#Earliest snowfall

[jandeproductions]

First Vermont snows for the 2023-2024 winter season

Today we got our first taste of the coming winter in the Northern Green Mountains. While Mt. Washington in New Hampshire has had a number of rounds of snow thus far in the autumn, and there were some reports of possible frozen precipitation in far northern Vermont a week or two ago, today saw the first notable accumulating snow on Mt. Mansfield. As of midafternoon today, Powderfreak reported that…

[ahaura]

it's snowing 🥰

[silliest-donkey]

Even in the earliest hours of the morning, Jackson had a lively neighborhood. The faint sounds of children laughing and facilities opening was paired with the soothing scents of breakfast and wet wood.

The crispy snow crunched softly under the firm pressure of Dina's boots. On her way to the stables, the air was nippy, as twirly snowflakes silently fell all over her hair and clothing, adding new layers to the already frozen ground.

Maria had assigned her a new patrol partner. Of course, to top it all, Dina had no idea what the person looked like. The only information she got was that she would be patrolling with the scariest girl of whole Jackson - if she listened to the rumors. Which was not in her habits. So, she basically knew... nothing at all.

When she entered the stables, you were already there, fully set and ready next to your horse. You were not paired with anyone, and judging by the looks people were giving you, the brunette assumed you were her newly assigned partner.

Oh boy oh boy. C'mon, D. Don't panic. You got this.

"Hey, I'm Dina, but you can call me D. I don't believe we've met before." she stated with a friendly look, holding out her hand, waiting for you to reciprocate the handshake.

As soon as you locked eyes with Dina, the warm hues of her brown pupils pulled you in. Looking at her for the first time felt like drowning into endless pools of honey.

"Maria set me up as your new patrol partner." You softly stated, wrapping your pinky finger onto hers in some sort of a clumsy handshake. You were taken aback by her striking charms.

Dina smirked at your unusual gesture, gently shaking your pinky with her own.

"You must be the sniper I've heard so many people talk about, huh?"

"Positive." You replied, before gently pulling away.

Dina gave you a firm, confident nod. You did not look so bad after all. She held back a snort, suddenly feeling ridiculous for fearing your encounter. She let her gaze linger on your hands - which were barely sticking out of your coat, like a child's. The end of your fingers had turned pink because of the cold weather. You were fidgeting with the reins of your horse, shyly shifting on your feet. You two had just met, but your new colleague was already thinking you were adorable.

Dina cleared her throat before she spoke again, trying to steer the conversation away from her insistent staring.

"Damn, the way people talk about you, I thought I'd meet someone a lot more menacing. They call you the 'Poker-Faced Sniper' around here, after all."

"Huh?"

You stared at her mischevious smile in disbelief. The rumors about you seemed to have taken an uncontrollable toll over your image. Dina's eyes watched you expectantly, waiting for some badass comeback or flexing monologue. Surprisingly, you just stood there like some cartoon character waiting to get a cream pie thrown at their face.

The brunette's playful giggle broke the awkward silence. She moved over next to you, folding her arms.

"They always say one thing about you... She's very beautiful as well." she stated, the softness of her lips crimping into her signature lopsided sneer.

You turned to face her, nonchalantly leaning on your side against the stable's wall.

"Do you find me beautiful?"

Dina's long eyelashes fluttered. For a few seconds, her smirk faltered. There was something with the way you talked that made her feel weak in the knees. Or maybe it was something about how your hair framed your face perfectly when you flipped around to look at her. Or your unwavering gaze. Or...

Fucking hell. What am I doing?

"I find you as beautiful as a wet mop on a Monday morning."

Sweet.

The horses treaded carefully through the deep snow, their powerful steps breaking the stillness of the wintery forest. Snow-dusted pine trees reached their slender arms toward the sky, their branches weighed down by the heavy snowfall. With each exhale, the horses' breath formed plumes of misty vapor, visible against the backdrop of a crystalline blue sky.

You two had cleared the first half of the patrol in complete silence. Ah, wait, you two? Not exactly, no. You had dispatched most of the infected by yourself in a record time. The more it went on, the more Dina had trouble keeping up. You were simply infuriating. Infuriatingly skilled, infuriatingly fast, infuriatingly quiet, infuriatingly efficient...

Infuriatingly pretty.

Dina let out an exasperated sigh as she hurried her horse towards yours. Why was she still thinking about this?

"So, how's the wet mop doing? Pretty good, huh?" you taunted, breaking the silence after two hours of tension.

Dina bit down on her lip, holding back a myriad of curse words. How were you so effortlessly attractive in every damn thing you did?

"...doing more 'pretty' than good" she let out bluntly.

You grinned maliciously at her visibly flustered expression, slowing down your horse so it could ride alongside hers.

"Ha! Are you finally admitting to my irresistible beauty, or are you afraid my stealth game's unmatched?"

"Honey, your beauty was never the question. But if you think your stealth game is so unmatched, why don't you hide your insecurities as well? I can still see them as clear as day."

You never thought you'd hear such harsh words coming from her mouth. You tilted your head to the side. Something was wrong. Neither the lustful look in her eyes or her almost loving tone matched the mean speech she had delivered to your face. But you decided to play along.

"Excuse me?!" you dramatically scoffed, leaning in from your horse, invading her personal space.

Dina let out a low chuckle. She suddenly turned her head to face yours, a wavy strand of her dark, flowy hair dangling over your lips. "Excuse me." she talked back in a sultry voice.

Before you could ask what the hell was she suddenly apologizing for, you felt her hand slowly creep over your thigh as your horses walked next to eachother. She palmed the inner corner of your leg which was shaking back and forth on the side of your saddle, her cold fingers getting dangerously close to your crotch.

"What the fuck?" you managed to mutter, completely taken aback by the wild switch-up in her behavior. One second she was roasting your whole family tree, the next she was hitting on you.

You felt your breath hitch as she leaned in closer, her cupid's bow teasing the lobe of your ear.

"People in town say a lot about you. They say...you reject all the boys. Is that true?"

The familiar, blood curling sound of infected screeches came from the building across the path, breaking the moment. Dina instantly fixed her posture on her saddle, taking out her gun in a swift move.

"Let's get this over with."

Your feisty patrol partner galloped away, her bun untying in the process. As she passed right beside you, your nostrils caught a warm vanilla flavor, before a brutal ponytail slap on the face pulled you out of your daydreaming. You cursed under your breath. This woman was really going to be the death of you.

"Four runners - on your left!"

"On it, D."

Dina had gotten used to your pace after taking a closer look to your moving patterns and strategies. Now she felt more at ease. When you were actually in sync, you two made a pretty great team, to say the least. After she was done covering her part, she moved back to your side.

Dina watched in awe as you deftly wielded your blade, each movement precise and deadly. The steel glinted in the dim light, reflecting the sharpness and focus of its handler at each firm stab.

Suddenly, a creaking sound alerted her ears. It didn't take her much time to realize the tiles under your feet would be soon collapsing. Dina shoved you away only a few seconds before a good half of the floor tumbled down over itself. She reached out to pull you close in a tight, reassuring embrace, enveloping you in a securing veil of softness. Her fingers gripped onto you, firm yet gentle, as she held you close, your hearts racing in unison.

You both let out a deep exhale you didn't know you were holding. Maybe it was the stress of the busy patrol you two had just completed, or the fact that this building was unsafe even after clearing it out because it was crumbling down in ruins and decay. Maybe it was simply the cold that made you two crave for the warmth of someone else's body.

But neither you, nor Dina, wanted to pull away from the unexpected embrace. Actually, maybe, just maybe, you two had grown to like each other.

The brunette felt your body turn around, your arms encircling her waist. She let you bury your head into her chest, and slowly stroked your hair with one hand.

"There there. You're fine. I'm here. It's over, you're safe."

Her other hand drew slow, soothing circles around your back. As she tightened her grip around you, her signature vanilla-like scent enveloped you like a comforting blanket. The soft curves of her frame clicked perfectly into yours, as if your bodies were designed to fit against one another.

You couldn't remember how long it was since you had received a compassionate hug like this. Or just a simple hug in general. It had also been a long time since someone had actually, genuinely cared about you the way Dina did just now. No, wait, actually, it never even happened in your life before. No one had done it like her. No one could do it the way she does.

You have been stuck in some kind of uneasy mood these days. You were the "if anyone gives me a hug right now I'm probably gonna cry" type.

You let a few tears run down your face, praying they would go unnoticed.

"Dina..."

Your shaky voice caught her attention immediately.

"Yeah?" she replied with a gentle tone, looking at your face which was buried into her coat with caring eyes.

"...nothing. I just wanted to say your name. It's...comforting. I like it. I like you." you mumbled, your voice vibrating against her chest.

Such genuine, sweet words made Dina's heart flutter.

"Anyway, pretty sure we're done." you muttered, gently pulling away to walk towards the exit of the building.

Your patrol partner followed you. She noticed smudged tear stains over the fabric of her coat. She chose not to comment on it - but she needed to do something about it. She needed to find something, anything that could make you smile. No matter how stupid she was going to look, she needed to do it for you.

Just when you were about to mount your horse, she held you back.

"Not so fast."

You turned around to face her shy lopsided smile. She gently tugged on your sleeve.

"There's something I want to show you before we leave..."

"So that's it, huh? Just...silly little flowers?"

Dina playfully shoved your arm. "Ah, c'mon! Quit being so grumpy and admit it's cute. You don't usually see flowers in winter, especially not blooming out of snow, do you?"

