#Land of Nuclear Enchantment
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A Close Look at LANL Colonialism and Economic Injustice
A Close Look at LANL Colonialism and Economic Injustice
By KAY MATTHEWS
Lucie Genay is a French professor who wrote Land of Nuclear Enchantment in 2019 to focus on the New Mexicans, not the scientists and PhDs, who worked to make the nuclear weapons industry a driving economic force as well as suffer the consequences: the Native Americans, the Hispanos or Nuevomexicanos, the ranchers, the farmers, and the miners. This is the first page of her chapter…
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#Atomic Spaces#Chuck Montaño#Hidden Truths: A Whistleblower’s Diary#Hispanic Homesteaders on the Pajarito Plateau: An Unconstitutional Taking of Property at Los Alamos 1942-1945#Jake Kosek#Joseph Masco#Land of Nuclear Enchantment#Living on the Manhattan Project#Los Alamos Revisited: A Workers&039; History#Los Alamos: Secret Colony#Lucie Genay#Malcolm Ebright#Myrriah Gomez#Nuclear Nuevo Mexico: Colonialism and the Effects of the Nuclear Industrial Complex on Nuevomexicanos#Peter Bacon Hales#Peter Malmgren#The Nuclear Borderlands: The Manhattan Project in Post-Cold War New Mexico#Understories: The Political Life of Forests in Northern New Mexico
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What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?
Still "most of them," unfortunately.
Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.
An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.
The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.
Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.
They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…
The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.
It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.
A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.
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Hello y’all! Let me introduce you to baubletale!!!
This au is an underground au with a twist! After nuclear warfare decimated the land above, monsters moved underground putting up a barrier for protection. However over the years, supplies grew scarce, but any who dared leave and venture above quickly succumbed to the elements
Over time, some clever monsters found out a way to posses their creations. But there was a trade off. You change your magic to the new possession style, and and loose your ability to perform magic without your creation. However survival trumps their love for their own magic, and after a few generations every monster was a bauble creator. It became the norm for their magic, and kids born no longer preformed their own magic, only being able to transfer it to their baubles
How it works: simular to how the nomads use a sliver of their soul in enchanting their tools, the bauble monsters use a sliver of their soul in animating their creation when they finish making it. What happens afterwards is:
They can move the item, see through it, and in some cases speak and feel through the item as well.
The item aside from being possessed and mobile does not have any other special features, they are only as durable as the materials used to make them, therefore the majority of bauble monster creations are temporary
Bauble creations can also be programmed to do certain tasks without needing the monster directly controlling it. But it takes a large amount of energy and requires being renewed regularly
After the crash, with their possessed creations no longer needed for survival, many bauble monsters began creating for the sake of expression. Nowadays these monsters are associated with all kinds of services like doll cafes, animated servants, acting, and sometimes just plain old art.
Now let’s introduce y’all to the boys!
Stitches (baubletale sans)
Stitches is a tiny skeleton monster, standing only at 4’8 feet tall and aged 40. He has peachy pink magic and the swirly marbled magic of a bauble monster. He recently had braces put in to correct his crooked teeth from malnutrition growing up.
Stitches is…. Well he’s a character. He’s an eccentric monster who seems to adore the strangest things, yet is bored by others that the majority of people consider important. He struggles a bit with boundaries having been pretty isolated most of his life. He’s sweet and cuddly, but sensitive as well can can have his feelings hurt easily. Many perceive him as childish due to his personality, but he’s plenty capable.
Stitches is a voice actor!! His father had saved many tapes of old cartoons, movies and audio books for his sons before his passing. Stitches idolized many of the characters, learning to copy their voices and getting quite good at it. Nowadays he has a gig as a voice actor for a popular kids cartoon. He’s voices the sidekick, love interest and the little brother of the show. He’s also had one of his creations starred in a movie of said cartoon.
Because he is a bauble monster, he has no magic weapon or ability to create and summon one
Stitches special ability is what he calls “sticky hands”. He can stretch the ecto of his left arm up to two feet to grab things out of reach!
Things he loves: bright wild colors, especially neon pink, tie dye clothing, vintage cartoon tapes and dvds, vintage cookie jars, thrift shopping, toy instruments, playing the keyboard, dyed rainbow roses, corn dogs, 80s pop and disco, crazy printed leggings, squishmallows
Tinker (baubletale papyrus)
The younger twin by a few minutes, he’s a 5’11 foot tall skeleton monster with pinkish purple eyes and the marbled swirled ecto of a bauble monster.
Tinker is a monster of few words. He’s always got his head in the clouds daydreaming about this and that and has trouble staying on track in long conversations. However when talking to a creation he’s possessing, he’s quite focused responding easier. He’s a very calm monster and is good at keeping his cool in scary situations.
Tinker owns an online shop where he sells crochet, embroidery and knit wear. Everything is an original piece, he never makes the same item twice. And he takes commissions! He also has a side hustle as a dishwasher for a restaurant he does on weekends. He of course sends a creation to do it as he hates the feeling of wet food on his hands.
Because he is a bauble monster, he has no magic weapon or ability to create and summon one
Tinkers special ability is that he can posses up to three items at the same time that he made. When he does this though, he can’t move, and can only keep it up for about three hours before getting migraines.
