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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 10: Nobody Likes You, Everyone Left You]

A/N: I sincerely apologize for the delay, but Maggie Sundays are back, besties!!! And we have a new poll! Be sure to check it out AFTER you finish Chapter 10 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title and chapter title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

Here’s how it happens.

Let’s say you’re on a subway, or at a bus stop, or walking in or out of a grocery store, maybe fumbling with your purse or corralling small children, or talking on the phone, or wondering how you’re going to make rent, or trying not to drop one of your shopping bags, and out of nowhere some stranger lurches over and grabs you. They are filthy and noxious and moaning, and you assume they are insane, or on hard drugs, or maybe both. Your fellow upstanding citizens rush to your aid and the assailant is apprehended and carted off, unbeknownst to you surely to infect many more blithely unaware victims.

Maybe you notice that you were bitten, even just barely, even just a scrape of the teeth hard enough to scratch the skin; maybe you don’t. If you do notice and you seek medical attention, the best a doctor will offer you is disinfectant and antibiotics, maybe a rabies shot if they’re extra ambitions. Perhaps you have too much on your plate already without a detour to the doctor’s office (or perhaps you don’t have medical insurance), and you opt for at-home remedies, a vigorous scrub with hydrogen peroxide and a large rectangular Band-Aid slapped on top. Of course, none of this will do you any good. It was over the moment a drop of zombie saliva slipped painlessly into your bloodstream and began to replicate there like an invasive species, like an insurgent force. It only takes once.

You go home, and maybe when you start to feel really bad you call an ambulance and go to the hospital, and when you turn you bite anyone you can get your claws on there. Maybe you die at home and then attack your partner, your children, your parents, your roommates; maybe this new version of yourself ends up chewing bits of gristle off the bones of your dog or cat or ferret. And if any of your victims manage to escape once you’ve gotten a taste of them—no matter how fleetingly, no matter how trivially—they are sure to die in agony and reanimate too, and to pass along this plague you’ve gifted them, the bloodiest game of telephone.

Now millions are getting sick, fevers, headaches, purging, bleeding, but where do people go when they need a doctor? The hospitals are overrun, the clinics are swarmed, and doctors and nurses are falling ill too. There are unimaginable reports of the carnage. There is censorship to smother the panic. There are public figures vanishing from sight. There are zombies-in-progress boarding planes, checking into hotels, tottering onto cruise ships with armfuls of luggage, sweating through their bedsheets in crowded military barracks, silently ticking timebombs as the world as everyone knows it hurtles towards its end.

You would be amazed what people can refuse to believe. Once you believe something, that makes it real.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are no shovels, so Cregan tills the earth with his axe and then you dig with your hands. There are no headstones, so Rhaena finds a large sand-colored rock and writes on it with a jagged piece of slate: Baela and Briar, Summer 2024. Then she hesitates, the slate hovering in afternoon air, amber sunlight and eighty degrees, dust thick in the wind. She wants to say more. There needs to be more. How can two lives end with five words? At last Rhaena adds: Mother and child who perished en route to California. They were loved. They mattered.

“That’s good, Rhaena,” Luke tells her, voice gentle, hands on her shoulders. She stares at the grave for a while, and you don’t have time to waste; the bear could return, there might be wolves or mountain lions, eventually the sun will set and you will be stranded in an infinite darkness like the ocean at night. But Aemond waits until Rhaena is ready. She tucks the shard of shale into her backpack, and then you are fleeing once again: from this day, from this world.

You hike back to I-80 and walk west towards the next ranch. All of you are here in south-central Wyoming, and yet none of you are: you are in the earth with Baela, you are back in Nebraska where Jace died, you are in Ohio where he was swept away by a river, you are in Pennsylvania where you and Rio climbed down from a transmission tower, you are in your lives before the world ended: Saratoga Springs, Boston, cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, a part of Kentucky called the Wildlands. Aegon is limping along on his own and shoving Rio away each time he tries to pick him up.

“Stop,” Aegon says, wincing and exhausted, his bandages coated with dust.

“Come on, Honey Bun. You’re going to rip your foot open—”

“Stop it!” Aegon demands. “I’m not going to slow you down anymore! I’m not going to be a burden!”

There is a sound you don’t immediately recognize: a rumbling, a squealing. A car is pulling up alongside you. Instinctively, you unholster one of your M9s and raise it as you turn.

“No, no, no, we’re cool!” a woman says, showing you both of her hands. She is around fifty and driving a Subaru Outback; there is a man in the passenger’s seat, perhaps her husband, and two wide-eyed, hoodie-swathed teenagers in the backseat. “Are you…are you guys okay?”

All of you stare blankly at her: shellshocked, distraught, covered in dirt and blood. “Yeah,” Daeron says eventually.

The woman peers around, east, west. “Do you have a car or something?”

“We have a Tahoe,” Cregan says. “It’s out of gas.”

“We have a few cans in the trunk,” the Subaru woman replies. “I can give you one, five gallons. That will get you to Rock Springs, and you should be able to find more supplies there. We came through that way, it wasn’t too bad.” And then, before anybody can ask if she’s serious, the woman steps out of the car and opens the hatchback. She lifts out a red can and hands it to Rio, who is standing the closest.

“Thank you, lady,” he says, astonished.

“I’m sorry about that,” you tell the woman, meaning the fact that you were prepared to shoot her.

Rhaena adds: “We’ve had some…bad experiences.”

The Subaru woman smiles. “Haven’t we all. Where are you headed?”

“West Coast,” Aemond answers quickly: vague, guarded, inviting no further disclosures.

She nods; she can’t trust you, and you can’t trust her, and everyone agrees, an unspoken acknowledgement of what the world is like now. “Well, you don’t want to go anywhere near Salt Lake City.”

“But that’s the only direct route,” Aegon says, crestfallen.

“I know.” The Subaru woman is sympathetic. “And it’s going to burn a hell of a lot of gas and time to drive all the way around, but you have to. There are tens of thousands of zombies, and a lot of people are trapped there without fuel. I’m telling you, if someone sees you driving by in a working vehicle, they’ll try to put a bullet in your head so they can take it. So don’t give them the opportunity.”