You burst out laughing while your patrol partner was eyeing you up with a sheepish expression.

"These are called...snow drops. They usually bloom when spring is coming. And what makes them so special is that nothing can stop them from coming out of the ground, even if it means poking out of layers of snow."

You nodded in stunned silence, impressed by Dina's knowledge. Deep down, you knew you admired her for more than just that, still, you thought she probably didn't want compliments from a 'wet mop'. Before you could open your mouth to call her a nerd, she stopped in her tracks right in front of you, turning around. Her hair had completely come undone by now, cascading down her shoulders, perfectly complimenting her face which was tinted by a natural blush from the blizzard. When her eyes met yours, they lit up instantly, their familiar brown tint almost turning to gold.

Your hands intertwined together. You felt Dina's shaky fingers give yours a gentle squeeze, before her voice resonated once more through the chilly air.

"You know... you're just like a snow drop to me. You're someone people look up to. You're someone we think about when we have better days in mind. And I'm not just talking about your contribution to Jackson's community, I- I'm not close to you, but the more I spend time with you, the more I realize just how special you are - how much you come out of the snow."

Your eyes widened.

No one had ever said such words to you. You simply stood there, trying to process how wholesome that just was.

Meanwhile, your patrol partner's gaze darted to the ground. She was visibly panicking - yes, she had planned this, but she had unintentionally poured her whole heart into it. She muttered in defeat.

"...sorry...that was stupid...I shouldn't have-"

"C'mere." you cut her off as you sat down on a massive log, patting the spot next to you.

The brunette did as she was asked. Her brown pupils dilated as they met yours, trapping you in a velvet-like embrace. You contemplated the best way to reply to her sudden compliment. There were so many things flashing through your mind, so many words you wanted to say to her. The two of you stared at each other in silence for a few moments, lost in infatuation.

"You still haven't replied to my question." Dina's eager voice broke the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I asked you... is it true that you reject all the boys who hit on you?" she carefully chose her words.

You tilted your head towards hers, leaning in closer. "Why would I accept any dude when girls like you, with the prettiest eyes, who care deeply for me, exist, and are able to magically solve my trust issues first patrol?"

You could see the face of your colleague progressively reach a redder tint, her lips parted in surprise at your praise. She let out an awkward chuckle, clearly taken aback. But you did not stop. You couldn't. You felt almost angry at her for not realizing.

"No man on this damn, doomed planet will ever be able to hug me like you did earlier or offer to me beautiful, heartfelt words like comparing my persona to snow drop flowers in such a poetic manner! No one could ever compete with you, and those eyes, and- and your overwhelming capacity of making people at ease, and-and-"

The brunette unexpectedly cut you off. It was obvious she was trying her best to keep a straight face, but her voice was edged with a hopeless bitterness.

"Come on, you really didn't know guys thought you were good-looking? You're pretty popular, you could have anyone you want. They talk about you like you're a greek goddess or something."

This was it. You let out a frustrated sigh, glaring at her as if she had started a fire. Well, considering the one that was progressively taking over your heart, she probably did.

"The only, greek goddess. I. want to hear about. Is. You."

Dina's smirk widened at your mad response. She loved the sight of anger and passion mixing up in your eyes.

She then looked at you for a moment before she spoke.

"Although, we could be goddesses together. We would make a pretty greek statue, all in white and drapes-"

"Ha! Me, a greek goddess? I'd rather have you consider me as the devil" You cut her off. You felt so done with her bullshitting, constant teasing, beating around a damn nonexistent bush you'd pull out of the ground in a second.

Dina giggled, visibly satisfied she had successfully made you as enraged as a pitbull. She spoke again, in a warmer, seductive tone.

"Oh come on, you can't be the devil. You're too... pretty for that."

Her hand sneaked her way on your thigh for the second time of the day. You weren't usually a religious person, but you felt like you were gonna need to start praying the gods to give you the strenght to hold back from kissing her until she choked on her own breath.

You gaze darkened.

"You never know."

"Maybe I want to know"

Five words. Five simple words - whispered, murmured, muttered, exhaled....no, pleaded from her inviting lips.

You were gonna ruin that pretty greek statue, right fucking now. The gods could go screw themselves.

Your mouths met forcefully, teeth clashing together in a fierce, almost ballistic collision. It was a rush for passion and desire, lips smashed together in a messy, frenzied exchange. Tongues all tangled and wrestling for dominance, each trying to claim the other through a heated, savage kiss. Possessive hands roaming restlessly, claiming, touching, pressing closer as the kiss grew more ferocious, the taste of each other like a flame that burned harder, and hotter, boiling at the spot any snowflake which dared to get closer.

You found yourselves surrounded by a swirling white veil that dampened the sounds of your surroundings. Your hungry breaths, hot against the cold air, puffed around your tangled bodies in misty clouds as your lips melted together. Oh, it was far from a gentle touch, nowhere near a mere brush of the lips like the softest snowfall. All of the built-up desire, pent up like a gathering storm, overwhelmed your senses.

The chilly ice no longer seemed to matter. You two were lost in each other, waves of heat pooling between your thighs building like the fervor of a blizzard raging through them. Dina's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer - if it was even possible anymore - lips and tongues sparring in a fiery exchange that set your blood ablaze against the frozen weather.

When you two pulled away, it felt like the whole world was spinning.

The sight of Dina resting her hands behind her back over the log you two were sitting on, dark, wavy strands of hair falling all over her face and shoulders, shaky exhales sending heated clouds through the winter air - it made you feel weak in the knees.

Speaking of knees, you found yourself dropping to them on the ground between her thighs. You felt the same sneaky hands which had teased you so much hours earlier press your shoulders down.

"My... little... snow drop."

Dina's voice had grown huskier because of the laboring breaths she was taking. You felt your whole body tense up at her tantalizing words. You were completely doomed - as if possessed by the relentless fire her bittersweet chuckles and smirks had ignited within you. A blunt sentence fell out of your mouth before you could even process it.

"Dina, I need you so bad, I really don't think I can wait for the ride back to Jackson-"

"Shh-shh." her hands went from your shoulders to your cheeks, caressing them almost like a pet's. You leaned into her touch, as you felt your head getting cloudier each second.

"It's all your fault for beating around the bush...you're driving me crazy..." you groaned against her thumbs which were softly tracing your lower lip.

"Hmm, I'm glad. Trust me, I definitely wasn't beating around the bush... I just wanted to hear you say it out loud."

You suddenly removed your coat, and put it over her lap. Before Dina could even register what was happening, her pants and underwear were slipped down to her boots. Shivers ran down her spine as the freezing air hit her bare skin under the fabric of the piece of clothing you were holding over her thighs.

"Whoa-"

"There are things I want to hear you say out loud too." you cut her off, talking in between subtle kisses you planted all over her ghoosebumps. "Very...specific sounds, in particular."

Dina whimpered shakily as your lips worshipped her thighs, planting a trail of heat over her cold skin. Her heart was racing from how forward you were being. She nodded, letting out a breathless and flustered response.

“Fine. Go ahead, sweetheart, you can try. Make me feel good.” she demanded, wrapping her legs around your head to pull you closer to her aching core.

Your own lips quivered in sync with hers - down there. You were quite literally french kissing her slippery folds right after french kissing her mouth, and you were far from complaining.

Dina quickly lost her breath at this maddening tongue action, letting out a strangled moan, her trembling fingers tangling into your hair. Her mind was going blank from the sensations.

"That's it...just like that...lap it all up, babe." the needy commands she whispered occasionally between her moans only fueled your thirst for her godly pussy.

Two of your fingers teased their way from her labia to her throbbing clit, as you kept licking and tasting and devouring, furiously eager. You could feel her vagina clenching all around your tongue, each desperate pulse marked by the most precious gasps you had ever heard.

You pulled away, admiring the sight of Dina slowly coming undone before your blessed eyes. The view you had on your patrol partner's figure, from under her, made her look like a goddess descending from the sweetest of heaven's gardens, sun rays reflecting a halo from the snowy landscape around her.

"Holy...Dina, you're so fucking perfect-"

Her thighs almost instantly squeezed your neck, forcefully shoving your face right back into her dripping cunt. The last thing you saw was her parting her lips, those very lips that could both degrade and praise you in such lengths you went crazy over them in the span of one single patrol.

Her commanding tone left no room for negotiation.

"Oh, honey. You're not stopping until I say so."

[masterlist]

[evermourning]

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader (bewitched series pt. 2)

wc: 1.2k

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, comfort, slice of life, based off "bewitched" by laufey

warnings: not proofread, language, pet names (jagi/jagiya, baby), horrifically cliche, no direct pronouns used for reader

a/n: all the love my chan oneshot got is absolutely the sweetest! i'm hoping this one will be on par with it <33

"can you even focus with me here?" you asked, laughing loudly as your best friend stared down the screen, a controller held tightly in his hand. jisung had his arms around you as you sat comfortably between his legs, head on his chest. from your warm and snug position, just by looking up could you see his beautiful side profile. heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, his annoyingly gorgeous face sporting deep hazelnut eyes...god. you hated this feeling.