Things he loves: the color dark purple, jello and boba teas, violet flowers, yarn yarn and more yarn, string in interesting colors, vintage clothing patterns, rag dolls, vintage lighters and brooches, old records, record players, jazz music
Side characters
Jigsaw: (baubletale Asgore) jigsaw almost didn’t accept his place with the royals, ashamed at how little he and his people had to give, but he was convinced by marionette and now works with the medical board. He funds and manages organizations that research cures and treatments for magical diseases like dimming and LV sickness. Jigsaw is a frail monster, but incredibly kind and compassionate
Marionette: (baubletale toriel) jigsaws best friend and his royal advisor before the crash, marionette convinced him to continue to take the title of royal, and was offered one for herself in turn. Marionette is a regal elegant monster with a heart of gold. She works closely with monsters researching fertility treatments and cares deeply for the humans coming into ebott. She’s one of the main royals who advocates for more immigrant rights
Nook-aster: (baubletale gaster). Technically aster died decades ago. Sick from the radiation on the surface, aster knew she wouldn’t live past her sons first birthdays, so she poured her whole soul into a tin doll she created. The doll, named nook, is merely a reflection of who aster was, it speaks like her, can preform basic tasks, but as time goes on, it’s magic fades away without its creator. Aster did end up living till her son’s second year of life, before she fell down and nook took over. Nook the doll did its best to raise the boys, it fed them, cleaned them, taught them to read and write, and even simple crafts. Thankfully the boys were intelligent, and as nook began to wear and slow, they filled the gaps learning more from the tapes aster left them. Nowadays the doll moves slowly, and only speaks a little at a time. But the boys still adore it and treat it as a true family member
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A road trip through New Mexico’s atomic past
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i am still laying here haunted by robert macfarlane drawing comparisons between containment measures for nuclear waste and dire warnings to future people to stay away, and a classic finnish myth about a man descending deep underground to claim a cool secret power treasure despite tons of warnings about how dangerous and bad it would be.
fucking chills.
I read the Kalevala for two hours in view of that photograph, and as I read I come to realize something so unsettling that the back of my neck prickles: despite its great age, the poem seems to possess foreknowledge of what is presently being undertaken
on Olkiluoto Island.
Partway through the poem, Väinämöinen is given the task of descending to the underland. Hidden in the Finnish forests, he is told, is the entrance to a tunnel that leads to a cavern far underground. In that cavern are stored materials of huge energy:
spells and enchantments which, when spoken, will release great power. To approach this subterranean space safely Väinämöinen must protect himself with shoes of copper and a shirt of iron, lest he be damaged by what it contains. Ilmarinen forges them for him. Clad in these insulating metals Väinämöinen approaches the tunnel mouth, which is disguised by aspens, alders, willows and spruce. He cuts down the trees to reveal the entrance. He enters the tunnel and finds himself in a deep ‘grave’ a ‘demon . . . lair’. He has stepped, he realizes, into the throat of a buried giant called
Vipunen whose body is the land itself.
Vipunen warns Väinämöinen not to bring to the surface what is buried in his caverns. He speaks of the ‘grievous pain’ of excavation. 'Why have you entered ‘my guiltless heart, my blameless belly’, Vipunen asks, ‘to eat and to gnaw / to bite, to devour’? He warns Väinämöinen that he will end up visiting terrible violence upon humans if he continues on his course, that he will become ‘a windborne disease / wind-borne, water driven / shared out by the gale / carried by chill air’. He threatens to imprison Väinämöinen by means of a containment spell so powerful that it is
unlikely ever to be broken. It will take nine ram lambs born of a single ewe, together with nine bull oxen born of a single cow, together with nine stallions born of a single mare, pulling together to free him.
But Väinämöinen will not listen to Vipunen. He sings of his conviction that the power buried underground should be returned to the surface:
Words shall not be hid
nor spells be buried;
might shall not sink underground
though the mighty go.
The Kalevala is fascinated by the underland; by the safe storage of dangerous materials and the safe retrieval of precious materials. At the poem’s heart is a magical object or substance known as ‘Sampo’ or the ‘Sammas’; constructed by the blacksmith
Ilmarinen, another of the Kalevala’s supernatural heroes, and stored inside the ‘copper slope’ of a ‘rocky hill’, protected by a gate with ten locks. This enchanted artefact, most often figured as a mill or quern, brings power, wealth and fortune to whoever controls it. It is – in modern terms – a weapons system, a rich raw resource,
a nation’s organized industry, or a nuclear power station. The Sampo grinds out flour, it grinds out money – and it grinds out time. One of its given tasks is to grind out the age of the world, causing epochs to yield to one another in an immense cycle of
precessions. The world has changed too much . . . we are in the Anthropocene.
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Mari/Xiaodie Headcanons Part 3
Age
This is a category of its own.
Mari was 19 when she first landed in the Tang Dynasty and lost her memories. During the events of LMK, she was 21–22 as it took time for her to finish college while carefully planning to leave for China.
Because of the 14-year journey she went through, she's mentally in her early thirties. Time loops mixed with eating life-extending fruit are weird
My heart says that MK is 19, but my head says he's at least 20 (well, I guess he's 19 at heart even when he's well into adulthood). A storyboard artist sees Mei as 23, and I am apt to believe that Red Son is at the physical age of 24. I'm making this comparison because, it's truly a mystery on whether Mari is the second oldest or second youngest of the four because the journey is still something she experienced, albeit while in a coma.
It's like Narnia all over again when the adult Pevensie siblings get out of the closet and go back into their childhood bodies.
It gets even funnier when you consider that Red Son was physically and mentally younger than Mari/Xiaodie the last time she saw him (although Red was probably already biologically older than her regardless). Now, he's physically older than his aunt in the modern day.
Onstage
Mari has the voice of an angel. As Xiaodie, she has attracted demons and humans alike many a time with how enchanting she sounded much to Wukong's chagrin.
I think it'd be funny that Macaque and Mari both do well performing in front of crowds, but Sun Wukong does not.
Mari is used to performing in front of her large nuclear and extended family during events as well as singing in a choir at her school.
Past Wukong believed that there was a meaning to the songs she sang. There were no such meanings. Xiaodie was just regaining memories from singing. She sang "My Jolly Sailor Bold" often causing Wukong to get all huffy and jealous about his supposed "rival" whose name was William lmao.
Leaving Home
It was a difficult feat.
