italian counterpart to the punch by about 500 years.

3. The Guitar

In 1978, singer-songwriter Cat Stevens announced his shock conversion to Islam and stepped away from the limelight. Taking the name Yusuf Islam, he abandoned Western music, having been convinced it was against the laws of Allah by some strict Islamic scholars. 30 years later, Yusuf would return to popular music, explaining that his decision to leave in the first place had largely been the result of his own failure to conduct independent research into Islam's relationship with rock and roll. Had he done so when he first converted to the religion, Yusuf would have discovered that not only was popular music permitted within Islam, but it was virtually invented by Muslims.

4. Algebra

If you're trying to change the perception of a group of people for the better, it may initially seem counterproductive to credit that group of people with creating algebra. Yes, Muslims are, in a roundabout way, responsible for all those tests you failed in high school. But as boring as it was when we had to learn it in the classroom, there is no denying that the formulation for algebra was a magnificent feat. Without it, we could not have contemporary engineering, electronics, or architecture,

[ramajmedia]

10 Ways Disney’s Atlantis: The Lost Empire is a Sci-Fi Masterpiece

Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire is not only the most underrated and underappreciated film the studio has ever produced, but is quite possibly one of the most overlooked and under-watched science-fiction films the genre has ever known. From its distinct, sketchbook-inspired style to the Jules Verne-esque technology and steampunk aesthetic, both are but drops in the ocean of reasons to adore this film.

RELATED: Disney's 10 Most Creative Uses Of CGI, Ranked

Despite harsh criticisms and poor marketing on Disney's part, the film does have a cult-status among both Disney fans and fans of the sci-fi genre. Why are we so set on spreading the gospel of Milo Thatch? Have a look at our reasons Atlantis is a sci-fi masterpiece.

10 Pillars of the Genre

For Disney Animation's first foray into science-fiction, they certainly had key elements of the genre done exceptionally well. The Ulysses submarine gives off some heavy 20,000 Leagues vibes, the skills of the crew could match those of the Enterprise, and do we even have to mention the ferocity of the Leviathan?

A mission to explore a loss civilization, impressive technology ahead of its time, a battle with a giant monster, a race of strange — dare we say, "alien"—  beings; these are all the makings of a sci-fi epic and Disney nailed them every time. Though they are common tropes of the genre, they're treated with reverence. They are the foundation with which Disney told this incredible story.

9 Call Out the Crew

Milo Thatch, though ambitious and eager, couldn't tackle this job alone. The film is absolutely packed with memorable characters that any viewers can easily invest in and identify with. From the experienced and eccentric crew of the Atlantis expedition to the tribe of Atlanteans themselves, characters of this move are some of the most fascinating and developed Disney has made.

Milo, Kida, Vinnie, Mole, and all the rest are visually and individually engrossing in their design and delivery. We want to see and spend more time with them, which keeps us locked in. You can't win an audience on Leviathans alone, after all.

8 Lore of the Lost

In the first 10-12 minutes of the film, the viewer has a basic idea of the Atlantean culture and the plight of the lost city. The story of Atlantis is presented to us in an epic yet tangible way. Right from the beginning, Disney shows us the fall of Atlantis instead of just having Milo lecture us on the subject. It makes us want to learn and experience with the rest of the characters. After seeing a mighty and advanced civilization fall into the ocean, you better believe we're hooked.

7 Lost in a Story

Two elements that help make Atlantis so great are its storytelling and its writing. Before the Ulysses even touches the water, we know we're in for an incredible adventure. And the fun doesn't just stop there.

RELATED: 5 Live-Action Disney Remakes In Development (And 5 Films That Deserve One)

Along with Milo, we're thrust into this grand expedition for the lost civilization. With some of the most mature, gripping, and thrilling storytelling elements seen in a Disney flick, Atlantis has all the epic scope and story of a novel from Verne, Wells, or Bradbury.

6 The People Under the Seas

Disney's presentation of Atlantean culture is perhaps one of their most interesting creations. Think about the task the writers and animators had to accomplish. They had to build an entire civilization and race of people that corresponded to the multicultural myths of Atlantis. That's no easy feat.

Their tribal tattoos, hybrid architecture, and aquatic-themed technology are impressive and intriguing, giving them a believable yet original appearance in form and culture. We can understand why Milo stayed behind to help them recover their ways of life. Out of all the interpretations of the myth, Disney's is probably the most identifiable and beloved.

5 Genre-Bending

The first half of the film, until the arrival in Atlantis, is almost pure sci-fi/steampunk. With the giant machines, stylistic technology and battle with the Leviathan, the film is a smart and creative adventure. When the Atlanteans are introduced with their mystical crystal, majestic city, and strange culture, it becomes almost like a trip to Rivendell.