"of course i can! stay put, okay? i can't win if you're squirming around." he giggles, reaching down slightly to ruffle your hair.

how would he react if he knew?

if only your best friend knew about how you'd lay in bed at the earliest hours...staring off into space when the moon was at its highest point, thinking, wishing, hoping that the boy who'd been your very best friend for fucking years would look at you the way you looked at him.

in your eyes, han jisung was your golden boy, warmth and joy radiating off him whenever he was near you. he was your anchor, the rainbow amidst dark grey clouds.

to him? you were probably his best friend he'd known since you two were gangly little kids eating popsicles on your front porch. there was absolutely no way you were of any romantic interest to him...especially if he'd seen your puberty phase.

"hey...is everything okay? you just went like- dead silent." jisung asked, soft concern flooding his facial features. he looked even cuter- fuck! you wanted to slap yourself, to tell these silly little butterflies in the pit of your stomach to shut the hell up soooo bad. "something bothering you? do i need to beat someone up for you??"

"no, no. i'll be okay. plus, look at you—you couldn't even hurt a fly!" you teased, trying to hide the fact that your face was becoming inexplicably warm.

"that's because they're too small. i always miss them when they're just flying around doing who knows what."

you laughed at his comment, reassuring yourself that even if it wasn't mutual, being with him like this was better than nothing.

"shit, i gotta go- i promised minho i'd practice with him!" jisung mopes. "i'll text you later."

and then he leaned in to whisper to you, lips so close you could've sworn they brushed against your ear:

"keep me in your heart, okay? i know you're really stressed over something you're deciding not to mention to me...remember i'll always be here when you need me the most."

and then he stood up, and walked out the door. leaving you sitting there, absolutely and unmistakeably bewildered.

that was one of the million times where you wanted the words so many desired to hear to simply fall out of your lips, floating on a cloud until they reached him.

and yet, as always, the words melted away on your tongue like a soft early spring snowfall gone too soon.

"i'm going on a date tonight."

as each word resonated in your ears, a tiny piece of you was crushed like fragile china. what if this girl or guy was the one? everything you'd worked so hard for would be thrown away.

"i hope you have a good time. be safe, okay?" you replied quietly, giving him a quick hug. "we can hang out once you get back, and you can tell me if it went shit or if you can tell that this person will be the one."

"well..." jisung says sheepishly. "if you tell me not to, i won't go."

you nodded, not really listening until the words truly reached your brain.

"what?"

"you heard me." jisung said firmly, before promptly walking out into the pouring rain. you yelped, grabbing an umbrella and running after him. as your clothes became increasingly drenched, you grabbed him by his jacket before pulling him in under your umbrella.

"you can't say shit like that," you said, giving him a glare. "you're making me think you're like- in love with me or something."

"that's because i literally am? but you're just so goddamn oblivious you didn't even notice." jisung replied, sighing. your mouth dropped open.

"actually?! you're not just fucking with me, right?"

jisung shook his head. "nope. how have you not noticed that i'm all over you 24/7? the only reason i was going on a date anyways is because i gave up trying. it wasn't like you liked me back or-" when he noticed your expression, all of the pieces fell into place, clicking for him. "oh."

you laughed, dumbfounded.

and then you pulled him in for a genuine first kiss, as the rain pounded against the concrete sidewalk lit by a single dimmed streetlight. time froze as you lost yourself in the moment, sealing your fate.

and just like that, the s in 'bsf' faded away.

...

a numerous amount of texts, all along the lines of: 'babyyyyy, where are u :(' arrived on your phone in quick succession. you laughed to yourself as you received an incoming call from your lovely boyfriend.

"are you on your way home from work, jagiya?" his tired voice mumbled. "and why are you working at this time of day in the first place?"

"money doesn't grow on trees, baby." you snickered. "i'm doing the best i can to make do."

"you poor thing." jisung cooed. "you know i'd lend you absolutely any amount of money if you asked."

"i know, but i'm trying to be independent." you explained. jisung went silent for a second, as if he was planning out his answer.

"i hope you're not suddenly so independent that you're ditching me!" he said, and you could just imagine the pout upon his soft (extremely kissable) lips. "i saw you today, and i already miss you sooooo much. what's going on? you're not even gone."

"i think you're just a tad clingy," you teased. "also, turn around. i brought you lunch."

jisung, standing at the crosswalk, turned around with fucking sparkles in his eyes. he basically squealed as he hugged you tightly, absolutely ecstatic that you were in front of him and not just a voice on a device.

"my beautiful gorgeous booboo bear." he teased as he hugged you, staring at you with the cutest face. he looked like a kid on christmas day.

"if you ever call me that again i'm taking my house key back." you replied.

"hey!"

you smiled as you two sat down on a park bench. thankfully, it was a gorgeously sunny day, with crystal clear skies and a shimmering sun offering its rays to the earth. jisung lazily stretched an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.

you just wanted to stay in his embrace for all eternity. there was something so alluring about him, this comforting energy. it was like...he was hexing you or something. you giggled at the thought of jisung, standing over a cauldron as he tried to create some villainous brew to keep you by his side.

and yet, the idea didn't seem that far-fetched. he did cast a whimsical spell on your heart, cursing you to fall for him, and fall hard.

maybe he did bewitch you, after all.

and if that was the case, it wasn't so bad.

...

taglist <3: @imastraykidsfan

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[hungover-and-broke-student]

A little something based on an old thread with @malpractitioner that I've had rotating in my brain for a while. Cut for length!

After one last look around and with some irritated grumbling, Riley finished the last of her night shift and headed home into the night. Winter had arrived in full force and in the earliest hours, well before the plows and salt trucks got out to clear it, the snow made the city almost unrecognizable. Street lights now offered a hazy glow instead of harsh shadows and the usual car honks and sirens were replaced by the soft hiss of snowfall and crunches underfoot.

Block by block, she made her way home, enjoying the scenery as snow filled in her footprints. But as she approached the outermost edges of campus, with the oldest and most neglected buildings and almost a dozen blocks still to go, a cruel wind began picking up. She was prepared for a few flurries, not a blizzard, and her layers were proving insufficient.

Cold. Burning, numbing cold crept deep into her bones, chasing all sensation from her hands and feet as she stumbled up the steps of the old, imposing medical building and tested the handle. Expecting it to be locked, Riley was almost startled at the ease in which it opened, the warmth inviting her as she slipped in.

"Hello?" Riley quietly asked the sprawling darkness. But only silence answered back. Perhaps the cleaning staff forgot to lock the door when they left? Were they still here? Was she not loud enough?

"Anyone here?"

No response. Just cold, quiet, darkness and the soft drip of snow melting onto the floor.

A bit odd, but nothing to worry about. She was just grateful for the chance to warm up enough to get the feeling back in her hands before braving the rest of the way home.

Wandering deeper through the halls, she had just turned to leave when she heard it. When walking through the woods, people will sometimes jump a bit before realizing that they've noticed a snake in their path, and this was eerily similar. Her eyes widened, hair stood on end and heart raced before she could even register the single scream ringing through the hall, clawing its way to escape, to anyone who might hear it. A single, desperate, and terrified, "HELP ME!" Came from down the hall behind her.

And then it was quiet again. Nothing to be heard over her own heart in her ears. Leave. Immediately. But who could be down there? Doesn't matter. What would have made them so scared? Do you want to find out? Maybe I can help them? Your phone died hours ago. Isn't it better to know what danger may be there?

Riley crept deeper into the dark, taking care to step lightly and listen for any sign of who or what screamed, but it was just her footsteps and the silence around her. Until she noticed a soft glow from a small window on a door to one of the labs and crept close enough to peer in.

It was hard to tell what was going on at first, some papers on a desk, some chemistry equipment, an empty coffee maker, some chairs tipped over... and a body on the floor. Horribly still, eyes rolled back and mouth agape in a post-mortem scream. Locked in horror, time slowed around her until movement caught her eye. Someone else was in the room, and he saw her.

At once, she turned heel and raced back to the entrance, stumbling blindly through the shadowy labyrinth. The halls seemed to have gotten longer since she first wandered through, she couldn't have really walked so far, right? Did she pass through these classrooms already? Did she take the right one? Before she could despair, she saw it, the soft red glow of an EXIT sign. With a loud 'CRACK' she ran into the handle, but the door didn't budge. It wasn't locked. It was frozen shut.

"Riley?"

So caught up with the door, she hadn't heard him approach, now blocking the main hall. Despite the darkness, she recognized the long limbs, large glasses and imposing stature of her psychology professor, Doctor Jonanthan Crane.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't sound angry, moreso confused and almost amused. Like they ran into each other at a gas station out of town, instead of getting caught for murder. He looked slightly disheveled compared to his lectures during class, eyes bloodshot and shirt untucked, but the way his gaze pierced through her was all the same.

"I swear to God, I didn't see anything." The words spilled out without control.

He paused for a moment, before simply stating with the authority of an educator getting a confession from a problem student, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

She stared for a moment, so wound up with her own fear she had to organize her thoughts enough to go through that night's events. Starting with her shift ending, the freezing walk and her stumbling back to their current conversation. Whether he believed her, or cared enough not to, she couldn't tell. He just stood there. "I swear, I won't tell anyone."

There was a flash of amusement as he took a few steps toward her. Riley had nowhere to back up. "I can't see why you would, it's your word against mine, isn't it?" Who would you believe? He didn't have to say it, she already knew the answer and it made her insides twist. A celebrated doctor and professor, head of the psychology department versus a mentally ill drug addict. Who would you believe? Who would you believe?

