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The Midst cosmos is weird, right?
A gravity that spans the entire cosmos, allowing someone to theoretically drop from the Un to the Fold? An ocean of darkness with a mono-directional current? What is the gravitational source? Where does the current come from and go? These questions are not answered with the current cosmic hypotheses you may have seen illustrated in appendices. What if there was more to the cosmos that explained these questions, something that our lovely in-canon scientists have no way of knowing?
(All the credit to @druidposting for churning out these thoughts with me and teaching me about marshes. These theories are as much their brainchild as mine).
Bernhard and Gottle, this is my pitch to join your research team. Say hello to the Theorized Diagram of the Complete Midst Cosmos (a 2d vertical cross-section of the 3-dimensional cosmos):
You may be surprised. You may be off-put. âWhat the fuck is this?â is the scientific inquiry you may be posing. Never fearâ explanations and mad ravings to be found under the cut
The Three Components of the Cosmos
The three components in the cosmos you see represented in the diagram are the Un, the Fold, and a theorized Un-like space below the Fold monikered as â????â for convenienceâs sake.
The Foldâs Gravity
The Fold is the gravitational center of the cosmosâ the reason why if a Phineas jumps from the Un, he is pulled down toward the Fold
This is because the Fold is a large enough body of matter that its center of mass has a strong enough gravitational pull to affect the Un
The Fold orbits its center of mass in an ellipse, which explains a) why denizens on this cosmos see its surface as something akin to a flat ocean (it is so massive that it would appear that way without the full perspective) and b) why light and the horizon seem to break down in a location such as the Delta, the point of the greatest bend in orbit
With the Fold being an ovoid, that then creates a hypotheses for an Un-Fold space to exist all around the Fold! After all, the âUnâ is simply where the Fold is not. The Un therefore is not just above the Fold, as we already know from Midst-canon, but also below it (above and below are of course relative terms when dealing with gravity, but for ease of communication âaboveâ refers to the top of the diagram and âbelowâ refers to the bottom). This âbelowâ space is referred to as â????â in the diagram.
Though it is important to note that the Un is not emptyâ it has breathable air, as does the Fold! The primary difference are the microscopic Foldlet molecules that make up the Fold, causing it to be slightly denser than the Un and therefore more amassed around the core
Think of the Fold almost as like a gas-giant planet! A huge source of gravity comprised mainly of a gaseous substance that has huge influence over its surrounding area!
Therefore, to continue this analogy, the Un is essentially the gas giantâs outer atmosphere
The ???? Area
So to recap, ???? is a theoretical area of the cosmos that no one within the canon of Midst knows about. It is similar to the Un in that there is a lack of Fold there.
What is the ???? like? Does it have mica? What does it look like? The unfortunate answer is I do not know. Your guess is as good as mine. Hereâs what questions I CAN ANSWER THOUGH:
Why donât the scientists of the Midst-canon know/theorize the existence of the ???? space? Well, imagine it this way: if you were in the Arctic, and the only way you could get to Antarctica was by tunneling through the Earthâs core, you would probably not know of Antarticaâs existence either.
Anyone who would attempt to travel from the Un to the ???? would be forced to go right through/by the core of the Fold, aka its gravitational source. That intense of gravity is not survivable! Youâre a pancake now, a pancake who doesnât know thereâs anything beyond this. The red dotted line of the diagram demarcates the known cosmos of Midst-canon.
(Side tangent, this is why the Fold is perceived as something more akin to an ocean in Midst-canon: thereâs no way to go through it and see the whole picture that itâs a sphere. Even though the gravitational pressure drastically increases the further down you go into it, that is confused with the Midst-version of deep sea pressure!)
If you WERE to travel to the ???? area, you would still perceive the Fold as below you! That is because the perception of âdownâ is relative to the direction of gravity, and the direction of gravity is still pointed towards the core of the Fold
The Deltaâs Cosmic Purpose
Here is where I ESPECIALLY gotta shout out my amazing co-researcher @druidposting. Mirrorhawk dipâs on me for this amazing cosmological thinking.
The Delta acts as a marsh to the greater ecosystem of the Fold! In essence, the marsh accumulates muck and detritus, but due to their good water outflow they end up serving as an excellent water cleanserâ the water comes out on the other side remarkably clean!
Thatâs what purpose the Delta serves, but instead of water it filters tearror systems
The Foldâs Current
So the Fold flows from the Fount down to the Delta, mucking itself up in the process. The Delta accumulates the sediment of old tearror systems, but also filters the Fold so that it runs pure and clean out the other end
The current essentially orbits around the core of the Foldâ once the Fold is purified by the Delta, it circles around until itâs on the ???? side. This newly purified Fold fresh from the Delta therefore acts as the Fount for the ???? side. A reverse Fount, if you will.
The process rinses and repeats on the ???? sideâ the Fold flows from the reverse Fount, mucks itself up, then is purified again in the reverse-Delta, where it then makes its way up to be the source of the Fount as the Midst-canon characters know it!
Therefore, it only LOOKS mono-directional with no end or beginning from a top-down viewâ really it makes a full circle loop!
Thatâs all Iâm willing to type out today! There are still so many things to be exploredâ what is this theoretical ???? space like? How do measly isletary gravitational pulls overpower the much larger pull of the Fold? How do things float in the Fold?
Bernhard and Gottle, if you give me grant money more research can be put into answering these questions. Bernhard and Gottle please give me grant money. Please. Please. PLEASEâ
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In the quiet town of Millville, nestled deep in the heart of the American Midwest, a great tragedy had occurred. The matriarch of the town, a woman known only as Trick, had passed away, leaving behind a cryptic message that would set off a chain of events that would shake the world to its core.
As Trick lay dying, she muttered a single phrase: "Hose Bud." No one knew what it meant, but the locals whispered that it was the key to a great mystery, one that would lead to a treasure beyond imagining.
The news of Trick's passing spread quickly, and soon agents from various government agencies began to descend upon Millville. They were all searching for the same thing: the meaning behind Trick's last words.
As the investigation unfolded, it became clear that Trick had been involved in some of the most secretive and dangerous government projects of the past century. From Operation Highjump, the ill-fated mission to Antarctica in the 1940s, to MK Ultra, the notorious mind-control program of the 1950s, Trick had been at the heart of it all.
But there was more. Much more. Trick had been involved in space travel, extraterrestrial encounters, and shadow people. She knew about the Hat Man, and the dark rituals of SRA black magic spirit cooking. She had even come into contact with compiler artificial intelligence, a technology so advanced it was beyond human comprehension.
As the investigation deepened, it became clear that Trick had been a central figure in a vast and complex web of conspiracy, spanning nations and even worlds. The search for the truth led the agents to a secret underground facility, where they encountered battlemechs and enemy foot soldiers, engaged in a fierce battle for control of the future.
Throughout it all, a small group of heroes emerged, battling the forces of darkness and tyranny. They faced off against an iron-fisted power seizure, a capital raid on civilian population centers with carpet bombing, and the deployment of smart guillotines in FEMA camps.
But even as they fought, they knew that the end was near. The forces of the one world government were too strong, too well-equipped. The heroes knew that they would not survive, but they fought on anyway, in a final act of defiance against the forces of evil.
As the last battle raged on, the survivors of Millville looked on in awe. They had witnessed the birth of a new age, one in which surveillance, police state, and totalitarian regime held sway. They knew that they would have to adapt, or perish.
And as they watched the heroes fall, one by one, they whispered a prayer for a better tomorrow, one in which freedom and justice reigned supreme. They knew that they would have to fight for it, but they were ready. For they were the citizens of Millville, and they would never give up the fight.
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Cruises have gotten a bad rap lately: One recent scientific study found that air quality on a cruise ship deck was âworse than the worldâs most polluted cities.â
But not all cruise companies feature gigantic cruise ships carrying 5000+ passengers. In our eyes, small ship cruises are much better for travelers, locals, and the environment alike.
The best small ship cruise lines typically have less than 300 passengers, a lower guide-to-passenger ratio, and expert local guides. These small luxury cruise ships have become increasingly popular in recent years, offering a more intimate and immersive travel experience.
Some small luxury cruises focus squarely on nature and wildlife, while others focus more on the history and culture of a destination. But in general, small cruises are less about the amenities of the ship itself and more about exciting shore-based adventures.
Whether youâre taking a river cruise in READ MORE: The Importance of Community-Based Tourism
 WHY SMALL SHIP CRUISES ARE SUPERIOR
Galapagos Islands Cruise Ship â The Eric by Ecoventura
More Personal Space
With the  On a luxury cruise ship packed with several thousand people, you often feel like a nameless face among the huddled masses. But on a smaller ship with 20-50 people, you feel more like a treasured guest,  with ample room to roam.
This makes it much easier to find your own personal space away from the crowd, to have quiet time or special moments as a couple or family.
READ MORE: 0 Romantic Places for Your World Travel Bucket List
Drinking curacao on the island of Curacao
Better Personal Service
When youâre just one of the 5,000 cruisers packed into a huge floating city, itâs unreasonable to expect the attention to detail that comes with four-star service.
For travelers willing to sacrifice luxury in exchange for rock-bottom prices, the affordability and But thereâs also a lot to be said for the value of the experiences you get on small boat cruises. There, all the staff (including the cruise director) knows your name and preferences, and can provide more personalized recommendations.
Having a bartender who knows you want a Blue Hawaiian with your Happy Hour appetizers may not make or break your trip. But traveling with a company who makes you feel like more than just a number-coded wristband goes a long way towards making your trip feel special.
READ MORE: The Top 0 Things to Do in Curaçao
Peruvian Amazon River Cruise excursion â swimming in the Amazon River
Connect with Like-Minded People
When youâre on a small ship with just 20-50 passengers for a week to 0 days, you tend to get to know everyone on board to some degree.
Instead of being sat at the same table with the same people night after night, on small cruises there seems to be an unspoken agreement that passengers will swap dining tables nightly.
Itâs like a game of musical chairs, giving you plenty of opportunity to find out who you click with.
Inevitably, youâre bound to meet a handful of folks that share your same ideals. Especially when you take a nature/wildlife or history/culture-focused cruise, which each tends to attract a certain type of traveler.
Going on life-changing adventures with perfect strangers can create some surprisingly strong bonds. Perhaps youâll even meet your future travel buddies!
READ MORE: Small Ship Cruising the Peruvian Amazon
Peruvian Amazon River Cruise Boat docks on the river bank
Small Ships Go Where Big Ships Canât
Youâve heard the old saying, âSize doesnât matterâ? Well, in the case of cruise ships, it does. And in this case, bigger is very rarely better.
Small ships are simply more nimble than large ships. Unless youâre going to a mega port, big cruise ships often have to ferry their entire passenger load back and forth via small boats or Zodiac rafts.
We have great memories of our small ship cruise through the Greek Islands. Although our boat docked in When youâre cruising in places like the rivers of Europe or the READ MORE: Happy Accidents on Aegina Island, Greece
 Galapagos Islands Cruise gives you intimate experiences with Galapagos wildlife
Exclusive Experiences
One of our favorite things about travel is getting a chance to learn first-hand about the history, culture, nature, and wildlife of a destination.
While other travel bloggers may prefer to explore places on their own, we love the knowledge we gain by traveling with local experts.
 As a longtime professional writer, Iâm continually asking our guides questions, taking notes, and interviewing local people. We ultimately use a lot of this information to make our posts more in-depth and authoritative.
Because the number of people on small ship cruises is limited, there is usually at least one guide for every 8 to 2 passengers. With such intimate access to an expert, youâre virtually guaranteed to have once-in-a-lifetime experiences.
READ MORE: NatGeoâs Don George on Travel Writing
 THE WORLDâS BEST SMALL SHIP CRUISES
Africa Cruises: Nile River Cruise, Seychelles Cruise, Botswana Cruise
Antarctica Cruises: Antarctica Cruise, New Zealandâs Sub-Antarctic Islands Cruise
Asia Cruises: India Cruise, Philippines islands Cruise
Caribbean Cruises: Coastal Cuba Cruise, Lesser Antilles Cruise
European Cruises: Greek Islands, European Christmas Markets Cruise, Black Sea Cruise
North America Cruises: Northwest Passage, Alaska Inside Passage Cruise
South America Cruises: Chilean Fjords Cruise, Galapagos Islands Cruise, Peruvian Amazon Cruise
South Pacific Cruises: Great Barrier Reef Cruise, Micronesia Cruise, Polynesia Cruise
CRUISES
Elephants along the Chobe River (Botswana) Image by hbieser from Pixabay
Chobe River Cruise (Botswana)
Botswana is currently on our African safari bucket list, primarily because of the countryâs forward-thinking approach to READ MORE: 55 Interesting Facts About Elephants
Nile River Cruise, photo via Pixabay
NILE RIVER CRUISE
If youâre interested in ancient history, READ MORE: 20 Longest Rivers in the World
Seychelles Cruise via Pixabay License
Seychelles Cruise
Located nearly ,000 miles off the coast of mainland Africa east of important marine areas. Together, these marine reserves cover more than 8,000 square miles.
The Seychelles are collectively very small, with a total population of around 94,000 people spread across 77 square miles of land. But their natural beauty makes them a favorite on lists of the worldâs most beloved islands, with some visitors describing it as like âa garden of Eden.â
Highlights include the Seychelles National Botanical Gardens, Curieuse Marine National Park, Veuve Nature Reserve, and Morne Seychellois National Park. About 42% of the archipelago is set aside for conservation, protecting wildlife such as the rare Seychelles Black Parrot, Seychelles Giant Tortoises, and some of the worldâs largest seabird colonies.
A Seychelles cruise is the best way to explore the islandsâ myriad attractions. These range from idyllic READ MORE: The Worldâs 30 Best Exotic Islands to Visit
CRUISES
Antarctic Cruise
Thereâs a lot of very good reasons why taking a cruise to The Antarctic peninsula is also one of the worldâs best places for watching wildlife. We saw everything from pods of Orcas and READ MORE:Â 30 Antarctic Animals You Can See on an Antarctic Cruise
Rockhopper Penguin image by Michael Frankenstein from Pixabay
Cruising New Zealandâs Sub-Antarctic Islands
You may know that New Zealand is divided into a North and South island. But did you know that the country also boasts remote archipelagos of islands, which have been collectively named as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for their pristine wilderness and READ MORE: Ecotourism in New Zealand (Top 0 Things to Do for Nature Lovers)
CRUISES
Brahmaputra River, photo via Pixabay
Brahmaputra River Cruise (India)
The northeast Indian state of Assam, which shares its border with Bhutan and Bangladesh, has emerged in recent years as a bright spot in Asian ecotourism
.
This is thanks in large part to Kaziranga National Park, which is a protected UNESCO World Heritage Site.
A luxurious cruise down the mighty Brahmaputra River is arguably the best way to explore the region, offering amazing opportunities to see some of the regionâs Elephants to Sloth Bears, the endangered South Asian River Dolphin, and thousands of bird species. In short, itâs a must-see for animal lovers!Â
READ MORE:Â Indian Animals: A Guide to 40 Incredible Indian Wildlife Species
Philippines Islands Cruise image by Guy Goddard from Pixabay
Cruising the Philippines islands
Located in Southeast Asia near READ MORE: Top 5 Things to Do in Coron, Palawan (Philippines)
CRUISES
Cuba Mountains, photo via Pixabay
Costal Cuba Cruise
President Obama loosened the decades-long restrictions on Americans traveling to Cuba
several years ago, causing a dramatic surge of interest in traveling to the Caribbean island.
With Donald Trump actively working to reverse these improved diplomatic relations, thereâs never been a better time to explore mass tourism.
Lesser Antilles Cruise
When most Americans think of the Caribbean, they tend to think of perennial sun/surf/sand hotspots such as the Bahamas, Cayman Islands, and Jamaica.
But the more remote islands of the Lesser Antilles (which form the eastern boundary of the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean) are generally less over-developed and more pristine than those crowded mass tourism destinations.