RELATED: 10 Best Forgotten Disney Films

There are some films that push the limits of what their genre can be. With Atlantis, Disney not only bends their genre but blends it into something beautiful. That being said, we'd be lying if we said we couldn't see the seam in the film where the sci-fi meets the fantasy. It's a blissful marriage of genres that complement each other beautifully.

4 Behind the Mic

Not only are the characters some of the best for their genre, but the cast that brings them to life are some of the biggest names in nerd culture. Michael J. Fox, John Mahoney, Jim Varney, Corey Burton, and Don Novello are just a few of the actors that help bring these characters to life.

With an eclectic cast featuring stars of Back to the Future, Frasier, and Saturday Night Live, you might assume such a strange combination would be a mixed bag of hit-and-miss. You'd also be wrong. The team behind the characters of Atlantis not only bleed seamlessly into their roles, we forget we're listening to famous voices.

3 Geeked Out

Most geeky leads undergo a dramatic transformation from scrawny nerd into hero. This does not apply to the cunning linguist, Milo Thatch. He remains the geek throughout the film, being just as overzealous about history as one of his kind might be over comic books. What makes Milo stand out is that he is consistent and also realistic.

RELATED: Disney’s Unofficial Princesses, Ranked

The difference between Milo Thatch and someone like Peter Parker is that while both are brilliant intellects, it's this very skill that Milo wields as a weapon. It's his understanding of Atlantis that saves the day, not physical ability or a radioactive spider-bite. He is still the nerd of the group, but he's rewarded for his passions.

2 Mature Morals

Most Disney films are harped on for their blatant moral codes. Speak from your heart, be true to yourself, believe in your dreams. All those adages are well and good, but they're not going to affect an adult audience much. Atlantis, however, mixes things up by showing the repercussions of capitalistic greed and the pillaging of ancient artifacts.

Admit it, we don't often think about the consequences of extreme excavation and archaeological digs. Consider how many royal tombs and temples have been ransacked all in the name of science. Not to mention those who benefit from the plunder. It's a thought-provoking message not expected from Disney.

1 Not Just for Kids

Atlantis is a sci-fi epic with a gripping narrative, mature morals, and concrete characters. But upon a further rewatch, we realized that this was a Disney flick geared more for adults than for kids. The kids can certainly enjoy it, but the only thing that keeps it from being a film for adults is the animation.

This was Disney's attempt at an animated film for a more mature audience. It's more dramatic, heavier, and atmospheric than any Disney animated feature before. Yes, it has its kid-friendly moments and goofy characters, but at its heart it's a mature and emotional adventure with a more adult audience in mind.

NEXT: Disney+: 10 Things You Should Know About Ms. Marvel

source https://screenrant.com/disney-atlantis-lost-empire-sci-fi-classic-movie/

[shardclan]

Out on the edge of the cliffs at the inlet of the Hewn Canyon, a glistening black spire cut through the earliest rays of dawn light, where only yesterday there had been nothing. The materials long since piled up on that empty cliff were gone. House Betelgeuse lived; a fine combination of Telos and Ashes’ designs, the initial renderings of Riaye, and the updates from Moyo. After all this time, finally Clan Aphaster had a place its people could truly call home.

Imperial though he was, Ashes was very much like a spiral when he was excited. For the past several hours since the sun had outlined the shape in its rising light, he had been zipping about in a frenzy that not even the Seat had driven him to, obviously though non-verbally rushing everyone including Telos to hurry up and get the inspection party together. Granted, the matter with the Seat had harsh consequences attached. This, if it was truly as benign as it seemed, was worth both his excitement and worth every gem that had been requested as payment for the job.

Moyọ̀ was already there when the team finally arrived, lounging on a chair made of spare marble that seemed to have been molded especially to fit him. It even had a handle that neatly held his parasol for him, freeing his hands to clean his nails.

Ashes immediately dashed forward and unloaded what clearly had been on his mind since first light alerted the clan of the spire’s presence.

“It’s beautiful! it’s absolutely wondrous! But it wasn’t there last night–it’s massive, how could you possibly have really gotten it done overnight? Well, stupid question it was magic, but the magic to raise an entire–” he floundered. “An entire mountain, it’s a mountain! It looks like a small crystalspine! And you don’t appear drained at all, how could you have worked this much magic alone? Even a circle would–”

Moyọ̀ held up a hand, and when Ashes actually took a moment to breath he gently pushed the excited imperial out of his personal space. With a mix of sincere amusement and slight distaste, he dabbed at his face with a kerchief. “You are the Tribune of Magic, I recall. The one who originally proposed this House Betelgeuse. Yes, your eyes show many stars. But try to calm yourself.”

“How can I,” Ashes persisted breathlessly. “You’ve completed an amazing feat of earth magic here!”

Moyọ̀ spared a very self-satisfied smile. “That I have. But do not rush. I would prefer you examine my work, feel the awe of it, find it to your liking. When you have found your needs satisfied and I have found my purse heavy–then we may talk of my method.” He looked over at Lutia. “You, I would speak with on a lingering detail.”