He closed the gap between them and terror wrapped itself around her neck like a noose, slowly growing tighter. "Please dont kill me." It was hardly louder than the soft buzz from the sign above, but it wouldn't have mattered. She was going to die, alone and terrified, just like the other student. But this time, without anyone snooping around to find out what happened. Would anyone even notice she was gone?

Terrified and with no way out, a memory flashed through her mind, a final hail Mary. It couldn't make things worse, could it?

"I'll help you! Y-you need help with your experiments, right? If you don't kill me, I swear I'll help you." There was a flash of surprise as he studied her face, leaving her in the agonizing limbo between life and death. Time dragged as he clearly relished her uncertainty, before turning and gesturing for her to follow.

"Alright then, let's get started. "

[nonasmeadowsims]

1.1 A Chance Encounter-Althea

It was a day not so unlike any other to the rest of the Blackwoode family, but to Althea, it was special. Today was the day her father had promised to allow her to join him on his once a month journey to the castle, where he sold his forged weapons and armor. Althea had been begging her father for months, and had finally worn him down. He was unsure of her motives, but guessed she was hoping to catch a glimpse of the young Prince Andor who, like Althea, would be coming of a marrying age soon. Truthfully, Althea had no interest in any one of King Reidar's children, least of all the crowned prince.

Growing up in her humble home had made her wary of those with either too much coin or time on their hands. She valued hard work, and she carried that value with her when she arose before dawn to complete her chores with haste. She milked the cow, washed the cookware, fed the chickens, and swept the floors, all before her mother, the earliest riser of the Blackwoode bunch, had even changed out of her shift and into her skirts.

Althea's mother crept into the kitchen, "Althea, you're buzzing like a bee, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing Mother, I've just finished my chores. Has father awoken yet?" Althea clasped her hands near her chest in excitement.

Mother sighed, "I'm sorry dear, but the journey has been cancelled. The heavy snowfall has covered the roads, your father's cart will never make it."

Althea's face fell. "Oh,"

"But I know you were itching to get out of the house, honeybee, so I have something else for you to do if you like." Althea lifted her eyes to meet Mother's. "I know, it's not nearly as exciting as a long journey to the castle, but I think you're old enough now to make a tip into town," Mother shifted her weight onto one hip and let her hand settle in the crevice of her waist, "All by yourself."

Althea tried to keep her mouth in a line, to demonstrate her disappointment to Mother, but her lips curled up at the edges, and she broke into a small smile. She was disappointed as the main purpose of her trip was meant to be spending alone time with Father, but she couldn't help being excited at the prospect of still getting a break from her feminine obligations at home. "Can I take Dagan? Please, please, please?"

Mother got that mischievous twinkle in her eye and firmly smiled, "No Althea, your brother needs the horse. He's going to keep trying to teach Thorian to fish." Althea rolled her eyes, then snapped back to attention, not wanting to lose this opportunity.

"Now no foolishness, as our eldest daughter, you have to represent the Blackwoode family and uphold our reputation as decent people of the kingdom, understand?" Althea nodded, "I need you to go to the baker's, and pick up 3 loaves of bread, then straight back here." She placed 1 dull bronze coin in Althea's open hand. Althea traced the smooth edges with her other finger, and tucked it into her pouch. "And don't forget your cloak," She kissed Althea's cheek, "Run along now."

Althea didn't wait for mother to change her mind. She nodded once, then pulled her cloak off the hook and fastened it around her neck as she ran into the snowy road, day just about to break.

Althea had already walked many miles by the time she needed to make a stop to relieve herself. She peered around the bush, looking for any unfortunate passers-by that might witness her deed. She felt ridiculous, an injustice, she thought, knowing her four brothers wouldn't feel the need to preserve their modesty. Such is a woman's way, she thought, squatting behind her poor attempt for cover.

Stepping out from behind her now very familiar bush, she stopped for a moment to take in the sight of a beautiful frozen lake. She imagined dancing across the lake, almost able to feel her body lightening like air, the taste of pasties that cost almost as much as her shoes on her lips. She thought of a fine silk dress, slipping across her ankles as she danced, and a handsome young man's hand in hers. She interrupted her own train of thought, "Envy is a sin," she said aloud to none but the bush beside her, "That's what the bishop says, and that envy is one of the worst. Besides, fancy maidens don't get to see sights like..."

"This."

Althea didn't know a lot of things, but she knew this. There was no fishing trip, there couldn't be with the lake frozen solid like that. The family's horse, the cart, the bakery. It was all a lie meant to cover up the fact that she hadn't been truly invited in the first place. They had left her here, alone, again. All the times her brothers had teased her, left her to pick flowers while they hunted, made her scrub laundry while they played with wooden swords, she wasn't even sure why she was surprised.

She wiped her tears. She would not be fooled again.

Despite having traveled to town many times throughout her life, Althea looked upon everything with new eyes. The fresh perspective of maturity and independence made everything shine with the hope of one day making her own way in the world.

Sh gazed upon the church and imagined the bells tolling out for her at her one-day wedding, the celebration of her marriage to a man who would finally see her as an equal.

The houses in town seemed to call out to her, "Althea, Althea, Althea" in the wind. She thought of her one-day life where she might live in one of those houses, and run her own business. Raise a child, maybe two, but not be a never ending baby maker, like her mother.

She steeled herself as she entered the bakery, back to her real life. But then she saw him, perhaps her one-day husband.

Next | Previous |

[barbieheart]

DOG TEETH prologue

genshin impact - yandere tartaglia/childe x fem dog hybrid reader

WARNING:

DARK CONTENT, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Content warnings:

yandere behaviors | murder, violence, gore | major character deaths | noncon/dubcon | sexual content | animal behaviors | drugging | kidnapping | trauma | ptsd | afab reader | she/her pronouns | anatomy | body modifications | potential genshin impact spoilers | dog attacks | animal attacks | human trafficking, trafficking in general | illegal/criminal activities

BY CLICK "KEEP READING" BELOW, YOU UNDERSTAND THE WARNINGS AND AGREE THAT YOU ARE 18+ YEARS OLD

A few things before we go:

Heya! This is the first time I've ever posted fanfiction. Let me know what you think <3 this is inspired by many hybrid ideas from wonderful writers like @Cinnamonest

lets see how this goes, thanks for reading :3

𝖉𝖔𝖌 𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚��

Having been born near the base of Dragonspine mountain, you were raised on a quiet ranch with little foot traffic. Your heritage of large, powerful canid hybrids allowed for easy survival when the coldest months beat the local area. After all, Dragonspine was cursed with yearly snowfall and the ranch being so close was no different.

Your earliest memories were that of clinging to your mother’s long and fluffy tail as she did her daily chores around the snowy ranch. She’d smile lovingly, appreciative that she could remain with her children when other hybrids were not so lucky. Newborns and infants being ripped from their mothers was a common occurrence in this challenging world.

Your mother taught you many useful things during your time with her. She’d given you the gift of motherly love, the ability to read and write, and a happy childhood with no worries about where your next meal would come from. She wanted to give you everything she never had: a loving parent, an education, and a content life.

You grew up physically strong thanks to your work on the ranch. Thankfully, your human owner - a kind, old gentleman you called “grandpa” - paid you for your time and work. He’d made sure there was always food on the table, a home you can reside, and a comfortable bed to sleep in. After a long day with the ranch’s numerous animals, grandpa would pat your head and tell you that you were such a good girl, you’d make your father proud. 

“Now, wash up and head to the dining room! Your mother made a delicious dinner,” Grandpa would say before sending you off. Your family were his loyal ranch-dogs, and you cherished his kindness.

Your teenage years flew by, and before you knew it, you were a young adult. Your mother and siblings were by your side and the ranch was still as it always had been: calm and successful. While you were blossoming into adulthood, grandpa’s health began declining at a rapid pace. As his loyal companions, you and your siblings would be at his bedside for his last breath. 

Shortly after grandpa’s death, chaos ensued. Due to the laws in Teyvat, hybrids were unable to own land. Grandpa’s property was swiftly taken by the reigning government and your family was abducted in the middle of the night. The same night your sweet man you knew as your grandfather had passed.

Waking to the cold metal bars of a dog cage was something you’d never experienced before, and it terrified you. You were aware that your previous lifestyle was incredibly sheltered and not a common situation for many hybrids, but this whiplash was horrific.

Life changed wildly from there. You were placed in cart after cart, chained, muzzled, and caged at all times. You struggled at first, but your captors overpowered you in every attempt to escape or fight back. Soon, you were separated from the remaining members of your family.

After a week of traveling to who-knows-where, your party was brought to a prison-like center where many just like you resided. You’d never seen so many dog hybrids in your life. Many were hostile, you’d been attacked a couple times during your six months there. Some were silent out of fear, you among them. Your tail usually tucked between your legs, it was hard to socialize and maintain yourself as you were beaten and trained from dawn until dusk. You’d grown aggressive and fearful, an angry shell of your former self.

The human trainers, cruel and ruthless, never called you by your name. To them, you were a number. When they called your number, you were to obey and carry out any order - whether that be sitting on the floor like a common dog or slaughter a disobedient mutt.

You were not the same person you once were by the time your training concluded. The day of your graduation, you were bathed, thoroughly brushed, and dressed in decent plain clothing. A sickly feeling occupied your stomach… and it wasn’t the overly sweet shampoo they’d use to scrub you down. 

They set you up to be bought and sold to the highest bidder.