Mari left home without her phone, and therefore no GPS. She couldn't take it with her in order to prevent being tracked down. The layout of modern China differs greatly, so finding Flower Fruit Mountain was difficult.
On top of that, she gets caught in heavy rain hours after she took off from her balcony, rendering her wings too wet to fly. At the very least, she landed herself in a coastal area of China before she fell into the sea and relived her trauma of drowning.
8:00 AM, Mari is dead tired and wet, she finds shelter in a payphone and calls home to tell everyone that she's alright.
On a funnier side to this story, this is Mari's running away from home note.
Despair
There was a slight misunderstanding when Mari first heard about MK being a successor, and it caused Mari to lose courage in hoping to rekindle her relationship with Wukong for a bit.
She came to the conclusion that Wukong might have moved on from her and found someone else and then had MK. There's no way he would wait so long for her. She shouldn't have expected him to.
(Wrong! He did. He waited. Since she was born, Wukong would buy gifts for her on her birthday, thinking that "maybe this would be the year she comes back to me." Those gifts are still collecting dust on his mountain and in the Shame Temple.)
Mari cries in her hotel room that night. She considers going back to Singapore and apologizing to her family for leaving, making this trip a lost cause.
It takes a few days for her to get better, but then she hears something about a shame temple in the Monkey Village, which isn't too far away.
She decides that maybe she should go there, shed some light on the situation, and find out if Wukong found someone else. If he has moved on, Mari will accept forfeit and go back home.
And then the Lady Bone Demon sneaked up on her in the dead of night.
(Tbh, if it turns out Wukong and MK are related, I'm hoping that they're brothers. I don't mind Wukong acting like a dad, I just prefer MK and Wukong being bros. It's cuter imo.)
Marriage
I saw this tiktok of Wukong singing 'Get this Right,' a deleted song from Frozen 2, and I'm like this is how he would propose for the second time when they finally reunite after season 3:
Ahem, go on and guess what the picture below means for them:
Other Random Headcanons
Mari owns a 10-foot caterpillar plushie that she had since she was 7. It's a comfort item to her. During her time as a pilgrim, Xiaodie made herself a small stuffed caterpillar to prevent any more sleepless nights.
Along with not aging because she was in a two-week coma for the journey, Xiaodie's hair only grew an inch after chopping it off and her pink hair dye barely faded away.
In a situation where Xiaodie is angry, it's arguably scarier than Wukong's temper because there is hardly any solution for the problem other than waiting for time to pass until she has cooled off. Xiaodie generally knows how to tame Wukong's rampages, but she stubbornly sticks to whatever mood she's in.
#my writing#my headcanons#lego monkie kid#lmk#journey to the west#jttw#sun wukong x oc#monkey king x oc#lego monkie kid oc#lmk oc#journey to the west oc#jttw oc#oc: marisol orozco leong#oc: mariposa#oc: liang xiaodie#sun wukong#monkey king#mk#qi xiaotian#mei dragon#long xiaojiao#red son#lady bone demon
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For the top 5 anything, if ur still doing that:
Top 5 Sad Sailors in Movies and TV
Or
Top 5 Seals
Hello anon! I was tired and then uhhhhh two weeks went by.
Most of the sailors I like are not actually sad, so here are some seals.
Gray Seal
Long overlooked until I realized how expressive they are. They are also extremely shaped, even for a seal. They make cooing noises like doves and can fight off a great white shark with their sharp claws. They watch over each other while they sleep and adopt orphaned pups. Their weanlings look like black sesame mantou. What more needs be said?
Weddell Seal
Okay, the queen! She's the world's most southerly land breeding mammal. She's incredibly graceful underwater. She makes ultrasonic noises. She's highly intelligent. She dines on Antarctic tooth fish (or Chilean sea bass, if it's served in restaurants). I do however think they should be renamed, since James Weddell was only looking for new kinds of seals to slaughter and I don't think it's very nice they have to be named after him.
I wrote half an answer to this on mobile and I think here is where I thought about the monk seals and became very sad and cried. Okay, moving on.
Elephant Seal
There's just something enchanting about their bright little button eyes like a faerie creature. I find the screaming noise their babies make endearing. The southern elephant seal is much more beautiful than the northern elephant seal, but I'm very proud of the northern elephant seal for defying humans and coming back from extinction. Also they like to dive to below the crush depth of a nuclear submarine and take a little nap down there, how cool is that??
Ringed Seal
The smallest seal! I love their raindrop-patterned fur and their mischievous little faces. Compact, but having all the aspects a seal needs. They are also the only seal that digs (they dig a den in the sea ice). The Saimaa ringed seal is especially beautiful, and of course we must mention my terrible adopted daughter Cloudberry, who had the face of an angel and the mind of a rabid Tasmanian devil.
Leopard Seal
Lately there have been a bunch of posts like "Reminder, leopard seals are NOT friendly sea puppies and would eat you," to which I say 1) ALL pinnipeds are essentially a bear that swims (their closest relative is the Ursidae). They are large predatory animals designed to kill, and people forget that at their peril. And 2) If a leopard seal wanted to eat me I would simply allow it, it clearly needs the nutrition. I love how they are shaped like a seal but also so different from the rest of the family. I love their huge heads, wide jaws, and their delicate little trilling noises. Did you know they will cooperate with each other to hunt king penguins and then share the carcass?
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In defense of Enchanted's (2007) Robert.
So, Enchanted is probably one of my favorite Disney movies. I love how it blends classic 2D animation with live action, the great soundtrack, and memorable characters.
And about the characters, I love them. Giselle, Robert, Nancy, and Edward. I especially like Nancy and Edward, and am so glad they returned for the sequel Disenchanted (2022).
I'm glad they had each other in the end. And who would pass up the opportunity to live in a fairytale land, where your biggest problems are the occasional trolls or dragons? And you don't have to worry about student loans or nuclear warfare!