Included among the Lesser Antilles islands are Martinique, St. Lucia, Saba, Sint Eustatius, and Grenada, which has recently emerged as a haven for ecotourism. Popular activities in the region range from bird watching and snorkeling/Dominica. From the gorgeous waterfall and diving READ MORE:Â 20 Best Caribbean Islands to Visit
 CRUISES
The Swallowâs Nest on the Black Sea in Crimea image by Irina Rassvetnaja from Pixabay
Black Sea Cruise
As bodies of water go, the Black Sea is pretty strange. On the map, this inland sea looks more like a giant lake, connected to the Aegean Sea (and the Mediterranean) by the narrow Bosphorus Strait.
But, with 68,500 square miles of surface area and a maximum depth of 7,257Â feet, the Black Sea is considerably bigger than the ancient archaeological sites.
Must-see sites you can visit while cruising the Black Sea include Instanbulâs Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque, Romaniaâs Danube River Delta, the Ukranian city of Odessa, and Sochi Olympic Park, the first theme park in all of Russia.Â
READ MORE:Â 40 Fascinating Facts About Russiaâs Amur Leopard
Christmas Market in Hamburg, Germany via Pixabay license
European Christmas Market Cruise
Although weâre not at all religious, our family goes bonkers for Christmas, especially anything to do with READ MORE: 75 Christmas Traditions Around the World
Greek Islands Cruise
From to the ancient history of Athens
 to Meteoraâs majestic mountains, mainland Greece has plenty to offer travelers with an interest in nature, culture and history.
But for a true taste of Greek tradition, itâs hard to beat small ship cruises through the countless s are tiny (7.4 to 59 square miles) and quaint: Many mainland residents have vacation homes there, so itâs a great place to catch locals in a celebratory mood. Theyâre also considerably less crowded with tourists than some of the more famous islands.
The Cyclades, with around 220 islands, is the densest and most popular grouping in Aegean archipelago thanks to Delos, Mykonos, and Santorini. For ancient history, the Dodecanese Islands (especially Rhodes) and Crete are hard to beat.
READ MORE: 40 Photos Of Greece That Will Make You Want To Go
AMERICA CRUISES
Northwest Passage Cruise
The Arctic Circle is considered to be one of the planetâs last truly wild places.
The Arctic region encompasses northern Alaska and A small ship cruise of the historic Northwest Passage is arguably the best way to explore the Arctic. It offers unique opportunities to see explorerâs bucket list.
READ MORE: Polar Bears Photo Gallery
Cruising in Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska
Alaska Inside Passage Cruise
Stretching from Washington Stateâs Puget Sound north to the Alaska Panhandle, the Inside Passage is a coastal route in the Pacific Northwest. Popularized during the Klondike Gold Rush, the route allows ships to avoid the bad weather and often rough waters of the open ocean.Â
Today, around 36,000 boats navigate portions of this route each year, from massive cruise ships and freighters to smaller AdventureSmith and Alaskan Dream Cruises. The Alaskan portion encompasses ,000 READ MORE: Visiting the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center
AMERICA CRUISES
Caguach Island, Chiloé Archipelago, photo by Robert Gould CC BY-SA 3.0
Chilean Fjords Cruise
When it comes to Chilean travel, the wine region around Santiago and the dynamic landscapes of Torres del Paine National Park in READ MORE:Â Exploring Grytviken, South Georgia Island
Swimming with Galapagos Penguins
Galapagos Islands Cruise
A small ship is vital if you want to really explore the The Voyage of the Beagle, Â Thanks to its remote location and UNESCO/National Park protection, the wildlife of the Galapagos is plentiful.
Endemic species such as READ MORE: 30 Amazing Galapagos Island Animals
Peruvian Amazon River Cruise
Amazon rainforest
âs total area of 2,00,000 square miles. Unfortunately, that countryâs unsustainable exploitation of its natural resources has damaged this once-pristine ecosystem, perhaps irreparably.
For a better taste of the Amazon rainforestâs world-famous biodiversity, youâll want to take a READ MORE: Cruising the Peruvian Amazon
PACIFIC CRUISES
Great Barrier Reef, photo via Pixabay
Great Barrier Reef Cruise
Donât believe the hype! Click-bait headlines claimed Australiaâs Great Barrier Reef dead in 206 after a cheeky column by Rowan Jacobson appeared in Outside. But news of the demise of the place UNESCO called âthe most impressive marine area in the worldâ was greatly exaggerated.
Yes, the reef suffered READ MORE:Â 0 Awesome Australian Road Trips
Manta Ray in Micronesia, photo via Pixabay
Micronesia Cruise
Spread across the western Pacific northeast of Papua New Guinea, the Federated States of Micronesia is comprised of more than 600 islands.
The country is made up of four island statesâ Pohnpei, Kosrae, Chuuk, and Yapâ and known for its palm-shaded beaches, ancient ruins, and thriving indigenous cultures. If you want to see the best of them in one trip, a cruise is really the only way.
The islands are widely ranked among the READ MORE:Â 5 Rare Sharks Worth Saving
Polynesian Islands Cruise
There are so many beautiful Polynesian Islands, it would be impossible to pick just one favorite.
But, with less than 2,000 miles separating tropical hotspots such as Tahiti and Fiji, a small-ship cruise offers the perfect way to explore numerous gorgeous getaways in just a few weeks.
From pearl diving in Bora Bora and birdwatching in the Cook Islands to READ MORE: 2 Photos of Tahiti To Fuel Your Fantasies
 The post 20 Best Small Ship Cruises for Your World Travel Bucket List appeared first on Green Global Travel.
#><strong>Europe</strong></span></a>#008000;#><strong>Greece</strong></span></a>#>jostling#><strong>Santorini</strong></span></a>#><a#><strong>wildlife#><strong>commercial#><strong>canoe#>Egyptâs#><strong>Tanzania</strong></span></a>#><strong>beaches</strong></span></a>#>Antarctica</span></strong></a>#>driest</span></strong></a>#>polar#>Penguins</span></strong></a>
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The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet
(Full Version, A-Z)
author: @storybycorey
rating: R
word count: approx. 8000
summary: The ABCâs, as told by Fox Mulder.
For those of you looking only for part Z, just scroll a bit more than halfway down! (or take a read back through the whole thing- there are references back to the first 25 letters in the final installment!)
A is for Apple
She brings her lunch from home most days. Â Well-balanced, just as heâd expectâ portions of protein, fruit, and grainsâwhile he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.
She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him. Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way heâs imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things. He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, heâll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an appleâtart and sweet and lingering there.Â
He realizes heâs staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! Theyâre vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesnât deserve to have.
B is for Basketball
She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably.  Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its boneâeven when heâs buried, even when heâs mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting. On this day though, heâs none of those things; instead heâs just plain bored.
In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesnât expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer. The tank top hidden beneath is tight and itâs blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch).Â
He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.
C is for Candles
Heâll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back. With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (sheâd never allow that now).Â
Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship heâd rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise. His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.
He and the candles are prepared; theyâve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.
D is for Dana
Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days. Scully is Scullyâstrong, competent, loyal. But Dana is an enigma. He catches glimpses of Dana sometimesâa woman, a girlâand he wonders whether sheâs fighting to break free. It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path.Â
Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like thereâs a hidden part of her he has yet to know. He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but canât decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.
E is for Earrings
He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really. But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he canât help but browse. The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly. Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas?  He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek. Â
He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between. Heâd be lying if he doesnât also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan heâs sure would slip from her throat while he plays.Â
A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks âFor your wife? Â Girlfriend?â Â
He shakes his head, âNeither.â
He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.
F is for Friends
They use the term friends sometimes. Usually itâs partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice. He couldnât define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried. Hell, he canât even define it to himself.
How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away? Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, heâs sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scullyâs concerned. Sheâs not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)âsheâs not just anything.Â
Sheâs Scully, and sheâs everything. Â
G is for Globe
He used to play a game with Samantha. Spin the Globe it was called. They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away. He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she canât get out of her head. Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.
âSpin it, Scully. Close your eyes and point, and Iâll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.â
She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe. Antarctica.Â
âSpin again,â he murmurs quickly, âThat one didnât count,â but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.
âYou found me, Mulder. That was more extraordinary than any adventure.â
H is for Hands
Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand.Â
Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimesâdiscussions and games that only boredom can inspire. He tells her he can read palms (heâs lying, of course, but at least itâs something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand. Itâs really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.
âAccording to your palmâŠ,â he says softly, ââŠtrue love awaitsâŠas soon as youâre ready.â
Sheâs silent at first, and he worries heâs ruined thingsâ ruined seven yearsâ worth of things in the span of a minute.Â
But then, in a quiet voice heâs never heard before, she responds, âIâll be ready⊠soon.âÂ
He holds her hand until their shift is over.
I is for Ice Cream
Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip. He knows this (even though she doesnât know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylviaâs Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldnât have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars canât be choosers where ice creamâs concerned.
Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scullyâs door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket. The nice thing about it? She doesnât even pretend not to want it. She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in. They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub. Sheâs full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until itâs late late late, until it isnât even the same day anymore.
J is for Jacket
Her suit jackets (he supposes theyâre probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years. Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.  He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.
He wonders when things changed, because he canât quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe itâs unclear because heâs always done a little of both where Scullyâs concerned.Â
She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it. It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks. He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon âsoonâ will come.
K is for Kiss
Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted:Â In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars...Â
He imagined the party awaiting him on New Yearâs Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors dâoeuvres. Never would he have guessed heâd actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.
They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this: In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time.Â
To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks. Itâs laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.
L is for Lists
He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scullyâs open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, heâs sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy⊠He hasnât physically seen that last one, but heâs sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head. Â
A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals. Â
Heâs taken aback; heâd expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but thisâŠ
He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek. Â
1. Call Mom more often
2. Reach out to Bill
3. Volunteer at the church
Theyâre all so wonderfully Scully. Â Heâs not sure what else he expected. Â Curiosity satisfied, heâs about to turn away when:
15. Stop being afraid of my feelings
and below that:
16. Mulder
He stands stunned. Heâs joked about appearing on Scullyâs lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal. Â
He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.
1. Scully
2. Scully
3. ScullyâŠ
372. ScullyâŠ
1049. ScullyâŠ
He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed âSâ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.
M is for Maybe
Maybe tomorrowâs the day. Â Heâll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, sheâll throw one back herself.
The sunâll come out tomorrow, isnât that how the song goes? Â Good things happen in the darkness, too, thoughâcemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.
He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, âItâs supposed to be beautiful tomorrow⊠Do you wanna⊠Maybe...â
Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and itâs the prettiest thing heâs ever seen.
âYeah,â he interrupts quickly, âYeah, I do.â Â Heâs a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows donât actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons. Â
She smiles, cheeks still flushed, âOkay, then. Â Tomorrow...â
On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.
N is for No
He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, weâre better as friends. No, Mulder, I donât love⊠The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that.Â
He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchorâhair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.
Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesnât roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk. Â She giggles. Â Bile rises in his throat.
No, Mulder, Iâve fallen for someone elseâŠ
He should leave, but Channingâs next words stop him cold. âHow about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?â Â
She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulderâs despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition. Â
âThank you, Rick, but no. Iâm alreadyâŠâ  She smiles gently at himâhim Mulder, not him Rickâ âNo,â she says again, then excuses herself down the hall. Â
He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word heâs ever heard.
O is for Opal
His birthstone is opal. Â Not that heâd ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone giftsâa topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.
Scullyâs skin reminds him of that handleâthe soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows sheâd scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings canât glow, donât be ridiculous. But she doesâshe glows just like an opal.
The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer. Â Her hand, her cheekâthe safe parts of her body heâs been allowed to touchâthey donât even compare to the decades-old trinket. Â He canât imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be. Â The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.
P is for Plum
Scully goes on kicks sometimesâbee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.
Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. Thereâs no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chinâhis eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail. Â
She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.
âSorry!â she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb. Â How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten. Â
âNo takebacks, Scully,â he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.
Q is for Quest
This job of theirs, itâs more than a job. Â More than a career path. Â Itâs a downright quest. Â
He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. Thereâs a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that. Â
Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barberâs basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcineaâ out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch. Â
He sometimes canât believe sheâs still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends. Â It astounds him really. Â
And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isnât so far away, thatâs when he really believesâthat being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.
R is for Rebel
Dana Scully is a rebel. Â She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, thereâs a troublemaker lurking. Â Itâs what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.
He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.
His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. Theyâve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending Iâm too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay. Â
Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the lastâ hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.
His rumpled, sleepy little rebel. Â Sheâs a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And heâs being as patient as he can be.
S is for Sexy
Sheâs sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself.  For the longest time, he blamed his bodyâs reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell⊠But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.
Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front. Â Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she shouldâve been, when cancer stole her color but didnât steal her soul. And then thereâs today. Today when thereâs no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, âI think you may be right, Mulder,â tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.
What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isnât on the outside at all; itâs what lies beneathâthat intangible something that makes her Scully. Thatâs the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.
T is for Toes
Sheâs got cute little toes. Â Sheâs got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one. Â She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.
âWanna stretch out?â he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.
He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum. Â Itâs all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest. Â
Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie theyâd been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going. Â
As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, âThe masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekendsâŠâ
She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, âCareful, I may just take you up on thatâŠâ before stepping onto the elevator.
U is for Umpteen
âUmpteenâs not a word, Mulder,â she tells him, eyes rolling, âIt has no specified value.â Â
Sheâs got a point of course. Â They donât have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve. Â But umpteen is most definitely a word. Â
Umpteenâs how many times heâs forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting.  Umpteenâs how many fantasies heâs had about sliding his hands through her hair.  Umpteenâs how many times sheâs walked out the door, how many times heâs kept from going after her, how many times heâs sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteenâs how many times heâs wanted to kiss her.  Itâs also how many times he hasnâtâŠ
He chuckles, dipping his chin, âYouâre right, Scully. Weâve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...â
Umpteen is how many times heâs said her name, itâs how many times what heâs really wanted to say was I love you.
V is for Volume
They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I canât think over the noise she says). He usually lets her win.Â
Their relationship has its own volume control, heâs realized. There are times when itâs loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn. Other times itâs lowâmurmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly itâs somewhere between. They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America.Â
Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left. Soft. The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.
It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. Iâm ready when you are."
W is for Wristwatch
This job has done a number on his wardrobe. Â Jackets, slacks, shoesâall gone the way of the incineratorâeither damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed. Â Scullyâs hasnât fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.
His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch. Â
Thereâs a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he neednât even guess whom itâs from. Â
âScully,â he protests, but she stops him.
âJust open it, Mulder.â
Itâs a watchâof course itâs a watchâa beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. âYou didnât needââ he begins, but she interrupts him again. Â
âIt was my fatherâs,â she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, âIâve held onto it since⊠Here, let me.â She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.
âIt looks good,â she whispers, âIt brings out your⊠It looks niceâyouâve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuatesââ
He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes. Â âThank you,â he tells her, âI love it.â Â
Thereâs no way this watch lands in the incinerator. Heâll protect it with his life if he has to.
X is for XFiles
The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does. Â Itâs his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks itâs become hers, too. Â Theyâve created their own little world down hereâa cozy, paranormal universeâand Scullyâs as much a part of that universe as he is.
She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner. Â Itâs funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery. Â Sheâs the very definition of an X-File. Â It floors him that she chooses this life, that sheâs willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.
There was a time he couldnât have imagined not seeking the truth. Â These days though? These days heâs beginning to believe heâs been searching in all the wrong places. Â
The truth canât be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields. Â The truthâthe real truthâ exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.
It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.
Y is for Yawn
She yawns as he speaks, but it doesnât bother him. Things feel sleepyâdreamyâ tonight.
Itâs been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and sheâŠHeâs not even sure what sheâs been doing, doesnât know that he wants to.  All he knows is that sheâs here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.
Itâs hard not to babble when he feels this good; heâs drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.
âAnd that says a lot⊠a lot, a lot, a lotâŠâ Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life. Â
He touches her hairâhe canât bear not toâcovers her with a blanket to keep away the chill. Â Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.
