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Sunstars

All Hail, Lord Starscream.
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Just a short notation.

I just recently got an Archive of Our Own account because I do, do a lot of writing.

I am posting all the stories I have written here, but they may be somewhat different in that I have actually got a grammar checker on now. I'm also tweaking the story lines to fix plot holes and contradictions.

On the same note, all fics will be going up on my own website, starscream.ca. Some will be re-uploaded after I run them through the grammar checker.

Currently, on the grammar check table is An Inverted Insignia.

So check the page out. Leave a kudo if you like it. Or a comment.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunstar_Seeker

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Well, not sure when it will get posted, but I am working on a new Seekerverse fic. Its probably going to be marked mature audience as it has a lot of graphic violence in it – nothing indecent – just a lot of uncomfortable situations.

I do believe this will be the end fic of my Starscream Chronicles – at least in that it picks up a lot of ends throughout the entire series. It will not be my last fic, I have many in my mind to write between Innocence Shattered and What I may be calling Coming of Storm, or something about bad weather.

It does use a lot of fan characters, I do apologise for that, these guys have been waiting a very long time to shine. I am also considering going back over the entire fic set and try to patch some holes or conflicting ideas. I did read the entire set front to back, which is why I think this one can end the series in a tidy manner. It would not stop me from writing other after stories, but they might be shorts.

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The Great Tour of The Trans-Canada Restrooms
Actually It was really a quest for a home of our own.

November 18th - 25th 2019

Taking time to drive across a country as large as Canada to search for some place to call our own. Ontario is too expensive now to even find a starter home that is remotely affordable. We keep wanting, we keep looking and the prices keep skyrocketing. A two bedroom bungalow, about 1950's has an asking price in Burlington anywhere from 600k to 1.07 million. Far too much for us.

Paul kept saying, drive out until you can afford it, and that was what we did. We could not go any further east because that was the ocean. I suppose we could have continued with an “ah fuck it!” approach but that would have been silly.

We had a couple houses on the radar that Paul had earmarked as places that had potential, but before we left a half panicked real-estate agent called to warn us about the one we were interested in. It was leaking and had been on the market so long that it had begun to degrade. Even contractors felt that it was too much effort for its cost.

We chose to rent a car for the task, unlimited KM, it was an SUV, actually one size larger than we requested (at no extra cost). It had an eco mode, was four wheel drive, heated seats – quite a nice smooth ride. A Mitsubishi Outlander, charcoal grey in colour.

We left around 10am, and managed to hit Toronto traffic, and was at a 30kmph crawl for quite a long time. We managed to locate a Walmart with a McDonald's and started what we would affectionately call the tour of Trans-Canada Highway rest stops.

Paul has never driven that sort of distance before, only doing short jaunts in locally. I was worried about him getting too tired, so I would ask how he was fairing periodically.

Google maps says you can drive it in 16 hours, that's a lie, we drove nine hours the first night and fifteen the second – that means twenty-four hours of driving in one day. I don't drive so all of that was done by Paul himself. What made it worrisome was we had to meet up with the motel before 8pm  Atlantic time to make our reservation.

He gained a greater appreciation of patience, and was for the entire trip, as cool as a cucumber -  well almost.

We're heading through New Brunswick when I noticed that the trees had “Spanish” moss in the branches, and then I became moss obsessed. I love moss anyway, but this just delighted me in ways I cannot describe.

The first night we ended up stopping in Drummondville and spent the night in the back of the car, on an air mattress, in our sleeping bags. I told Paul after woods, we'll find a free way rest-stop next time, just to be closer to a loo that's actually open. Loo, coffee or nib. At 3am I wake up to hearing ice pellets or freezing rain hitting the car. I'm frozen stiff and we decide to get going. That was a long jaunt through darkened Quebec. Stopping for coffee, trying in broken French to indicate I can't speak it. Most were pretty good about English.

In New Brunswick we encountered snow, lots of snow, fog, terrifyingly thick fog so thick we could not see the truck hat was a head of us for quite a while. I'm nervous in cars at the best of times, I'm pretty settled with Paul, but I was hanging off the oh-no bar as if my life depended on it.