The clients you were prepared to see must have been of high importance. Only you and a few other dog hybrids were brought into this small, elegant room somewhere inside the facility. You’d never seen this room before, but you knew better than to look around. You kept your eyes trained on the ground in front of you. New smells and sounds invaded your senses when the door at the opposite end of the room opened and allowed in the new guests. 

Buyers, you knew, as this was what you’ve been trained for. These prospective buyers approached the line of hybrids, each muzzled and collared. Like property. You didn’t make eye contact with any of them, but you felt them peer into you with judgment. A couple strangers even touched you; your ears, your face, your shoulders, your hands. 

Thankfully, they were not permitted to get too handsy. Finally, after what seemed like hours of intense staring and touching, a man of your age approached you. Unlike the others, he abruptly pulled your bottom jaw open, observing your sharpened canine teeth with curious blue eyes. 

You finally drew in the appearance of this potential owner. Orange hair, bright blue eyes, a cheery grin plastered on his face. He had beautiful features, but you knew better. 

The defiant look of hatred in your eyes sealed your fate as he towered over you. 

“This one,” He said, dropping his gloved hand from your mouth.

“She’s perfect.”

[confessiononadancefloor]

this album will always be taking the earliest train through the polish countrysides in winter during snowfall core.. to me

[muses-sirens-editors]

specifically for @illuminfae-ix

Dominic St. Ambrose School

I don‘t know of anyone who lets their child walk to school these days.  But growing up in Buffalo, New York in the late fifties and very early sixties, it was commonplace.  Once we were old enough to cross streets by ourselves, we were sent off to school in the morning, returned home for lunch, and then went back to school until three o’clock.  I don’t remember walking with my brother and sisters, although I am certain I must have.  I also don’t remember ever missing a day of school because of snow, although I do remember playing on the drifts as I walked there, imagining forts built so strong and high I could not see over nor dig through the walls erected by the clearing of the sidewalk and street.  My cousins who still live in Buffalo tell me this memory is likely accurate.  It took a LOT to close down schools in Buffalo, and heavy snowfall, even in copious amounts, was just some other thing, some routine to manage.

It would have been about second grade or so one day when I was sitting in class that I peed in my pants.  I was young enough not to anticipate the need to raise my hand to be excused, but old enough to be totally embarrassed that I was sitting on a wet desk seat with dark stained pants.  Mortification overwhelmed me, and I did not know what to do.  Looking left and right, nobody seemed to notice, thankfully.  I was frozen with my embarrassment.  Trying hard to strategize my way out of this predicament, I glanced over my right shoulder.  (Imagine remembering which shoulder you glanced over after more than sixty years!)  A boy with a closely trimmed haircut and a round face that made his ears seem to poke out was discretely leaning forward toward me with a handful of Kleenexes.  No words were spoken. His name was Dominic, and we weren’t playmates.  He walked home the other way from school than I did.  I don’t believe I had ever spoken to him outside of class and recess.  Gratefully, I took the Kleenexes and cleaned up around myself.  But I don’t remember how that day ended, although it must not have been particularly bad.  We continued in school.  The incident was never mentioned.  I was not teased.

Later that year, our teacher, who was a lay person, not a nun, came before us filled with emotion.  She told us Dominic had died.  She did not give us details as to whether it was an accident or illness.  She simply led us in a prayer for his soul and for his family.  It was likely the Catholic prayer for the dead: “Eternal rest grant unto him, oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.”

Catholics do not believe most anyone, when they die, can go straight to heaven.  There is a place of purification where the spirit goes before becoming sufficiently cleansed, for heaven is a place of pure perfection.  The place is called “purgatory,”  and this is the reason Catholics pray for their dead.  Described this way, it seems somewhat contrived.   But in the collective consciousness I think humans have understood, even expected this concept from the earliest times.  Wikipedia notes “The idea of purgatory has roots that date back into antiquity. A sort of proto-purgatory called the "celestial Hades" appears in the writings of Plato and Heraclides Ponticus and in many other pagan writers. This concept is distinguished from the Hades of the underworld described in the works of Homer and Hesiod. In contrast, the celestial Hades was understood as an intermediary place where souls spent an undetermined time after death before either moving on to a higher level of existence or being reincarnated back on earth. Its exact location varied from author to author. Heraclides of Pontus thought it was in the Milky Way; the Academicians, the Stoics, Cicero, Virgil, Plutarch, the Hermetical writings situated it between the Moon and the Earth or around the Moon; while Numenius and the Latin Neoplatonists thought it was located between the sphere of the fixed stars and the Earth.

Hollywood likewise has used this notion in movies like “Heaven Can Wait” when Warren Beaty finds himself in a way station after his accidental demise.  And Mitch Albom in his book “The Five People You Meet Before Going to Heaven” describes a similar waiting place for those who have died.  But once past this atonement period in purgatory the person goes to heaven, and the soul is recognized as a saint, a spirit existing in full communion with the Holy Trinity. Now for many, the Catholic tradition of praying to saints for the Lord’s intercession may also seem odd.  And “praying” may be a confusing term to many who only use that description to reflect an attempted communication to the Lord,  Themselves.  But praying to a saint actually takes more of the form of a discussion, obviously usually one way, between the living and the spirit.  Certain saints are known for their intercession for particular causes, St. Christopher for safe travel, St. Michael the archangel or Joan of Arc for protection in battle, St. Jude for hopeless causes, etc.  But as I grew up, I came to realize Dominic MUST be in heaven, and therefore a saint, for what could a second grader have done that would be so egregious in the eyes of the Lord that he would not almost immediately be taken up to heaven?  Surely after only a minimum amount of time at most, Dominic must be seated in that place of eternal glory, not atoning for some grievous sins in a place that is neither heaven nor hell. And if that logic were true, he must be a saint on the same order of Christopher, Joan of Arc, Jude, Francis, Peter, Paul, Cosmos and Damian, et al.

And so, over time, I came to think of Dominic as my personal patron in heaven.  I have discussed job problems, girlfriend, and later, family issues with him, prayed for his intercession to God for friends and family struggling with all manner of issues.  After all, he saw me in my distress in this world and quietly came to my aid.  Came to MY aid!  Surely he would share the same compassion for me in the spirit realm. 

A few weeks before my retirement I happened to be near Buffalo, and so made a side trip to my old neighborhood.  I wanted to see if I could find out Dominic’s last name, if he had any living relatives with whom I might share his story of thoughtfulness.  I imagined going up to a very old couple and telling them I remembered their son, telling them this story.  I wanted to tell them I still talked to Dominic, that I held him in the highest of regard.  But the years had erased all traces I might have left behind, and so too for Dominic.  I had waited too long. But for right now, Illuminfae-ix, I'm talking to Dominic about YOUR situation, asking for his aid, his intercession to our Lord for you.  Who could refuse the request of such a compassionate young child? I will also ask my daughter, whose faith is as great as the mustard seed that could move mountains, to keep you in her prayers as well.  We don't know you, but we will love you and pray for you to help you through all this.

[ammg-old2]

Ever since some of the earliest projections of climate change were made back in the 1970s, they have been remarkably accurate at predicting the rate at which global temperatures would rise. For decades, climate change has proceeded at roughly the expected pace, says David Armstrong McKay, a climate scientist at the University of Exeter, in England. Its impacts, however, are accelerating—sometimes far faster than expected.

For a while, the consequences weren’t easily seen. They certainly are today. The Southwest is sweltering under a heat dome. Vermont saw a deluge of rain, its second 100-year storm in roughly than a decade. Early July brought the hottest day globally since records began—a milestone surpassed again the following day. “For a long time, we were within the range of normal. And now we’re really not,” Allegra LeGrande, a physical-research scientist at Columbia University, told me. “And it has happened fast enough that people have a memory of it happening.”

In fact, a growing number of climate scientists now believe we may be careening toward so-called tipping points, where incremental steps along the same trajectory could push Earth’s systems into abrupt or irreversible change—leading to transformations that cannot be stopped even if emissions were suddenly halted. “The Earth may have left a ‘safe’ climate state beyond 1°C global warming,” Armstrong McKay and his co-authors concluded in Science last fall. If these thresholds are passed, some of global warming’s effects—like the thaw of permafrost or the loss of the world’s coral reefs—are likely to happen more quickly than expected. On the whole, however, the implications of blowing past these tipping points remain among climate change’s most consequential unknowns: We don’t really know when or how fast things will fall apart.

Some natural systems, if upended, could herald a restructuring of the world. Take the Thwaites Glacier in West Antarctica: It’s about the size of Florida, with a protruding ice shelf that impedes the glacier’s flow into the ocean. Although the ice shelf's overall melt is slower than originally predicted, warm water is now eating away at it from below, causing deep cracks. At a certain point, that melt may progress enough to become self-sustaining, which would guarantee the glacier’s eventual collapse. How that plays out will help determine how much sea levels will rise—and thus the future of millions of people.

The fate of the Thwaites Glacier could be independent of other tipping points, such as those affecting mountain-glacier loss in South America, or the West African monsoon. But some tipping points will interact, worsening one another’s effects. When melt from Greenland’s glaciers enters the ocean, for example, it alters an important system of currents called the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation. The AMOC is like a conveyor belt, drawing warm water from the tropics north. The water’s salinity increases as it evaporates, which, among other factors, makes it sink and return south along the ocean floor. As more glacial fresh water enters the system, that conveyor belt will weaken. Right now it’s the feeblest it’s been in more than 1,000 years.