Because I want to see more of Nancy and Edward, I look for fanart and fanfiction of them. This brings me to their pairing tag on Archive of Our Own. There are some great fanfics about them, but while browsing the tag, I came across a fic that I wanted to discuss now.
By all means, there was nothing mechanically wrong with it. Spelling, grammar, etc. And there's some fascinating ideas in there, like the "return" (?) of Queen Narissa in Nancy's dreams to tempt her and persuade her to learn magic. But I take issue with the author's depiction of Robert.
In Enchanted, we never know the ages of the characters, and nothing has been confirmed by the writers/directors/etc.
The fanfic author seems to think that Robert is 40 however, and Giselle is 18. So of course the author has Nancy react with shock (which makes no sense because she has met Giselle and can judge for herself how old she is), and the author basically drags Robert's name through the mud, saying how "he didn't want a woman who could challenge him".
I could just leave this at that, since this is "fan"-fiction after all, and it's not supposed to be entirely accurate. But I was quite surprised to discover that there is a portion of Enchanted's viewers, who have similar opinions on Robert. Even going as far back as 2007-2008.
Therefore, I would like to use this post to refute a couple of the most common claims against Robert's character.
#1. The "age difference"
Like I mentioned before, there is no official confirmation from either the movies, or staff who worked on the movies, on the character's ages (other than Morgan, Robert's six year old daughter).
As such, it is not fair to assume things about the characters, reflecting their actions in respect to those "ages". It is not fair to villainize Robert for being in a relationship with a woman "younger" than him, when we don't even know their actual ages.
I assume the aforementioned fanfic writer thought that Robert was 40 because of the actor, Patrick Dempsey's age. He was 40 years old when Enchanted came out.
If you're using the actor's age to estimate the character's ages, than let's be impartial here, okay? Amy Adams was 33, Idina Menzel was 36, and James Marsden was 34, when Enchanted came out.
On the topic of age differences in relationships however, let's step back from Enchanted for a moment and discuss it.
An age difference is fine. If both parties are consenting adults, then they are allowed to be in a relationship. As an outsider observing that relationship, you may have problems with it because it is not what you personally agree with, but this is not about you. This is their relationship, and thusly, no outside party should interfere with the wishes of two capable and consenting adults.
Therefore, responsibility for the age difference in relationships should fall on the parties involved. Both parties should be prepared for the differences in maturity and life experience compared to their partner.
Back to Enchanted, I believe that the four main characters are similar in age to each other. Giselle and Edward, the reason the audience may be led to think they are younger than they actually are, is because of their animation in Andalasia, and the way they act.
The animation style/art style of the fairytale land of Andalasia is very ambiguous. It is not clear how old Giselle and Edward are from the art style alone. Even Nancy, when marrying Edward at the end of the movie, looks younger than she was when she was in live action.
If you observe Nancy and Edward in Disenchanted, which takes place ten years later, Edward has hardly changed at all in the 2D art style. Nor has Nancy, other than changing her hair with bangs.
Giselle acts immature because she was an orphan woman living by herself in a magical forest. Her only company in the forest is the animals who raised her.
Similarly, Edward only acts "immature" because of the environment he was raised in. Queen Narissa definitely did not educate Edward as a prince, since that would make him more capable of going against her. Edward's father, the King, is not there to raise him either.
Their immaturity comes mainly from their backgrounds, not really because of age differences with their partners.
Plus, as shown in Disenchanted, Giselle and Robert have a baby ten years after Enchanted. Even if Giselle was inexperienced in "sexual relationships", it took them ten years to have a baby. Robert clearly did not rush things with Giselle, on account of her immaturity. Nor did he take advantage of her immaturity.
#2. Robert's interactions with Giselle
When Robert first meets Giselle, she is someone with nowhere to go and who has no idea of the world around them. He is justifiably wary of her, and yet he stills allows her to rest in his home.
He is not heartless, and what he did was incredibly kind compared to what someone else would do in his shoes.
Nor does Robert "put Giselle down" and deliberately make her out to be someone she isn't. His attitude towards her throughout the movie does not stem from maliciousness, but practicality. After all, people in New York do not spontaneously burst into song everyday, or act the way Giselle does.
Robert is concerned for her, which is why he tells her not to sing, or to not believe "Prince Edward" is coming for her. He views her from the lens of someone from Earth, not Andalasia, which is why he didn't believe she was from a fairytale world.
In conclusion, Robert doesn't have to be your favorite character. But please don't accuse him of being a criminal, nor an evil person!