“Okay,” Aegon says glumly, already pulling his map out of the pocket of his khaki shorts to plot a new course.

“Stay far away from Chicago,” Rio offers the Subaru woman in return. “And any nuclear power plants.”

“We’re headed south,” she says, then grins. “I’ve got a sister in eastern Tennessee. We’re going to learn how to fish and cook moonshine and make clothes out of deer hide, and live up in the mountains where nobody will ever bother us.”

People glance at you, the resident Appalachian; and you remember the crackling of woodstoves, flecks of ice in the creek, kicking up snow as you ran through the woods, following tracks of deer and opossums and raccoons. “It’s a beautiful place. I think you’ll like it.”

Rhaena asks the Subaru woman: “Is there anything we can do for you? To thank you for the gas?”

“Oh, I couldn’t take from a bunch of bloodied people who are stranded on the side of the interstate.” But her eyes catch on the pistol in your hand and stay there, envious, longing. You have another, so you give it to her.

“The safety is on. There are only nine bullets left, unfortunately.”

“That’s nine more than I had before,” the Subaru woman says as she takes the U.S. Navy’s standard-issue Beretta. Then she says to everyone: “Good luck.”

“Same to you, ma’am,” Cregan replies. The Subaru woman gets back into her car and disappears eastbound with her family. The nine of you that are left—ten, if you count Ice—trek back to the Tahoe, where Rio pours five gallons of combustible liquid gold into the gas tank.

Rhaena climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. The rust-red Tahoe growls to life, the engine idling. Then she rests her arms on the steering wheel and breaks down sobbing. In the passenger’s seat, Aegon looks up from his map—which he is annotating with a glittery green gel pen—to gaze at her with shining, wounded eyes. After some hesitation, he extends a hand to hold one of hers. From the seat behind Rhaena, Luke is rubbing her shoulders and murmuring words you can’t hear.

Aemond says softly: “Rhaena, you can take some time if you need it.”

“No,” she insists, her voice quivering but determined. “We can’t wait. We have to get as far as we can before dark.” She shifts the Tahoe into drive, guides it onto I-80, and speeds west towards Rock Springs and the Utah border.

Rio is saying something to you, but at first you can’t grasp it. Helaena is scratching Ice’s ears as the massive grey wolfdog lies sprawled across her lap. Daeron is sniffling and wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his orange t-shirt. Cregan is talking to Aemond about needing to find an auto shop so he can get supplies to change the Tahoe’s oil and filter. One of Aegon’s mixtapes whirls in the CD player:

“My face above the water

My feet can’t touch the ground, touch the ground

And it feels like I can see the sands on the horizon

Every time you are not around…”

You are watching Aemond, your heartbeat growing loud in your ears. He won’t look at you at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the sun begins to set, you find a vacant house on the outskirts of Coalville, Utah overlooking the Echo Reservoir. You wash away the remnants of Wyoming in the cool blue water, dried blood and caked-on dirt, hopes eclipsed by horror. Dinner is soup spooned out of cans from the pantry—Dinty Moore beef stew, Campbell’s condensed chicken noodle—and caffeine-free sodas, Sprite and Fanta and Seagram’s Ginger Ale. Then Rhaena and Luke go straight to bed, and Helaena scuttles through the house with a flashlight to search for clothes, making each person a separate pile on the dining room table: large flannel shirts for Cregan, pastel-colored polos for Aegon. Aemond and Cregan are outside on the front porch, Daeron is carving sticks into arrows on the kitchen floor, Aegon has been passed out in one of the children’s bedrooms since Aemond debrided his burns again and dosed him with the last of the Vicodin. Fortunately, Helaena found a translucent orange prescription bottle of Tramadol in the upstairs bathroom, so Aegon won’t have to suffer too much tomorrow.

Rio tosses and turns on the living room couch. You know what’s wrong, but you have to wait for him to say it. You stay with him, kneeling on the beige carpet in the murky artificial luminance of Rio’s Moonbeam flashlight, threading your fingertips through his dark curls. And then at last Rio asks something that you know must have crossed his mind a thousand times since you left Saratoga Springs, but he’s never voiced aloud: “What if Sophie and the baby are dead?”

“They’re not.”

“But you don’t know, nobody knows—”

“Bryan, they’re not dead,” you say, and he is listening.

“I joined the Navy for Sophie.” And of course, you’ve heard this before. “I was just a stupid kid who couldn’t commit to anything, not work, not school, not a future with her, so she dumped me. And I decided I was going to get her back by proving I could make commitments after all. I could sign my life away for five years, and come out of it as someone who would be a good husband and father. And now…what if by enlisting and being so far away when everything happened, I abandoned her? What if…what if she’s gone, and she died terrified and in pain and alone, and I’m the reason why?”

“Sophie and the baby are waiting for you in Odessa. You have to believe that until we get there.”

“Because if they’re not, my life is over?” he asks bitterly, this man you have never known to be wrathful, defeated, weak, hopeless. But these are beasts that live inside all of us, waiting to be shaken awake by the perfect string of calamities.

“I believe they’re still alive.”

And Rio looks at you, wanting desperately to be convinced. “Why?”

You’ve never believed that you are someone who knows the right things to say; but you have to try. “If your parents’ community in Odessa is like you’ve always described it to me, I can’t think of a better place for someone to hide from all the disorder and the violence. It’s remote, but there’s support from other families who are living the same way. People have gardens, cows, goats, pigs, chickens, enough canned food to live on for years, homemade clothes and systems to collect rainwater. There are women who’ve had five homebirths and men who’ve built houses with their own hands. And the people in Odessa have guns and know how to use them. I think when you told Sophie to go there, you saved her life. And now she and the baby are both waiting for you to come home.”

“We’ve crossed this country by raiding dead people’s homes.”

“Yes. And we’ve seen plenty of living ones too.”