Z is for Zipper
Heâs awoken by the sound of her skirt zipper, the dip of the mattress as she sits on the bed.
âScully?â Heâs not sure how long heâs been out, but the stillness in the air and a new moon slanting through the blinds suggest hours.
âSorry,â she murmurs, âI tried not to wake you...â Heâs never heard her voice in his bedroom this late at night. Itâs softer than heâd imagined. Younger. âItâs late. Iâm not sure I should drive. Do you mind if IââÂ
âSure, yeah.â He props up on an elbow. âDo you want me toâŠâ He motions toward the living room, still half-asleep but awake enough not to assume anything he shouldnât. Hotel room sleepovers (which theyâve partaken in) are in a different category than apartment room sleepovers (which they havenât), and he knows this.
âI donât mind,â she answers in silhouette, slipping off her skirt, ââŠnot if you donât.â Sheâs stolen her way beneath the sheets before he has the presence of mind to offer her something to wear.Â
âOf course not.â He canât think of anything heâd mind less than Scully lying beside him in his bed, near enough he can smell this morningâs perfume still on her skin.
She settles, and is so close, her breaths tickle his bare shoulder. Once, twice, three times. He shudders.Â
Theyâre quiet. He listens to her nighttime soundsâthe swish of her hair against the pillow, the cadence of her breaths, the occasional wet slide of her tongue across her lips. He wishes he had his little recorder on the nightstand. Heâd make a mixtape, label it Sounds of Scully and play it every night for the rest of his life. Â
He longs to touch her. A hand, a foot, even just the tip of a finger.Â
They lie there long enough and silently enough he thinks she may have fallen asleep, but then she shifts. Or he shifts. Or maybe they both shift, but out of nowhere her still sweater-clad back spoons perfectly against his chest.
A quiet gasp leaves her lips, but she doesnât move, doesnât readjust. Neither of them breathes.
âIs this⊠okay?â he asks finally.
âYeah, itâsâŠâ The heel of her foot brushes his shin. âItâs nice.âÂ
Quiet again. His arm finds a place to rest wrapped around her waist. His thighs nudge her bottom. Her skirt is off, and possibly her nylons, too, but he thinks instead about her hair tickling his nose, her sweater against his belly. He doesnât think of other thingsâwonât let himself.
Itâs nice was an understatement though. Itâs so much more than nice. Heâs needed this, wanted this, for such a long time. Even if this is all it isâthe two of them spooned together in his bed until morning.
She snuggles a bit closer, slips a small, cold foot between his legs. He thinks about her pale pink toenails, he thinks about Dulcinea, he thinks about being number sixteen on a list heâs sure he was never meant to read. He adds to his mixtape the sound of her hum when his thumb brushes the rose-petal skin of her arm.
âFoxtrot,â she murmurs sleepily.
âHmmm?â He nudges the back of her head with his nose.
âNothing,â she chuckles, âJust a passing thought...â
âCanât have passing thoughts without sharing. Bedroom rules.â  Itâs strange how natural this feels, bantering with her in his bedroom, pretending this sort of thing happens often enough that rules have been made.
âOh, in that case, maybe IâllâŠâ She makes to leave, pushing away covers and beginning to pull from his arms.
âDonât you dare,â he threatens, tugging her back, wasting no time in snuggling her in even closer, wrapping himself around her like a question mark, which seems almost comically apropos on a night like this. She giggles, just barely, but itâs perfection, the sound of Scully giggling in his bed late at night.
âNo, it was justâŠ,â she continues, turned serious again. âMy father was obsessed with the military phonetic alphabetâAlpha, Bravo, etcetera... He named my brother Charlie. It just occurred to me that if your father had been the same, maybe youâd be Foxtrot instead of Fox.â
He chuckles. âGuess I should count myself lucky then. Wouldâve been a lot to live up to in the ballroom classes my mother made me takeâŠâ  She hums in amusement, and the vibration travels all the way through to his chest.  âSounds like youâre a bit lucky, too.  Unless Iâm mistaken, it was Dana, not Delta, who snuck into my bed tonight...â
âHmm,â she ponders, âMaybe Delta's not as brave as Dana is....â He sometimes thinks nobodyâs as brave as Dana Scully is, least of all himself. âFrankly,â she adds, âI always fancied Juliet anyway.â
âJulietâI like it.â He pictures her out on a balcony, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, loverâs name tumbling from her lips.  âYouâd need a RomeoâŠâ  He doubts Wherefore art thou, Mulder is quite what Shakespeare had in mind. Â
âWho says I havenât got one?â she flirts. Â Her hand rests just inches from his own, and he twines their fingers together, curls them against her abdomen. He sometimes wonders how his heart can possibly contain the amount of love he feels for her. People die of broken hearts; do they ever die of ones so full, theyâre overflowing? Â
âHey,â he murmurs into her hair, âWhatâs got you thinking about all this atâŠ,â he tilts back his head to squint at the clock, ââŠone oâclock AM?â Her body is warm and impossibly perfect against him.
âI guessâŠ,â she says, a contemplative tone to her voice, âI donât know. These last few days have been a lot.  Iâve been forced to consider things I havenât thought about in years. My past, the way things used to be... What I used to assume my future looked like.â
âHowâd it look?â Theyâre both nearing that point these days, where their paths canât just keep continuing in the same straight line. Theyâre nearing a fork, he can feel it. Â Question is, will they both continue in the same direction?
âWhen I was a little girl,â she begins, âI was surrounded by Navy men, Navy wives, Navy families. We were taught call letters before learning our ABCâs. I always felt that sort of life was expected of me, too.â His air conditioner kicks on, fills the room with a gentle whirr. She burrows even closer. âItâs just funny how far we stray from whatâs expectedâŠâ
âNo more call letters, huh?â His lips catch on her hair as he talks. Â Itâs wonderful.
âNo, I guess notâŠTo be honest, I sort of miss them. Things were simpler then. There were right choices and wrong choices, or at least it seemed that way.â
He realizes as they lie there that this moment is the fork in his path. Â That though the line between right and wrong choices may be blurred these days, thereâs one choice heâs never once questioned. Â Dana Scully is the rightest choice heâs ever made. Â With her mouth full of questions and her head full of answers, her ever-arched eyebrow and her ever-open heartâsheâs been his choice, his only choice, from the very beginning. Â
Scully is the Juliet to his Romeoâhell, sheâs the Delta to his Foxtrot. Â Â
âScully,â he murmurs, heart beating bravely in his chest, âHave I ever told you about the Fox Mulder alphabet?â
âHmm, let me guess...â Thereâs humor in her voice, that wry Scully humor he adores. âA is for Alien, B is for Bounty Hunter, C is forâŠ.  Am I close?â Christ, but he loves this woman.
He pokes her gently in admonishment, answers, âGood try, smartypants, but no⊠No, youâre actually not close at all.â
âTell me then, Mulder.â She pulls their hands up to rest beneath her cheek. âTell me about your alphabet.â Â
And so he does. He takes a deep breath and he does.
He begins at the beginning. A is for Apple.
He tells her how watching her eat an apple once made him ache for her, how he canât bite into a Red Delicious, or a Fuji, or even a Grannysmith anymore without thinking about her lips.
It scares him, being this honest, but thereâs something in the air tonight, something in her mood, in the way she slipped off her skirt and climbed into his bed after falling asleep on his couch.
Sheâs quiet while he speaks, stillâeerily so. Her breaths fall quickly against his hand. Heâs sure he can feel her heart beating, or maybe thatâs just his own, pounding much too dramatically within his chest. Thereâs a lump in his throat as he finishes, the No thatâs terrified him for close to seven years dangling above like an anvil from some misguided Loony Tunes short. Â
He waits. Â And he waits. Â And is about to apologize for assumptions he shouldnât have made whenâ
âMore,â she breathes.
Not no. Â More.
He burrows his nose in her hair, presses a kiss of relief to her ear.
He gives her more, he gives her everythingâhe pours his entire heart out into silly little stories about a basketball game, about candlelight illuminating the skin of her back. The words spill out more quickly than he intends them to, but the dam has been breached; he cannot stop it.
Sheâs quiet through the basketball game, quiet again through the candles. Her little body doesnât move. He understands. He knows itâs a lot to take inâthe flood-like musings of Fox Mulderâs mind. Â Her ears are all he asks of her tonight.
By the time heâs reached D though, she gives him more than her ears. âD is for Dana,â he begins softly. And instead of more silence, she whispers his name. Â
By E, there are tears at her cheek. He wonders for an instant whether that long-ago jewelry store could possibly still be open, whether sheâd wait for him here while he makes a quick trip. Â
By F, sheâs pressing barely-there kisses to his knuckles. Friends donât do that, heâs sure. Â Their relationship may be uncertain, but friends donât press kisses to knuckles, they donât lie in beds at one in the morning, tell stories in hushed whispers with backs pressed to chests.
By G, sheâs murmuring my God against his palm, Mulder against each of his fingertips. His basement globe spins and it spins. Never could it have predicted an adventure like this.
H⊠I⊠J... Her toes slide along his shins, they follow the curves of his arches. Her long-lost jacket hangs nestled in his closet not ten feet away.
K... âNew Yearâs Eve, Scully⊠That kissâŠâ  He tells her sheâs all he could want from this millennium, or the next, or even the next (thatâs illogical, Mulder, he expects her to say).  She doesnât though. She doesnât say that.  Instead, she turns in his arms, raises big, wet eyes up to his.
âKeep goingâŠ,â she urges him on when he pauses, âPlease, Mulder, keep going.â Her fingers tremble as they move across his chest.
And so he keeps going. L... (âScully, Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully,â he breathes)⊠M⊠N⊠With each new letter, her touches grow surerâsmall, gentle hands find his ribs, his shoulders, the wildly-beating pulse at his neck.  By O, those same hands are in his hair, theyâre cradling his cheekbones, theyâre fingering the soft, curved shells of his ears.
P... âThat plum,â he whispers, ââŠthe juiceâŠyour thumb...â Her thumb (the same one he sucked into his mouth so many months ago) skims over his stubbled chin, makes its tentative way to his lips. His tongue steals out for a taste, and she sucks in a breath, her eyes fluttering shut. She drags her hand away before he can swallow her whole.
Q... (âDulcinayyy-uhhh,â he sings quietly)⊠R⊠The heat of her breath hits his neck, hovers beneath his jawline until he can barely speak. âDonât stop,â she whispers when he falters.  Her mouth slides against his throat and he groans.
S⊠T...  By U, he canât keep from touching her.  A hand tangles finally in her hair, the other slips beneath her sweater and molds to the warmth of her back. She whimpers, her body arching sharply against him.  Umpteen is the number of times this very scenario has played itself out in his dreams.
By V, his lips are at her temple, âV is for Volumeâ spoken directly against her skin. She turns the dial all the way to the left, sighs so softly he almost misses it.
W and X fall between kisses, his lips on her eyelids, at her jaw, wrapped around the lobes of her ears. Barely-there whimpers slip from the back of her throat, and he reaches for that imaginary recorder, adds them to his mixtape as well. Â Her legs tangle with his and he pulls her even closer.
âY is for Yawn,â he murmurs against her hairline, âTonight, out there, while we sat on the couchâŠâ
âIâm notâŠ,â her voice is low and husky, so close to his ear that he shivers, ââŠmânot yawning now, MulderâŠâ
He shifts, rests his forehead against her own. Â Hot, ragged breaths collect on the pillow between them. Â He can hardly believe a few hours ago, they were out on his couch drinking tea, a few years ago, they were meeting in the basement for the very first time.
âWhat aboutâŠ,â she breathes, the tip of her nose nudging his, âWhat about Z?â  Their hands roam freely now, sensuous and slow.  She angles her pelvis against his, presses softly.
âZâŠ,â he barely gets out, ââŠis for Zipper.â Sheâs trembling against him, and itâs the sexiest thing in the world.  âThe zipper from your skirt that woke me half an hour ago, the zipper thatââ
She swallows the rest of his words with a kiss, open-mouthed and desperate, body melting against his.
Her lips, her tongue, the flutter of her fingers at his cheek⊠He forgets about candles, about earrings, about Rick Channing and Don Quixote and even about the wristwatch lying just across the room on the dresser.  He forgets about everything in the world except Scully and her mouth, about the way she kisses him with her whole damn body, with hands in his hair and toes flexed at his shins and hips arched so divinely against his, he worries heâll faint.
As her sweater slides over her head, he marvels at the way everything has fallen into place, how a crisp, juicy apple led to a basketball game, how sleepy, sexy yawns led to the undoing of zippers, how all of it combined led to them being here, now, discovering each other for the very first time.
Their lovemaking is slow, achingly so.  Itâs the Standard English Alphabet, the Military Phonetic Alphabet, and the Fox Mulder Alphabet combinedâwhimpers and sighs and Romeo and Juliet and ice cream and globes and⊠Amazingly, in the end, it all makes perfect, wonderful sense.
As they move together, the beginnings of a new alphabet emerge in his headâA for the arc of her hips as they rise; B for her short, quickened breaths; C for her cries, for her moans, for her whines; D for the softest derriere heâs ever held in his palms; E for her elbows, laid either side of his ears; F for fuck, for oh holy fuck, Scully, sweetheart, Iâm gonna, Iâm gonnaâŠ
âItâs crazy really, isnât it?â he murmurs afterwards, Scully tucked beneath his arm, her leg slung sweetly over his sweat-damp thigh.
âHmm?â Â Her fingers play at his lips, trace over and around and between. Â
âThat it took us seven yearsâŠ,â he mumbles around a pinky, ââŠwhen in the end, it really was as easy as learning our ABCâs.â
She hums, presses a kiss to his chest right above a nipple. âYou could have had me all the way back at C if youâd wanted to, Mulder...â
He smiles, pulling her impossibly closer. Â Her breasts are soft against his chest and her chin rests at his shoulder, and for a moment, all is right in their windmill-riddled, impossible dream of a world. Â
âI think Z was perfect,â he says, kissing the disheveled part of her hair, âAbsolutely perfect.â
#I hate it I love it I don't even know anymore#but it's here#I hope it was worth the wait guys!#The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet#my fic
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On Deadline: Jump
Previously
My entire universe had shrunk to the tip of a pin.
Every atom in my body was attuned only to the spot where Jamieâs blunt finger was delicately but insistently caressing my clitoris as I lay spread before him, feet dangling off the side of the bed and into oblivion. My blood rushed and my skin heated. My entire body tensed in a desperate attempt to keep still enough that the sudden jerking of my hips wouldnât dislodge his finger. I held my breath deep in my lungs, straining, wanting, needing, burning.
Elbow tucked into my side, I reached up and grabbed at my shoulder, digging my fingernails into my collarbone in a last-ditch attempt to hold on.
And then, the chaos I was reigning in broke free. I exhaled on a small moan, and as I sucked in air the first wave of release hit me. After that I was lost.
When I came-to moments later, Jamie was gently running a finger down the inside of my splayed thigh and grinning like a cat that got the canary.
âYouâre way too easy,â he said, a smirk barely concealed in the corner of his mouth.
âShut up.â But I couldnât help but grin myself, buoyed by the pleasure and contentment of orgasm. Jamie curled up beside me, resting his red mop just above my navel. I ran my fingers through his curls and caressed the curve of his ear. We stayed there, silent, for a long time.
As I gently floated in a state of semi-consciousness, Jamieâs breath tickled my stomach. Through the fog, it occured to me that he was talking.Â
â...that we could hit this wine bar later,â he said, âand maybe make a night of it.â
âWhat? Like a date?â I raised my head to look at him, propping myself up on my elbow.
He twisted his neck to look back at me. âYes, like a date.âÂ
I flopped back, a silly, wide smile overtaking my face. âAlright, then.â
I had the day off, having worked the Sunday before, but Jamie soon slinked away from my bed and back to the newsroom. I languished between the sheets, carefully cataloging every single moment that had passed between us. There was an easy intimacy between us that went beyond all the sex or even our shared profession, and I admitted to myself that I reveled in it.