#enchanted#disney movies#disenchanted#idina menzel#james marsden#amy adams#patrick dempsey#giselle#robert philip#nancy tremaine#enchanted sequel#opinion#fanfiction#analysis#disney#disney animation#walt disney#movie#disney plus#morgan enchanted
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Five Interesting Russian Nonfiction Books
Natasha's Dance: A Cultural History of Russia - History on a grand scale--an enchanting masterpiece that explores the making of one of the world's most vibrant civilizations. A People's Tragedy, wrote Eric Hobsbawm, did "more to help us understand the Russian Revolution than any other book I know." Now, in Natasha's Dance, internationally renowned historian Orlando Figes does the same for Russian culture, summoning the myriad elements that formed a nation and held it together. (GoodReads)
Romanov Autumn: Stories from the Last Century of Imperial Russia - The Romanov dynasty ruled Russia for a little over 300 years. The story of the dynasty's dramatic end has exerted a lasting fascination. This book seeks to widen the picture, looking at the lives of members of the family during the last century of imperial rule, and setting this into the context of the grand palaces in which they lived. It was a time of contrasts, a period in which the Tsars reached the peak of their wealth, prestige and power, yet also faced the growth of forces which would destroy them. In 1817, 100 years before the Revolution, the first Nicholas and Alexander were married in the Winter Palace. This book tells their story, and the stories of their successors, Alexander II, Alexander III and Nicholas II, each trying to steer their own course. It also looks at the lives of their sisters and brothers, and other members of the large Russian royal family, detailing their daily lives. (GoodReads)
Tent Life in Siberia: An Incredible Account of Siberian Adventure, Travel, and Survival - In the 1860s, the Russo-American Telegraph Company set out to telegraphically connect the United States and Europe using lines running through the Bering Straits and Siberia. The failed expedition marked one of the first explorations of the vast Siberian wilderness, and George Kennan’s tale of a seemingly endless land filled with wildlife and nomadic tribes is as entertaining today as it was 140 years ago. With biting humor and poignant insight, Kennan details his years fighting to survive a doomed mission. He depicts the quiet loneliness of the desolate landscape, the eerie glow of the sun at midnight, and the refusal to give in to one of the harshest places man has ever tried to conquer. His book is a testament to our planet’s beauty and danger, as well as to the tireless will of the human spirit. (GoodReads)
Moscow Nights: The Van Cliburn Story-How One Man and His Piano Transformed the Cold War - Gripping narrative nonfiction that tells the dramatic story of a remarkable young Texan pianist, Van Cliburn, who played his way through the wall of fear built by the Cold War, won the hearts of the American and Russian people, and eased tensions between two superpowers on the brink of nuclear war. In 1958, an unheralded twenty-three-year-old piano prodigy from Texas named Van Cliburn traveled to Moscow to compete in the First International Tchaikovsky Competition. The Soviets had no intention of bestowing their coveted prize on an unknown American; a Russian pianist had already been chosen to win. Yet when the gangly Texan with the shy grin began to play, he instantly captivated an entire nation. The Soviet people were charmed by Van Cliburn’s extraordinary talent and fresh-faced innocence, but it was his palpable love for the music that earned their devotion; for many, he played more like a Russian than their own musicians. As enraptured crowds mobbed Cliburn’s performances, pressure mounted to award him the competition prize. "Is he the best?" Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev demanded of the judges. "In that case . . . give him the prize!" Adored by millions in the USSR, Cliburn returned to a thunderous hero’s welcome in the USA and became, for a time, an ambassador of hope for two dangerously hostile superpowers. In this thrilling, impeccably researched account, Nigel Cliff recreates the drama and tension of the Cold War era, and brings into focus the gifted musician and deeply compelling figure whose music would temporarily bridge the divide between two dangerously hostile powers. (GoodReads)
On a warm July evening in 1985, a middle-aged man stood on the pavement of a busy avenue in the heart of Moscow, holding a plastic carrier bag. In his grey suit and tie, he looked like any other Soviet citizen. The bag alone was mildly conspicuous, printed with the red logo of Safeway, the British supermarket. The man was a spy for MI6. A senior KGB officer, for more than a decade he had supplied his British spymasters with a stream of priceless secrets from deep within the Soviet intelligence machine. No spy had done more to damage the KGB. The Safeway bag was a signal: to activate his escape plan to be smuggled out of Soviet Russia. So began one of the boldest and most extraordinary episodes in the history of spying. Ben Macintyre reveals a tale of espionage, betrayal and raw courage that changed the course of the Cold War forever... (GoodReads)
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Media Mayhem - IP IP Hooray Examples
Hey, folks! Here are some lovely examples for this week from our Judges and Mods!
@teaxch kicks it old school with a card from the Scottish Play (spoilers for Shakespeare. Sorry, but if you haven’t read it by now, that’s on you). The flavor text pretty much sums up the action that’s happening here, and it’s a unique flavorful take on land animation- this isn’t literally animating the land through magic, it’s simply soldiers disguised as land, which is such a fun way to do it. Mechanically, this scales well since you have to pay ~half your lands to animate the other half, but the hexproof is certainly nice protection.
@mistershinyobject brings us an enchantment from the Outer Wilds, a very cool puzzle/exploration game that you should definitely go check out. I haven’t finished it myself, but the time loop is a pretty basic premise of the game, and this is a super interesting take on a time loop. You might expect blue for something like this, but the idea of “flicker one creature until you don’t want to, then explode the board” is very white, and offers a lot of really interesting gameplay scenarios. It’s like a nuclear deterrent when you have this on board, which is always a lot of fun.
@abelzumi gives us Wind God’s Aria, from The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker- which he has never played. However, that goes to show that you don’t need a hyper-specific reference to be successful this week. Abelzumi’s card is primarily just a good card, with the flavor nod coming in second to support the whole card and make it feel solid. I’m not expecting anyone to create a card from an IP they don’t know- after all, this is your chance to write a love letter to your favorite things in the form of a Magic card- but make sure that “is the card good and fun?” is the first question you ask, and flesh out the flavor afterwards.
One other thing to note! Enchantments are probably the easy way to go this week, but consider the value of a well-developed instant or sorcery that represents a big story beat or a momentary ability! Not to say that you shouldn’t design what you want to design, but... well, exercise your options!
‘Till next time,
~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation
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Some info about my undertale AUs
This will include how the two of them (Nuke and Mask) met, backstories, and other little tidbits
Mask! Sans backstory
Sans had walked out of grillby's, thinking about the last genocide route. Oh, how he despised the genocide route...seeing his friends die over and over again....his brother...never an ideal way to spend an afternoon. He wished he didn’t have to deal with them, but nothing he could do about them. As he walked his way back to his house, he caught a glimpse of something shiny in his peripheral of his eye socket. Curious, he went to check it out. Standing there, in a snow pomf, was a wooden mask. He picked up the mask, investigating it further. It glowed in the Skeleton's hand. Sans didn’t know why, but he felt...enchanted by the mask. Like something about it was telling him to put it on. The Skeleton hesitantly raised the mask up to his face, feeling it latch onto his face before pulling it away from his face. "What the -" he thought. It was almost like the mask was alive. He continued to look at it, tempted to put it on, but also tempted to get rid of it. Eventually, he gave in and put the mask onto his skull. He could feel it engulfing his face more and more, and then, with a whirlwind so strong it could blow away the snow around him, he transformed, his face all green, his jacket yellow, his shoes black, with a scarf fully around his neck, despite never having a scarf on before, but like that mattered because sans was no longer himself, but "The Mask."