Rio takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling; and now he is calmer. “Okay,” he says, grabbing your hand where it rests on his head and smacking a noisy kiss onto your knuckles. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I think I’m done freaking out for tonight.”

“You good?”

“I’m good.”

“Try to sleep.”

Obediently, Rio closes his eyes, and within five minutes he’s snoring.

You rise and open the door to the front porch, thinking of what you’re going to tell Aemond when he is low, distracted, wary: You did everything you could, Aemond. It’s not your fault. It’s this world, it’s poison, it’s cursed, and you can’t turn back the clock to when it wasn’t. You’re just one man. But you can try to save the people who are left.

Yet Aemond does not speak to you, doesn’t even notice you; when you peek outside you are on his blind side, and he is deep in conversation with Cregan as they keep watch in the moonlight.

“I mean, yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too, man,” Cregan is saying. “A mansion by the ocean sounds nice and all, don’t get me wrong, but that ain’t me. I don’t see myself somewhere like that forever. Hell, I’ve never even seen the ocean, and to be honest I never really cared to. But a community of folks who are living off the land out in the woods? Those are my kind of people, that’s a place I could be useful…”

You retreat back inside the house, flashlights and shadows, doubts and fears. You stand there in the quiet for a while, then go to Aegon’s bedroom, where he is awake now and snuggling with Ice in a child’s bed shaped like a red racecar, listening to his pink Sony Walkman—Ava, the gleaming rhinestones proclaim—through one earbud.

Aegon coos as he ruffles the dog’s shaggy grey coat: “You’re so sweet, Blue Raspberry Icee. You were always my favorite flavor. Do you miss 7-Elevens too? Wrinkled old hot dogs and taquitos on rollers, drenching tortilla chips with the nacho cheese and chili dispenser? Did you guys even have 7-Elevens in Iowa? No offense, but your home state kind of sucks. It’s just fields and barns and whatever. You would have loved Boston. You could have fetched my golf balls when they rolled into ponds.”

Then he sings along to the song he’s listening to, effortlessly melodic but so softly you can barely hear him:

“You really had me going, wishing on a star

But the black holes that surround you are heavier by far

I believed in your confusion, you were so completely torn…”

Aegon spots you in the doorway. He smiles, then turns serious when he gets a good look at your face. “You okay, Mint Chocolate Chip?”

He feels like the only person you can say this to. You confess in a weak, hoarse whisper: “I hate this world.”

Aegon offers you the other earbud. “Then let’s go somewhere else.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on,” you say to Rhaena as Rio and Luke rummage around inside the Shell gas station for food, drinks, batteries, medicine. You know they’re fine; you’ve already cleared the store, and you can hear them in there laughing. Rio is telling Luke about the bizarre Thanksgiving dinner you once had in Chinhae, South Korea: duck instead of turkey, fried rice with pears and squash instead of stuffing, candied sweet potatoes for dessert, a choir of solemn schoolchildren brought in to sing—for reasons you will never understand—Africa by Toto. You take your remaining M9 out of its holster. “Target practice.”

“Really?” Rhaena asks excitedly. She volunteered to stay back at the little blue mobile home with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena—only a mile away—but you knew she needed a distraction. Truthfully, you do too. Aemond is in the Tahoe somewhere searching for gas with Cregan, a strange new alliance. He still hasn’t really spoken to you. You are trying to give him what he needs, but you don’t understand what that is.

It took all of yesterday to navigate around Salt Lake City, stopping every few hours to scrounge for gas, gallons siphoned piecemeal from cars, trucks, motorcycles, boats on trailers, four-wheelers left forgotten in garages and backyards. It was after nightfall when you rolled into Battle Mountain, Nevada, a gold mining town in what is known as the Cowboy Corridor, beginning at West Wendover just over the Utah border and ending in Reno. Today supplies must be replenished; tomorrow I-80 will take you to Winnemucca, where U.S. Route 95 branches off north towards Oregon while remaining on I-80 leads southwest through the Sierra Nevada Mountains and into the Bay Area of California. A decision needs to be made, which means Aemond will have to talk to you tonight. You’re relieved. You don’t want to have to be nervous and watchful with him, studying every inflection of his voice, reading some dire premonition in each line that creases his face. You’ve spent enough of your life that way already.

Battle Mountain is cloudless and hot and sandy, dry shrubs and gnarled mesquite trees, flat secretless earth. Staggering towards the Shell are three zombies, all dressed in faded blue uniforms like a mechanic’s or a miner’s. You hand Rhaena your M9.

“How many bullets do you have left?” she says, still a bit giddy.

“Fifteen. And you can have five of them.”

She raises the pistol and closes one eye. “I’m going to miss.”

“Well you’re not going to hit anything if you don’t turn off the safety.”

Rhaena giggles. “Oh, right. Whoops.” She clicks the tiny lever, then takes aim again.

“Line up your sights. Front looks like an I, back looks like a U. Put the I in the center of the U, and keep looking at that front sight. That’s where your bullet is going. Don’t blink when you fire. Don’t be scared of the recoil, that’s not your problem, your priority is getting the shot. Your arms are a little stiff…yeah, perfect, nice and limber. The recoil won’t hurt so much that way. Don’t try to fight it, just accept that it’s going to happen. If you’re all tensed up because you’re anxious about the recoil, it’ll throw off your aim, so forget about it.”

“Okay,” Rhaena says. “I am actively attempting to forget.”

“Remember, try not to blink.”

“Don’t tense up. Don’t blink.” A few seconds pass, and she pulls the trigger. There is a spray of dark curdled blood from one of the zombie’s collarbone, but it’s still stumbling towards the Shell. “Damn,” Rhaena says defeatedly, then tries to pass the M9 back to you.

“What are you doing? You have four more shots.”

“But I’m going to miss. I’m going to waste them.”

“Practice isn’t wasteful. You have to know how to do this in case something happens to me.”

“You do it,” Rhaena insists. “I’m terrible.”

“Is it alright if I help you?”

“Yeah,” she says, her doe-like eyes brightening. “Okay. Totally.”

“Go ahead and aim.”