I spent the day napping, mostly, although I did run out to buy a vacuum, since I had left the marital vacuum with my almost-ex-husband. I was loathe to think of Frank, I smugly told myself, as there really should only be two people in a new relationship. I tried to put him out of my mind, but he lingered. Why had I fallen in love with him? I wondered as I stood in front of the vacuum display, comparing models. What had made Frank stray? I pondered as I paid the clerk and lugged my purchase out to my car. Was it my work, or was it something irreparably wrong with me? I questioned as I drove back to my apartment. I didnât have any answers, but something told me that with Jamie, everything was different.Â
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Beauchamp, or maybe you just like fucking him, I thought.
By the time Jamie arrived at my door that evening, beautifully windswept from his ride over with just a hint of helmet hair, I had showered, shaved, plucked and primped within an inch of my life. To my distinct pleasure, my date looked like he had been temporairly struck dumb.
âDude, itâs just a nice top.â I handed him a bourbon, neat, as he openly stared at my chest. It was a vibrant red and rather more low-cut than what I wore on assignment.Â
He sucked down the drink like it was water. âIs that what you call it?â
âYep.â I sipped my own drink like I had all the time in the world. I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to say anything else about it. He immediately recognized the challenge, and demurred with a shrug.Â
âYou ready?â
âYeah.â I glugged down the last of the bourbon and grabbed my black moto jacket. âLetâs go.â
The bar was in an old candy shop in a small historic district downtown Leoch. The walls were brick with the paint flaking off, and it was filled with little nooks and industrial furniture and illuminated only with candles. A sprightly little hipster seated us at a tiny table beneath an arch in a secluded corner with a single votive candle and two of the tiniest glasses of water Iâd ever seen. Menus were attached to clipboards, and I studiously examined mine, avoiding Jamieâs gaze.Â
I picked a pinot noir at random when the server came around, while Jamie ordered a sweet rosĂ© and the biggest cheese plate on the menu.Â
âItâs refreshing,â he said at my smirk.
âIâm sure.â I swirled my own wine and took a sip. The alcohol rushed through my bloodstream and heated my stomach.
Jamie rolled his eyes at me, and put his hand on mine. âItâs easier if we touch, isnât it?â
It was a startling observation. I squeezed his hand, and felt the nervous energy between us dissipate into the ether.Â
âWell, why donât you tell me something about yourself?â I asked.
âWhat do you want to know?â
I cast about for a subject while I cut a hunk of Brie and smooshed it into a slice of baguette. âWhatâs your family like? Other than your uncles,â I qualified quickly. âLike, your mom and dad.â
âMy parents are dead, Claire.â He said this softly; it pained him to tell me.Â
âOh.â I exhaled. âMine too. Car crash when I was five.â It was an old wound but a deep one that still ached when pressed. The warmth of his hand sustained me. He paused, as if deciding. When he opened his mouth to speak, I blurted: âYou donât have to tell me.â
âItâs OK. My mom died when I was eight. And Dad, he had a massive stroke my first year of college.â
âSucks,â I said without thinking. Jamie gave me a look that clearly said âduh,â and I giggled. âFuck, Iâm sorry.â
âI think youâre the only one that could have said that to me and not get punched in the face,â he said contemplatively, drinking his wine. âBecause you know what itâs like.â
I gave him my own look. âItâs a shitty club.â
Jamie loaded a baguette slice with blue cheese and a dried apricot and stuffed it in his mouth. âYou told me a while back that youâre not from anywhere. What the hell does that mean?â
I smiled. I had told him that the day we met, the first time he called me Sassenach. âMy uncle raised me. He was a photographer too â on staff at Nat Geo.â
âHoly shit.âÂ
âYeah, and in, like, the â80s, when the job was basically globetrotting with a camera. I refused to go to boarding school so I went with him, just about everywhere.â
âYou come by all this naturally?â Jamie waved at me, indicating tip to toenails.
âSure. All my belongings fit in a duffel bag and I didnât go to a real school until college. So, yeah, Iâm not really from anywhere.â
âThatâs a hell of a childhood. I just grew up on a farm.â
âLike, cows and corn fields?â
âAnd horses,â he said.
âRace horses?â
He blushed. âSome. My sister Jenny and her husband breed and train them. She breeds merino sheep too.â
I could tell he was downplaying the race horses. âAre you and Jenny close?â
âAs close as we can be, since I live here now,â Jamie said, but he evaded my gaze, which made me think there was more to that story. I itched to press him further, but didnât want to bring the specter of tragedy back into our conversation so I turned to lighter things.Â
I told him about my uncle, Quenten Lambert Beauchamp, the archaeologist-turned-photographer who raised me, and my wandering childhood that spanned six of the seven continents (we went to Antarctica, but hadnât made it to Australia). As I talked, Jamie listened intently, asking questions now and then, especially about Uncle Lambâs assignments. As the cheese plate slowly disappeared between us and another round of drinks arrived, Jamie spoke of his sister and her husband, who was also Jamieâs oldest friend, and the trouble they got into as kids on the farm. He was a born storyteller, charming and funny.
I was telling Jamie about the time Uncle Lamb locked me in a temple to the Roman Goddess Vesta when I was 16, when Jamieâs eyes suddenly went wide and his ears turned so crimson I could see it even in the dim candlelight of the bar.
âDonât turn around, but Iâm pretty sure Geillis just walked in,â Jamie said in a low voice, as if he was afraid speaking her name aloud would summon her to us.
Unable to help myself, I peeked over my shoulder, and sure enough I could see Geillisâs bright blonde curtain of hair as she chatted with the hostess and was led to a table for two on the other side of the bar. I turned back and rolled my eyes at Jamie to tease him a bit. âYep, thatâs her. What of it?â
âDonât you think it might not be the best idea for the entire newsroom to know weâre, you knowâŠâ He made an indistinct noise in his throat that made his meaning perfectly clear.
I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, deciding if I should say the thought that immediately popped into my mind. âIâm sorry,â I said, the devil on my shoulder winning out. âI watched you slobber all over an intern in front of the whole staff and youâre worried about being spotted having a glass of wine with a colleague?â I smiled innocently at him.
Jamie opened and closed his wide mouth a few times, flabbergasted. âGeillis is an opportunistic gossip.â
âI donât have anything to hide.â
âAnd anyone who saw you in that shirt would know this is more than a glass of wine.â He suddenly looked smug.Â
I began to roll my eyes at him, but I was distracted by a tall man with dark hair and strong bones walking into the bar through the back door. I leaned back, and pulled Jamie into the shadows. Dougal MacKenzie made a beeline for Geillisâs table, and Geillis smiled broadly when she spotted him.Â
âWhat are we looking at?â Jamie whispered in my ear, sounding bewildered.
âAny reason why your uncle is macking on Gellis at the most romantic spot in town?â I whispered back, as we watched our boss greet our colleague with a very familiar kiss and sit down.
âCanât think of any, other than the obvious,â Jamie said. âMaybe we should get out of here.â He flagged down the server with one hand, and ran a suggestive finger up my thigh under the table with the other.
âMaybe head back to my place?âÂ
âIâd like nothing better.â
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For the ask post, all numbers ending with 1 or 2 that you'd like to answer.
1. 6 of the songs you listen to most? probably a bunch of dad rock songs
2. If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Edward Norton
11. Do you have any strange phobias? Yeah, actually. Iâm really, really afraid of the lane lines in pools. I donât ever want to put my feet down and touch them. Iâm also afraid of Antarctica. I donât even want to see it on a map.
12. Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Not that I can recall.
21. Who is your celebrity crush? I donât have celebrity crushes anymore, as in actually fantasizing about dating a celebrity, but Edward Norton is still my favorite celebrity!
22. Have you ever gone skinny dipping? No. I always say Iâm going to, then I donât.Â
31. Smell the air. What do you smell? Something vaguely smoky. No my place isnât on fire. I googled and apparently the smoke from the wildfires that has drifted to the East Coast is not affecting air quality, so itâs probably not that.
32. Whatâs the worst place you have ever been to? Trenton, NJ.Â
41. What was the last book you read? The Haunted Land: Facing Europeâs Ghosts after Communism by Tina Rosenberg. 10/10 would recommend.
42. Do you like the smell of gasoline? Yes, when it isnât too strong.
51. Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I used to but now I donât care that much anymore... also people donât âwrongâ me that often. Most people in my life are really nice.
52. What is your astrological sign? Cancer.Â
61. Are you wearing socks right now? Yes.
62. Whatâs your favourite animal? Cat
71. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Try to help the dog, if itâs feasible without getting myself killed lol. If I had that kind of boss Iâd love an excuse to be fired lol.Â
72. You are at the doctorâs office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? a. Yes. b. Find someone to take my cat, write a will, go somewhere with a lot of mountains and lakes and waterfalls and have a nice time. c. I donât feel afraid thinking about it. But if it actually happened, maybe. I donât know.
81. What would you want to be written on your tombstone? Cat lady.
82. What is your favourite word? incandescentÂ
91. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and whatâs even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? to be able to fly
92. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? Standing at Glacier Point, Yosemite.Â
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Reordberend
(part 25 of 30; first; previous; next)
The rest of the journey passed with little conversation, but now the silence was more comfortable. Katherine mulled over the conundrum of how to get the elders to listen to her. She watched Leofe, as they walked, and tried to imagine what it must have been like to have been born in the Valleys, to have grown up here amid the ice and stones. It was difficult, to say the least.
They spent the night at the mouth of the valleys, and in the morning they switched to snowshoes, to gently descend the long glacial tongue to the surface of the ice shelf below; from there, it was a straight shot across McMurdo Sound to Mount Erebus, which loomed now in the darkness only as an absence of stars. The open ice was the most treacherous part of the journey: cracks could open up here, as the ice shelf was squeezed through the narrow passage of the Sound, big enough to swallow you whole, and they had to go carefully. They spent two nights camping on the open ice, crammed into one tiny tent, huddled together for warmth. On the morning of the third day, though, they found their path forward blocked by an enormous crevasse, which forced them to go south, to try to circle around it. Eventually, they realized, it ran all the way to the coast of the island; the quickest thing to do was to head straight for McMurdo Station, and go overland up the mountain.
At first, Katherine was kind of excited to see the ruins. Once upon a time, McMurdo Station had been a major scientific and transport hub for a huge part of Antarctica, a waystation on the way to the South Pole. But it had been abandoned a long time ago, and it was one of the few old scientific sites that hadnât been reclaimed by the Antarctic Authority. On closer inspection, though, Katherine could safely say it was the creepiest place on the continent. It didnât help that the aurorae australis were glowing a sickly green hue as they approached. Skeletal buildings, ravaged as much by the Peopleâs salvage as by the weather, stood out the slopes, and old radar domes cracked and open to the sky. They spent the night in a mostly-intact building on the edge of the base, and Katherine could have sworn she heard what sounded like animals scurrying around in the ruins.
The actual mountain ascent was not so difficult, although it took another two days. The People had cut a path on the western side of the mountain, so they approached from that side. The ground was icy, but the weather was good. âWe would have to wait for it to clear if it was not,â Leofe said. âYou cannot climb the mountain in fog.â
On the second day of climbing, by midafternoon--right when Katherineâs legs were threatening to give up for good--Leofe held out her hand to stop Katherine. âWeâre here,â she said. The last hundred meters or so were up wide stone steps, which ended at a great tunnel mouth, bored straight into the mountainside. âWe go carefully from here,â Leofe said. âIf the wind is bad, dangerous fumes can rise from the crater.â
âThis is where you build your temple?â
âIf the wind is favorable--well, youâll see.â
The tunnel ran straight for fifty meters; it opened out onto a wide porch that had been cut back into the side of the crater, with a protective stone overhang. Rough pillars supported it, and pairs of steps off to either side led up to narrow paths around the inside of the crater rim.
âJesus Christ,â Katherine said. âHow was this place built?â
The view was clear, for the moment; clumps of steam or vapor clung to the stony slope here and there, gases leaking from vents that led to Mount Erebusâs fiery interior. Far, far below, and almost at the other side of the crater, there was a sullen red glow visible from within a cloud of smoke.
âIs that--â
âMolten stone, yes. The fire rises to the surface here; it is often restless.â
âIs this safe?â Katherine asked.
Leofe rolled her eyes. âItâs a volcano.â
Katherine walked to the edge of the stone balcony. Here and there--possibly at regular intervals, although it was hard to tell because of the clouds--great pillars with tops shaped like animal or human heads gazed out over the scene. There were steps that led further down into the crater, although Katherine couldnât see how far. It was an austere and threatening landscape; Katherine could also appreciate its beauty. A bright aurora glowed in the sky overhead, illuminating the whole thing in pale light. Katherine could see why they called it the Fane of Awe.
How long had it taken to build this place? Even with handheld laser cutters, the stone pillars had had to be hauled up here, had to be raised in the smoking crater, when the fires were low and the wind was strong enough to dissipate the volcanic fumes. The climb up the mountain had been exhausting enough unencumbered. Katherine couldnât imagine hauling enormous blocks of shaped stone up the slope as well. How would you even begin to do that? Or maybe they had quarried it close by, but that was still heavy work. It would have been many, many years of labor. Seasonal, probably. Done in summer. The tunnel itself and the porch of stone would have taken even longer to cut through, but the evidence of her experience so far was that the People were patient, and were not afraid of difficult labor.
She found Leofe back near the entrance, kneeling down and taking some small objects out of her pack.
âExcuse me,â she said. âI have some⊠things I must do.â
âSure. The rites. Wulf said. Iâll, uh, come back later.â Katherine thought about exploring the crater, but she didnât know much about volcanoes, and she didnât like the look of the clouds coming up from the ground. Instead, she went back out, and decided to go for a walk up near the crater rim. The ground here was steep, although not terribly treacherous. She tested each step carefully, bracing herself with her staff in case her footing failed. After another thirty minutes or so, she was at the crater edge.Â
The lava lake was still visible, far below, although partly shrouded in clouds. McMurdo Sound was a pale swathe of ice, ten or fifteen kilometers off. The mountains along the coast were just barely visible. The wind here was fierce, bitterly cold, colder than anything sheâd felt in her life. But God in Heaven, it was a beautiful view. In some ways, perhaps, she had shared the experiences of the People, clutching as a child after something sacred in a world in which the sacrosanct seemed to hold little meaning. But in other ways, their perspective was completely different. Katherineâs experience of church was the plain, low meeting house, whose only adornment might be a picture of Jesus on the wall. Simple wooden benches, a hard concrete floor, a plain white exterior. Some of the meeting houses in Sand Mountain didnât even have running water. God--awe, if you like--was an internal experience in those places. A thing you contemplated, which rose up within your mind and your heart, which grew out of your faith and your desire to feel it. Here, though, the sacred was an immutable and implacable fact of the world. It would be here, whether you cared to experience it or not. And if you did, it would shout itself forth from every hill and every stone and every patch of ice, and it would overwhelm you. Even the great cathedrals of old Europe could not match this. They were in comparison the feeble attempts of human hands to imitate what nature had been doing for millions of years. Or billions. To imitate a thing which shot through every atom of the universe, every star and every planet, the fractal majesty of existence that you only really appreciated when you stood in a place where survival was almost, almost--but not quite--impossible.
Katherine had read once, in her high school science textbook, that there was a rock they had once found in Australia that was four and a half billion years old. It was so old that it had formed when the surface of the Earth was half-molten, when the air was still toxic, when the oceans had just begun to form. There was a picture. And something about that picture suddenly made everything the book was talking about feel real, in a way that dry numbers like âfour and a half billionâ never could on their own. A sense of the enormous weight of time had staggered her, and she had stared at the photograph, trying to understand. For millions of years afterward, the Earth had no continents, only craggy islands of rock that had not yet accreted into the ancient cratons. Even once life emerged, for three and a half billion years--for three quarters of the span of life of the entire planet--it had been single-celled organisms confined to the seas. If you had been an observer on the ancient Earth, fixed in place at the dawn of time and forced to observe the slow march of geologic time across the surface, then for the overwhelming majority of the worldâs history, for a span of time longer than the human mind was capable of understanding on any level, the world had been empty. Barren. Bereft of voices. Bereft of names. Silent provinces, whole nameless countries, continents, cataclysms had come and gone, with no one to see them, no one to name them, no one to record their passage. And only late--in the last five hundred million years or so--had a riot of life burst forth. And only in the last eyeblink, since the retreat of the glaciers, had humans swept across the world to give all these things names and meaning and histories, but of all these places, Antarctica had been empty the longest. And even then, for a long time, we had come and gone as phantoms, she thought; not until the People came did they begin to let their names and their stories sink into the Earth. Not until the People came did anyone call Antarctica home.