The thing we noticed was that in Quebec , New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, the drivers kept to the right hand lane unless they were over taking.  The speed limit was for the most part 110 out east and people stayed at that speed. Seemed like the drivers did not have their heads shoved high up their afts as they do in Ontario.

We enter Nova Scotia last diffused rays of light. It starts to darken and we're nearing Truro. We decide we need to stop for fuel, but we miss the exit. So we decide to get the next one. Now our gauge indicates how many km we can do depending on what the engine was doing. And then suddenly we lost that indicator.

The car seems to be having issues and Paul is dropping his speed, 100, 90, 80kmph. To add insult to injury, the terrain is somewhat mountainous. So we are crawling up and down these mountains with these exceedingly polite and patient drivers travelling at our snails pace behind us. Finally we find a gas station, and we take it praying to the powers that be we don't run out getting to it.

We learn that we could have made it to our destination, but having no idea how near that was, we did not want to risk it. Its something like a 60l tank and we put in 53l Now with 800k range we could travel the countryside. Not really, mostly Pictou, New Glasgow and Trenton.

We make it just in time to the motel and get our room. Exhausted, we both quickly fall asleep.

I'll give the houses each a name and this will tell their story.

Zombie Spider House.

I'm not arachnophobic, I quite like spiders. In fact I have an orb weaver spider hanging out in the window by the back door. I consider them both beautiful and beneficial. So when I say the spiders in this house creeped me the hell out, it was not them, but what was happening to them... I'll get to the spiders shortly.

The house was 100 – 120 years old, former farm house -  quite likely the original house on the land that had been slowly sub-divided over the years. Big red structure, with cedar siding, stone foundation and a somewhat dilapidated barn in the back. New roof was necessary – which was the case with most of the houses we looked at out here.  

The layout of the house was bizarre to say the least, the kitchen had been redone, but had been ruined by the leaking of the roof, which leaked through the floor upstairs and onto its counter. The baseboard heaters were something I'd have replaced because they basically took up every bit of usable wall real-estate. The previous owners had sub-divided the dining room to add a weird random bathroom – full bathroom. Rather than cut an opening for the baseboard heater to run through – since they left it in place, they built the wall next to it. Rather than join new wall to existing wall, they left a 2 – 3 inch gap from floor to ceiling. I was left confused. I'd have torn the whole thing out.

Going upstairs, the flight was very steep, but the layout was even more confusing, to the point I can't really describe it. The previous owners had at some point tried to take out a wall to make one room larger – I understand the need for this. But it had two walls, and all the electrical was hanging out in a strange pillar between the two doors. I'd have taken one door out and closed it in with dry wall – but since we aren't taking that house we're not worrying about it.

One of the bedrooms had the bathroom in a slightly lower section. Plaster in this room was falling off as the water dripped in from the outside into the bathroom. Not to mention the crazy little stair way that led up to this area. Would be cool if it had a kids slide added. Drop laundry down, follow in after – cool right? Slide or fall down these stairs and we can take a stumble down into the basement.

This is where the weird aesthetics end and the spider horror story starts. The stairwell itself was very narrow and none of the steps were the same space. Most likely to break an ankle doing down and get stuck in the spider-death dungeon.

First thing I noticed as we entered the darkened void was the decorations that hung from the cool-damp ceilings – the spiders. But these spiders were something I had never seen before. For one, they were huge -  leg span of at least 3 inches, large abdomen and they hung lifelessly from threads or webs. What made them particularly worrisome was their appearance. They were white. Covered in white fuzz, that looked like they had either fossilised, became coated in frost or mould. I figured it was mould since – I could not figure out how they could become fossils, and it was too warm for frost.

I decided to stay where I was when I realised that all the spiders down there were in this condition. Paul moved forward to check out the other areas of the basement and I was more than happy to leave it. My neck was crawling with the thought of dead spiders ending up in my hair. He said the second basement – yes this place had two separate basements, was not infested with dead spiders.

I learned that there is a type of fungus that infects a certain species of spiders, cellar spiders, and envelops them from the outside, slowly destroying them while they still live. For all I know these were half dead spiders, slowed down by the cool air. If the fact the basement need shoring up,the roof needed restoration and every possible repair was a “do it now thing” wasn't a thing, I'd have still walked away.