She raises the pistol and peers through the sights. You stand behind Rhaena, place your hands lightly over hers, adjust her angle just barely. When she fires—she’s still tensing up just before she pulls the trigger, a common mistake—you hold the M9 steady. The bullet explodes through the same zombie’s rot-soft skull and the corpse tumbles facedown into the dust.

Rhaena gasps, exhilarated, triumphant.

“No celebrating yet. There are two more.”

“Right.” Very businesslike, she lines up the next shot. You provide your slight adjustments; a second zombie receives a lethal dose of lead.

“Want to do the last one on your own?” The third zombie is quite close now, maybe ten yards. It should be an easy kill.

“Okay…but if I miss, you have to save me.”

“Obviously.”

All on her own, Rhaena aims and pulls the trigger. She hits the zombie near the top of its head; an inch higher, and it would be functionally unharmed. But the corpse’s skull snaps back and its blood and brains spill out onto the asphalt of the parking lot, and it is of no further danger to anyone. It is carrion for the scavengers: raccoons, foxes, condors, vultures, crows.

“And with one of your allocated bullets to spare,” you say with a smile, accepting the M9 when Rhaena surrenders it. “Good progress.”

“That felt great,” she admits, perhaps a little dazed.

You know what she means. “It’s nice to have some control over what happens in your life.”

Luke is saying to Rio as they reappear from inside the Shell: “Maybe those Korean children were singing Africa because they knew your unit had been in Djibouti. Maybe they thought you were homesick for it or something.”

“Oh my God, you know what, kid? You might be right. I never even thought of that.”

“Find anything?” you ask.

Rio shrugs, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “A few bags of trail mix, a box of Band-Aids, some Life Savers, cans of Arizona tea. Oh, and Marlboro Golds for Honey Bun.”

“You shouldn’t be encouraging Aegon to smoke. It’s bad for him.”

“Give him a break, he’s sad and crispy.”

You can’t think of a rebuttal. The four of you walk back to the mobile home.

In the small patch of parched dirt that serves as the driveway, Cregan is—with great difficulty—shimmying out from beneath the Tahoe. Then he reaches back under to grab a pan of old motor oil. “Just about done here,” he announces. “Gotta put the fresh oil in and then we’re set for another 5,000 miles.”

You glance around. Ice is panting in the narrow aisle of shade of a mesquite tree. Aegon is napping on the tiny front porch, sprawled on his back and snoring, his plastic neon green sunglasses shielding his eyes; Helaena is surrounded by a jumble of empty cans and stirring a pot of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs as she heats it over a fire. She begins dishing out bowlfuls of it. Rio, Rhaena, and Luke all graciously accept their dinner.

“Did you guys find gas?” you say to Cregan.

“Not much. A few gallons.”

“Where’s Aemond?”

“Said he’d be back soon.”

“What?” You are incredulous. “You left him? He can’t be alone out there, Cregan. Someone has to watch his blind side.”

“He ain’t alone. He took Daeron.”

“What’s Aemond looking for?”

“He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.” Now Cregan is pouring a bottle of Pennzoil into the Tahoe, and Rio is prodding you with a bowl of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs, and Aegon is waking up and yawning loudly.

“What’d you bring me?” he says, lazy and grinning; and when he receives his pack of Marlboro Golds, he immediately sticks one between his teeth and lights it. Luke goes to sit by a shrub and then jumps up when he hears a rattling noise. Almost too swiftly for you to process it, a streak of red-gold scales slithers across the earth and vanishes into the desert.

“Western diamondback rattlesnake,” Helaena notes. “Venomous. Potentially fatal.”

“Great,” Luke says, carrying his bowl towards the front door of the mobile home. “I think I’ll eat inside.”

Aemond and Daeron don’t return until shortly before dusk, the sky turning to rust, lavender, gold, fire, blood. When they walk in, Rhaena is curled up on the floral couch—shredded in spots by a cat, though there are no signs of it now—and reading Mockingjay. Luke is sitting with her and keeping watch with periodic peeks out the window. Ice is resting with her muzzle propped on her large front paws. You, Rio, Cregan, Helaena, and Aegon are playing Uno on the floor.

“What color?” Aegon asks Helaena when she puts down a wild card.

“Blue.”

He groans. “How do you always know what I don’t have?!”

“Rhaena,” Aemond says, and then tosses something to her that glints in the artificial, sickly yellow radiance of the flashlights. She catches them in midair: a set of keys. She is mystified.

“What are these for?”

“The Ford Expedition that’s parked outside.”

“What?!” Luke says, twisting around in his seat to snatch the curtain aside and peer through the window. “Oh wow. Yeah, it’s out there.”

Rhaena is staring confoundedly at Aemond. “Why do we need a Ford Expedition?”

“Because that’s what you’ll be driving tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong with the Tahoe?”

“They will be driving the Tahoe to Oregon,” Aemond says, pointing to you, Rio, and Cregan. “We are taking Expedition to California.”

Everyone is too stunned to speak at first; even Daeron looks at Aemond doubtfully, as if this is the first time he’s learning of it. Aegon’s hand hovers frozen in the air above the draw pile of Uno cards. Ice whimpers.

Rio chuckles uncertainly. “You’re…you’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not,” Aemond says. “When we leave Battle Mountain tomorrow, you’ll take I-80 to Winnemucca. We’ll take Route 305 south to Austin and then head west so we can get off the interstate and avoid the Reno area.”

Your voice comes out dark and poisonous. You can feel your eyes glaring, searing; Aemond won’t look at you. “What are you talking about?”

“We can’t stay together?” Luke asks.

“No,” Aemond says again, and now he’s getting impatient. “We have two different destinations. That’s been the situation since the day we met, and now it’s time to split up.”

“Why can’t we all travel to one place and then the other?” Rhaena says. “We could drive to the Bay Area, see what’s going on at the beach house, and after—”

“I can’t wait,” Rio interrupts. “My wife and baby are in Oregon, I’m going straight there even if no one else is.” As distracted as you are, you touch your palm to one of his broad shoulders. You’re going too. You promised.