She stood there as long as she could stand it--ten minutes, maybe, no more--before making her way back down the slope to the entrance of the fane.
By the time she returned, Leofe was apparently done with her business. She had set up their tent in a sheltered alcove in the passageway, and Katherine was terribly grateful they would at least be out of the wind tonight. They built a small fire on the stone floor, and warmed their hands for a little while, before making dinner, and settling down to bed.
Katherine lay awake that night, listening to the wind howl against the tunnel entrance. It felt wrong, somehow, to try to sleep at the summit of an active volcano. The kind of act of hubris the Greek gods would punish you for.
âLeofe?â she said quietly. âLeofe. Are you asleep?â
âGrnk.â
Katherine rolled over, doing her best not to jostle her bunkmate. She lay there a little longer.
âHey Leofe. Do you want to come with me in the spring? We can leave together. If you want.â
The wind howled louder.
âLeofe?â
âHbble.â
Katherine closed her eyes, and did her best to sleep. Her dreams that night were jumbled, and the next morning all that she could remember was that they were filled with fire.
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Wax poetic about Iowa plz
Age 8:Â
Itâs a weekday morning in the mid-summer and I am outside my uniform house sitting in my uniform driveway in my uniform suburb waiting for my friend across the street to wake up when I suddenly feel a sense of unease so strong I remember it for the rest of my life. For a long time I will be unable to explain it, but I felt incredibly isolated in my own front yard. I feel like I live on the moon.Â
Age 10:Â
I am fascinated with the idea of the arctic. I want to study wolves. We have an exceptionally rough winter where for one day, itâs colder where I live then it is in Antarctica.Â
Iowa is boring. Nothing happens here.Â
Age 12:Â
My grandmother always gets these nature magazines that she gives me, and they always, always have a picture of a cedar waxwing on the front. It confuses me because they clearly donât do it on purpose, but Iâve never seen a cedar waxwing in my life where I live in my uniform house in my uniform suburb where things simply do not move during the midday and midnight. The covers always picture the birds sitting in brambles, but where I live the only thing that gets above waist high is the corn and the straggly young trees that line my street, planted by the development, too young to provide any shade from the beating sun. I do not know where the cedar waxwings live, but they certainly do not live where I do.Â
Age 14:Â
Itâs midsummer and my little brother and I enter the cornfield that borders our housing development by stepping over a gap in the barbed wire and making our way past a half-destroyed chicken coop. The corn is taller then we expected it to be and we leave quickly.Â
Age 16:Â
I am still obsessed with the arctic, and for the first time I realize why: because when I drive to school I pass desolation for miles.Â
Itâs hard to explain where I live to my friends online. What do I tell them, that it feels like a desert? That thereâs miles and miles of nothing between destinations? Because that isnât entirely true: or at least, it feels like it shouldnât be true. There is something there- corn, miles of it- but when the corn comes down in winter, I brace the steering wheel against sub-zero winds pushing my motherâs van from side to side. The wind pushes flakes of it in thin rivers between the cornfields, just thin enough to hover over the road and catch the headlights on itâs way to the next field over. There are no trees here to buffer it. There are no cedar waxwings.Â
Age 17:Â
I tour the University of Iowaâs natural history museum, where I am taught that some 95% of Iowaâs native prairies have been bulldozed for agricultural development. It dawns on me that I do not live in Iowa; the cedar waxwings live in Iowa. I live in the shadow of a nuclear blast. I live in a biopunk sci-fi hellscape where yes, things do grow for miles, and thatâs the problem. I live in a liminal space spanning acres large, with cities and towns and uniform suburbs forming oasises in strange, fragmented intervals. I live in the belly of a beautiful and terrible thing.
In my independent botany studies I learn that Iowa was not always as suffocatingly humid as it is during the summer months each year; no, itâs humid because the sheer mass of all the corn transpiring water into the air changes the very weather in which I live. Iâm not sure how to digest this. I do not know what I thought I knew. Iowa was not always this harsh and unforgiving.Â
Age 18:Â
I go to college and for the first time the trees are big enough to shade me when I walk to class. I can bike to a grocery store; I can go places without a car, because there is no corn between me and the next urbanized place. I feel less isolated; there are native flower gardens in central campus and I canât help but imagine what it must have been like before the corn came.Â
There was a time with cedar waxwings building nests in heaps of dry grass and prairie soil. There was a time where the snow fell and stayed where it fell, because the trees and plants buffered the dunes. What a sight that must have been, I think: Iowa in itâs full glory.Â
I canât imagine it. It is too far removed from my home.
#iowa is WEIRD#this isnt very good but hghjhghhghg im tired#also this isnt to say that it isnt beautiful#but part of the beauty of it to me is the sheer immensity of what's been changed in the past 200 years#asks#plont asks#maize#Anonymous
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Great Lakes during unusually strong âpolar vortexâ on 19 February 2014
From NASA News:
This image, acquired by the Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) on NASA's Aqua satellite, shows the Great Lakes on February 19, 2014, when ice covered 80.3 percent of the lakes.Image Credit: Jeff Schmaltz, LANCE/EOSDIS MODIS Rapid Response Team, NASA.
At night, as cold settles in, lake ice creaks and groans. It's been excessively cold, and I camped exposed on the snow-swept surface. Other than the lack of vegetation and the sounds at night, you'd never know you were on a lake. It feels like an empty plain. In some places, you see pressure ridges where ice has pushed into itself, sticking up like clear blue stegosaurus plates. Â -- Craig Childs
Author Craig Childs is not describing an Arctic lake. He's describing the bitterly cold and frozen scene on Lake Superior, during his February 2014 trek on the ice near the coast of Ashland, Wisconsin.
Zoom out to view the scene from a satellite perspective and it's apparent that Lake Superior is not the only lake to feel the freeze. The true-color image above, from the Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) on NASA's Aqua satellite, shows the mostly frozen state of the Great Lakes on Feb. 19. On that date, ice spanned 80.3 percent of the lakes, according to NOAA's Great Lakes Environmental Research Laboratory in Ann Arbor, Mich.
The ice reached an even greater extent on Feb. 13, when it covered about 88 percent of the Great Lakes â coverage not achieved since 1994, when ice spanned over 90 percent. In addition to this year, ice has covered more than 80 percent of the lakes in only five other years since 1973. The average annual maximum ice extent in that time period is just over 50 percent. The smallest maximum ice cover occurred in 2002, when only 9.5 percent of the lakes froze over.
(End quote.)
I remember this polar vortex vividly for many reasons. [One being that I had a cast on my broken foot - which meant that I couldnât put boots on to get through the snow and I couldnât balance properly to navigate through sustained 70 kph winds.] Because it was Antarcticaâs summer and because Siberiaâs continental climate was protecting it from cold marine air, several locations in the Plains of northern Montana, North Dakota, Alberta, and Saskatchewan achieved notability as âthe coldest place(s) on Earthâ for a few days.
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More Glaciers in East Antarctica Are Waking Up
NASA - IceSat-2 Mission patch / NASA - Operation IceBridge patch. Dec. 10, 2018 East Antarctica has the potential to reshape coastlines around the world through sea level rise, but scientists have long considered it more stable than its neighbor, West Antarctica. Now, new detailed NASA maps of ice velocity and elevation show that a group of glaciers spanning one-eighth of East Antarcticaâs coast have begun to lose ice over the past decade, hinting at widespread changes in the ocean.
Image above: A group of four glaciers in an area of East Antarctica called Vincennes Bay, west of the massive Totten Glacier, have lowered their surface height by about 9 feet since 2008, hinting at widespread changes in the ocean. The data used for this map is an early version of the NASA MEaSUREs ITS_LIVE project and was produced by Alex Gardner, NASA-JPL. Image Credits: NASA Earth Observatory/Joshua Stevens. In recent years, researchers have warned that Totten Glacier, a behemoth that contains enough ice to raise sea levels by at least 11 feet, appears to be retreating because of warming ocean waters. Now, researchers have found that a group of four glaciers sitting to the west of Totten, plus a handful of smaller glaciers farther east, are also losing ice. "Totten is the biggest glacier in East Antarctica, so it attracts most of the research focus," said Catherine Walker, a glaciologist at NASAâs Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, who presented her findings at a press conference on Monday at the American Geophysical Union meeting in Washington. "But once you start asking what else is happening in this region, it turns out that other nearby glaciers are responding in a similar way to Totten." For her research, Walker used new maps of ice velocity and surface height elevation that are being created as part of a new NASA project called Inter-mission Time Series of Land Ice Velocity and Elevation, or ITS_LIVE. Researchers with ITS_LIVE will be launching a new initiative in early 2019 to track the movement of the worldâs ice, which includes the creation of a 30-year record of satellite observations of changes in the surface elevation of glaciers, ice sheets and ice shelves, and a detailed record of variations in ice velocity starting in 2013. Walker found that four glaciers west of Totten, in an area called Vincennes Bay, have lowered their surface height by about 9 feet since 2008 â before that year, there had been no measured change in elevation for these glaciers. Farther east, a collection of glaciers along the Wilkes Land coast have approximately doubled their rate of lowering since around 2009, and their surface is now going down by about 0.8 feet every year.
Image above: This map shows the flow of the Antarctic ice sheet as measured from the tracking of subtle surface features across millions of Landsat repeat image pairs. The "donut hole" marks the maximum latitude visible by the Landsat satellites. The data used for this map is an early version of the NASA MEaSUREs ITS_LIVE project and was produced by Alex Gardner, NASA-JPL. Image Credits: NASA Earth Observatory/Joshua Stevens. These levels of ice loss are small when compared to those of glaciers in West Antarctica. But still, they speak of nascent and widespread change in East Antarctica. "The change doesnât seem random; it looks systematic," said Alex Gardner, a glaciologist with NASAâs Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California, lead of ITS_LIVE and a participant in the press conference. "And that systematic nature hints at underlying ocean influences that have been incredibly strong in West Antarctica. Now we might be finding clear links of the ocean starting to influence East Antarctica." Walker used simulations of ocean temperature from a model and compared them to actual measurements from sensor-tagged marine mammals. She found that recent changes in winds and sea ice have resulted in an increase to the heat delivered by the ocean waters to the glaciers in Wilkes Land and Vincennes Bay. "Those two groups of glaciers drain the two largest subglacial basins in East Antarctica, and both basins are grounded below sea level,â Walker said. "If warm water can get far enough back, it can progressively reach deeper and deeper ice. This would likely speed up glacier melt and acceleration, but we donât know yet how fast that would happen. Still, thatâs why people are looking at these glaciers, because if you start to see them picking up speed, that suggests that things are destabilizing."
Image above: A glacier in East Antarctica, as seen during an Operation IceBridge flight in November 2013. Image Credits: NASA/Michael Studinger. There is a lot of uncertainty about how a warming ocean might affect these glaciers, due to how little explored that remote area of East Antarctica is. The main unknowns have to do with the topography of the bedrock below the ice and the bathymetry (shape) of the ocean floor in front of and below the ice shelves, which govern how ocean waters circulate near the continent and bring ocean heat to the ice front. For example, if it turned out that the terrain beneath the glaciers sloped upward inland of the grounding line âthe point where glaciers reach the ocean and begin floating over sea water forming an ice shelfâ and featured ridges that provided friction, this configuration would slow down the flow and loss of ice. This type of landscape would also limit the access of warm circumpolar deep ocean waters to the ice front. A much worse scenario for ice loss would be if the bedrock under the glaciers sloped downward inland of the grounding line. In that case, the ice base would get deeper and deeper as the glacier retreated and, as ice calved off, the height of the ice face exposed to the ocean would increase. That would allow for more melt at the front of the glacier and also make the ice cliff more unstable, increasing the rate of iceberg release. This kind of terrain would make it easier for warm circumpolar deep water to reach the ice front, sustaining high melt rates near the grounding line. "Heightened attention needs to be given to these glaciers: We need to better map the topography and we need to better map the bathymetry," Gardner said. "Only then can we be more conclusive in determining whether, if the ocean warms, these glaciers will enter a phase of rapid retreat or stabilize on upstream topographic features." Related Links: NASAâs AGU website: https://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/agu/index.html NASAâs Earth Portal: https://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/index.html IceBridge: http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/icebridge/index.html ICESat-2: http://www.nasa.gov/content/goddard/icesat-2 Images (mentioned), Text, Credits: NASA/Sara Blumberg/Earth Science News Team, by Maria-JosĂ© Viñas. Greetings, Orbiter.ch Full article
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Original content owned & copyrighted by Green Global Travel.
Despite R&B legends TLCâs classic admonition not to go chasing them, waterfalls remain among those magical natural features that can put a given destination on millions of peopleâs world travel bucket lists.
Youâll find waterfalls on every single continent. Countries like many types of waterfalls. can form cascades, horsetails, plunges, cataracts, fans, squares, and even be frozen. Each type is different, and each category has its own superstars when it comes to attracting tourism.
Of course, measuring the biggest waterfalls in the world is complicated. Some of the tallest waterfalls in the world are fed by small streams, with just a tiny sliver of water careening down. Some of the most voluminous falls drop just a few feet. We rarely think of the widest waterfall in the world, but thatâs another way of measuring them.
So, when we say âthe biggest waterfalls,â how do we judge? Are we talking about the tallest waterfall? The widest waterfall? The largest waterfall in the world by volume? The longest waterfall in the world that free falls? There really is no right or wrong answer⊠nor are the largest waterfalls always the most impressive to see.
So, in the interest of being as thorough as possible, our list of the largest waterfalls in the world goes far, wide, high, low, and in-between to point out the best waterfalls in the world travelers should visit on each and every continent.
READ MORE: 10 Best in Iceland
THE WORLDâS WATERFALLS
Biggest in Africa
Biggest in Antarctica
Biggest in Asia
Biggest in Australasia
Biggest in Europe
Biggest in North America
Biggest in South America
 WATERFALLS IN AFRICA
Victoria Falls (Photo by otsuka88 courtesy Pixabay)
Inga Falls & Livingstone Falls
Frequently listed among the largest waterfalls in the world, Inga Falls is located in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Itâs formed by the Congo River, which is ranked as the ninth longest river in the world.
Itâs considered the largest waterfall in the world by volume, moving at a rate of over 900,000 cubic feet per second. But Inga Falls is remarkable for some of its other noteworthy features as well.
Though it drops only 315 feet, Inga Falls is over 9 miles long. Itâs also exceptionally wide, with an average width of 3,000 feet and a maximum width of over 2.5 miles! At its widest, the falls separate into hundreds of different channels and rivulets.
Despite the fact that it is regularly designated as the worldâs largest waterfall by volume, many consider the majority of it to be nothing more than rapids. It does, however, have one steep drop of around 70 feet, which indisputably makes it a waterfall.
Inga Falls is the site of one of the worldâs largest hydroelectric dams. Itâs also close to Livingstone Falls, which is often considered the most beautiful part of the Congo River, as well as the second largest waterfall in the world by volume.
READ MORE: The 20 Longest Rivers in the World (By Continent)
Tourists in the Devilâs Pool, Victoria Falls by Ian Restall at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia
Victoria Falls
One of Africaâs top tourist attractions, Victoria Falls is neither the widest or tallest waterfall in the world. But it is sometimes considered the worldâs biggest waterfall because it is both tall (354 feet) and wide (5,600 feet), producing the overall biggest sheet of falling water.