Lutia glanced, though she didn’t have to. “The Obsidian Disc and the Starwood Portal, right?”

“And your Celestial Vault. It was not clear that I could move them without damaging your work, and there is nothing as uniquely unlikable as a tamperer.” He pursed his lips. “I have made a place for them. If you could move them right away, it would be best.”

“Are they a danger to structural integrity where they are?”

“No, but they are terribly placed. It clutters my design.”

When she realized he was being completely serious, a smile cracked Lutia’s face. Moyọ̀ was a bit vain for her taste, but she could appreciate a perfectionist any day.

“I’ll go with our architect and get the final touches put in place. Saber, Miscedence, Willowalk, you’re on architectural examination. Ashes, you’re on preliminary magic examination with Tungsten. I’ll help you as soon as I’ve got everything set with Moyo. We make our report to Telos by evening.”

Tungsten’s brush with deepwater prophecy at the hands of maren exiles dangerously obsessed with the groanings of the Tidelord had permanently changed her. The trauma of nearly being drowned lingered, and so did whatever half-heard whisper that had passed from the silver bubbles into her mind. Instead of submitting to a life of emergency sedation to drive back whatever horrible knowledge lurked in her, Tungsten had opted to encase herself in ice magics. She claimed it wasn’t too uncomfortable, but Ashes thought that was probably a lie. When she shifted she seemed pleased for the opportunity to feel the sun on her vast hide. The frost persisted, coating her horns, her fins and even dusting the outer edges of her wings.

She didn’t leave the magic active at night. And sometimes she still woke with uproarious screams, deep in the grip of night terrors.

She adjusted her lenses and glared. “If you’re done your assessment, boy?”

“Y-yes!” he blurted. “Sorry, ma'am!”

“I’m fine,” she said a bit more softly. “A hard day’s work or a lazy day in the sun, neither has bearing on my condition, Ashes.”

He scratched embarassedly at his cheek and dipped his head apologetically anyway. Far far below them, Lutia was shifting the Celestial Vault, the Obsidian Disc, and the Starwood Portal into a more favorable configuration. Since they were all physical objects now, there was no need for any especially extravagant magic. So long as they remained within close proximity to each other they would remain stable.

Moyọ̀ must have thought about it quite extensively, because the design of the ground floor had perfectly accounted for it and it was very clear he had no intention of allowing them to be eyesores in his architecture from the very beginning.

What Ashes first assumed was a bafflingly tall and strangely placed trio of concentric colonnade rings similar to the outer ring in the Court of Five Lights was actually an excellently measured support ring for the Obsidian Disc. Lutia didn’t seem to have control over the height it floated at, and no one wanted it destroyed now that it had reached equilibrium, so Moyọ̀ must have taken its measurements. It slid into place with the grace of an eclipse, and they knew those measurements were frighteningly accurate. Whatever magic Moyọ̀ had worked was almost secondary to the precision mathematics he must have employed to get the dimensions right.

“Shame he doesn’t have your humility,” Tungsten rumbled. “Or I’d tell him he was a genius to his face.”

“I’ll do it anyway,” Ashes said without hesitation. He craned his neck out over the parapet. “The more I see, the more brilliant it is. Look.” He pointed to the front, where an empty framework of rosy gypsum and sandstone formed a neat semi-circular facade to the otherwise very open bottom level of the spire. “He matched the hide of the panes to the height of the disc. He must have planned for it to float at the back so the open air between them would form a crescent.”

“Is that it? How charming.”

“Even better than charming, it means the space isn’t irregular and our barriers can easily be placed. Rain wont matter above the Disc because the ceiling is domed and all the upper walkways are partially enclosed anyway.”

“Quite well at that,” Saber added. He sailed down to them from an upper floor, and Willowalk followed with Miscedence. “Physically, there is no evidence of carelessness to be found. How was the magical assessment?”

“As previous. The ambient currents are still a bit odd due to the movement of the Seat. I suspect they’ll be abnormal for a long time. But seeing as we hoped to contain out element here, it’s better that the abnormality be here rather than anywhere else. Formal measurement will have to wait for Lutia to be done.”

Tungsten murmured to Willowalk. “If I may hear your thoughts?”

Willowalk nodded thoughtfully, and crossed her arms. “Base level made of basalt, walkway of sunbeam marble. Upper levels here with less expected traffic made of polished basalt. Main spire structure of inert crystalspine granite accented with onyx. Back facade plated in slate. Front facade isn’t water-proofed, but the sandstone will save the gypsum, especially if we give it a good sealing now and again. Each living space roofed with celestine that will grow into the room as a visible measure of arcane energy buildup. Celestine inlays at key locations to act as a visual alarm system in the event of dangerous rises in element.“

She dipped her snout toward the far side of the structure. “Front facade meets the granite of the main spire perfectly. Bottom floor can represent a completely closed area once our barrier magics are in place between the disc and the panes and we have some brick glass in there. Outside of the main spire is a series of melded pillars together at some point before reaching the interior. Easily climbed. Easily repaired. But visibility is very high and there’s no entry on that side. Nothing to be gained by trying to sneak around back there if you’re hoping to get in. And its all standing on its own. The interior has pillars to support the walkways and such, but the structure as a whole is balanced. It’s supporting itself–in very sturdy fashion. It’s...amazing.”