Nuke sans
Name: Jeremy Jones
Nickname: Nuke/radiation sans sometimes nuclear
Gender: he/him/they/them/explode/explodeself
Age: 17
Height: 6'3
Species: nuclear skeleton
Mask sans
Name: sans the skeleton
Nickname: The Mask, Mask sans, or Mask
Gender: he/him
Age: same as sans
Height: 2 ft
Species: skeleton??
Nuke sans Backstory
Jeremy and his brother gamma lived a normal live, but one day their world was about to become a nuclear wasteland due to a nuke about to land in their city, thankfully gamma was able to seek shelter in an underground bunker. Unfortunately, Jeremy wasn’t so lucky. Jeremy ended up becoming deformed and turned into a nuclear skeleton due to the nukes blast. The radiation also caused him to develop destructive tendencies, which, combined with the newfound powers he was bestowed, was not a great combination.
How they both met:
Jeremy had awoken. He tried standing up and noticing all the destruction around him. "That's right... the nuke!"
He thought. He had suddenly remembered what had happened. He looked at himself, noticing to check for injuries, only to see his hands were now...Skeleton hands? He also was in a lot of pain but got up otherwise. He started to cough and, in his skeleton hand, was... some strange goo? Ok, what was going on? Eventually, he ended up randomly teleporting to a random location. It was...dark. no lights, no furniture, nothing. It's just an empty void. Eventually, a skeleton came up to him. He had on a yellow coat with a white shirt, yellow sweatpants, and a red scarf. He was like a normal skeleton except... his skull was green? "You don't look too good there, bud." He said in an eccentric tone. "Hear, let me fix you up there." Eventually, a changing room fell onto Jeremy, and he had somehow changed into a completely different outfit. The green skulled skeleton pulled out a giant mirror from his pockets, "whachya think?" He asked. As Jeremy stared in the mirror, he had noticed he was now a slightly green skeleton with glowing neon green pupils, and green goo was coming out of his eyes and mouth. He was shocked by his appearance. "By the way, what's your name there?" He asked in his classic theatrical tone. "J-Jeremy. Where am I?" He asked, still shaken by seeing himself turn into a skeleton. "You're in the multiverse there, kid. There's many universes here. And most of us here are skeletons, so don't worry, you'll fit right in!" Jeremy stared at the skeleton "wait...there's others? Like...me?" The green skulled skeleton tapped his chin."Well, idk about like you. Most of these guys seem to have parasites or are glitches or something else. But for the most part, we all started as skeletons named sans. We just ended up a little messed up." He chuckled. "Actually, that's a bit of a stretch. Wait, your name is Jeremy? Does that mean you weren't a skeleton before?" He seemed intrigued by Jeremy now.
Jeremy scratched his neck. "Yeah, I just remembered a nuke going off, and then the next thing I just...look like this now." He explained. Mask sans looked at him. "Don't worry, kid, even if you weren't a sans before, you're still welcome in the multiverse. Although just a warning, some of these Sans's are...somewhat murderous." He said the last bit in a whisper behind his hand. Jeremy smiled. He may be in a new world he's never seen before, but at least this strange green faced skeleton made him feel better about it. "Wait, did you say muderous?" He said in a realization of what he said. Mask sans nodded. "Either don't get on their bad side or avoid them." Jeremy suddenly coughed, clutching his stomach in pain, his green goo getting on the floor, making a sizzling sound. Mask sans bent down and touched it, yelping in pain afterward. "That is one hot tamale!" He yelled. Mask sans pondered, then quickly changed into an Albert Einstein outfit, mimicking his voice as well. "It seems as though your saliva has an acidic trait to it." He said before quickly changing back to regular mask sans. "Acidic? You mean like... it can burn through stuff?" Mask sans nodded "yep." He said hands on hips matter of fact. Jeremy was stunned. It's like he became a skeleton biohazard. "BTW, I'm the mask, but you can call me Mask sans, or maybe even just Mask. Whichever works, " he said, reaching his hand out to Jeremy. Jeremy shook his hand "and...you can call me nuke sans, or maybe radiation." Mask gave a smirk "nuke... I like the sound of that. Nice nickname." Jeremy just chuckled. He knew it was gonna take time to get used to this new world, his new appearance, and maybe these new abilities, but with a new friend, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Other info!
•Nuke sans still misses his brother. One day, he still wishes to find him and go back to his universe
•Mask is Nuke's mentor teaching him about how to control his powers and all he knows about the multiverse (I like to think this sans knows about the other Sans's as he has travelled through the multiverses a couple times)
•Nuke is nicknamed the walking biohazard by himself
•Mask's catchphrase when in battle is "you gonna stop me?"
•Despite the mentor/student dynamic between Mask and Nuke, Nuke is the more disciplined one, usually trying not to cause any problems, and Mask is the one that annoys the fuck out of the other Sans's. (Nightmare is gonna have a field day with him)
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It’s one thing standing in line to watch the blockbuster film “Oppenheimer.” It’s another thing entirely queueing up in a remote desert to experience the location of the film’s most pivotal scene.
But if you’re a fan of atomic history and can swing central New Mexico this October, your pilgrimage through the Jornada del Muerto (Dead Man’s Journey) will be so worth the effort.
Saturday, October 21, presents a rare opportunity to visit not just one but two scientifically significant and movie-famous destinations on the same day – each occupying opposite ends of the electromagnetic spectrum.
