The fortress and the fountain in front  

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“Traveling through the world and then into the wide galaxy hurled, only back home to find my way“ Gun Roswell 

The fortress and the fountain in front  

The fortified home, on the island  way too small, with a fountain or few up front, what a cliche was the first thought, still, the view still highly sought, but when it was bought, there was only the idea of being in safe place, with it pretty kind of facade up front, and so, the heavily built home of thing, rose up inside the spring, now fully grown into a large lake, nay, ocean wide, the divide not small but large and certainly keeping anyone else at bay, pun intended, as the strong house in the midst there lay, the pretty front of fountained resources on display, only it wasn’t simply for the dwellers to attention pay, but the odd traveller stopped by, admiring the view of this so called home on the way, seeing the postcard perfection, and even wanting to lay claim to it themselves, alas, it wasn’t an easy task as the fortress was not on sale, not for a million or more credits someone wanted for it to pay. 

Star Wars The Bad Batch – more FanFiction released on AO3 and FanFictionNet

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Gun Roswell's avatarGun Roswell

The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

I have uploaded several stories of fan fiction onArchive of Our Own (AO3) and FanFiction.net of the adventures of The Bad Batch. These tales follow a completely original story lines diverging from the Star Wars canon. Fanon as I like to call it. Some of the themes are for the more mature audiences. All of it being pure fan fiction aka Fanon. Of course!

Go check them out here on AO3:
Tech-O/T-Echo Three
The Bad Batch – Crosshair’s Personal Log
Tech-O/T-Echo Four
Old friends found in the strangest of places – Part One
Good soldiers serve the Empire?

On FanFiction.net:
The Bad Batch – T-EchoTech-O
The Bad Batch – Tech-OT-Echo Two
The Bad Batch – Tech-OT-Echo Three
The Bad Batch – Tech-OT-Echo Four
The Bad Batch – Crosshair’s Personal Log
The Bad Batch – Good soldiers serve the Empire?
The Bad Batch…

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Though the ancient eyes

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“The ancient ones, had it done, and all out of rock too, with chisels and chicken bones no less“ Gun Roswall

Though the ancient eyes

They sure did know how to build them, on top of the tallest mountain as well, those gorgeous temples and other houses of worship, as they did, only using their bare hands and chicken bones, at least, that is the tale still being told. There might be other opinions out there, as how these ancient ones managed to build on this sphere, so many millennia ago, as even if they had nothing more to show for their tools other than perhaps, a few stone knives when called upon, to make something for their gods above. And so, they did, ever more upwards and higher, having the visions in their minds eye as to what the place would look like, and even out of spite, if no one else but their waring neighbours, the monuments were erected in the most unusual places. And so, because of that gut and effort and sweat and perhaps even soul, we, todays children, are able to admire and see, what the world was like as seen, through the ancient eyes.

Three windmills a standing 

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“The wind does not stop blowing simply because there is some resistance up ahead, right?” Gun Roswell 

Three windmills a standing 

Forever and all the past ages, the three sages have stood there

Against and with the howling winds, rotating their crooked wings

No matter which way all the blows have landed, they always sing

The eerie tune of the nature’s forces wherever the gust clings

It does not really matter for these tall three, who stood the test of time

And came out of it all, just fine, at least, for a while that is

As sometimes during the history, of these thee windmills

The effort to sustain them still standing there, was on the way

So, all those tad dwellers, did their very best

To make sure these three tall windmills would stay the rest

Of the ancient history or at least last few more years

Defending them all and providing more, like electricity

The modern thing after all the history had passed

And so, with the new modifications in place, it’s most likely

These three mills against the winds in their very spot stay

As for others to enjoy and admire, while the dwellers worship 

Them as the best things on the planet, the protectors and providers

Painted Waterfalls

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“The waters are pouring way down, all the way from the top, towards the bottom, where else did you think they were going?” Gun Roswell

Painted Waterfalls

The water falling into the small pond surrounding by colours and odours of all kinds

The place while hard to find, the picturesque setting alone was well worth the grind

Trekking through the jungles and muddy roads, don’t seem to weigh so much anymore 

Now that the views of this place are visible first hand, right here were I now stand

As this was the land I had been looking for a long time and now I am finally here

In this outer worldly place, painted with colours which only could be concocted out of fantasy

The waters soft and inviting, cascading through the fall and into the fountain below

Tempting for a dip in the calming balms of the elixirs of life, in the surroundings without strife

This indeed is the life, anyone could ask to be a part of, even if it was only constructed

For one special moment, inside the mind of a fantasy locked deep inside for a long while

But now, I am finally here and this is where I will forever stay, without any kind of fear

Mundane Monday Monochrome

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“The Monday, the one day, that can easily be spent, in the colour of Monochrome“ Gun Roswell

Mundane Monday Monochrome

The Monday mood, in grey as per usual, spending time, under the doorway open wide, an archway they say, as past most of them sway, clearly, the news, of this day, today, being a Monday, has not reach their busy minds, but here, regular like clockwork, the chime indicated, it was that time, the start for a week, for those whom something new seek, but the grey overtones, make the day rather bleak, and so, hiding under the archway, is the best bet at least.