Paul thought it was one of the few places that would have done well with a flame thrower. To be honest, that place was too damp for it to ignite.  

Outwardly the house was cute and attractive. Inwardly, it was a living nightmare.


Creepy Chest Freezer Home

What's in the box?

Again, another cute on the outside, but highly questionable on the inside house.

I cannot say much about this place as I really don't remember much about it. This was another minimum 100 year old structure, that was heated with water radiators – which were cute, except for the fact that the oil ran out, and the pipes froze then it had exploded. This would require fixing, and the place was really cold. It had power. The kitchen was non existent – seemed like 1920's style wood interior which I was familiar with from living in Tavistock. The access to the attic was so tiny that even Paul would have been challenged to get into it. I want to be able to see into the attic, to fix things – insulate... hide bodies... Just kidding. But speaking of that, lets go to the basement.

Basement stairs was super narrow, super steep and well it ended at a chest freezer sitting silently nearby. The ceiling to the basement was nearly too low for me, and I am 5'2”. Paul had to duck and the floor was filthy. Not sure if it was even cleanable.

It had a washer and drier which were were both convinced would do nothing because the floor was so grungy. But that freezer was sitting there making me worry. I asked how the pit they got it in in the first place, and the agent pointed out the cellar stairs. Made sense. I also checked the spider population and they seemed okay.

I reached out and touched the freezer and the agent warned me not to open it in fear of stench. What's in there? Bodies? I asked. They did not know and I guess we'll never know.

So we left and scratched that one off the list too.

We wanted something we could live in while we did work, not have to rebuild first.

The rest of the day.

The day out there seems super short at this time of year. Might be because its higher up in latitude than Toronto. So the agent seemed un interested in helping us out more, so we went our own way to look around the town in search of coffee and the occult shop we spotted.

The coffee shop was called the King of Cups, named after the tarot card. Had a guy holding a coffee mug in one hand and a chalice in the other. It seemed to be quite a popular spot with people coming and going. Its hours were limited as the owner did not have any staff so she shut at 4pm and was also closed Saturday and Sunday.

She explained the name was an homage to a friend who passed on, the crown in the image was a reference to them. I can't recall the entire story, but it was really nice. But the shot itself reminded me of Balzacs Coffee in Stratford. I really liked the place and I can see myself frequenting it.

The occult shop was called the Art of Divination and they had a lot of resins, herbs, spell bottles, amulets and all sorts of goodies that made me glee like a maniac. I described the spider house to the shop owner and she said that spiders were an animal of the goddess Hekate. Hekate has a number of animals, and spiders seem to be a recent addition. But either way, I felt it was warning enough to stay away.

We returned to our motel which seemed to have paper thin walls, I could hear everything in the neighbours place and we left the next day because... I can't sleep.  And with the nights falling early, what else is there to do but sleep? The rest of the town had their side-walks neatly rolled up. Late autumn is not the ideal time to vacation in this area.


The Next day

Paul had spent the previous evening writing out a list of houses to take a look at and devised a “Thunder run” as we call it.

The first structure we took a gander at was one I called “Empire Loyalist” style. It was very symmetrical, very big and had what appeared to be a fireplace on either end. Stone block foundation, which looked promising until we got to the opposite side and it looked as if the massive stones had shifted. These were not boulders that had been neatly stacked but carefully cut and shaped stone of similar size and shape. The owners who built the place must have had money because that was not a cheap material.

It was cute, it was a possibility, but for the two of us, it was way too large – I marked it off the list as too large.

Fairy-Ring in the Moss House

Another place on our list had a small detached garage, that had a smoke stack hanging out of it. Moss grew on the porch roof, and sort of on the corner of the front near the dormer. In fact moss grew everywhere. If you stood still long enough you'd grow moss. It was on the trees, on the roofs, on the rocks in the trees. I had never seen so much moss in my life. I'm not talking about this place, I am talking about Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

We pulled in and walked around the house. It had a weird little basement door, front porch was decent but in need of a new roof, the back porch needed to be redone, and it had a weird balcony that only seemed to be accessible from an upstairs window.

It had drawn window dressings, leaded glass windows, some coloured.  An ancient looking kitchen. All in all though, what I could see of the inside looked pleasant. No weird feelings or anything.

