Went to visit my 90 year old grandpa today and got him to tell me all his stories from the Second World War. He was a freedom fighter and boy did he do some crazy things.. It was an amazing experience, for someone as into history as I am, to finally sit him down and hear everything straight from the source. How they hid weapons from the Germans under the attic floors, lined up with the pipes so the metal detectors wouldn’t find them.. His account of the liberation day brought actual tears to my eyes and he even made me laugh at silly anecdotes and games. I know he’s not gonna be around much longer, so it felt great to feel like we share a passion and that I know him a teeny bit better <3
Pendants like this were used during the Middle Ages to decorate horse harnesses. Some carried a specific heraldic design but the majority were purely decorative. Declared as Treasure Trove, this metal detector find has been allocated to Stranraer Museum.
I love that in the anime, we can finally see them carrying the evidence from the court record. Phoenix actually owns a bag and doesn’t just have a bunch of shit in his pockets. And for bigger things like the metal detector, they find other ways to carry it around.
Description: The Reader shows up on Sam’s doorstep. She’s his familiar.
NOTE: So I’m playing with the concept of witches and their familiars, but I’m definitely taking some liberties with it. In my world, the familiar does not choose their own master, but rather the telepathic connection is kind of like a homing beacon and they have to find their own master. Also, obviously Sam is not a witch, but I have a plan for how that will work as well. Just bear with me.
It catches you by surprise.
The thought is short, terse, little more than a brief flash before it vanishes again, but you have no doubt what it was.
You freeze, ignoring the business men who glare at you as they skirt around your motionless form, all of your energy focused on hearing, no, feeling it again.
It’s not a thought, not really, not even a word, but a feeling. It’s an impression. It’s the smell of leather and gun metal, the feeling of safety, of calm, of old rock music and cheap whiskey.
This Dean is important to your master.
The connection is fuzzy, coated in static like a television during a storm, but nonetheless it’s there. Eyes closed, you slowly turn in a circle, feeling it sharpen and clarify.
Ten years. That’s how long you’ve been searching. That’s how long you’ve been away from home on a journey that has always felt fruitless until this moment. This moment where you are no longer a scared little girl on her own but a woman who’s faced impossible odds and come out on top.
The signal is clearer than ever before and it’s with a barely suppressed bubble of hope that you set off, ducking across the street, weaving a little down the sidewalk as you struggle to keep the connection going.
Every familiar is sent out of their homes at age eleven to seek out their master, a soul mate of sorts. The connection is like a compass, or a GPS. It grows stronger when you’re in the vicinity, a constant presence in your head like the beeping on a metal detector, and when you find your master and complete the connection, it becomes full-fledged thoughts, rather than just impressions.
This is only the third time you’ve picked up on it.
The first time happened only a year after you’d left home. At first you didn’t even recognize it, the feeling of sharp pain in the center of your skull that made you double over and clutch your head. When you finally saw it for what it was, your connection, the feeling was gone and that night you’d wept in bitter disappointment.
The second time you were at a bus stop. One moment it was there, a feeling of amusement, a little embarrassment, and then it was gone just as quickly, so fleeting you weren’t even sure you’d really felt it.
But this time you’re sure. This time you feel it, and it's strong, stronger than ever before, and it’s steady. It’s a beacon, a light house in the darkness, guiding you into the harbor.
You’re not sure what to expect. The others could only tell you that the connection is something surreal, something painfully beautiful, something that could break your heart into a thousand pieces and hold it together at the same time.
You only hope you’re ready.
It takes twenty minutes of following the faint connection before you find yourself standing outside of a rundown motel with a flickering sign advertising color TV to bring in the tourists.
The connection feels like a high pitched ringing behind your eyes now, the source of what will probably be one hell of a migraine, and it seems to get louder and feel stronger until it’s pulsating in the center of your skull.
Your feet carry you forward of their own accord until you’re standing outside room 328 and you can feel your master’s presence. They’re inside the room, just out of reach, and with your heart in your throat you raise your closed fist and rap on the door three times in quick succession.
There are voices now, questioning ones, angry ones, wondering who the hell it could be and how you found them and part of you is terrified that this person will open the door and take one look at you and hate you on principal.
“Please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as your pulse hammers out a rhythm against your rib cage. “Please don’t hate me.”
Footsteps approach the door, a shadow passes over the peep hole.
The door cracks open.
Confused brown eyes peer out at you, shrouded by a mop of dark brown hair, and then the door opens fully. He’s tall, taller than you by at least half a foot, and you look up at him with a frightened expression as he gives you the once over with obvious mistrust.
“Can I help you?” he asks, tone betraying a hint of his suspicion.
His voice hits you like a rush of cold water, so intense you almost stagger back against the weight of this feeling, this feeling that you could never ever put into words. So you do the only thing you can.
You fall to your knees, bowing your head in a gesture of submission, of reverence, hands shaking as you clasp them together and rest them on your knee. The word falls from your lips like a prayer.
I’m sure we all did ridiculous things with our hearing aids. You know, threw them somewhere random forgetting where they were the next day, dropped them, sat on them, throw them out the window … (Okay maybe not this one, but you wanted to right?)
Here’s a list of things I accidentally (maybe purposely…?) did with my hearing aids. Lets start with childhood because come on, who ever wanted to wear them?
- I threw them - everywhere
- I remember going to a park and I ran away from my parents. My parents were trying to get my attention and obviously I didn’t hear them. So while I was running around I thought it would be a brilliant idea to hide them! Mwahaha evil me. My parents had to rent a metal detector to find them.
- I dropped them in the toilet, garbage, floor, cups, drawers you name it… I didn’t want to wear those suckers.
- I took them out as much as I could too. Sadly, my parents caught on and dental flossed my hearing aids to my glasses (Yes I wore glasses and still do to this day)
So gradually, I learned I need to wear my hearing aids and take best care of them… but did I? Probably not.
- I remember during school I was changing my batteries and I guess I pulled a little too hard on the battery door that I snapped my earhook off. How did that happen, I have no idea. I also broke the battery door.
- I didn’t want to wear my hearing aids during High school. I was a stubborn child and wanted to “fit in with everyone else and be normal not that Deaf Kid” so while being extremely exhausted, headaches everyday, eyes tired from listening, ears tired from straining… while all that happened my Teacher of the Deaf and my Speech Pathologist technically had to bribe me to wear them. I was bad :P
- During a camp I had my RIC (Receiver in Canal) hearing aids.. I lost them at camp… a week before school started :) I had to wait 2 weeks to get another set. Those 2 weeks during school, nightmare.
- I accidentally put my hearing aids in a glass of water, assuming it was my Dry'n'Store cup. That was the cue to get my new (purple) hearing aids …
- I put them in my pockets (mostly), leave them out on the table, desk, counter - never in my case
- I accidentally dropped them in the snow.
- Nearly went with them in the shower/lake/pool, I did go in the pool with them…
The list is endless.
What are some of your crazy hearing aid/cochlear implant/BAHA experiences?