“So we’ll drive to Oregon first,” Aegon says agreeably. “Right? We could do that. Go north and then swing by the Bay Area later.”

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s almost impossible to find gas now. There is just enough in the Tahoe to last it until Winnemucca, and just enough in the Expedition to get it down to Austin. There is no guarantee we’ll be able to find more. Every day there’s less gas and food and bullets, because there are less places that haven’t already been looted. There are 400 miles between where we are right now and either Odessa or San Franscisco. There are another 400 miles that separate those two destinations from each other. So let’s say we drive all the way to Oregon and then can’t find any gas to go south to the Bay. How long do you think we’d last like this on foot? A month? Because that’s how long it would take us, assuming not a single rest day. So if we travel to one location together, there’s a good possibility we’ll all be trapped there.”

“Maybe I’m okay with getting trapped in Oregon,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond lashes out fiercely. “Are you serious? What about Criston, what about Mom?!”

“Maybe there are some things about home that I don’t miss!”

“Then go the fuck to Oregon!”

“You know I have to stay with you!”

Aemond scoffs. “Because you’re so capable of protecting anyone.”

Aegon rubs his sunburned face with both hands. He murmurs softly, miserably: “I’m trying, Aemond.”

“So that’s it?” Rhaena says, staring at you and Rio and Cregan, stunned and mournful. “We’ll just never see each other again?”

Aemond shrugs and averts his gaze. He doesn’t have an answer; maybe he doesn’t care.

Aegon turns to Cregan accusingly. “You helped plan this?”

“Nah,” Cregan says, avoidant and downcast, which is unusual for him. “I mean…I said I didn’t really see myself spending the rest of my life with a bunch of millionaires in a California mansion on the seashore, and that’s still true. I’d rather live in Oregon with people who are more like me. But that’s different than wanting to split up forever. I could always try to find y’all later for a visit, I guess…”

“Sure,” Aemond replies briskly. “Whatever you decide to do afterwards isn’t my problem. But you get them to Odessa first.”

Rhaena bursts out with sudden urgency: “This feels wrong. Don’t you see how this is wrong?! We’ve been through so much together, and now we’re just going to wave goodbye and disappear? Leave them to fend for themselves?”

“You want to add 400 miles to our trip?” Aemond asks her, and Rhaena falls silent.

“You know,” Luke begins. “We…we’ve already lost people. Maybe Aemond’s right. Maybe we’re forgetting how dangerous the world is now. It would be great if we could stay in contact, but the most important thing is to get everyone safely to where they need to be.”

“Exactly,” Aemond says, and something jolts awake in you as you remember what he told you in Nebraska, and in Wyoming, and in so many quiet moments that you’ve shared since you met, each an oasis in the desert. He said we would figure it out. He said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“So you were lying when you pretended not to know what we were going to do when we got to Nevada.”

Aemond nods towards the front door. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

You stand up; Rio watches you apprehensively, wondering if he should follow. Your eyes flick to his. I’m fine. He relents, redirecting his attention. Aegon is slumped and despondent; Helaena is starting to cry, and Cregan tries to console her. She’s saying that something bad is going to happen, but she doesn’t know what.

On the porch of the mobile home, beneath a lilac sky pierced with stars, Aemond does not attempt to hold your hands or kiss you goodbye or give any other indication that you have ever been someone who mattered to him. “This isn’t personal. This is what gives everyone the best chance of survival.”

“You’re afraid of making a mistake and getting hurt,” you tell him. “And I understand, I know what that feels like, but Aemond…with the way the world is now…you can’t afford to wait for things to happen or cut them loose to see if they’ll come back to you. You might not get another chance.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Aemond says flatly. “Your route is safer than ours. Less cities, less zombies.”

“You’re honestly going to act like you are completely unbothered by the thought of never seeing me again?”

“I don’t know what you expected. I’m just some guy who helped get you off a transmission tower back in Pennsylvania.”

“Really? That’s all you are?”

And then Aemond smirks to himself, a cynical, mocking twist of his lips, something so dismissive and so cruel you almost believe for a razor-thin second that you could hate him. “Look, I’m not the one for you. Go to Oregon. Fuck Cregan.”

“There is nothing romantic between me and Cregan!”

Now Aemond seems annoyed. “Well, you two seem exceptionally suited for each other.”

“Because we both grew up shopping at Dollar General and know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent?! That makes us soulmates, that’s the end of the calculation?!”

“Then find a man like him!” Aemond flares. “That’s what you really wanted, right? That’s what you were after this whole time. Some hero to convince you he’s worth it. Someone to break you in.”

You are seething, thunderstruck. “And you just said that in the most hurtful way possible to…what, prove how little you care about me?”

“I didn’t say I don’t care about you.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“We were never going to end up in the same place.”

“Except we were, you told me that, you told me we’d figure something out, I mean, you…you…you said you’d be there if I wanted kids someday, what was that if not some kind of commitment?!”

“You don’t trust me,” Aemond says, so sharply and so abruptly it startles you.

“I do,” you object softly.

“No, you don’t. And I don’t blame you. But there’s nowhere for us to go from here.”

You can feel yourself becoming young and powerless and desperately afraid. “Please don’t do this, Aemond. It won’t bring Jace or Baela back. If we don’t have a plan before we split up, this is over. We’ll never find each other again. We’ll never have another chance.”

And he shakes his head like this was such a needless mistake. “I knew you’d fall in love with me.”

He’s leaving, you think, hazy and omnipotent like a nightmare, the present inseparable from the past and the future. I left my family and now my family is leaving me. “I’m not in love with you,” you reply as ruthlessly as you can. “I think you’re right. Cregan is a better man.”

“Yeah,” Aemond snaps.

“And I need someone like him.”

“Yeah,” Aemond says again, staring into the west where the last rays of the sun are sinking below the horizon, you erased as you stand where his left eye would once have seen you.

“And you need someone who’s going to fuck with your head so much you can’t possibly mistake it for something real.”