Victoria Falls is formed by the Zambezi River, which creates a natural border between Zimbabwe and Zambia. So it is technically located in both countriesâ Livingstone, Zambia and Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. The falls are formed when the river lowers in a single drop.
The waterfall is also known locally as Mosi-oa-Tunya, which translates as âthe smoke that thunders.â It was named by David Livingstone, the first European believed to have seen the falls, who named it in honor of Queen Victoria. It is preserved as a UNESCO World Heritage Site under both names.
The world-renowned Devilâs Pool is a seemingly precarious place to take a dip at the top of the falls. There are also helicopter rides, bungee jumping, and READ MORE:Â The Effect of Mass Tourism (How Overtourism is Destroying Destinations)
Kongou Falls by Lengai101 CC BY-SA 3.0, from Wikimedia Commons
Kongou Falls
One of the most powerful waterfalls in the world, Gabonâs Kongou Falls is over 10,000 feet wide and pushes nearly 32,000 cubic feet of water through per second. Itâs formed by the Ivindo River, which also features several other falls. But Kongou is easily its largest.
Kongou Falls is notable for having an unusual configuration, with several different streams, cascades and steps separated by islands. Kongou is really intermingled with the rainforest that surrounds it. Actually, though the waterfall itself is spectacular, itâs this lush surrounding forest that garnered its place on the list.
Part of Ivindo National Park, Kongou Falls is located in what many experts consider to be a modern-day version of the Garden of Eden. Gabon is 85% rainforest and, though accessible, there are few signs of civilization going to and from the falls. This rainforest is home to some the densest populations of forest elephants, chimpanzees, and activists were able to stop the construction.
READ MORE: The 20 Biggest Forests in the WorldÂ
Tugela Falls first drop off by Andynct CC BY-SA 4.0, from Wikimedia Commons
Tugela Falls
Located in Tugela Falls has been remeasured and found to be over 100 feet taller than its currently recognized height, but the claim is still awaiting verification. This increase would make it the tallest waterfall in the world, over Venezuelaâs Angel Falls (an uninterrupted plunge). Consequently, controversy has brewed regarding which one gets the official title.
Whichever side one chooses in the tallest waterfalls debate, Tugela is remarkable, as is the national park that surrounds it. There are several routes for hiking up to the top of the falls, and itâs easy to spot from the main road of the park during rainy times.
READ MORE: Safari in Londolozi Game Reserve (South Africa)
Local Fishermen in Boyoma Falls/Wagenia Falls by Foto Ad Meskens [Attribution, CC BY-SA 3.0
Stanley/Wagenia/Boyoma Falls
Formerly recognized as Stanley Falls, Boyoma Falls is a cataract waterfall made up of seven relatively short, steep, powerful waterfalls and a series of rapids formed by the Lualaba River in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
The falls spread out over 60 miles, dropping just 200 feet along the way, with the cataracts each being less than 20 feet.
Boyoma Falls ranks as the third biggest waterfall in the world in terms of volume, with all three located in the Congo. While Inga and Livingstone Falls are both formed by the Congo River, Boyoma is formed by the Lualaba, which then joins the Congo.
Boyoma Falls also has one other name, Wagenia Falls, which is what many French-speakers call it. This name derives from local fisherman, called the wagenia, who have developed a unique technique for fishing the falls. They construct wooden tripods over holes carved out by the rapids, where they ensnare large fish in baskets.
READ MORE:Â Fishing Mobile Bay & the Mobile-Tensaw Delta
 WATERFALL IN ANTARCTICA
Blood Falls, the Creepiest Waterfall in the World, by Peter Rejcek via CC 2.0
Blood Falls
When picturing waterfalls, rarely does Blood Falls, though not quite the vampireâs dream-come-true one might envision, is definitely odd enough to warrant such a name.
Blood Falls is buried under a quarter-mile of ice. Roughly five million years ago, sea levels rose and formed a saltwater lake in eastern Antarctica. Millions of years later, the lake was completely covered by glaciers. When the glaciers scraped the bedrock below, it churned lots of iron into the water.
The salinity of the water continued to rise as the glaciers froze over the lake, and that water became too salty to freeze. Antarcticaâs red waterfall began to flow when water seeped through a fissure in the Taylor Glacier.
The waterfall has never seen the light of day, and itâs completely devoid of oxygen. As a result, when the iron-rich water spills into Lake Bonney, the air causes it to immediately rust and turn red.
Though not necessarily huge on the global scale, Blood Falls is technically the biggest waterfall in Antarctica, and itâs just too weird not to include here. Unfortunately, it can only be reached by cruise ships visiting the Ross Sea or via helicopter from nearby scientific research stations.
READ MORE: Penguins of Antarctica Photo Gallery
 WATERFALLS IN ASIA
Khone Falls, the Widest Waterfall in the World (Photo by Mr. ATM courtesy Flickr via CC 2.0)
Khone Falls
Khone Falls is located in the south reaches of Laos, culminating near the border with China) and Cambodia (and Vietnam). It only tumbles down a total of 69 feet over a collection of cascades and rapids.
Despite its short drop, Khone Falls could technically be considered the worldâs biggest waterfall. Itâs only fifth in terms of volume, with just over 400,000 cubic feet of water per second. But it averages over 35,000 feet across, which makes it by far the widest waterfall in the world.Â
Interestingly, the falls are most readily apparent when the weather is a bit drier. During monsoon season, when the Tonle River becomes Tonle Sap Lake and backs up to the Mekong River, the waterfall basically disappears into little more than a collection of rough currents.
Khone Falls are the home of plabuck, an endangered catfish that grows to be over ten feet long and more than 600 pounds. Theyâre sometimes considered the largest freshwater fish in the world, though a couple of sturgeon species and a freshwater stingray are actually bigger.
READ MORE: The Pastoral Paradise of Muang Ngoi, Laos
Hannoki Falls & Shomyo Great Falls by I, Kahusi GFDLÂ , CC-BY-SA-3.0
Hannoki Falls & Shomyo Great Falls
Considered twin falls, Hannoki Falls and Shomyo Great Falls are the two tallest waterfalls in Japan.
Technically Hannokiâ which boasts a single drop of 1,640 feetâ is both the highest of Japanâs waterfalls and the highest waterfall in Asia. But it is seasonal, and only visible from April to July because it is dependent on snowmelt. The tallest permanent waterfall in Japan, Shomyo Great Falls, measures 1,148 feet and occurs in four stages.
These two amazing waterfalls are located side by side. They both flow through the Midagahara Plateau before falling in a V-shape into a single pool thatâs around 200 feet across and 20 feet deep.
The finest view of the two waterfalls is said to be from Shomyo Bridge at the Takimi Orchard. The best time to visit the falls is late spring and early summer, when the areaâs snowmelt is at its greatest. From November to April, the roads are often closed due to snow.
There are numerous other notable waterfall pairings in Japan. Ginga and Ryusei Falls are also twin falls, known as âthe husband and wife waterfall.â Other admirable pairings include Amedaki and Nunobiki Falls, as well as Shiraito and Otodome Falls.
READ MORE: The Beauty of Japan in 15 Fabulous Photos
Thi Lo Su waterfalls, Umphang district, Thailand by Yxejamir CC BY-SA 3.0Â or GFDLÂ from Wikimedia
Thi Lo Su Waterfall
Located in northwestern Thailand, Thi Lo Su (or Black) Waterfall is the countryâs tallest and largest waterfall. Itâs just under 1000 feet high and 1,500 feet wide. While it doesnât rank as one of the larges, it is considered by many to be amongst the most beautiful waterfalls in the world.
Thi Lo Su Waterfall is located within the Umphang Wildlife Sanctuary, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Bordered by Mae Wong National Park in the east, Thung Yai Naresuan Wildlife Sanctuary in the south, and several READ MORE: The Gibbon Conservation Center in Phuket, Thailand
 WATERFALLS IN AUSTRALASIA
Sutherland Falls, Tallest Falls in Australia (Photo by Department of Conservation via CC 2.0)
Browne Falls & Sutherland Falls
Browne Falls is considered the countryâs highest, as well as the 9th tallest waterfall in the world. But this is not without debate: New Zealandâs other highest waterfall is Sutherland Falls.
Browne Falls is part of Fiordland National Park, a land densely populated with waterfalls, but none so high as this one. The falls careens some 2,744 feet before bottoming out in Doubtful Sound. But because it has very little free-falling water, some folks donât give it its proper due.
On the other hand, Sutherland Falls is significantly shorterâ a mere 1,900-plus feet. Even it doesnât free fall this entire way, but instead uses three distinct steps to make its full descent. Itâs highly inaccessible, requiring a 4-day trek along the Milford Track (or a pricy flight) to see it.
Fiordland National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is home to both of these New Zealand waterfalls. The park also offers plenty of READ MORE: Things To Do In New Zealand for Nature LoversÂ
WATERFALLS IN EUROPE
Highest Waterfall in Europe â The Vinnufossen Waterfall in Sunndal, Norway by Carl S Bj GFDLÂ or CC BY-SA 3.0
Vinnufallet & BalÄifossen
With epic READ MORE: Our Epic Fjords of Norway Road Trip
Cascata delle Marmore, Italy by Fabio Tiberi CC BY-SA 3.0, from Wikimedia Commons
Cascata delle Marmore
Located in Umbria, READ MORE: Le Marche, Italy (A Localâs Favorite Places to Visit)
Icelandâs most popular waterfall â Gullfoss Waterfall via pixabay
Gullfoss
If Norway has the most waterfalls in Europe, golden circle route,â which includes numerous glaciers, tectonic plates, geysers, and a national park.
Gullfoss doesnât rank amongst the worldâs biggest waterfalls, but itâs likely the most voluminous in Iceland. In total, the water only drops 100 feet. However, the falls are truly remarkable in that the double cascade turns the HvĂtĂĄ River 90 degrees and drops it down into a crevice.
This configuration creates a unique explosion of mist and rainbows, making Gullfoss one of the planetâs most frequently photographed waterfalls.
Gullfoss was once threatened with the possibility of a hydroelectric power plant. At the time the waterfall had private owners, who were renting it to a foreign company.
Legend has it that their daughter threatened to throw herself over the falls in order to save the falls. Thereâs even a monument to commemorate this decidedly fictitious account.
Nonetheless, Gullfoss was eventually sold to the state of Iceland rather than a power company. Thank goodness! Because it still remains just as gorgeous as ever.
READ MORE:Â The 10 Best Iceland
Biggest Waterfall in Europe -Rhine Falls via max pixel
Rhine Falls
The largest waterfall in Europe by volume is on the Upper Rhine River in Switzerland.
Though itâs only about 75 feet high, Rhine Falls is nearly 500 feet wide. It allows an enormous amount of water to cascade through, particularly in the summer, when the snow melts in the Alps.
The Rhine Falls are believed to have formed about 14,000 to 17,000 years ago, during the last Ice Age. They were the result of a resilient bedrock of limestone: The falls are divided into two sections due to a pillar-like formation sticking up in the middle of the river.
Rhine Falls is also a big tourist destination in Europe, receiving over a million visitors annually. However, that hasnât stopped electric companies from fantasizing and pitching hydroelectric power plants. Thankfully, Switzerland has resisted thus far.
READ MORE: The Tallest Mountains in the World
 WATERFALLS IN NORTH AMERICA
Biggest waterfall by volume in the USA- Niagara Falls via pixabay
Niagara Falls
Niagara Falls is exceptionally bigâ the largest waterfall by volume in the USA and the widest waterfall in Canada. But it is most recognized for being, well, really recognizable.
Over 20 million people a year visit Niagara Falls. It has become a place of legendâ the Vegas of waterfallsâ replete with weddings, kitschy READ MORE:Â Visitors Guide to the Finger Lakes (New York)
Tallest seaside cliffs in the world- Molokaâi, Hawaii via pixabay
Oloâupena Falls &Â Puâukaâoku Falls
In the United States, Oloâupena Falls is the tallest of Hawaiiâs waterfalls, and the fourth highest in the world. Measuring over 2,900 feet high, it is fed by only a small seasonal stream. Consequently, it has a very thin ribbon of water that nosedives off the Haloku Cliffs, which are the tallest seaside cliffs in the world.
Originating from those very same cliffs, Puâukaâoku Falls is also very tallâ over 2,750 feetâ earning it the eighth spot on the list of the worldâs highest waterfalls. Puâukaâoku is an older waterfall that has carved away a lot of the volcanic rock upon which it flows. So, unlike the younger falls, it is fairly difficult to see from afar.
Both of these falls are the two tallest waterfalls in the USAâ are located on the island of Molokaâi. They are so remote that no hiking trails access them, meaning they can only be seen from the water or from a plane.
The weather can be so intense along these immense cliffs that the coastal winds sometimes stop the falling water, pushing it upwards into a dispersed mist.
READ MORE:Â
James Bruce Falls by Klaus Johansson CC BY-SA 4.0 from Wikimedia Commons
James Bruce Falls
Princess Louisa Marine Provincial Park, which is surrounded by snow-tipped granite mountains that rise sharply to around 7,000 feet. James Bruce Falls gushes some 2,755 feet down to the Princess Louisa Inlet.
The falls are named after two parallel streams that originate in snowfields, one of which melts by mid-summer and the other of which remains frozen year-round. Just downstream from the waterfall (which feeds into Loquilts Creek) is the more famous Chatterbox Falls.
Chatterbox Falls empties into the Loquilts River, and is a popular destination for boaters. But it stands a miniscule 120 feet tall and is a large fan waterfall, which means it widens as it drops. It may bot be as big as James Bruce, but its backdrop is incredible.
READ MORE: The Best Canoe Trips (World Travel Bucket List)
 WATERFALLS IN SOUTH AMERICA
Sixth biggest waterfall in the world â Iguazu Falls, Brazil via pixabay
Iguazu Falls
Consuming the border between Iguazu Falls is formed when the Iguazu River flows off the ParanĂĄ Plateau. While much of the riverâs current is cut up in separate cataracts across the waterfallâs 1.7 miles of edge, about half of the water falls into a tight spot known as the Devilâs Throat. Nearly 3,000 feet of the edge doesnât have any water flowing over it at all.
The falls occur after the river bends, with most of the river basin (95%) being on the Brazilian side of the border and most of the waterfalls (80%) on the Argentine side. On the Brazilian side, it is part of Iguaçu National Park; in Argentina it is known as Iguazu National Park. Together, these parks are a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site.
In terms of famous waterfalls to visit, this one ranks right up there with Victoria Falls and Niagara Falls. There are actually two international airports located there in order to provide easy access to this wonder of the natural world.
READ MORE: The Top 10 Things to Do in Patagonia
Yumbilla Falls, Peru by Fregopie CC BY-SA 3.0, from Wikimedia Commons
Tres Hermanas & Yumbilla Falls
Tres Hermanas, or âThree Sisters,â measures 2,999 feet high.
Fed by the Cutivireni River, the waterfall gets its name from the fact that Tres Hermanas falls in three different sections. It is located in Otishi National Park in the Junin Province of Peru, in the countryâs central southwest region. Tres Hermanas is surrounded by beautiful montane forest.
Peru is also home to the worldâs fifth highest waterfall, Yumbilla Falls, which are less than 60 feet shorter than Tres Hermanas. Created by the Utubamba River, Yumbilla drops in four or five (this is somehow up for debate) separate stages. Itâs also located in the Andes Mountains, but it is encircled by the READ MORE: Meeting the People of the Amazon Rainforest
Angel Falls in South America, the Worldâs Tallest (Photo by David Kjelkerud courtesy Flickr via CC 2.0)
Angel Falls
Perched high in the remote mountains of Venezuela, Angel Falls is widely considered the worldâs tallest waterfall, stretching the measuring tape some 3,212 feet high.
The remote Venezuela waterfall is located deep in the jungle of Canaima National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Angle Falls location is perhaps most famous to moviegoers as the inspiration for âParadise Fallsâ from the 2009 Pixar movie Up.