Since the previous agent seemed uninterested, I took a snap of the seller's name and number. We would go back to check this one out later.  So we move on.


Dolls House from Hell

the next house on the list was in New Glasgow. Small, structure, peaked roof, with an attic room. Seems to have been a foreclosure as there was so much stuff in the house that it would need to be dumped out before moving in. The most prominent features were the two masks “dolls faces” in the windows. They gave a sort of creepy feeling to the place to begin with, but the more we looked the worse things got.

I've heard of places that people look at that make them say no. Sort of a crawling sensation that is like a thousand ants crawling over your skin. This was that house. We looked around the back and Paul wanted to check out the front, to see inside. But the curtains were drawn. I was heading back for the car, but he carried on around the front. I was ready to leave, in fact, I wanted to run.

I followed him back and I looked up at the creepy dolls faces and simply said. “I've got full body goose bumps,” Which incidentally, I do now writing this. I don't think I can show him this part of the story because it could affect him worse than me. He concurred with me, he did not like it either. So we got back into the car and I was punching in the next set of co-ordinates. He could not get out the driveway fast enough. I was talking about how the place had an sort of terrible feeling as if something terrible had happened there. Few moments later we turned down the street and I looked, he was visibly upset. He's extremely sensitive to hostile energies and he said “Don't speak of that place again,”

So we fell silent. I wrote “fuck no” next to the address and we left.

The Eagle's House

We drove for a bit, I think we were looking for coffee, but we suddenly pulled down another lane. Paul said there was a house he wanted to see, that was not on the list. It was well over our budget, had 10 acres of land that went to the water, but was really nice.  Photos of the interior was attractive.

As we parked in the drive and I got out I looked up to see a huge bird take flight. I covered my mouth in awe as I realised it had a white head, and tail. I was seeing my first free to the sky Bald Eagle. Paul got out as the bird soared toward us, over the house and then toward the water. Down at the end of the property at the tree line, was a small herd of five deer which were munching in the grass.

We were both moved by the wildlife sightings, feeling they were good omens. It lifted our spirits and we moved on to town to check out the coffee shop and to get something from the occult shop I had seen the day before.

We got our coffee and enjoyed watching all the people coming in and out. There is hope for the population to not be so hell bent on that sludge that most Canadians seem to worship called Tim Hortons.  

After we were done there we carried on to the occult shop.

I started to describe the Doll's house to the owner and then suddenly turned to Paul and told him to leave. He did not need coaxing. He went off and I explained the story as I did above. I picked up some resins, and then went off go to the car. It was not there. For a fleeting moment I thought, “I pissed him off and he left me in Nova Scotia!” but he had moved the car a little closer to save me the need to walk around in the cold. Once I was sure I was not abandoned, I then returned to pick up one more item.

Since we were had told the motel we had stayed at that we were leaving early, we found ourselves looking for a new place to stay and took the local Travel lodge.
The place was 24 years old, was really nicely updated, clean. We had a king room, which had an adjoining kitchenette, table and couch. The lobby had DVD's' you could take up to your room and watch. Free Coffee, breakfast included in the price. It cost more than the motel, but at least its walls were not made of paper.

We settled down and Paul contacted the agent of the Fairy-Ring house – we wanted to take a closer look inside. We explored the culinary delights of the area – read Swiss Chalet – and then settled down for the night.

Fairy-Ring House – Day two.

My consumption of Coffee has one side effect usually. The need to explore the local facilities of a given area. We sometimes call it the tour the south western Ontario restrooms, but in this case, it turned it the trans-canada restroom tour. The car had more range than I did. But I digress.

Again, the urge for the loo took precedence as we were waiting for the agent to arrive at the pre-arranged time. The agent was late, I messaged him to see if he was late and if I could “grab a Timmies” a polite way of saying “I need to explore the Tim Hortons wash rooms.” Paul validated our presence there and purchased a hot chocolate for us both. Which is one of the few things I will drink there.

We return to the house and waited for the agent to arrive. I got a text. Where were we? It turns out our locations were confused and he was somewhere else, fifteen minutes away.