You walk back inside the mobile home and leave him speechless in the dying light.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I drew this for you,” Aegon says, handing Rio a folded piece of paper torn from Helaena’s spider notebook. It’s a map, illustrated in forest green gel pen ink. “Your route is actually really straightforward, it’s impossible to get lost. You’ll follow I-80 northwest to Winnemucca, then Route 95 north until it intersects with Route 140, and you stay on 140 all the way to Odessa. The only real city you’ll go near is Klamath Falls in Oregon, and I’ve marked that. Route 140 mostly stays along the outside, but you can cut it wider if things look dicey. The whole trip is just a couple days by car, assuming you don’t have to spend too long hunting for gas. But listen…” He points to the green dot labelled Winnemucca. “Between here and Denio Junction up by the Oregon border, there’s 100 miles of nothing, just desert. So make sure you have more than enough supplies to last you in case something happens. Then from Denio Junction to Adel is another 85 miles with no towns in between. So just…be careful, okay? You’re not back east anymore. Things are a lot farther apart, and it’s harder to find everything. If you run out of gas or bust a tire, you can’t just call AAA to come pick you up.”

“We got it,” Rio says, touched but trying not to dissolve into too much sentimentality. The three of you are standing in the short dirt driveway the next morning, Aegon putting most of his weight on his good leg. Cregan is waiting behind the wheel of the Chevy Tahoe that once belonged to his parents. Ice is peering out at you through one of the rolled-down windows. “Thank you, Honey Bun.”

“No problem. Now flip it over.”

Rio does; on the back of the first map is another, this one from Odessa south to the Bay Area, a place just north of San Francisco called Bolinas.

“Go all the way to the coast and follow it down,” Aegon says. “You don’t want to bump into Santa Rosa, Sacramento, Stockton, Modesto, San Jose, any of those places. Too many people.” Then he smiles, kind and warm. “I’m going to see you guys again, one way or the other. But first I have to make sure Aemond is safe. And Rio has to meet baby Otter.”

Rio laughs. “Man, don’t even joke about it. I’m seriously concerned that’s my firstborn’s name.”

“If you end up not staying in Odessa, leave me a note carved into a tree trunk or something so I can track you down.”

“You do the same at the beach mansion.”

“Totally.” Then Aegon turns to you; and although he’s still smiling, his eyes—those pools of murky, melancholy blue that remind you of the Gulf of Tadjoura, Corpus Christi Bay, the East China Sea, the Indian Ocean—are catastrophically sad. “Tortilla Chip, it’s been real. Don’t forget about me.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

He pats your backpack and winks, and you don’t understand why until ten hours later when you’re lying on the rooftop of an abandoned RV in Winnemucca, Nevada, gazing up at the stars as Rio and Cregan swap stories to weave affinity until it’s thick like a braid: Rio hiding a dead lemon shark in the Jeep of an officer he hated when you were stationed at Key West, Cregan’s fiancé leaving him after she got a field hockey scholarship to the University of Iowa. You haven’t found any gas for the Tahoe yet. You’ll have to search again tomorrow. You reach into your backpack for a pack of Life Savers and instead are surprised to discover Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman. The rhinestones spelling out a doomed little girl’s name glint in the moonlight.

You slip in both earbuds and press play. Aegon left it paused at an Enrique Iglesias song; you assume he must have been thinking of Rio.

“You look at me and, girl, you take me to another place

Got me feelin’ like I’m flyin’, like I’m out of space

Something ‘bout your body says, come and take me

Got me begging, got me hoping that the night don’t stop…”

You try to see constellations in the night sky instead of random, indifferent distant suns. You try not to remember the way Aemond was when you thought his mark on you was permanent.

“Girl, I like the way you move, come and show me what to do

You can tell me that you want me, girl, you got nothing to lose

I can’t wait no more

I can’t wait no more…”

You spot a glimmer of light among the stars and choose to believe it is a comet rather than a fighter jet, or a forgotten satellite, or the refracted remnants of a solar storm, or something you only imagined and that never existed at all.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n

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wormboyfriendcentralstation · 9 months ago

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heathcliff: i killed cathy...... im a horrible person in every timeline. my revenge killed her. my remorse literally broke through timelines.

catherine who got back at heathcliff by stealing a house to remodel into the Magic Cocaine Labyrinth after draining the financial assets of england's least tragically ill victorian man, making carmen contact her copyright lawyers by sealing her ambiguously dead body into a glass tank while her brain powers a building, and potentially hiring the Mueseumafia of Modern Art because if she pays them with cash she doesnt have to report her Green-Energy-Human-Tank Powered Hydrogen Bomb Basement Factory's earnings to the IRS or whatever the city uses: 'tis what you get for trying to boyfail without your girlboss, methinks 😇😇😇😇😇

#limbus company #limbus company spoilers #posted to the wrong blog lololol #anyways she's a science fiction villain who everyone treats like jesus.#''catherine is MISERABLE ALWAYS'' she was certainly going through it!#she was also literally coping through making terrors and horrors in her basement lab like dexter #and is this a result of heathcliff's self worth being like. bulldozed from every direction as he grew up?#yes.#they're both very fascinating characters but someone get that man away from that woman's blast radius #him: i'll get a good job. i'll internalize all of my abuse. i'll be Good Enough For Her #her: gonna grow some psychic damage nukes in my lab like rutabagas to harvest for the growing season. then i'll turn into a house!

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materialsscienceandengineering · 7 months ago

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Researchers report a new method that reduces the amount of iridium needed to produce hydrogen from water by 95%, without altering the rate of hydrogen production. This breakthrough could revolutionize our ability to produce ecologically friendly hydrogen and help usher in a carbon-neutral hydrogen economy.As the world is transitioning from a fossil fuel-based energy economy, many are betting on hydrogen to become the dominant energy currency. But producing "green" hydrogen without using fossil fuels is not yet possible on the scale we need because it requires iridium, a metal that is extremely rare. In a study published May 10 in Science, researchers led by Ryuhei Nakamura at the RIKEN Center for Sustainable Resource Science (CSRS) in Japan report a new method that reduces the amount of iridium needed for the reaction by 95%, without altering the rate of hydrogen production. This breakthrough could revolutionize our ability to produce ecologically friendly hydrogen and help usher in a carbon-neutral hydrogen economy.