A shutdown of that ocean current could dramatically alter phenomena as varied as global weather patterns and crop yields. Messing with complex systems is chilling precisely because there are so many levers: If the temperature of the sea surface changes, precipitation over the Amazon might too, contributing to its deforestation, which in turn has been linked to snowfall on the Tibetan plateau. We may not even realize when we start passing points of no return—or if we already have. “It’s kind of like stepping into a minefield,” Armstrong McKay said. “We don’t want to find out where these things are by triggering them.”

One grim paper that came out last year, titled “Climate End Game,” mapped out some of the potential catastrophes that could follow a “tipping cascade,” and considered the possibility that “a sudden shift in climate could trigger systems failures that unravel societies across the globe.” Chris Field, the director of the Stanford Woods Institute for the Environment and a contributor to several IPCC reports, warned that “at some point, the impacts of the climate crisis may become so severe that we lose the ability to work together to deliver solutions.”

James Hansen, one of the early voices on climate, says that measures to mitigate the crisis may now, ironically, be contributing to it. He published a working paper this spring suggesting that a reduction in sulfate aerosol particles—or the air pollution associated with burning coal and the global shipping industry—has contributed to warmer temperatures. That’s because these particles cause water droplets to multiply, which brightens clouds and reflects solar heat away from the planet’s surface. Though the paper has not been peer-reviewed, Hansen predicts that environmentally minded policies to reduce these pollutants will likely cause temperatures to rise by 2 degrees Celsius by 2050.

Even before the climate gets to that point, we may face a dramatic uptick in climate-related disasters, says William Ripple, a distinguished professor of ecology at Oregon State University and the lead author of a recent commentary on the “risky feedback loops” connecting climate-driven systems. There’s a sense of awe—in the original meaning of inspiring terror or dread—at witnessing such sweeping changes play out across the landscape. “Many scientists knew these things would happen, but we’re taken aback by the severity of the major changes we’re seeing,” Ripple said. Armstrong McKay likened the challenge of being a climate scientist in 2023 to that faced by medical professionals: “You put a certain emotional distance between you and the work in order to do the work effectively,” he said, “that can be difficult to maintain.”

Although it may be too late to avert some changes, others could still be staved off by limiting emissions. LeGrande said she worries that talking about tipping points may encourage people to think that any further action now is futile. In fact, the opposite is true, Ripple said. “Scientifically, everything we do to avoid even a tenth of a degree of temperature increase makes a huge difference.”

[friendofcars]

the year I turned 18 was ripe with metaphor/narrative potential. a huge snowfall that took so long to melt there were remnants of drifts on the ground in late april. the death of a childhood pet. a one way roadtrip across the country (and I’m leaving out details for privacy but the terrain/climate of the destination would play thematically w the snow). watching a bootleg recording of fun home in a motel in pennsylvania almost exactly a year before coming out to myself. the dorm bathroom with the motion activated lights that I would turn on everyday, satisfied because I was the earliest riser on the floor. learning that my new friend was doing the same thing in their building and feeling the same way about it. something about the oscar wilde quote about the punishment that is dreamers seeing the dawn before the rest of the world. how that person made me feel the loneliest i’d ever felt, maybe because we were so similar and separate. i’m never going to write about it.

[cyarskaren52]

There really is no one like Ice Cube.

The rapper/actor/labelhead/producer/screenwriter/director/pitchman/league commissioner has done just about everything one can do in the world of entertainment. And to think, it all started with a kid from South Central joining a group his friend was starting from the neighborhood. N.W.A. changed everything, but when Cube made the decision to split from Eazy-E, Dr. Dre, MC Ren and DJ Yella, he set in motion one of Hip-Hop's most storied careers. 

As a solo artist, Ice Cube's social and political voice was even sharper than what had been hinted at in his old group; and over the course of his three-decade career, he's delivered scathing commentary, party anthems, movie theme songs and straight up gangsta shit. He has albums like AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted and Death Certificate that are among the most revered rap classics ever made; and he's dropped club bangers with the best of them. We wanted to salute the variety of that body of work, so we picked the 25 Dopest Ice Cube Songs (Note: No N.W.A. or Westside Connection or Mt. Westmore songs were included.)

#26

"THE BONNIE & CLYDE THEME" - YO-YO FEAT. ICE CUBE [BONUS SONG]

Our BONUS SONG pick is a celebrated classic guest spot! Yo-Yo and Cube team up against for this banger from her third album, YOU BETTER ASK SOMEBODY. 

#25

"PUSHIN' WEIGHT" FEAT. SHORT KHOP

"The Don Mega" and Short Khop teamed up for one of Cube's biggest chart singles in 1997. This N.O. Joe-produced hit raced all the way to No. 26 on Billboard and topped the Rap Singles Charts. 

#24

"GANGSTA RAP MADE ME DO IT"

On this standout single from RAW FOOTAGE, Cube blasts the laziness of politicians and watchdogs using gangsta rap as the punching bag for moral handwringing. As true in the 2000s as it had been a generation earlier.

#23

"WHEN I GET TO HEAVEN" 

One of Cube's most overtly spiritual songs, it was released when Cube had made his much-publicized conversion to Islam. The track finds him taking aim at Christianity, admonishing it as a tool of oppression in America. 

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#22

"AIN'T GOT NO HATERS" FEAT. TOO $HORT

What can you say about icons who have earned a victory lap or two? These two West Coast icons revel in the good life on this breezy track from EVERYTHANG'S CORRUPT. 

#21

"DEAD HOMIEZ"

Ice Cube was only 20 years old when he wrote this elegy to friends lost to violence. He couldn't have known how groundbreaking it was at the time, but the South Central native's tribute is one of the earliest examples of a so-called "gangsta rapper" examining the emotional toll of the streets. 

#20

"MY SUMMER VACATION"

"Snowfall" in the form of a classic rap song. Cube's gift for storytelling and his razor sharp social commentary are both on full display here; as he breaks down how the crack epidemic in America spread from Los Angeles out to the Midwest and beyond.

#19

"YOU CAN DO IT" FEAT. MACK 10 AND TOYA

As far as singles, Cube definitely had a straight-up party phase, and one of his biggest hits as the Y2K era was set to dawn was this hit theme song for NEXT FRIDAY. 

#18

"HELLO" FEAT. DR. DRE AND MC REN

The N.W.A. reunion that fans had been clamoring for finally happened (with the notable absence of the late Eazy-E) on this monstrous single. Even decades later, it feels good to see the Niggaz With Attitudes rolling as a unit like old times. 

#17

"FRIDAY"

The movie that made Chris Tucker a star and showed everybody that even a gangsta could make you laugh. Cube's first comedy turned out to be a cult classic, and the soundtrack featured this anthem for the hood. 

#16

"GO TO CHURCH"

Lil Jon was virtually everywhere in the early 2000s, and Cube wasn't averse to trying on a new style. The rap vet fired a shot for West Coast/Dirty South collaboration with this crunk hit. 

#15

"REALLY DOE"

The sinister opening track for Cube's fourth album LETHAL INJECTION is one of that project's strongest. Cube is in full G'd up mode, and longtime affiliate Lay Law comes strong on this one with the production.

#14

"WHY WE THUGS"

Cube's sociopolitical lens has never left him; and he offered one of his most on-target critiques of American hypocrisy on this epic from 2006s LAUGH NOW CRY LATER. 

#13

"JACKIN' FOR BEATS"

One of the most inventive rap tracks ever made, this classic from Cube's KILL AT WILL EP is also one of the most emulated. Cube kicks one of his most aggressive performances over "stolen" tracks; jackin' everybody from Public Enemy to Digital Underground.

#12

"A BIRD IN THE HAND"

One of the greatest story raps of all-time. Ice Cube delivers a stellar performance as he breaks down the struggles of a newly-released felon, in a system that never really wanted to give anyone a second chance.

#11

"SMOKE SOME WEED"

He might not be as well known for chronic anthems as his homies who were on Death Row, but Cube delivered one of the all-time great marijuana songs on this woozy banger from LAUGH NOW, CRY LATER. 

#10

"WICKED"

A song that channels the anger of the 1992 Los Angeles riots in sound and spirit; Cube unleashes his fury on this thunderous track. The video famously featured Flea and Anthony Keidis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Cube spits rage at the system following the Rodney King verdict.

#9

"CHECK YO SELF" (REMIX) FEAT. DAS EFX

One of Cube's most famous, and famously controversial, songs, the remix became a monster hit in 1993, with an instant-classic hook from none other than Das EFX, fresh off their own breakthrough a few months earlier.

#8

"WHO'S THE MACK?"

Cube's first solo single features the young rapper examining the game from all angles. As he breaks down everyone from pimps to street hustlers to politicians, Cube makes it clear he's going to a more insightful place than we'd seen in N.W.A.

#7

"THE NIGGA YA LOVE TO HATE"

If Ice Cube has an anthem, it's most definitely this track. Cube gives a breathless performance, highlighting why he's forever going to be controversial—even at this early stage in his career, he knew he'd ruffle feathers. 

#6

"TRUE 2 DA GAME"

Cube bodyslams sellouts of all kinds on this classic single from 1991's DEATH CERTIFICATE. There's a pointed MC Hammer reference, an admonishment of Black men who chase white women as status trophies; and a final thumbs down to Black folks overly invested in the politics of respectability. 

#5

"ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE PROJECTS"

Even though it's early in his discography, it's the song that sets the standard for Ice Cube's storytelling. A frustrated and flustered Cube recounts a tale about trying to meet up with a girl who lives in the housing projects, only to find himself in the middle of a drug bust.