“Essentially,” said Miscedence, peering through a small opening in the parapet with its own railing for species who weren’t quite so large. “We are standing inside a partly hollowed artificial crystalspine that could house the whole of the clan. No tricks. No cracking a wall and finding it stuffed with mud. It is here, and every stone is exactly as it seems from its exterior to its core.”

Below, the Starwood Portal smoothly disappeared under the Disc. In the emptiness, they could hear the vague echo of Moyọ̀’s voice sounding perfectly–and deservedly–smug.

[travelworldnetwork]

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A sunset view of Barcelona, one of the world's most vibrant and avant-garde cities. Photo: Alamy

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The last time I stood here, looking up at Barcelona's famous La Sagrada Familia, it was 2006 and my three girlfriends and I were making a pact: let's never return to this city, as long as we all shall live.

Yet here I am. The shards of a broken promise at my feet, as 12 years peel away to reveal the distressing situations that led to our oath. The make-your-own-sangria-fuelled cooking class. The accidental splitting of our group on Las Ramblas. The swiping of my friend's bag at dinner. My other friend and I hiding from some undesirables in a nightclub bathroom.

That our youthful foolhardiness was as much to blame as the city was a fact that took me more than decade to admit. As author Alain de Botton rightly reflects in his philosophical tome The Art of Travel, "a danger of travel is that we see things at the wrong time, before we have had a chance to build up the necessary receptivity and when new information is therefore useless and fugitive as necklace beads without a connection chain".

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A tapas bar with hanging jamon over the counter is part of the city's top drinking and dining scene. Photo: Alamy

Realising that perhaps I wasn't ready for Barcelona back then, I decided it deserved a second chance. This time around, however, I'd do it right, putting myself in the hands of luxury tour experts Abercrombie & Kent, to present Barcelona to me in her most flattering light.

As we enter the neo-classical facade of the El Palace Hotel, and wander through the gilded lobby, I'm visited by the ghost of poor accommodation choices past. Back in 2006, a grande dame hotel with a fancy doorman was something my friends and I could have only dreamt of. In those pre-Airbnb days we'd rented an apartment, sight unseen, off a strange man at the train station. We'd headed to the city's outer limits to find our digs were flea-infested and had cockroaches in the coffee. It hadn't gotten us off to the best start with the Catalonian capital, I realise as I sip tea on the El Palace rooftop pool terrace with 360-degree views over the city.

Soon, my travel compadres and I are wandering old Barcelona's sun-splashed laneways in search of the city's most impressive architecture, something I couldn't have cared less about at 22. Our first stop is the Palau de la Musica Catalana concert hall, one of Barcelona's best examples of Modernista architecture, created by architect Domenech i Montaner in 1908. Studying the stone pillars covered in intricate floral mosaics embellishing the facade, I realise I probably walked right past this extraordinary building 12 years ago. More fool me if I did. Because entering the upstairs auditorium, a kaleidoscope of ceramic roses, chandeliers, sculptures and stained glass, feels like walking inside a life-sized music box. I understand our guide perfectly when she says you can feel that this structure, originally built for the Orfeo Catala musical society, was the love child of people united by music. Some may find the building over the top, but to me it is music in physical form.

As we continue walking, I wonder how I could have once overlooked the psychedelic mosaiced facade of Antoni Gaudi's Casa Batllo as we pass it, and the wave-like stone balconies of La Pedrera. Perhaps I hadn't matured enough to find these buildings worthy of appreciation. Or maybe I was so cranky at the city by that point that I'd simply had my blinkers on.

The real star of Barcelona's architectural show however, Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, I did see 12 years ago – although only for the three minutes it took to snap a selfie in front of it. I knew nothing about Gaudi the man, or the significance of his avant-garde masterpiece, which attracts 3 million tourists annually. Today, happily, we have Abercrombie & Kent's art expert Maria Teresa Farriols accompanying us, a petite, animated, Gaudi-obsessed blonde. "There are three men in my life," she tells us, "Gaudi, Dali, and my son."

Farriols walks us around the exterior of what will eventually be the world's tallest church, when it finally gets completed in 2026. The first stone was laid in 1882, she says, adding that the Catalan architect believed God had all the time in the world so there was no need to rush it to completion. We marvel at the dizzying spires and botanical and religious sculptures covering the exterior, before heading inside. The soaring vaulted ceilings leave us feeling as though we've entered a gigantic stone forest, while the Murano stained glass throws rainbows across the floor. "Gaudi took inspiration from his dreams," Farriols whispers, "he was connected to a higher force." She explains the intricacies of the debate that has raged for more than a century about whether this mind-bending building is genius or folly. No matter which side of the fence you sit on, it's an undeniably brilliant feat of imaginative construction that it's almost impossible not to be moved by.