Trinity Site is the national historic landmark that’s home to mankind’s first nuclear blast on July 16, 1945, where plutonium gamma rays lit up the night sky. It hosts only two open house events each year.
And while you’re in the area, an extraordinary bonus is a second, free-of-charge open house aimed specifically at Trinity Site adventurers who are willing to drive another 100 miles to take in a second mind-bending experience.
It’s the Very Large Array Radio Observatory (VLA), which was dramatized in the 1997 alien-life movie “Contact.” The VLA telescope can spread wider than New York City, able to capture the whispers of distant radio waves as they undulate across our cosmos.
Rare access to Trinity Site
Trinity Site opens only two Saturdays a year. Once in April, and lucky for “Oppenheimer” enthusiasts, again in October.
The exact dates are announced in advance each year by the US Army.
The site is a secure military installation within the forbidding White Sands Missile Range, where live weapons are regularly tested. The terrain is high desert plateau, dotted with creosote brush and not much else.
In our everyday crush of crowds, traffic and strip malls, the Land of Enchantment’s sheer miles of open landscape and soul-nourishing cobalt vistas inspire. Buzz Aldrin’s impression of the moon’s surface parallels Trinity Site, a “magnificent desolation.”
When J. Robert Oppenheimer, the theoretical physicist known as the “father of the atomic bomb,” led his Manhattan Project team to Trinity, it wasn’t just for the isolation. He had history with New Mexico, attending summer boys’ camps during his youth. Because of the popularity of the movie “Oppenheimer,” a surge of visitors is expected on October 21.
The open house event, hosted by the US Army, is free but limited to the first 5,000 guests, on a first-come, first-served basis.
How to get there
From Albuquerque International Sunport airport, your best bet is a rental car for the two-hour drive south. It’s easy to get disoriented while navigating, so stick to the Army’s directions, as GPS instructions can be wonky. Take screen photos of the route mapped on your phone – as you may lose cell service – and have an actual roadmap as backup.
Aim to arrive at Trinity’s Stallion Gate before 8 a.m., when the gate opens. There will already be a line. Be early, and you’ll still have plenty of time for the day’s second adventure. Army officials will check your ID at the gate, and from there it’s a 17-mile (27-kilometer) drive to a parking lot located a quarter-mile walk from the reason you came – Ground Zero.
Trinity Site’s atmosphere during an open house is reminiscent of a small-town carnival from a bygone era. Vendors selling souvenir trinkets. Kids in strollers. Dogs wagging tails. Porta Potties. That’s until you notice the pop-up tent displaying Geiger counters. And another with radioactive Trinitite, the mysterious green-glass rock that rained down from the bomb’s blast.
Ominous fence signs remind guests that it’s against the law to remove any pieces of Trinitite they spy on the ground because ingested fragments retain enough radioactivity to be dangerous.
The famed 1918 McDonald adobe ranch house, where the bomb’s critical plutonium core was assembled in the master bedroom, survived the shock wave two miles away mostly intact. Buses shuttle visitors back and forth free of charge from the Trinity parking lot to the McDonald house.
Venture in farther to stand next to a life-size replica of Fat Man, the nuclear bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan, on August 9, 1945.
Visitors can pose for photos inside Jumbo, the 216-ton steel cylinder scientists contemplated detonating the bomb – nicknamed the Gadget – within to contain its plutonium core if the full detonation failed.
Experiencing Ground Zero
The moment arrives to approach Ground Zero, marked simply by a black stone obelisk that’s 12 feet (3.66 meters) high.
Step back in time to the pre-dawn of July 16, 1945. Glance north, west and south where Oppenheimer’s team hunkered down in three bunkers, five miles away. You stand where the course of humanity shifted. Where the boundaries of physics and possibility stretched.
Picture the 100-foot-high steel tower that stood where the obelisk stands now. A few feet away only nubs of the tower remain, the bulk annihilated in the blast.
See in your mind the mattresses hauled in and stacked high to cushion the fall should the chains snap as they winched the heavy Gadget high into the air. And young scientists rotated throughout the night babysitting the bomb as crackles of lightning threatened to strike.
Oppenheimer wrote the poem “Crossing” two decades before Trinity. His words contained the prophetic passage, “…in the dry hills down by the river, half withered, we had the hot winds against us.” He could not have imagined the heat to come.
Now close your eyes.
Ignore what you do see to imagine the history you cannot see.
The storms over the mountains. New Mexico Gov. John Dempsey is at home asleep, oblivious to when the blast will occur. Finally, the mists of rain clear. The countdown to fission begins. There’s a sense of dread, however remote, that Earth’s atmosphere might ignite in a cataclysmic chain reaction.
And finally, the detonation.
Man’s first nuclear genie shatters its bottle, unleashing the ferocity of the atom, with an explosion 10,000 times hotter than our sun. Thirty-seven minutes later, the wounded sky brightens again, to the dawn of man’s first atomic sunrise.
Reflect on the glaring omission that while the area surrounding Trinity was remote, it was not unpopulated.
Civilians termed “downwinders,” subjected to radioactive fallout fluttering down from the sky, were assured that the flash and fury some saw and heard was an ammunition explosion at nearby Alamogordo Air Base. After atomic bombs dropped over Hiroshima and Nagasaki the following month, they realized the stark truth.
Jim Eckles, an Army historian who oversaw decades of Trinity open house events, shared the site’s significance: “The ‘Oppenheimer’ movie resurrected concerns we’ve lost sight of. That thousands of nuclear warhead missiles are still out there, able to launch. We need clever intelligent people to deal with the sequence that began at Trinity.”...'
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#D/s
#DdLg
#NSFW
#bdsm
#babygirl
#Daddywaiting
About Me:
I'm half a century young, Generation 80's teen.
Been around the world twice, talked to everyone once.
Divorced for 5 years now.