#4

"YOU KNOW HOW WE DO IT"

Cube's first album was Bomb Squad bombast and his second outing was looser, but still hard. After enjoying mainstream success with singles like "It Was A Good Day" and "Check Yo' Self," Cube dropped his most obviously G-Funk-leaning single in this West Coast classic.

#3

"NO VASELINE"

On the short list of greatest diss songs ever, you will find Ice Cube's incendiary firebomb. With his targets set squarely on his former bandmates in N.W.A., Ice Cube unleashes and unloads, aiming and firing at everyone in the group, saving his most scathing indictments for former friend Eazy-E and former manager Jerry Heller.

#2

"STEADY MOBBIN'"

Before his most famous track (more on that in a sec), Cube delivered this bouncy dedication to riding around the 'hood. His storytelling is forever on-point, as he chops it up with the homies, tries to get laid, and, in one of the great rap overshares of all time, apparently takes one helluva dump. 

#1

"IT WAS A GOOD DAY"

There is no other correct No. 1. There just isn't. It's timeless. It's a standard. It's one of the most well-known and beloved songs in the history of Hip-Hop. Cube's ode to a breezy day in South Central, L.A. is the kind of song it seems like everyone can rap word-for-word. That's a rarity, in any genre.

Sent from my iPhone

[anartificialsatellite]

Unless something is, you know, egregious, I don't generally find myself fussed about the real accuracy of historical fic despite being a history person with a degree in history and actual historical writing under my belt - This shit is fun. It's for fun. It does not matter.

...And yet, when it comes to my own fic I'm over here looking up the phases of the moon in the year 1778 and what is visible in the night sky at what times of year and also looking up what the earliest recorded snowfall on Long Island is just to make sure that, though there probably wasn't snowfall at this specific time in real life, there could have been and also if someone came at me in the comments to tell me it couldn't have been the way I made it I would have to sell my possessions and flee in shame

I think this is what is called a "me problem."

[dongtopus]

Passing the time

This is one of my earliest pieces of C&S, though I have rewritten it a few times since. Please enjoy accompanied by this cold, white winter!

The usually bright and cloudy skies above Cathburgh had been replaced by a misty white fog. Flowers had closed up throughout the day as the temperature dropped and the wind grew quieter.

“We should take this opportunity to rest up for a while. The snow has already started and it’ll only get worse.”

An oddly warm wind caressed the grooves between Marion’s chitin plated knuckles as the first flutters of snow began to fall in the distance behind them. His fingers creaked as he flexed them in thought.

His voice was low and the myriad plates that replaced his vocal chords echoed slightly, “If it’s still standing, the ‘Sow and Maid’ is only a street away- I used to frequent there when I was first turned and the landlady was sympathetic to our kind.” 

“We don’t need to rest. You said it wasn’t that far.” 

Knell stared off into the all encompassing white sky. The deep rings around his eyes seemed to soak up the bright light, highlighting the dry and cracked skin on his black lips. 

That morning, Marion had noticed that Kell’s veins had become visible around his throat. As the day progressed, they got darker and their growing prominence against his thick, leathery skin had begun to play on his mind. 

“We’re not in any rush. We will be fine to stay there until the weather passes. Besides, I'd like to visit old haunts.”

“Stay.” Knell echoed the word with contempt, a finger from his loosely hanging arms curled slightly.

“You'll be able to feed there, too.” Marion gestured toward Knell and was received with a slowly drifting golden eye. He took this as a positive response, nodded to himself then started up the road.

The Sow and Maid had aged remarkably well, though its roof had slanted as the building sank down into its foundations on one side. Marion was first in the door. A single fluttering flake of snow danced through the doorway as Knell stepped through behind him. He looked to the bartender and gave her a polite nod, looking for a quiet corner to habitate for the duration of the snowfall. 

To his left, a small square seating area accompanied by a lightly glowing fireplace. To his right, under a set of stairs, mild candle light beckoned Marion closer. Cosy, quiet. Perfect. 

Marion placed his effects on the bench along with his sword and invited Knell to take a seat.

The vampire stood with his arms folded, scowling with fixed eyes.

Please. I can’t have you just glower at me for the next day

Marion reached out in silence across the table and toward Knell’s forearm.

“Enough.” The long coat that wrapped Knell’s body jolted as the muscle beneath it shifted. Knell shuffled into the dark corner and leaned back, his bulky boots just passing the edge of the table.

A brief, hushed conversation with the barmaid and the clattering of coins later, Marion returned to knell holding two expensive looking purple bottles. They were square but with a triangular neck, Marion admired the effort but felt them somewhat cumbersome.

Knell reached out, taking grip of the bottle he assumed was his. The thick leather of his gloves squeaked against the glass as he brought it closer to himself and placed his other hand around the neck. He crushed the neck and poured the contents directly into his gullet, fractured glass and all.

“Animal.” Marion remarked, shaking his head incredulously as he pulled the cork from his bottle and poured a little Bloodwine into a small silver cup, “And in a civilised establishment no less.”

Presumably sated for now, Knell leaned back into the shadows of the corner and folded his arms. The golden rings of his eyes vanished with the rest of him as he shut them and rested in what little way he could. 

Marion settled down quickly and comfortably with a book, with two more resting on the table. Occasionally between page turns, he would lightly sip from his cup, trying to ignore Knell’s empty bottle beside him. Occasionally, Knell’s eyes would flicker open and scan the room, then disappear again.

The barmaid started closing the window shutters as the wind picked up, the soft patter of snow now audible against the windows. It was quiet already with only the two, nestled in a silent pub barring the maids shuffling and cleaning, but snowfall had a way of dampening all sound.

The Barmaid’s washcloth broke the air softly now and then as she went table to table- until she got to Marion and knell’s. She was extremely careful and used what water was already in the cloth to quickly give the table a wipe down one way and a dry with another cloth the other way but she shot up with a sudden gasp when her foot bumped knell’s boot. She had seen the pair enter but with knell nestled in the darkness, had forgotten Marion was not her only patron. Two small golden discs shone back from the dark and traced her movements as she scooped up the remaining chips of glass and took away the empty bottle then returned to doing chores behind the bar.

After a few hours of further silence, the door was pushed open, three men stumbled in and shook off the snow from their heads and shoulders. Immediately the small group jostled as close as they could to the now steadily burning fireplace across the room, calling for a pot of tea to be put on once their teeth had stopped chattering. It wasn't until the pot was brought to them that one of them spotted Marion, still reading his books over on the furthest end. The man raised his hand in greeting, motioning to the snowfall at the window with a tired smile, Marion returned the gesture with a sympathetic smile and raised his book in greeting.

“Do you think they’ve got soup on?” One of the men asked aloud, blowing at his porcelain cup.

A second man pointed with his chin over to the darker, candlelit corner, “He's got to be cold over there.” 

“In this weather? Probably.” mumbled the third

The first man studied what he could see of Marion, scratching dirt from one of his eyes, “Yeah but look at him, he looks proper wealthy, bet he's got woollens and silks and that on.”

“Bet he doesn't feel the cold like we do.”

“Yeah and he's on his own. Reckon he’s famous? I reckon he's one of them big name merchants or something. Mine owner and that. See that bit dangling next to him, that’s probably a sword. Reckon it’s got a proper fancy guard and that.”

“You do a lot of ‘Reckoning’ for a man who can’t read a map”

“That’s not fair, he can’t read full stop.”

The men continued to reckon and gossip and chatter among themselves, glancing at Marion from time to time until they were sufficiently defrosted enough to start moving again and after a couple of hours without any more patrons, boredom had set in. 

The group got up and casually made their way over to Marion's table.

“‘S right cold out, mate. You been here long?`` The apparent leader of the trio placed a hand on the table with a lazy thud and the other on his hip. A tap on his shoulder from one of the other men motioned for him to look slightly to his right. With his guise brooch on to hide his yellowed skin and golden eyes, the man was met with Knell's barely perceptible, silent gaze. He quickly took his hand off the table and stood up, somewhat flustered. “Oh! Sorry mate, thought you were on your own- thought you might want some company and that or something.” he put his hand out toward Marion, “I'm Clive, this here is Tim, though he ain’t that canny, and the short one's James”

“Jim is fine, too.” James added.

Marion switched his book to his left hand and tenderly extended his right, gripping Clive's hand gently. Pleasant physical contact with a human was a rarity, like holding a newborn chick. Clive’s hand hummed with flowing, raucous life around brittle, fragile bones.

“Marion.” He nodded lightly, before motioning with his book to the shadow beside him “This here is my associate, Knell.” Clive reached out to shake Knell's hand also but Knell did not reciprocate. Only a fragment of light shone back from the dark. “ Oh- I'm afraid he doesn't ‘do’ contact. Or talking. Please, don't take it personally, it’s just the way he is.” Marion added, a true afterthought, this was the first time someone had gone to greet Knell without knowing him.

“Oh. Right. Sorry mate. Tim’s got a cousin like that. Great worker but he’s mute as a brick. That’s an interesting name though, not the sort you hear often. Knew a lad called ‘pike’ once. His dad loved fishing and liked to shout ‘I’ve caught my boy!’. He unfortunately met his untimely end on the end of a pike held by a soldier during a union scuffle.'' 

Knell didn't respond.