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Later, as I wander the boutique-lined laneways of the medieval Born district, I get to thinking about timing in travel. Maybe, instead of lamenting all I missed during my first Barcelona trip, I can appreciate all I've learnt about travel in the 12 years since.

How to properly research and plan for a trip, yes, but also how to give a destination's history and culture the appreciation it deserves.That includes culinary culture, I realise as our small group sits for supper at a trendy, intimate downtown tapas restaurant named Casa Lolea. In 2006, my friends and I had skipped dinner in favour of taking a cooking class.

Which sounds classy. Until you discover the class was run by a company called Smashed. And that other than learning how to make bastardised sangria, all we really learnt to cook was tomato toast.

Tonight, however, we get a taste of Barcelona's world-class drinking and dining scene. We sip organic sangria and nibble lip-smacking morsels of pickled octopus, tuna ceviche, melt-in-the-mouth jamon and creamy patatas bravas. We toast, we chat, we laugh. It's a near-flawless Catalonian food experience, and the perfect prelude to phase two of our night.

Soon, we're picked up in classic red and bottle-green sidecars and, as the day starts to fade, we whiz through the boulevards of the elegant Eixample district and the Gothic Quarter. No wonder Barcelona so inspired artists like Picasso and Miro, I think as the wind whips my hair and the city lights start twinkling all around us.

Arriving at the Montjuic hilltop, we clamber out of our sidecars for a glass of cava, Spain's moreish sparkling wine. As I sip, I gaze out over the sprawling city. How, I wonder, could I have ever used the word ''hate'' in reference to one of the world's most vibrant and avant-garde cities? I raise my glass: to Barcelona, for finally showing herself to me, to growing up, and to second chances.

TRIP NOTES

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traveller.com.au/barcelona

abercrombiekent.com.au

FLY

Cathay Pacific flies from Sydney to Barcelona via Hong Kong.See cathaypacific.com

TOUR

Abercrombie & Kent specialises in private and small group journeys to Spain. An eight-day private journey through the north of Spain, including two nights at Hotel El Palace Barcelona, two nights in San Sebastian, two nights in Bilbao and two nights in Madrid, is from $14,855 per person twin share. See abercrombiekent.com.au

Nina Karnikowski travelled as a guest of Abercrombie & Kent and Cathay Pacific.

from traveller.com.au

The post I vowed never to return to Barcelona. I was wrong appeared first on Travel World Network.

[wizardwisenmore]

Continuum

Templocula, home of the Temploculi, clever, really. The sky here is ablaze with pink and gold and filled with monolithic clouds floating gently along the world’s eternal winds. The echoing labyrinth of smooth, white stone passageways connected by stairs and bridges above dizzying heights that reveal more and more passageways that become faint outlines in the pooling darkness below. Golden lights shine from the center of the mass, giving shape to the chaos of the grand structure. Many of the twisting paths and bridges lead way to towering buildings with architecture that is all sloping angles and floating orbs.

A lone figure stands on a wide path above the chasm. Cloaked in a long jacket festooned with golden accessory over a dapper black vest and matching pants, complete with a dark yellow button-up. They stand out starkly against the pale path and mystical sky. They step forward from the edge of the pathway on to a translucent disk of golden light and begin their descent, their short mess of bronze waves shifting in the gentle breeze. As they descend, statues illuminated in more golden light rise up from the shadows depicting mechanical marvels, humanoid in stature alongside other beings, some human in form, others entirely alien. The figure sighs, stressed from the responsibility they are about to take on. They wish, silently, to be spared any sacrifice that would be too great to accept under normal circumstances that will come with their coming position, a promotion really.

Finally, they reach the core. At the very center of the constructed planet a towering castle of three towers in cascading brilliant light. Gilded doors of alabaster stone carved with hieroglyphics describing ancient, magnificent feats of science alongside pictures of the grandest events tower before them. The doors open for them to reveal a grand hall, well, more of a court room or a throne room. Members of their esteemed family sit among stone stands that curve together with a break between the two. In the wide space between them  is a throne of glimmering, black wood upon which is an elderly, human-looking woman dressed in deep burgundy. Her form severely contrasts with many of the people in the room looking upon the figure in black. The old woman’s dark eyes look as though they’ve beheld all of time. White hair bound inn a bun is pulled back from her taut face. The doors close behind the figure and their great ordeal begins.

“Ehvil Goldheart child of Cathion Goldheart, you have been called here today to discuss your inheritance,” the woman says coolly, taking in Ehvil with a calculative air.

“Yes, Great Mother,” Ehvil responds respectfully.