He showed us in and the first thing I noticed as how warm and cosy it was inside. The furnace was on, the iron radiators were warm. The ceilings were high smooth, painted walls, and ceiling. Fairly modern lighting fixtures. Kitchen was old and needed re-doing but  it was functional. It had a fridge and stove.  Behind the kitchen was a small mud-room (moss room? Yes, I am obsessed with the moss)

He showed us downstairs and it was a large, open basement, stone/concrete foundation. Rather damp but not wet. Clean walls, could be cleaned up a bit more and part of the dampness was the sump was not running. The furnace and water heater were both quite new as was the oil tank, which, oddly, was kept in the basement. I also noted that the power was connected to a modern breaker box and nothing was knob and tube.

The basement was a suitable place for wine and beer making. Would also be good to store both. We would see about having this basement trenched and sealed and properly drained. I think painting the concrete floor and white paint on the walls would make it worlds better. Also no creepy aft fungus covered dead spiders.

Going upstairs we find the bathroom, which is small – but that's okay. Two large bedrooms, one of which is painted in an eye searing shade of green – almost matches my mother's car. Good for car, not good for walls. But its paint, it can be repainted. The other bedroom is a browner colour, which is okay to live with. Floors are hardwood – I may do a modern floor on it – again, not a priority.

But there is a small room, which I think is earmarked for Starscream. It has a single window, and a door on one wall. We opened that door and much to my surprise and believe me, delight, it lead up into an attic.

The attic was unfinished, and has much potential. Apparently it was used by a child as a play area as there were toy soldiers on the floor. One I want to use as an amulet of sorts to protect the house. Dormer window. With all the rain that there was, the attic was dry. The central flu was solid and clean. In general it was a beautiful blank slate for my nefarious purposes (read magick) and storage for my collection that I don't want in the basement.

Paul and I were in love. Not only with each other, but with this place. It was more or less what we wanted, needed work but we could live in it. It was not hellishly expensive nor did it need complete restoration to be habitable. Also it was not bank owned. The owner had just moved to Florida and the house had been up for sale for a few days.

We make arrangements to make an offer on it the following day. The agent's day was behind because they had to help out a client who was also from Ontario, who's car had broken down. Paul and I had noticed a car with Ontario plates in sad, sad condition at an auto shop, the axle seemed to have broken. And this was the issue with the client's car.

We also learned that there were several Ontario residents searching the areas for new homes. I dub this town “New or Little Ontario”

One thing we noticed about the area, was that the locals were pretty laid back and easy going. Very friendly, very polite and with consideration to others on the road. Unlike Ontario which appears to be a free-for-all or every man for himself. At one point we stood near a cross walk and a pickup truck suddenly stopped for us to cross. We did not expect to be acknowledged so quickly, so we booted across as rapidly as we could. Roundabouts are another thing in the area, and they make so much sense.

Yoyo Route in Pictou

Roundabouts, easy to use, miss a turn off and do the loop again. So we missed the turnoff and we looped around then pail turns off too early. Of course its a long road that takes something like five minutes to get to a place where you can turn around and go back down. Its too busy to do a u-turn and well there is water on either side. A car is following us close behind and we finally get to the other end, we turn off then turn back onto it. Paul had to do the maneuver fast because the driver was a bit close and did not expect us to return the way we came. As we did this Paul said  “Ontario plates” as his reason for his error. He said that fairly frequently because we got lost and we got lost a lot. The other reason for getting lost was “Is there no sun in this god forsaken country?!”  We could not fixate on which direction was what because it was solidly grey, misty and drizzly.

Finally we find the Agent's home where we were going to fill out the papers. But were early, so we travelled back into Pictou town and found coffee, talked to friendly people then returned.  We arrived at the same time the Agent did.

His house was small but warm, heated by radiators like the one in the house were were interested in, and heat pumps which worked in tandem to water system. Most houses seem to be equipped with heat pumps, its more efficient and the oil system is backup when the temperature drops too low for it to work well.

We went over the papers, but they informed us, the night before, through a different agent,  an offer had been made on the house. They could not tell us what that offer was. They went over every part of the papers we had to fill out, explained the local rules and warned us, whatever we do, make sure we do get a building inspector. We had been looking up the inspectors prior to this and there were two in the area. One was an engineer so we had already been eyeballing him. The Agent did say he was the best one in the area because the inspector would go over it with a fine tooth comb. He also gave us a number of other contacts, including lawyers and things like that.