#Materials Science #Science #Iridium #Hydrogen #Energy #Manganese #Catalysts

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skyland2703 · 9 months ago

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Javelia visits the Dino Charge dimension for one reason or another, and they end up followed back home by a baby Stegouros. They keep it as a pet and name it Waffles. Chaos ensues.

(Art by @alphynix)

OH MY FLUFFING GOD—

“I know we caused an inter-dimensional anomaly, last time, but by any chance… did the two of you cause an inter-dimensional anomaly this time??” Javi had not expected to hear this sentence, this early in the morning. The inter-dimensional jet lag had still not dissipated, and here were two guys, suited in green and black spandex, breaking into their bedroom.

Javi rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed, and then gestured towards where his girlfriend lay sleeping, beside him, and then turned back to the two guys, the black spandex one of whom had spoken, he signalled them to shush, with a finger on the lips.

The guy in the green spandex leaned closer, and whispered, urgently, in Javi’s ear, “dude. We need to talk.” And there was something so threatening in his voice that Javi immediately got out of bed, pulled on his fluffy puppy-dog slippers, and walked out of the room with the other two guys, still in his boxers and as they reached the living room, Javi found a hoodie and pulled it on. (Unnecessary detail.)

“What happened” he asked, rubbing his eyes again, trying to ward off sleep, and then gestures towards the kitchen, “do you mind if we make coffee while we talk?” He yawned, “and please suit down. Nobody’s gonna attack you here.”

That made sense, the two rangers suited down, and Javi found himself blinking at a very amused Chase and an equally annoyed Riley. Javi grinned at them, “hey guys! Want coffee or tea or green tea or cocoa?” He offered.

“I’d take coco—“ Chase was punched in the stomach by Riley, before he could complete his statement, “not the time, hotshot.” He murmured under his breath and then looked at Javi, “Javi, I appreciate you getting up this early in the morning, and offering us beverages, but this is important…” Javi looked at him curiously, and comically, Chase echoed the exact same expression, despite knowing exactly what Riley was about to say.

“Did you and Amelia… by any chance… steal a baby Stegouros from the dinosaur museum when you guys popped in to drop us home?”

Javi raised his eyebrows, “we… didn’t steal a dinosaur…”

“SEE? I told you Riles! They wouldn’t do that!! The mama Stegouros must be here for some other reason!” Chase was quick to jump to Javi’s rescue, and Javi saw Riley rolling his eyes in a very ‘i love you, Chase, but I can’t deal with this right now.’, an expression Javi was very familiar with, because he got it once in every two days from Amelia.

“Mama stego— WHAT!?”

Riley pulled up his Dino com, and showed it to Javi— in the middle of the night, a giant dinosaur was rampaging through the city like Godzilla. It was a Buzzblast report— and Javi realised him and Amelia, actual Buzzblast journalists, AND Power Rangers, had slept through the entire thing, with their phones on airplane mode, and probably wouldn’t have found out about it until after midday, if

“They don’t have the dinosaur, Riles, let’s go—“

“Wait, wait—“ Javi stopped the two rangers, “i didn’t say we don’t have the dinosaur, i said we didn’t steal the dinosaur. Waffles is right here!”

Both Chase and Riley, as if on cue, asked, “Waffles?”

“Yes! The stegou—“ Javi beamed, then gestured them to come with him, finger on his lips, to tell them to not make any noise. The three boys tiptoed back into the bedroom where Amelia was sleeping peacefully. Javi pointed to where he had been lying, and it took a bit of straining of eyes when finally the Dino charge rangers finally saw it. The tiny baby stegouros, sleeping peacefully in Javi and Amelia’s bed, cuddled up close with Amelia.

Riley was about to burst like a hydrogen bomb, and Chase and Javi realised it just seconds before it happened, giving the two black rangers time enough to drag the distressed green ranger out of the room before he screamed and woke both the dinosaur and the girl up.

They were out into the common hallway of the apartment complex, near the elevator, when Javi and Chase released him, and he let out a scream that would probably not only wake up Amelia and Waffles, but the entire neighbourhood in a three mile radius.

“ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS?! DINOSAURS ARE ENDANGERED!! ITS A FEDERAL CRIME, ITS A FELONY TO STEAL AND HARBOUR A DINOSAUR IN AN ARTIFICIAL ENVIRONMENT WITHOUT THE REQUIRED CLEARAN—“ Chase’s hand was over Riley’s mouth again, smothering the remainder of the rant, while Javi tried hard to not laugh, because he knew Riley would puff up like a pufferfish, and might even start crying in angry tears— something Chase had told him happened when the anger got out of control.

“In our defence…. The lil fella just followed us home through the portal”. Javi looked like a mischievous kid, trying to prove his innocence, with his arms tied behind his back, his feet rubbing the carpet under them, “he spooked us when we closed the door of the apartment earlier, today— we decided to keep it as a pet. Waffles is a nice name, no?” He asked, positively beaming.

“I like Waffles!” Chase chuckled, while Riley tried to say something, but wasn’t allowed to, with the two boys still holding their hands over his face before he actually woke up the entire neighbourhood, “I’d have probably named him Pancakes!”

“Waffles was Amelia’s idea. I wanted to name him Marshmallow.”

“Waffles has a sister! Maybe we can call her Marshmallow, no Riles?” Chase made the fatal mistake of letting go of Riley’s mouth, and the green ranger screamed again, “IF YOU TWO DUMBASSES ARE DONE DISCUSSING FOOD NAMES, THERE IS A VERY ANGRY MAMA STEGOUROS ROAMING YOUR CITY, JAVIER, LOOKING FOR HER BABY. WE NEED THE STEGOUROS BACK!” Riley’s face was absolutely red, and Chase leaned in, and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek, immediately deflating more than half of the anger out like he was an angy balloon.