“As per custom, conditions are put upon the next in line to prove their commitment,” Great Mother drawls on as she pulls out an orb enscrawled with gold spirals against the transparent surface, “I hope my conditions are not too demanding for you.”

She releases the orb in front of her and it floats like a bubble as it projects screens on which Great Mother enters a few commands then pushes it towards Ehvil. They look over the text and their body runs hot as their heart speeds up, eyes racing over the screen. This is... This is too much to ask, it crosses boundaries they didn’t know they had. Ehvil looks back up to Great Mother, her eyes look impassively back at their pupil less, golden irises wet with frustration. They know they cannot turn this down so that leaves but one choice.

“You intend to decide who I will marry,” Ehvil puts on an air of calm, “Is that it?”

“The line must prevail.”

“I understand. I accept your terms.”

 “Then with completion of this condition you shall receive full rights as head of our family. Until then, you hold limited rights as future head of the family as described in the documents  in addition to regular permissions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then I congratulate you, Heir Goldheart of the Prime Line.”

Sudden;y, all those gathered stand up and applaud Ehvil’s official inheritance. They leave the grand hall, leaving the happy family members in their wake. Tucked in a dark corner away from that madness is their home, their sanctuary. It is a bright and warm place with deeply colored rugs in dark  reds and warm oranges. Dark wood furniture contrasts with silvery tech in breaks in the thick, white walls. Floating, digital screens depict  pictures of a young Ehvil with their mother and father in many different paces, some more grand than others. Their father, Cathion was rather human-looking like Ehvil but with bushy, black eyebrows and graying black hair and beard. His green eyes crinkle with his smile while he holds small Ehvil in his arms. A stranger figure stands beside them in the pictures. She towers above Cathion, a slender, gently glowing being the color of daffodils with a kind look in her three eyes and dressed in flowing white robes. Ehvil sighs and kisses their fingers before putting them over the image of their father. They then head up the towering staircase to their room where they shrug off their jacket then walk over to their bed and flop on to it. Framed posters litter the walls and bookcases overflow with novels and textbooks. A wardrobe rests in disarray against one wall next to a large window overlooking the dark courtyard.

“Well,” Ehvil muses, “time to get to the next one, I suppose.”

[elegantactingchops]

Chops: Acting/Life

I wish the stage were as narrow as the wire of a tightrope dancer so that no incompetent would dare step upon it.  

          - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (framed above Sanford Meisner’s               desk at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of Theatre)

I was called into Sanford Meisner’s office to discuss a teaching position at the Neighborhood Playhouse. Several years before, I had attended the Playhouse to study with this theatre giant.  It turned out to be the most formative artistic experience of my life. I spent the next few years after the Playhouse pounding the pavement of NYC looking for acting work, without much luck, feeling lost and confused as how to proceed in the business of acting.  I wanted to feel the flow of creativity again.  In the hope of rekindling the inspiration I had felt when studying, I begged Richard Pinter, a brilliant teacher of Meisner’s work, later the head of acting at the Playhouse, and certainly a profound influence from my days as a student, to let me sit in on his private classes.  Richard was the person who first suggested I might think of becoming a teacher (for which I am forever grateful) and had urged the Playhouse administration to consider me as a candidate for the teaching position that had opened there. I was soon invited to meet with Sandy and so now, as I sat at his desk trying not to wilt in the crosshairs of his intimidating stare, I waited for him to light yet another cigarette.  In that moment, I looked up at the framed quote from Goethe, felt the weight of it. The quote highlighted the responsibility, the imperative, of the actor and those who teach them. I understood there was a price to be paid to earn a walk on the wire.  I determined that I wanted to live the rest of my life doing just that.

Years later, I saw the movie Man on Wire, about Philippe Petit, who snuck up to the top of the World Trade Center towers, strung a tightrope from one tower to the other and walked, sat, and pranced between the clouds for forty-five minutes before being taken into custody by the NYPD.  He was up so high above the street, that people on the ground could barely make out what he was doing.  His performance was not a whim.  He began to plan this extraordinary escapade many years before, when he saw an architectural rendering for the future Twin Towers pictured in a Parisian magazine while sitting in his dentist’s waiting room.  The towers were, at this point, ink on paper. Yet, he knew instantly that this proposed building, the tallest in the world, was his destiny. He would have to wait years before the actual buildings were close to being done. The movie depicted the years of planning and practice he would execute before he would risk performing such a stunt.  Afterwards, he said the actual walking on the wire was the easiest part, so confident he was in his skill. The most difficult aspect was dealing with the mediocrity inherent in the reality that surrounded him.  So profoundly effective was his deliberate practice, he executed this extraordinary feat without fear.  This was his Mt. Everest, his Olympic Gold.  