For the most part, Angel Falls consists of a single plunge of well over 2,300 feet. That is followed by 1,300-plus feet of sloped cascades that end in another 100-foot drop. At the base, it measures 500 feet across. It empties into Rio Kerepakupai Meru, which is the indigenous name (in 2009, Hugo Chavez declared it as the official name) of the falls.
Angel Falls was named for an American pilot, Jimmy Angel, who landed atop Auyantepui, the tabletop mountain from which the falls descend. His plane was stuck, so he, his wife, and two companions trekked for 11 days before crossing paths with another person. While their discovery now seems fortuitous, the disappointed crew was actually looking for gold.
A trip to visit the falls can be a very complicated affair involving domestic flights, boats, appropriate weather for adequate water levels, and then several hours of hiking. Getting there may sound like an epic quest, but itâs hard to deny that the falls themselves  are pretty epic as well. âJonathon Engels
WATERFALLS IN THE WORLDÂ FAQâS
Which is the Highest Waterfall in the world?
Angel Falls, located in Venezuela, is considered the highest waterfall in the world. It measures 3,212 feet high.
What is the Biggest Waterfall in the world?
If by biggest waterfall, we mean the widest waterfall, then Khone Falls is the largest waterfall in the world. Even thought Khone Falls is only 5th largest waterfall in terms of volume (over 400,000 cubic feet of water per second), its enormous width averaging over 35,000 feet across makes it the widest waterfall in the world.Â
What is the Highest Waterfall in India?
Kunchikal Falls is the highest waterfall in India. It is a cascading waterfall that descends 455 meters (1493 feet).
What is the Highest Waterfall in Europe?
The highest waterfall in Europe is Norwayâs Vinnufossen Waterfall. It is 860 metres (2,822 ft) high.
What is the Largest Waterfall in Europe?Â
The Rhine Falls in Germany has the largest amount of discharge averaging 700,000 liters (184,920 gallons) per second in the summer and 250,ooo liters (66,043 gallons) in winter.
What is the is the Tallest Waterfall in North America?
Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in North America (2,450 feet) and the tallest waterfall in the US. It is the 5th highest in the world
What is the Highest Waterfall in Canada?
The highest waterfall in Canada is Della Falls 440 m (1,440 ft) which is located in British Columbia.
How Tall is Angel Falls?
Angel Falls is 3,212 feet tall.
The post 20 of the Worldâs Biggest (By Continent) appeared first on Green Global Travel.
#><strong>New#008000;#><strong>Argentina</strong></span></a>/Brazil#><strong>national#><strong>environmental </strong></span><span#><strong>South#><strong>Antarctica</strong></span></a>#><a#>national#>hiking</span></strong></a>#>hiking#><strong>Norway</strong></span></a>#><strong>glacier</strong></span></a>.#>ancient#><strong>hotels</strong></span></a>#>Things
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The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet
Finale posted tomorrow! Â
Weâve made it from A-Y, and I know some of you have been waiting for the whole thing to be posted before reading, so thought Iâd gather it all together in anticipation of the finale tomorrow at 7 PM!
Each of the letters up to this point have been approx. 200 words, but Z is close to 2700 words, so I promise it will be a satisfying end to our alphabet!
The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet, Letters A-Y
author: @storybycorey
rating: PG-13
wordcount (so far): 4612
A is for Apple
She brings her lunch from home most days. Â Well-balanced, just as heâd expectâ portions of protein, fruit, and grainsâwhile he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.
She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him. Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way heâs imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things. He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, heâll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an appleâtart and sweet and lingering there.Â
He realizes heâs staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! Theyâre vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesnât deserve to have.
B is for Basketball
She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably.  Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its boneâeven when heâs buried, even when heâs mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting. On this day though, heâs none of those things; instead heâs just plain bored.
In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesnât expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer. The tank top hidden beneath is tight and itâs blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch).Â
He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.
C is for Candles
Heâll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back. With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (sheâd never allow that now).Â
Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship heâd rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise. His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.
He and the candles are prepared; theyâve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.
D is for Dana
Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days. Scully is Scullyâstrong, competent, loyal. But Dana is an enigma. He catches glimpses of Dana sometimesâa woman, a girlâand he wonders whether sheâs fighting to break free. It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path.Â
Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like thereâs a hidden part of her he has yet to know. He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but canât decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.
E is for Earrings
He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really. But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he canât help but browse. The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly. Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas?  He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek. Â
He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between. Heâd be lying if he doesnât also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan heâs sure would slip from her throat while he plays.Â
A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks âFor your wife? Â Girlfriend?â Â
He shakes his head, âNeither.â
He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.
F is for Friends
They use the term friends sometimes. Usually itâs partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice. He couldnât define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried. Hell, he canât even define it to himself.
How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away? Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, heâs sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scullyâs concerned. Sheâs not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)âsheâs not just anything.Â
Sheâs Scully, and sheâs everything. Â
G is for Globe
He used to play a game with Samantha. Spin the Globe it was called. They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away. He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she canât get out of her head. Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.
âSpin it, Scully. Close your eyes and point, and Iâll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.â
She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe. Antarctica.Â
âSpin again,â he murmurs quickly, âThat one didnât count,â but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.
âYou found me, Mulder. That was more extraordinary than any adventure.â
H is for Hands
Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand.Â
Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimesâdiscussions and games that only boredom can inspire. He tells her he can read palms (heâs lying, of course, but at least itâs something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand. Itâs really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.
âAccording to your palmâŠ,â he says softly, ââŠtrue love awaitsâŠas soon as youâre ready.â
Sheâs silent at first, and he worries heâs ruined thingsâ ruined seven yearsâ worth of things in the span of a minute.Â
But then, in a quiet voice heâs never heard before, she responds, âIâll be ready⊠soon.âÂ
He holds her hand until their shift is over.
I is for Ice Cream
Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip. He knows this (even though she doesnât know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylviaâs Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldnât have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars canât be choosers where ice creamâs concerned.
Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scullyâs door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket. The nice thing about it? She doesnât even pretend not to want it. She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in. They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub. Sheâs full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until itâs late late late, until it isnât even the same day anymore.
J is for Jacket
Her suit jackets (he supposes theyâre probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years. Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.  He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.
He wonders when things changed, because he canât quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe itâs unclear because heâs always done a little of both where Scullyâs concerned.Â
She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it. It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks. He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon âsoonâ will come.
K is for Kiss
Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted:Â In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars...Â
He imagined the party awaiting him on New Yearâs Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors dâoeuvres. Never would he have guessed heâd actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.
They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this: In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time.Â
To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks. Itâs laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.
L is for Lists
He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scullyâs open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, heâs sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy⊠He hasnât physically seen that last one, but heâs sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head. Â
A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals. Â
Heâs taken aback; heâd expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but thisâŠ
He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek. Â
1. Call Mom more often
2. Reach out to Bill
3. Volunteer at the church
Theyâre all so wonderfully Scully. Â Heâs not sure what else he expected. Â Curiosity satisfied, heâs about to turn away when:
15. Stop being afraid of my feelings
and below that:
16. Mulder
He stands stunned. Heâs joked about appearing on Scullyâs lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal. Â
He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.
1. Scully
2. Scully
3. ScullyâŠ
372. ScullyâŠ
1049. ScullyâŠ
He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed âSâ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.
M is for Maybe
Maybe tomorrowâs the day. Â Heâll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, sheâll throw one back herself.
The sunâll come out tomorrow, isnât that how the song goes? Â Good things happen in the darkness, too, thoughâcemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.
He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, âItâs supposed to be beautiful tomorrow⊠Do you wanna⊠Maybe...â
Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and itâs the prettiest thing heâs ever seen.
âYeah,â he interrupts quickly, âYeah, I do.â Â Heâs a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows donât actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons. Â
She smiles, cheeks still flushed, âOkay, then. Â Tomorrow...â
On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.
N is for No
He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, weâre better as friends. No, Mulder, I donât love⊠The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that.Â
He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchorâhair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.
Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesnât roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk. Â She giggles. Â Bile rises in his throat.
No, Mulder, Iâve fallen for someone elseâŠ
He should leave, but Channingâs next words stop him cold. âHow about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?â Â
She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulderâs despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition. Â
âThank you, Rick, but no. Iâm alreadyâŠâ  She smiles gently at himâhim Mulder, not him Rickâ âNo,â she says again, then excuses herself down the hall. Â
He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word heâs ever heard.
O is for Opal
His birthstone is opal. Â Not that heâd ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone giftsâa topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.
Scullyâs skin reminds him of that handleâthe soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows sheâd scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings canât glow, donât be ridiculous. But she doesâshe glows just like an opal.
The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer. Â Her hand, her cheekâthe safe parts of her body heâs been allowed to touchâthey donât even compare to the decades-old trinket. Â He canât imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be. Â The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.
P is for Plum
Scully goes on kicks sometimesâbee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.
Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. Thereâs no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chinâhis eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail. Â
She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.
âSorry!â she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb. Â How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten. Â
âNo takebacks, Scully,â he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.
Q is for Quest
This job of theirs, itâs more than a job. Â More than a career path. Â Itâs a downright quest. Â
He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. Thereâs a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that. Â
Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barberâs basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcineaâ out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch. Â
He sometimes canât believe sheâs still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends. Â It astounds him really. Â
And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isnât so far away, thatâs when he really believesâthat being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.
R is for Rebel
Dana Scully is a rebel. Â She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, thereâs a troublemaker lurking. Â Itâs what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.
He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.
His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. Theyâve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending Iâm too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay. Â
Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the lastâ hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.
His rumpled, sleepy little rebel. Â Sheâs a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And heâs being as patient as he can be.
S is for Sexy
Sheâs sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself.  For the longest time, he blamed his bodyâs reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell⊠But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.
Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front. Â Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she shouldâve been, when cancer stole her color but didnât steal her soul. And then thereâs today. Today when thereâs no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, âI think you may be right, Mulder,â tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.
What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isnât on the outside at all; itâs what lies beneathâthat intangible something that makes her Scully. Thatâs the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.
T is for Toes
Sheâs got cute little toes. Â Sheâs got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one. Â She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.
âWanna stretch out?â he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.
He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum. Â Itâs all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest. Â
Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie theyâd been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going. Â
As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, âThe masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekendsâŠâ
She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, âCareful, I may just take you up on thatâŠâ before stepping onto the elevator.
U is for Umpteen
âUmpteenâs not a word, Mulder,â she tells him, eyes rolling, âIt has no specified value.â Â
Sheâs got a point of course. Â They donât have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve. Â But umpteen is most definitely a word. Â
Umpteenâs how many times heâs forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting.  Umpteenâs how many fantasies heâs had about sliding his hands through her hair.  Umpteenâs how many times sheâs walked out the door, how many times heâs kept from going after her, how many times heâs sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteenâs how many times heâs wanted to kiss her.  Itâs also how many times he hasnâtâŠ
He chuckles, dipping his chin, âYouâre right, Scully. Weâve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...â
Umpteen is how many times heâs said her name, itâs how many times what heâs really wanted to say was I love you.
V is for Volume
They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I canât think over the noise she says). He usually lets her win.Â
Their relationship has its own volume control, heâs realized. There are times when itâs loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn. Other times itâs lowâmurmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly itâs somewhere between. They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America.Â
Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left. Soft. The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.
It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. Iâm ready when you are."
W is for Wristwatch
This job has done a number on his wardrobe. Â Jackets, slacks, shoesâall gone the way of the incineratorâeither damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed. Â Scullyâs hasnât fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.
His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch. Â
Thereâs a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he neednât even guess whom itâs from. Â
âScully,â he protests, but she stops him.
âJust open it, Mulder.â
Itâs a watchâof course itâs a watchâa beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. âYou didnât needââ he begins, but she interrupts him again. Â
âIt was my fatherâs,â she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, âIâve held onto it since⊠Here, let me.â She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.
âIt looks good,â she whispers, âIt brings out your⊠It looks niceâyouâve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuatesââ
He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes. Â âThank you,â he tells her, âI love it.â Â
Thereâs no way this watch lands in the incinerator. Heâll protect it with his life if he has to.
X is for X-Files
The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does. Â Itâs his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks itâs become hers, too. Â Theyâve created their own little world down hereâa cozy, paranormal universeâand Scullyâs as much a part of that universe as he is.
She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner. Â Itâs funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery. Â Sheâs the very definition of an X-File. Â It floors him that she chooses this life, that sheâs willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.
There was a time he couldnât have imagined not seeking the truth. Â These days though? These days heâs beginning to believe heâs been searching in all the wrong places. Â
The truth canât be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields. Â The truthâthe real truthâ exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.
It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.
Y is for Yawn
She yawns as he speaks, but it doesnât bother him. Things feel sleepyâdreamyâ tonight.
Itâs been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and sheâŠHeâs not even sure what sheâs been doing, doesnât know that he wants to.  All he knows is that sheâs here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.
Itâs hard not to babble when he feels this good; heâs drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.
âAnd that says a lot⊠a lot, a lot, a lotâŠâ Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life. Â
He touches her hairâhe canât bear not toâcovers her with a blanket to keep away the chill. Â Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.
Z posted tomorrow night (9/25) at 7PM EST!
#they have a different feel when you read them all together#give it a try!#then check in tomorrow night at 7 for the culmination!#The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet
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A network of hidden lakes has been found under the surface of Mars, scientists say
https://sciencespies.com/space/a-network-of-hidden-lakes-has-been-found-under-the-surface-of-mars-scientists-say/
A network of hidden lakes has been found under the surface of Mars, scientists say
The surface of Mars is renowned for its aridity. The entire planet is a dusty, barren desert â a wasteland of rock and, in some regions, ice; but of liquid water, not a confirmed drop has been found.
But in 2018, scientists unveiled a bombshell discovery â theyâd found evidence of a colossal underground reservoir of liquid water at the Martian south pole.
Now, theyâve taken that discovery a crucial step forward. Thereâs not one, but an entire network of multiple lakes under the southern polar ice cap. And that means that the first reservoir was not a one-off or a freak of Martian nature.
âThe existence of a single subglacial lake could be attributed to ad-hoc conditions such as the presence of a volcano under the ice sheet, or some other situation unique to the specific location where we found the first subglacial lake,â explained geophysicist Elena Pettinelli of Roma Tre University in Italy to ScienceAlert. She led the research alongside colleague Sebastian Emanuel Lauro.
âThe discovery of an entire system of lakes instead, suggests their formation process to be relatively simple and possibly common.â
The first subglacial lake was announced just over two years ago. It was discovered using the Mars Advanced Radar for Subsurface and Ionosphere Sounding (MARSIS) instrument on the Mars Express orbiter.
This uses the same technique we use to find subglacial lakes in Antarctica â bouncing radio waves off a surface and measuring the echoes, looking for changes in the signal to characterise a topography.
These radar sounding investigations initially revealed a single subglacial lake 1.5 kilometres (0.93 miles) under the southern polar ice cap, measuring 20 kilometres (12.4 miles) across.
âSome types of material reflect radar signals better than others, and liquid water is one of those âmaterialsâ,â one of the researchers, planetary scientist Graziella Caparelli of the University of Southern Queensland in Australia, told ScienceAlert.
âTherefore, when the signals coming from the subsurface are stronger than those reflected by the surface, we can confirm that we are in the presence of liquid water. Radars are used on Earth (where we can directly verify the results) for the same purpose, so we are certain that the technique is reliable.â
Since then, the team has performed more investigations on a dataset spanning almost a decade, from 2010 and 2019. And, in a new analysis of those data, they found three new brightly reflecting patches.
In other words, a network of subglacial lakes separated by regions of dry stone, hidden away under the south pole, not far from that initial lake.
Map of the radar data. Blue regions are highly reflective, indicating liquid water. (Lauro et al., Nature Astronomy, 2020)
âIn a terrestrial subglacial environment such strong reflections below the ice are associated with the presence of basal water; there are no other physical mechanisms that can generate such a strong anomaly, as far as we know,â Pettinelli said.