So we asked the agent to step aside as we re-discussed our offer. If there had been one made, we had to decide tactically. We really liked this place and we really wanted it. We agreed to offer a little bit more on the house than they were asking. The agent finished up the papers and said they'd give the seller 24 hours to decide. We left, excited and hopeful, also leery of getting too hopeful.

But still that did not stop us from checking out local “home depot” type places and imagining things. I get a call from the agent, which I missed and I call back, fearfully.

As I called back the sun was starting to break through the thick grey clouds. The agent informed us that it had been close, but our offer was the accepted offer. So we stood there stunned. We did the thing, we got the thing... now what? The agent laughed and said they would send us the contact options we needed.

So we walk around, our minds are fried with the “Now what's next” mentality. We decide to head back to the hotel and walk across to the mall to get dinner at Boston Pizza. For some reason, they serve cocktails in a fish bowl. At this point we decided to get two fish bowls, one each, and a turkey poutine. We parked because we planned to have a drink, and Paul does not condone drinking and driving -  anytime – even just a little.

Returning Home.

While we had initially planned to stay five days in Nova Scotia, we only did four. We decided that the weather in New Brunswick would become questionable, and we did not want to drive through foggy or snowy mountains.

We left early Sunday Morning, to trek to the edge of New Brunswick – we did not want to try to order a room in French -  my French is bad. We end up at a travel lodge which was huge but sort of gave me the  “Murder Castle” vibe. It was okay but it was more rundown than I had expected. Still one night was all we needed. We woke up at 4am est. Packed the car, turned in our cards and left.

Snow had fallen over night and everything was in a thick blanket of white. The car registered that it was  -3°c. With 4WD set, we made our way along long dark snowy roads. Things improved mid way through Quebec and by the time we got to Ontario, it was 9°c bright sun, clear skies and drivers that lacked a lot of courtesy. We encountered rain and fog suddenly and the temperature dropped three degrees. Since we had something like an estimated six hours of daylight left and Toronto was only five away, Paul decided to head directly home instead. We did consider getting a hotel in Cornwall.

We arrived in Toronto right on the stroke of rush hours. It took us two hours to get to one side of the city to the other. My bladder was at breaking point and idiot drivers nearly rear-ending the car next to us did not help my stress – and I was not driving – I also think Stress is a huge migraine trigger because by the time we got off the free way and into another south western Ontario wash room, my head was pounding.

We decided to take Britannia back to Burlington and avoid most of the hellish free-way traffic.

Mum and I are texting at this stage and she thinks we are in Quebec, I said we were stuck in traffic, that we were looking for food (we grabbed nandos) and getting a place to stay (home) so I text ding dong, and Paul rang the door then we entered. She was surprised to see us so soon. The cat was sort of confused, unsure. She had spent many nights waiting for us to return by the back door, being upset that we were not home.  But now she is happy.

So sorry for the Wall of text, but that was a weeks worth of writing.
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Upcoming story

8 min read

What if I said I am working on a new chapter of Starscream chronicles?

This new story – or series of short stories will take place before inverted insignia. Starting from day one up until roughly where Inverted insignia takes off. I am thinking of splitting it into three short arcs – each one can be expanded upon as I'm given the story from his nibship. The project is planned to be called Southern Lights (or Northern) And it is planned to be a collection of stories.

Considering the arcs of these arcs are not set in stone. I won't explain what I hope to achieve in each arc/part.

Innocence

Paradise

Trials

Now as I said I am considering a story or set of short stories. Some may be connected through a series of chapters – while others are only a chapter within themselves. To write a story spanning 950 thousand years would be a huge undertaking, but to take milestone points out of that timespan makes more sense, and it makes more sense to split it up much like I did for some of the other stories. Like Nightfall, Final Solution and Sky Cities.

I Even have the start of a short story that may find its way between Night Fall and Final Solution, or possibly after the latter.  Now I have not yet decided how or when I will release the new stories, but they are in progress.


But once again I'll post the list of stories below.

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