I had a young, surfer guy in a class in Los Angeles who, after watching me work with two other students, blurted out, “Dude, you take this SO SERIOUSLY!”  Yes.  All artists do.   Engaging, connecting, being present, experiencing, responding, and honestly and fully expressing yourself, is to live the optimum human experience.  But to skill to do that must be earned.  It  takes years of work and discipline.  Nothing can be treated casually.  Most of us are only practiced at sleep walking through our human experience.  Actors are trained to be present.  We must pay attention, always. We must be willing to experience heightened circumstances, where the stakes are incredibly high.  

Actors don’t get paid to solve problems, they get paid to experience them.

[accuhunt]

Offbeat Getaways From Mumbai That’ll Inspire You to Rethink Life.

Lately, there’s been a lot of debate around whether travelling really has the power to change you – to question your beliefs, to throw you out of your comfort zone, to challenge your notions of the world, to mould you into a different person. Most of us like to believe it does.

But if I’m completely honest, my first fifteen or so trips as a young adult didn’t do much for me. Sure, I had some great holidays. But that’s exactly what they were – an escape from my regular life. I didn’t want them to challenge or mould me. So I stayed in resorts with the best deals, hung out with friends, drank and stuck to familiar food. I didn’t bother seeking experiential accommodations, having deep conversations with locals or tracing the journey of my food.

So when we ask if travelling can change us, we should really be asking, do we want our travels to change – or challenge – us?

If the answer is yes, I believe this list of long weekend trips out of Mumbai is a starting point. Over the course of my travels in India, these are environmentally and/or socially committed experiences that compelled me to rethink the way I travel – and live:

Maachli Farmstay: for pristine beaches

Where: Malvan Coast, Maharashtra

Sunset and solitude along the Malvan coast.

I fondly remember waking up to birdsong and a gentle breeze in my handcrafted cottage, reading Tolstoy in my balcony that opened up to cashew, beetle nut and coconut plantations, bathing with water out of a copper bucket (such a forgotten luxury), and feasting on delectable Maharashtrian food, cooked with home-grown or locally sourced ingredients. Even more fondly, I remember driving and hiking to pristine beaches all along the Malvan coast – soft sands, flanked by forested mountains, covered with palm trees, not another soul in sight. But the lovingly family-run Maachli Farmstay is not just about the untouched Malvan coast… it is about visualizing what the coastline of Goa must’ve looked like twenty or so years ago, and why we need to tread lightly as travellers.

Getting there: Take an overnight bus or train, or fly to Goa from Mumbai. Along the scenic coastal route from Goa, Maachli is about a 3 hour drive away.

Also read: Simple Ways I’ve Changed to Travel More Responsibly

Hideout Farm: for foodies and animal lovers

Where: Vikramgad, Maharashtra

Dates, nuts and coconut balls at Hideout Farm – vegan and delicious!

Hideout Farm is one family’s labor of love, who have toiled for years to convert a barren, rocky wasteland a couple of hours outside of Mumbai, into a gorgeous organic farm with alfonso mango trees, pineapple bushes and a kitchen garden full of herbs and salad leaves. Starry night skies, thought-provoking conversations and an ‘away from it all’ feeling aside, farm-to-table food – plant-based, oil-free, sugar-free and spanning Maharashtrian to fusion dishes – is at the core of the Hideout experience. As you nibble on what might be the most delicious pesto salad you’ve tasted in your life, or drink cold coffee that contains neither milk nor coffee, your notions of food, veganism, health and the environment are bound to evolve.

Getting there: State buses ply the route from Thane to Zadapoli village in the mornings. By car or taxi, Hideout Farm is about a two hour drive.

Also read: Why I Turned Vegan – and What It Means For My Travel Lifestyle

Malji Ka Kamra: for India’s incredible heritage

Where: Churu, Rajasthan

Amid old frescoes and ornate ceilings at Malji ka Kamra.

It is one thing to visit a royal fort in Rajasthan, quite another to rest your head under a hand-painted ceiling in an opulent haveli – with Rajput, Mughal and Venetian influences – built in the early 1900s by a wealthy merchant. The forgotten town of Churu in the Shekhawati region is a reminder of India’s incredible heritage – and its lost opportunities at heritage tourism – with ornate havelis whose plant-based paintings tell interesting stories of a bygone era (there’s even one of Jesus smoking up!) and whose architectural finesse (some have as many as 1100 stunning windows and doors) is fascinating. And you only need to go a few kilometers outside Churu town for brilliant desert sunsets and starry night skies!

Getting there: Take a flight from Mumbai to Delhi, from where Churu is a quick 4-hour train ride away. Malji Ka Kamra – a restored 20th century haveli to host travellers – has literally brought tourism to forgotten Churu.

Also read: How Responsible Tourism Can Challenge Patriarchy in India

Interiors of Goa: for culture seekers

The interiors of Goa – so much to love!