Single
Sadist
Tantric
Heterosexual
Sapiosexual
Demisexual
Monogamous
180lbs
6'0
Hobbies- Riding my Sportster 1200c
Absolutely know who I am, a lover of life once again.
My 8sopation by choice for a year allowed me to find me; learn myself and to find out how I saw who I am alone, looking into the mirror.
Hating the Motherfucker looking back at me.
The pain in the eyes (wow! Sky blue/hint of pearl gray!), My head got heavy looking down with a 5 second movie in my head of my life trudging, fighting through climbing each step each day, the losses & tragedies behind me scattered as if it was my personal Global thermal nuclear war path looked misty dark, earth around each of my casualties crumbling in, bad luck, following and what terrified me. Someone or Something else's Karma stalking me preying upon me pouncing every fuckin time I stepped easy.
Looking up back in the mirror I begin the needed conversation.
From cold heavy dark isolation to a serene solitude.
I see exactly what I have been. I see my physique sculpted in a gradual defined tone, bulky muscle, trimmed middle weight in a light- heavyweight form. It's been a while since I saw this guy. Half a century wise, Quarter of a century shape, stamina off the chain & endurance that I wish I could bottle & sell. Healing with frequency and vibration now celebrating the son I buried, for the life I was in until he left us. Loving all I am & laughing with myself again. Looking back however I'm never looking back again that's far enough to trip me, but I can't see the dark karmic shape anymore.
Now a year past, I thought would be another portion of my livelihood and life gone, my time rapidly trying to finish.
But instead I gained the best version of me that I've ever been.
My worth - Priceless
My passionate honest selfless heart - more full than ever, and pumping bass you can feel a mile away.
Heading to claim my new kingdom, starting life with nothing but my Harley, a bag of my clothes and necessities wearing my same crown, and it shines & gleams as bright as my hopes, straight as my determination to leap from the bottom to the top in a single bound!
I am also surveying my new land focusing on a Princess & ready to seek out the lock that this wonderful endowed throbbing pulsating key turns.
Babygirl???????
Your King is reborn.
Your Daddy is waiting for you little girl.
You scramble against the experienced King, The last man that will ever be pinning you down from this point on.
Daddy only allowing you enough space for you to see his enchanting sky blue eyes that turn deeper blue.
Your eyes open wide, your chest rises & falls in a race.
My powerful hands and legs hold you against the bed, my knee spreading your thighs with a sudden force. A smirk across my face my pulse 290 but a faint calm breathing almost not as I gaze falling into your eyes to your vulnerable soul. A movement with only my thumb & 2 first fingers rip the seam of your pants, exposing your erotic pretty panties, they are drenched in your sweet glistening glazed nectar, sliding two fingers inside you leaning in eyes locked 8 press our lips & bodies together while the roughness of my fingers tantalize your wet hole stimulating each 8nner erogenous point edging you closer again and again. Other hand wraps around your gorgeous little girl throat, my controlled strong touch leaving marks across your skin.
Your King leans down and bites your inner thigh as you squirm in my protective tight grasp, you're so lovely loud moaning out from the pleasure & pain, shivers electrifying from your writhing little body now begging for me to plunge inside you stretching you, unlocking you & you know I am your oe, your only Daddy and your true Key.
I can't wait to meet you!
But this Lion has nothing but patience.
This is the beginning after trust is earned, I'm very real & don't play games.
Now crawl to me slowly down on all fours, you will respect your Daddy, He will love you right & nurture you to your best self.
And bust your bratty ass when you need it without inhibition or hesitation.
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6th August
The Horses by Edwin Muir
On this day in 1945, at 8.15 am, an atomic bomb was dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima by the US Air Force. A few days later, a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, prompting a Japanese unconditional surrender to the Allies, and a final end to the Second World War. These have, to date, been the only instances of the use of nuclear weapons in wartime. Muir’s poem describes a post apocalyptic life for the survivors of nuclear war. Excerpts follow below.
Artistic illustration of a nuclear winter
The Horses
Barely twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening, the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid.
On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, heading north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in the corners of our kitchens,
And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms
All over the world.
…
The tractors lie about our fields; at evening
They look like dank sea-monsters couched and waiting.
We leave them where they are and let them rust:
…
We make our oxen drag our rusty ploughs,
Long laid aside. We have gone back
Far past our fathers’ land.
And then, that evening
Late in the summer the strange horses came.
…
We saw the heads
Like a wild wave charging and were afraid.
We had sold our horses in our fathers’ time
To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us
As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield.
Or illustrations in a book of knights.
We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited,
Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent
By an old command to find our whereabouts
And that long-lost archaic companionship.
In the first moment we had never a thought
That they were creatures to be owned and used.
…
Since then they have pulled our ploughs and borne our
loads,
But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.
Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.
Nuclear warfare has not gone away as a threat. Muir’s image of manmade devastation made good by members of the animal kingdom, is enchanting, spiritual and curiously optimistic.
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Tophel wants to know what kind of power they have, of course Micheal accepted, they do love challenges very much. It is a magic course --- was this really the best their sister could do when she’s such a brilliant sorcerer? oh well. A look of ferocity in their eyes, the ground quakes violently beneath them like a volcano about to erupt, black wings spread out and takes off at such a speed it creates a sound boom with their wings . They do not need to dodge the magically enchanted rocks instead lasers their way through them with power almost second to a deity in power level. Dodging magical explosives too? --- an average angel would’ve simply exploded it and it would’ve not been immeasurable however that’s not what happens when Micheal’s power collides with the bombs instead nuclear explosion is what happens.
Calmly they land and looks over at her. “ Tophel are you okay?” Micheal asks, they do acknowledge what they just did isn’t bothered by it. The ground roasted and no more than ash now. Their sister wants to see the full scope of their power? they will do it and this is only the beginning.
@faithsreward
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