“Uh. Right. Well we'll let you get on then, pleasure meeting you, gents.” Clive reached to tip a nonexistent cap out of habit, dipped his head a little and turned around, shepherding his friends back toward the fireplace and requesting a few beers from the barmaid.

Hours pass by again as beers pass through the trio and they gain their courage to approach Marion once more. Clive stopped by the coat stand at the door and rifled through his coat before unsteadily wandering along the intended path.

“Maron, was it?” Clive was trying hard to look sober, blinking synchronously clearly took a lot of effort.

“Marlon” Tim corrected “Marlon- sorry. Do you play cards? I've got a deck and we're obviously holed up here for the night at least.” Clive held out a wooden box, various scratches marred the surface but it looked well looked after.

“Marion. And yes, I have played a few card games in my time.” A small strip of silk lay between the pages for a bookmark as Marion brought the covers together and set the book down on the bench next to him whilst the three men pulled nearby chairs around. Tim jumped as though he had seen a ghost when his foot bumped knells. He had also forgotten that Knell was there.

They settled on a simple game for now, first to twenty-one, and placed small wagers each.  A couple of tarnished, dented coins.

The group settled in and got comfortable with each other, in as much as they could with Knell's silence and lack of movement in the dark corner of the bench. The only reminder that he was there was the steadily dancing light of the candle reflecting off his eyes.

More beers were called for, with Marion politely declining their offer. Wordlessly, he tapped the neck of his bottle with his cup when he made eye contact with the barmaid and she in turn nodded back.

Before long, the old bottle had been taken and a new one placed past the gentlemen and onto the far end of the table.

“Would you look at that bottle?” James said, “‘Never seen anything like it, I reckon that's the real stuff in there, not like the watered down slosh we get from a keg. What’s the percentage?” He reached for the bottle but was cut off by Marion picking it up first, pretending to analyse the label.

“Hm. It doesn’t say.” He remarked in faux belief, before putting it back down further into the shadow. A set of eyes, hidden by the guise provided by his brooch, met Knell’s and he shook his head subtly.

That doesn't mean the rest is for you. I don’t want you doing ‘that’ again.

“So,” James began, “where are you two gentlemen from?”

“I'm actually a local boy, long history here but I moved down south toward the mountains for a good number of years for work.” It made Marion feel good to be honest, at least in part.

“That’s a long ways out. Must have been a good job.”

“It was an experience.”

“I've got family not too far from the mountains. Quiet place. Not been there myself though. I was told you can see the mountains from miles and miles away.

“You can, yes. They’re very peaceful” Marion lingered in his memories for a brief moment.

“Better off in the cities anyway.” Clive cut through the reminiscence with a more serious tone, slurring slightly and pressing his finger into the table so hard the tip went white. “Vampires and boogiemen going after simple folk in simple towns and on the roads. Not safe out there any more. Bandits are bad enough, but how do you kill monsters?” he stared into the remnants of his glass and sighed.

“it's not all bad” James responded, “It's supposed to be quite safe down south, Fortham has their own guardian defender man apparently. Some vampire hunter bloke.”

Knell's eyes shot across to Marion from the dark, he clenched his jaw so tight that Tim leaned over to inspect his chair.

“Oh? I heard it was a forester that was paranoid in the woods or got lucky? Marion took a slow sip from his cup, an eye fixed upon each of the men and knell.

“No, no, get this. He's been hunting them for a few years now, apparently knows where a nest of them is near Oldwood, but can't go in alone. He's been recruiting in Fortham for a while now. Training people up as monster hunters.”

Marion let the blood linger in his mouth, pooling around his teeth and tongue and swallowed. “Fascinating. And you say he’s training others? Do you have a name for this intrepid little man? I would like to meet him.”

“I think his name was… Jay? Ray?” James winced as his mind churned through names before sputtering out a final name with wide eyes, “Clay!” he blurted, slapping his bony hand on the table, “He calls himself Clay”.

In Marion’s periphery, he watched as Knell's eyes seemed to ignite in the dark, his silhouette becoming distinct.

“Well if it’s Fortham, I could easily stop by next time I'm passing through. It wouldn’t hurt to scout a little myself.” The atmosphere suddenly shifted. James grew a little more sober and Tim’s eyes began to dart side to side in barely lucid thought.

Clive peered into his mug, barely a third of beer remained.

“Right, cards. Double or nothing. Winner buys the next round”

The tense atmosphere had abated once the cards were doled out once more and thoughts turned to the symbols and numbers in their hands.

Tim was on a losing streak. As small uneven stacks and piles of coins began to build around Clive, James and Marion, Tim’s cache was running low. 

After yet another disastrous hand, Tim threw his cards down and stood, he swung for Marion with a drunken left hook, only for him to lose his balance as Marion merely leaned back a couple of inches in his seat. Shouts from his friends did little to bring him to his senses as he struggled to form coherent words before he threw a right for Marion.

The sudden, ice-cold vice grip on Tim’s arm silenced the table and everyone froze in place. Hidden in the shadows for hours without moving a muscle, Knell had been forgotten about entirely. A singular arm protruded, clad in a heavy leather sleeve and ending on a thick leather glove. Tim could feel the bones in his forearm creak against the pressure and he watched as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

Clive and James, suddenly sobered, could only watch in shock.

“Knell.” The plates covering Marion’s body began to buzz against each other, preparing to do something, though he did not know what. He knew he was not physically strong enough to stop Knell from simply crushing Tim’s arm, or worse. Much, much worse.

Knell kept his eyes locked in with the Tim’s, his grip remained for a silent fifteen seconds, just a few more and the guise would start to fade. 

“Knell!”

Now adjusted to the dark, Tim watched as Knell's Hazel eyes and mild completion sunk away. Amber irises now reflected the candle light and Tim felt ice build in the pit of his stomach as Knell's skin peeled away like crackling paper to reveal his true yellow hue, along with the deep scar that ran from the top of his head, all the way down through his black lips and through to his throat.

“That’s enough!” The golden discs drifted from Tim to Marion, brimming with bloodlust. A muscle in Knell’s lip twitched. A smirk only Marion would know as Tim was released.

Tim stumbled back and onto the floor, tears in his eyes and unable to breathe.

Clive swung from the table, kneeling down to check Tim’s arm. It was not broken, but the pain brought Tim back to his senses.

“Ey-Eyes! Mun-mon- muh!”

Clive leaned in, placing a gentle hand on Tim’s arm and another on his shoulder, “Easy lad, take a breath. We’ve all had a bit and you got worked up. Deep breaths.” 

Marion and James looked at each other. James raised his palms to his shoulders and shrugged with a grimace, “I don’t know what just happened but this isn’t how I wanted the night to go.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I apologise for my associate here. In truth, he’s more of a bodyguard- he was just doing his job.” Marion gestured to the now reshrouded vampire to his left.

Tim murmured quietly to Clive between rough and unsteady breaths.

“Nah, nah nah. monsters don't play card games. You’ve not been alright since the woods, you’re alright, It’s okay.” Clive pulled Tim’s head close to his chest and began to gently rock him, looking back over his shoulder to Marion, “Sorry about him, we had an experience in the forest up north not that long ago and it’s had a big impact on Timmy here”

Marion creased his brow for a second before motioning a circle with his finger. Clive nodded back.

“That’s understandable. It’s unfortunate you had to meet such a rare creature. Ourobori are usually quite reclusive, whatever happened, it must have been desperate”

James spoke up, scratching harshly at his arm as the memory returned, “It was late and we were still a way from Khol. You hear wivestales and stories about all sorts of fairies and beasties but it was quiet and we were cooking up some deer we got that day and-”

Tim let out a stifled whimper, his fingertips burying into Clive's shoulder.

“James. Not now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve had it hard of late it would seem. Please, allow me to cover your nights expenses and board” Marion began handing stray cards to James as he collected up the cards. “Knell, please stand in the light for our night’s companions.” Rough air expelled from Knell’s nostril as he reluctantly got out of his seat, standing rigidly in the low light.

Lightly tanned skin and tired, brown eyes. 

Tim pushed the last of his tears from his eye with a thumb and choked back his snot, exhausted and in dismay “I’m going to go back to the fire now.” His voice was childlike and exhausted as he got up and shuffled away from the group.

“Where did you say you were from?” Clive asked, pushing himself back to his feet

“I’m local and my associate here is from a place near the ruins of Oldwood. I’m afraid I can’t divulge more than that. Contractual non-disclosure agreement, for both our safety.”

Clive watched as Knell returned to his seat, vanishing in the darkness.

“Right…”

[9d6problems]

I grew up in Iowa (roughly in the middle of the North American continent, in the Great Plains region) in the '80s and early '90s, and we might see our first snowfall of the year in mid-October, although days would typically still be warm enough that it wouldn't stick around, but odds were even of seeing either a snowy or non-snowy Thanksgiving--and once the snow started sticking around, we wouldn't see it leave until late February at the earliest, mid-March or later sometimes. Every weekend and some days after school, there'd be kids hauling plastic sleds to every decent slope around, just sledding constantly.

Thanksgiving of 2001, my wife and I were at her relatives' house in Connecticut and we got a pretty good snowstorm. Now, living in Connecticut, I might not see a flurry of snow until the middle of December, and no accumulation until January--if we ever get any snow that sticks around at all. We've had a couple dry winters where it never even snowed worth speaking of, recently, and the whole winter the local ski slopes are just hoping the weather will get cold enough to let them make their own damn snow.