Many people swear off Goa, since its beaches are overrun with shacks, tourists and waste, and I totally get that. But the real Goa lives away from the beaches, amidst the rice paddies and forests and old Portuguese-era houses – and although things are changing fast, we can still steal a glimpse into the susagade way of life, ride a bike along the lush green paddies and pristine backwaters, and feast on authentic Goan food (no, Brittos doesn’t count). And as we ditch the coast for the interiors and get into the Goa state of mind, it is sure to dawn on us how our travel choices impact how we experience the places we visit.

Getting there: Goa is an overnight bus / train ride from Mumbai. My favorite restored Portuguese-style homestays are The Secret Garden and Cancio’s House.

Also see: Road Tripping in Rural Maharashtra

Purushwadi: for a million fireflies

Where: Sahyadris, Maharashtra

Stars and fireflies in Purushwadi! Photo via Grassroutes.

Imagine if you will: Thousands of stars in the dark night sky above; the valley below lit up with flashing Christmas lights – the mating signals of millions of fireflies! Just as the rains begin, fireflies descend upon Purushwadi, a charming fishing village in the Sahyadri mountains, and put on a show unlike any other for human eyes.

I was surprised to learn that until the 1980s, posh areas like Bandra in Mumbai were nothing but rice paddies and palm trees, and you could see shimmering stars in the night sky. The light pollution in our cities and towns is the worst enemy of stargazing – and turns out, also of fireflies, for light from human sources confuses their mating patterns and messes with their reproduction process. A night in Purushwadi was enough to make me question: is light indeed the greatest invention or an unnecessary evil?

Getting there: Purushwadi is about a 4-5 hour drive from Mumbai; it’s possible to get pretty far with the Mumbai local train. Grassroutes Journeys offers community-based tourism in Purushwadi.

Also read: Why Long Term Travel is More Like Real Life and Less Like Instagram 

Mangalajodi: for birding enthusiasts

Where: Chilika Lake, Odisha

A serene morning along the marshlands of Mangalajodi.

On a warm spring morning, I glided along silently on a rustic, wooden row boat on the gentle waters of Chilika Lake. The sun rose amid the clouds, migratory birds played along the shores, my guide spoke of how the marshland of Mangalajodi is different from the open Chilika Lake. Beautiful though it was, it was no ordinary boat ride, and Mangalajodi is no ordinary village – over tens of years, Mangalajodi has transformed from a village of notorious bird poachers to a village of bird conservationists; indeed, my guide and boatman were former poachers! The number of migratory birds in the village marshlands has grown from 5,000 to 3,00,000 per year, proving that no feat of human transformation is impossible.

Getting there: Take a flight from Mumbai to Bhubaneshwar, from where Mangalajodi is an easy 2 hour drive. Stay at the community-run Mangalajodi Ecotourism to get an insight into the transformation of the village.

Also read: A Traveller’s Guide to Gujarat’s Best Kept Secrets

Dehna: for monsoon love and village life

Where: Sahyadris, Maharashtra

People often say that travel broadens our mind – and it surely can when the place in question is an obscure little Maharashtrian village, just three hours from bustling Mumbai. Speaking to the village youth can put into perspective our life of privilege – access to good education, learning English at an early age, work opportunities online and offline. As you walk along the rice paddies and hike in the Sahyadris, indulge in the warm hospitality of local families, live a day in the shoes of a rice farmer and gaze at the starry skies by night, think of how it was by a mere twist of fate that we were born in a life of privilege. Chances are, you’ll change the way you interact with those less privileged, right from your house help to the server at the cafe you frequent.

Getting there: Dehna is an easy three hour drive from Mumbai. Grassroutes Journeys has developed community-based tourism in the village and organizes trips and stays in tents or homestays.

Also read: How Travelling Inspired an Indian Street Kid to Chase an Impossible Dream

Devrai Art Village: for artistic inspiration

Where: Off Panchgani, Maharashtra

A lost trail mapped by Devrai Art Village.

Mahabeshwar and Panchgani mostly evoke images of chaotic construction and sunset points overrun with obnoxious tourists. Until you find Devrai Art Village, an artistic accommodation and project that helps Naxal-affected families relocate to Panchgani and revive the lost Dhokra Art from the Bastar region as a source of livelihood. The art village has also been attempting to map forgotten trails in the Western Ghats that were first charted out by the British; trails that will have you hike in old forests and overgrown wilderness and deposit you at the edge of cliffs with stellar views of the valley below – and make sure the only images Panchgani evokes in you are of stunning natural beauty.

Getting there: Volvo buses from Mumbai take 6-7 hours to reach Panchgani; it is also possible to take a train part of the way, or drive. Read more about the lost art and lost trails at Devrai Art Village.

What are your favorite long weekend escapes from Mumbai?

I was hosted at some of the above places, and paid for the others on my own. I only recommend experiences I’ve truly loved!

Join me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook for more offbeat travel ideas. Subscribe to my newsletter to receive travel inspiration in your inbox.

Offbeat Getaways From Mumbai That’ll Inspire You to Rethink Life. published first on http://ift.tt/2w0EToM