âImportantly, we have obtained the same results using more advanced data processing and analysis methods than for our 2018 paper, and the fact that, having run such a rigorous data analysis process, we confirmed the presence of that lake, and found other lakes, makes us quite confident about our interpretation that the liquid is water.â
Moreover, if it is liquid water, itâs likely salty water. Extremely salty water. Mars, you see, is very cold, and even though the interior is warmer than the surface, itâs still cold enough to freeze fresh water. In 2018, the team estimated that the lake they found would be around 205 Kelvin (-68.15 degrees Celsius, or -90.67 degrees Fahrenheit).
But salt lowers the freezing point of water, and can do quite significantly. As the team note in their paper, water imbued with salts of calcium and magnesium can remain liquid at temperatures as low as 150 Kelvin, for very long periods of time. And Mars, as we know from exploring the surface, is rich in salts of calcium and magnesium, as well as sodium.
So the discovery of additional salty subglacial lakes is very significant. It means that they can form easily and hang around for geological timescales â which is an important piece in the longstanding puzzle of Marsâ water and climate history. And it also has important implications in the search for Mars microbes.
âThese lakes have probably existed for much of Marsâ history,â said planetary scientist Roberto Orosei of the National Institute for Astrophysics in Italy, and principal investigator for MARSIS.
âFor this reason, they could still retain traces of any life forms that could have evolved when Mars had a dense atmosphere, a milder climate and the presence of liquid water on the surface, similar to the early Earth.â
Itâs possible, even, that microbial life may still be thriving in those lakes.
We know that such can live in some of the most salty, inhospitable places Earth has to offer, as well as subglacial reservoirs. Of course, weâre a very, very long way from making such a detection, and studying Mars water up close may contravene the 1967 Outer Space Treaty. But itâs worth thinking about.
The next step the team is taking is to search for water elsewhere on Mars. Itâs unclear whether underground reservoirs could exist at lower latitudes, but the north pole has a hefty ice cap of its own.
âIt is not implausible that basal lakes also exist beneath the north polar ice cap,â Caparelli said.
âData analysis of a few data acquired in the same way we acquired those that allowed us to âseeâ the south polar subglacial lakes has only just begun, however.â
So weâll be eagerly awaiting to see those results when the team has analysed them. Meanwhile, in an ideal world, Pettinelli would love to send up landers to conduct seismic monitoring to plumb the depths of those reservoirs.
âActive seismic prospecting techniques such as those commonly used on Earth to discover oil reservoirs would be best and have been used in Antarctica to detect the bottom of the lakes. These techniques could shed light on the water depth and the geometry of the water bodies,â she told ScienceAlert.
However, as Mars landers are difficult and expensive, and the seismic monitors would be challenging to set up, we may be waiting a long time for that one.
The research has been published in Nature Astronomy.
#Space
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 Locomotives... freight trains... the backbone of modern civilization... have existed now in every country, on every continent (except Antarctica) for over a century.
Railroads are not only responsible for the development of time zones, to establish a global clock, but also the telegraph... that early precursor to telephone, radio, and internet networks that now span the globe.
Of course, the telegraph would have been useless without Morse Code, the first ever binary method of communication, employing dots and dashes... the precursors to the zeros and ones of the digital age. Â
Morse code quickly became an international standard (still in use today) for not only hard wired telegraphic communication between railroad stations, but later, radio telegraphy for ships at sea.
At any rate, if you live in the United States... as well as any other nation that was once part of the British Empire... and many others that werenât... youâll notice to this day, that as a train (whether commuter or freight) approaches a grade level crossing with a road... it always sounds the horn with the same warning sequence...
...long... long... short... long.
Dash, dash, dot, dash.
Morse code for the letter Q.
Every distant, romantic train horn youâve ever heard... has been a sonic representation of the letter Q. And itâs been that way since before the Civil War.
More than this, as early as 1913 (Pre WW1) an international standard for radio telegraph was developed... of Q-codes. Twelve, three-letter codes, in Morse code, all beginning with the letter Q... to facilitate âqueries,â ship to ship, or ship to port.
For example:Â Â
QRB - What is your distance?
QRG - What line do you belong to?
QRJ - How many words do you have to send?
QRK - do you recieve me?
These are still used today, including by ham radio operators, and the Q codes are the reason why no national or international ID call sign can begin with Q. Itâs a sacred letter, in morse code.
Why? Well... Iâll get to that soon, but first we need to address how the Q-anon movement explains why this aphabetical letter, emblematic of their model... is the one sonically transmitted to every back yard in America by distant freight trains day and night.
Are the locomotive engineers in on the truth? Are they blasting the letter Q in morse code throughout the land, day and night, as a signal for those who know the truth to keep the faith and stay strong in the face of adversity?
Or did the agent known as Q, who began the movement, pick this letter because of itâs sacred history in signal intelligence?Â
Probably both, right?
Well... if you do a word search on Wikipediaâs extensive Q-anon entry, for either, âQ code,â or, âQ signal,â you turn up... nothing.
Try it.
Nothing.
The agent purporting to be a deep state mole... who chose to call himself Q... doing his level best to establish maximum noteriety among the general populace, for the sake of exposing a dark truth about the inner workings of our government and society...Â
...did, and does not know that train horns broadcast the letter Q, in the open air, every day, everywhere in the nation... AND... neither do ANY of his followers online... themselves, purporting to be deep net, tech savvy super sleuths.
Let this sink in...
A purported deep state insider... who is definitely NOT a conspiracy theorist... talking to an audience of tech savvy super sleuths who are definitely NOT conspiracy theorists... failed UTTERLY for some four years now... to capitalize on the fact that the trains themselves... broadcast their code-letter every day.
Not only did they fail to capitalize on it... they failed utterly to acknowledge this was a thing. Not just the train crossing signal, but the many Q-codes that have been used in ham radio transmissions for the past century.
I thought Q was a signal intelligence agent... or at least, an agent who had some cursory knowledge of basic sigint 101. I thought his followers were tech savvy denizens of the deep net... or at least, people who had some cursory knowledge of sigint 101.
Heâs not, and they donât.
How did I find out the SECRET of trains broadcasting the letter Q in morse code?..
...A tour guide at the local trolley museum told the whole group as part of his spiel, as we rode on the trolley one Sunday afternoon.
Being as the British invented the locomotive, in the Victorian era, they chose the letter Q for the train horns to sound before grade crossings... because it stood for, âQueen.â
The Brits also developed the origina Q-codes for radio telegraphy... in that case preserving the Q for Queen, but having it do double duty as the signal for âquerry,â or âquestion.â
Imagine if Q-anon had ever been sharp enough to even say, Q is our emblem, because it has a hallowed history, for over a century in signal intelligence, and it stands for, question. Question what the media is telling you!
But no... theyâve never come anywhere close to saying that in four years, because they were never bright enough to connect those very obvious dots... and dashes. Â
Insiders, with secret insights... who have no clue what morse code is... and no idea about the public, and easily researched, history of the letter Q, and itâs sacred place in the history of telegraphy, radiography, and, by an unbroken line of inheritance, the world wide web.
Imagine being that stupid.
-----------------
Thereâs only a short list of âcoolâ letters in the alphabet...
Q, V, X, and Z.
Our Agent Q, appears to have picked his letter at random, among those four... without any appreciation for how he could use it to bolster his credibility... because he didnât know that he could.
Can Agent X claim the trains are transmitting his symbol to the masses? No. Can Agent V, or Agent Z? No!
Q could have, but did not... because heâs an idiot, without the first clue about signal intelligence, much less anything else.
Oh, but no! Maybe Q did pick this letter, but did not boast of it, so that people could figure it out for themselves, or absorb it unconsciously via train horns!
Firstly, nobodyâs making that argument, because nobody knows Iâm attacking them on this front, but secondly... if even a single one of his followers had any brains at all in their heads... this issue would have come up in four years. Â
Secondly, nobody knows Morse code anymore, so nobody would unconsciously connect the train crossing signals to the letter Q and therefore be more open to hearing the message of a truth teller named Q on the internet.
This is all that is needed to debunk Q-anon forever.
Iâm sorry.
No need to delve into all the convoluted contortions of their neverending conspiracy at all. Â
The fact is... if you claim to have deep state knowledge, or be a deep web denizen of truth... and yet you have ZERO CLUE about the significance of the letter Q in the history of signal intelligence... and how itâs still used very publicly in the modern day?..
Youâre a total fraud, and everything you believe about yourself or the world around you is a whole-cloth, fabricated lie.
You may believe what you will of my own weird model of reality, with itâs aliens, time travelers, AI, and collective unconscious... but Iâm not out here trolling for any attention (this blog is private)... and my shit is based on observation and science.
Itâs subject to revision, pending new information.
Itâs a model.
Q-anon is not a model. Itâs reckless propoganda, aimed at the ignorant, to distract them from reality... in order to get them to vote against their own interests.
My model might be crazy... but it is just a model. And itâs not one Iâve ever publicized. Itâs honest speculation for itâs own sake... in a vacuum.
But we are two months away from the most important election in American history so... I felt I needed to take down Q-anon, for what itâs worth... on the level of the collective unconscious... which is admittedly very weak, but... whatever.
Itâs time for bed.
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Live-tweeting Walking with Dinosaurs (part 1)
Yesterday I took at look at the original Walking with Dinosaurs series for the first time in awhile and attempted to live-tweet it. Result is reproduced here, if thereâs any interest.
Iâm going to rewatch the 1999 Walking with Dinosaurs series (its been a few years) and attempt to live-tweet. Ignore, mute, or follow...youâve been warned!
Impetus behind this was seeing a couple clips and getting the feeling that WWD was very different from the many, many imitators that have been produced over the years.
Iâve long since stopped keeping track of all the new edutainment/natural drama dinosaur shows (theyâre never any good). But my impression is that newer ones are mostly about the animalsâ appearance and alleged behavior and not much else.
My thesis going in is that WWD is more of an all-encompassing natural history, which is (to me) much more interesting!
Also Iâm going to take this on with the eye of an educator, not a dinosaur anatomy specialist. Others are far more qualified at the latter.
How does this series communicate important ideas about paleontology, evolution, and ecology to nonspecialists? What does it emphasize? What does it gloss over?
Was hoping to watch on my laptop so I could take screenshots easily. Windows media player is useless so apparently that is not happening.
Ok, back on track. This a cool opening.
My understanding is that this is just about the opposite of what the Chinle Formation ecology looked like.
Chinle Formation spans nearly 20 million years. Generally a transition from wetland/delta to more arid environment. 220 mya would be the Blue Mesa Member, which is on the earlier, wetter end of the spectrum! For more info, see Irmis 2005: http://ist-socrates.berkeley.edu/~irmisr/chinlerev.pdfÂ
Mural at the Petrified Forest National Park visitor center gives a better impression of what this environment should look like.
Placerias introduced as an "ancient kind of reptile." Use of "reptile" is unfortunate, but *sometimes* it's not worth tying oneself into knots to use group names correctly, when the goal is succinctness and clarity.
No pterosaurs or cynodonts have been found in the Chinle and (I think) Triassic North America as a whole. Peteinosaurus is imported from Italy and Thrinaxodon from South Africa and Antarctica.
This is an interesting problem. Is the goal here to accurately (to the best of our knowledge in 1999) depict an ecosystem that existed at a particular time and place? Or is it to showcase the broader evolutionary and ecological trends of the late Triassic?
This first episode seems to be doing the latter. Importing animals, fudging environmental details for the sake of the narrative: dinosaurs (and cynodonts) have innovative adaptations that give them an edge over other, older lineages.
An important question: is the "dinosaurs had innovative adaptations to outcompete other Triassic animals" even correct? I remember reading that might be vastly overstating what was mostly luck.
Here's the first of our egregiously oversized beasties: a 6 meter (20 foot) Postosuchus. "The largest carnivore on Earth" because phytosaurs apparently don't exist in this universe.
Geez this cynodont is like five times bigger than it should be
Turns out the cynodont was inspired by a very large "indeterminate traversodontid" toorhth from the Chinle. Now called Kraterokheirodon and may not even be an amniote.http://chinleana.fieldofscience.com/2009/09/enigmatic-triassic-taxa.html
The peeing Postosuchus inspired a Guardian article about the series' mixing of fact with plausible (sometimes implausible) speculation. As presented, impossible for viewers to separate the two. https://www.theguardian.com/uk/1999/oct/10/robinmckie.theobserver âŠ
Thrinraxodon parents eat their own young: pulling no punches to show that nature is horrifying. Newer paleo-edutainment shows seem sanitized by comparison...
Cool how visuals mirror the theme/narrative. One dinosaur on screen early on, by the end of the episode there are swarms of them. Composition and drama are shaping up to be a strong point with this series.
Plateosaurus shows up on the wrong side of the world, 10 million years early, and three times bigger than it should be.
And that's the end of episode 1! Fascinating that events of episode (dominant Postosuchus dies, Placerias migrate away, Coelophysis survive drought) mirror the larger evolutionary narrative (as presented) of dinosaurs gradually taking over most large animal niches.
So filmmakers weren't just presenting a day in the life of Triassic animals...it's *allegorical* day in the life that represents the overall thrust of evolutionary history.
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From NASA Earth Observatory Image of the Day; January 25, 2018:
Glacial Retreat at a Non-glacial Pace
Not every glacier on the South Patagonian Icefield has a memorable name like Spegazzimi or Ofhidro. Some flowing bodies of ice are identified simply with the prefix HPS (Hielo PatagĂłnico Sur, which is Spanish for âSouthern Patagonian Icefieldâ) followed by an identifying number.
HPS-12 is one such glacier. Although its name is unassuming, the changes happening here are notable.
Glaciers are thinning and retreating all over the South Patagonian Icefield. Spanning about 13,000 square kilometers across Chile and Argentina, it is the largest contiguous icefield in the southern hemisphere outside of Antarctica. But researchers have noted that âmost of the glaciers of the icefield are decaying, with several undergoing âcatastrophicâ retreat.â HPS-12, located on the western side of the icefield in Chile, has lost about half of its length in three decades.
The change is visible in these false-color images. The first was acquired on January 27, 1985, by the Thematic Mapper on the Landsat 5 satellite; the second was acquired on February 4, 2017, by the Operational Land Imager (OLI) on Landsat 8. Turn on the image comparison tool to see the front of the glacierâits terminusâretreat by about 13 kilometers.
The images combine shortwave-infrared, near-infrared, and green portions of the electromagnetic spectrum. This combination of wavelengths typically makes snow and ice appear cyan and light blue, vegetation as green, and open water as dark blue. These colors have been modified to simulate a more natural appearance so that snow and ice remain white.
In 1985, HPS-12 measured 26 kilometers long. The retreat accelerated in the late 1990s, and by 2015, three glaciers that fed into HPS-12 from the sides were cut off. The retreatâcombined with some of the most extensive thinning on the icefieldâcreated new areas of open water in the fjord (dark blue) and exposed rocky fjord walls (brown). By 2017, the glacier was less than 13 kilometers long. According to Mauri Pelto, a glaciologist who wrote about HPS-12 on his blog, âthis retreat along with Jorge Montt is the largest in Chile in the last 30 years.â
References and Related Reading
AGU Blogosphere: From a Glacierâs Perspective (2017, November 15) HPS-12, Chile Spectacular 13 km retreat 1985-2017. Accessed January 24, 2018.
NASA Earth Observatory (2017, June 28) South Patagonian Icefield.
Rignot, E. et al. (2003) Contribution of the Patagonia Icefields of South America to Sea Level Rise. Science, 302 (5644), 434-437.
Willis, M. et al. (2012) Ice loss from the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, South America, between 2000 and 2012. The Cryosphere, 39 (17).
NASA Earth Observatory images by Joshua Stevens, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Story by Kathryn Hansen. Instrument(s): Landsat 5 - TM; Landsat 8 - OLI
#earth observatory#satellite photo#climate change#global warming#glacial melt#glacier#Hielo Patagonico Sur 12#HPS 12#false color#South Patagonian Icefield#Chile#Argentina#landsat 5#landsat 8#long post
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