But there is beauty in the monochromatic world too, even as seen from below an obstructed view with some kind of a Monday hating attitude, as the vivid shades of greys keep chaining with the time of the day, the lighting, the shadows and all the other whatnots, but most of all, hiding under the way of arching rock, ain’t too bad after the initial shock, as it will be only for the one day, the day of the week, nobody really admits, is the crappiest of them all, but hey, stay low, as tomorrow, will be another Tuesday again.

Seat at the sunny window 

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“Take a load off by the seat on the sunny side off the room” Gun Roswell

Seat at the sunny window 

The sunny side is warm and inviting on a day when the sun is shining, and the world outside de looks e be n more inviting to be explored. Alas for those weary, for those whom only want to sit down and keep on glaring on the world outdoors, without the need for exploring any of it at all, this place of rest is the best, the perfect spot to lay low and keep the score, of the rest of them out there, looking for scores, something which will lead them out of their bores. But for these special kinds of observers of the human kind, there is nothing more interesting out there they can find, except keeping an eye on the others of their kind in search of something they will not find, as the one true thing to be bound on any given sunny day, part from the comfort of the warmth off the one true seat in the middle of a sunny ray, inside the room where the most comfortable seat now resides. And this is the best seat of a respite on the whole town.

Cat a contemplating

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“The cats are serious animals, constantly thinking about life around them, that is until they take their very long nap” Gun Roswell

Cat a contemplating

The cat with a curious mind, sat on the side of the small yard, keeping a watchful eye, on the passers by, after all, this time of the day, there was a lot of foot traffic around the immediate area for the cat to slay at least in their minds eye to spy, if nothing else.

Never moving, as it was quite soothing, sitting there, without the need to be some place else, only real thing to do, to contemplate as to the why’s of these Hoomans and their constant hurry, to move somewhere else all the time as this place, at least for the cat was completely fine.

Whatever it was which kept them all moving, back and forth each and every single day, not as much as a decent nap for their weary heads to down lay, the cat still deep in thought, really could not fathom what the point was, making them all just pass and never stopping, not even for a small tap on the head of this furry feline of a softling.

But, whatever it was, the cat deduced it was an internal must for them to forever keep moving, but then feeling bored as this was hardly doing the cat any favours, becoming less and less vigilant, the sounds of birds and insects around them beckoning for a change of pace and so, the cat pounced and started to follow, the smaller creatures instead of the hollow pursuit of the Hoomans, feeling much more satisfied of the change and so, after a while, for a nap the cat laid.

Island Life in Monochrome, when the Sun is none too bright

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“The island life can be, a kind of a strife, at least some times, as it makes none smile, but hey, that is the life, on an island, am I right!“ Gun Roswell

Island Life in Monochrome, when the Sun is none too bright

The low hanging dark grey skies against the tall greyish mountains 

The mood quite dark, without a spark, as is the ambiance, all around 

But there is really no escape, even if you wanted to leave the place

As, after all, you have chosen this small kind of life, on a remote island 

But, when the season is totally right and the sun is shining so bright 

Then all notion for fight and flight completely vanishes, like a dirty dish

As the beaches are so very soft and the skies turn to the coolest blue

Mimicking the waters hues, simply because this colour us soothes

Still, whatever the weather is, or the time of seasonal delight

It does not matter for the true island dwellers, because they will fight

Against all the elements, just to be able to live on their promised land

No matter if it will mostly stay, in the monochromatic colour of grey

POEM OF PRIDE

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PRIDE

“It is pride month again. For those otherwise inclined, not fitting the norm. Some call it pandering, others simply enjoy the appreciation thrown their way.” Gun Roswell

Pride

What does it mean? Really?

It is just having a flag of colour raised up the pole for a duration of thirty days?

Wearing colourful socks or shoes, perhaps a bag of the same colour spectrum?

Being acknowledged at the work place, having pins placed on their lapels, sporting the rainbow colours?

The convenient store around the corner, displaying their pride collection proudly beside the register?

But for me? Personally?

Simply to be me, to exist, just the way I was intended to be

Not to be put in a box, designed by those, who would prefer to do so

I don’t ware any other colours than those, which suit my daily mood

Just because the calendar said so, and wanted me to come out of my home

I have and always will be, simply me

Acceptance or not, I cannot and will not change who I am

And so, alone or together with others daring, I make my stand

Celebrating each and everyday of the year, without fear

And so, tipping my bonnet to those, who chose this time to appreciate us, other folk

But also reminding them all, this month is not the only time we, queer folk, do exist