“Relax, Riles, baby,” he hummed, and Javi watched in amusement, as the kiss and the little chant worked like magic, and Riley calmed down.

“What I’m trying to say, is that we need the dinosaur back so we can save all of our asses.” He said, finally.

“You wanna take waffles away?” Javi made puppy dog eyes at the couple, and Chase almost melted, before Riley said, “yes.”

“Amelia’s gonna be mad…” Javi said, in the same tone, and Riley raised his arms, “we can get her a cat, or something. This is more important—“

“What is more important?” A feminine voice echoed from behind them, and the three boys turned around to find the red ranger standing in the doorway of their apartment, still in her bedclothes, the little dinosaur wrapped up in her arms like a little baby. She looked annoyed— and none of the boys knew they could deal with the wrath of Amelia Jones…

“Err—“

We’re gonna pretend this is in the aftermath of @gayferret420 ‘s Chiley landing up in Dino fury universe AU. Javelia went back to drop them off, and this all… happened…

#this got wayyy out of hand XD #Javi garcia #Amelia jones #power rangers #chase rendall #Riley #CHILEY #Javelia #power rangers dino fury #dino fury #cosmic fury #power rangers cosmic fury #Dino charge #power rangers Dino charge #HESPLORO!!!!#my fics

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whirligig-girl · 8 months ago

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2379 March 19th

The air had a distinct chill to it by now, and Guz looked all around her as the sky took on an almost silvery cast. Gaps in the trees at the edge of the clearing acted as pinhole cameras, producing hundreds of little bright crescents onto the ground and onto the shuttlepod.

"I told you we'd be in the path of totality," Marta said, nudging Guz on the arm and pointing up at the sky. She tapped a button on her clear glass visor, and it suddenly became reflective and metallic. "Look at that. Any minute now." The Sun was now just a slim crescent, the Moon covering nearly all of it.

“Augh…” Guz said, rubbing her arms, “sorry I questioned your navigation skills.”

“Good,” Marta said.

"We have precisely three minutes and twelve seconds, by my count," Dyani said.

Guz had her telescope, a 5" catadioptric astrograph, set up on an equatorial mount, with a tunable Herschellian Wedge serving as a solar filter and heat rejection system. She was used to handholding her telescope, but with only three minutes of totality, she didn't want to take any chances. The holographic eyepiece she'd been using had dutifully captured full spectrum imagery of Sol and before the partial eclipse began she had tuned through the different visible wavelengths in the passthrough lens, allowing her, Marta, and Dyani to see prominences and filaments in Sol’s chromosphere, as well as detailed sunspots in its photosphere. Marta, having evolved around this especially hot star, could even make out the magnetically active plages in the deep-violet Calcium-K line, but Guz's eye lenses had a slight green-yellow tint which blocked far-violet, and Dyani's Vulcan eyes could barely even see blue--though she reported detail in the deep-red Hydrogen-Alpha view which astounded Marta and Guz. No matter--once the eclipse was over Guz would be able to process all of the spectral bands and find more appropriate wavelengths to display them in.

Guz was anxious, and she paced back and forth, shaking her wrists. They made an almost cartoonish literal slapping and sticking sound and she went, which was nice, because it was both tactile and auditory. She went back to the telescope, but she tripped on the tripod.

Guz emitted a gargling warbling sound which Marta was pretty sure was a mellanoid curse word, and she scrambled to fix the telescope’s alignment.

“AUGH!” she said “I messed up the polar alignment! It won’t track now…”

Marta stood up from her chair, and grabbed her canes. She walked up to Guz and put an arm on her shoulder. “Hey, Eaurp, don’t worry. The important thing isn’t the holos.”

“Actually the holos are incredibly important! I know you and Dyani are just here for fun, but I’m doing this for my Astro-251 class. I have to get these images!”

“Eaurp,” Dyani said. “It is unnecessary to fret. Professor Frederick made it clear that terrans have a long history of ‘eclipse madness’--”

“But I’m not a terran!”

“It is not a matter of the species, so much as the circumstance. As you are always so quick to remind us, Earth is the only known inhabited planet with a natural satellite that appears the same size as its parent star. The eclipses are rare and last only minutes,” Dyani said.

“Yeah girlie, you got the eclipse madness,” Marta said, “Just calm down for a minute. You’ll find a way to make up your project.”

Guz put her face in her hands, then looked up and began fiddling with her PADD to try and fix the alignment.

Guz tapped her combadge. "Cadet Guz's log, stardate 56212, continued. Terrans call it March 19th 2379. Local time is… 12:32. We are here in the Italian countryside, a minute away from totality, and I just bumped my telescope off of Sol. I have missed all three total eclipses that have occurred on Earth during my time here. This is my last year, and so my last shot. Everything has to go just right.”

“Forty seven seconds,” Dyani reported. Guz checked her chronometer. Dyani’s mental timing was ‘only’ two seconds off.

“Stop fiddling with that thing and just relax!” Marta said.

“NO! I HAVE TO SEE THE CORONA UP CLOSE!” Guz shouted, and she buried her eye into the holograph’s pass-through. “Ok! I see Sol and Luna!” Guz said. “This alignment will have to do…”

Guz watched as the last slivers of white sunlight disappeared. She looked up, and during that last moment, the entire world changed around her. She was standing in twilight, but with the sky orange all around her. She looked around. The animals were reacting wildly, with twitters and chirps and ribbiting from the local fauna, likely confused as to why the Sun went out in the middle of the day.

When Guz had first set foot on Earth, it was very literally an alien planet. But it still had blue skies, white clouds, deep blue seas, and green foliage (albeit much dryer and less sticky than she had been accustomed to).

The planet Guz was standing on right now was not Mellanus, not Italian Earth, and certainly not Luna--it was an entirely unique world, one which only existed for minutes at a time. Guz was standing on Planet Eclipse.

Guz looked up and shouted. “Hah! LOOK! LOOK AT THAT! THE CORONA!”

Nothing could have prepared her for it. The corona was a silvery halo that extended from the apparent black hole in the sky in all directions, with concentrated hairlike filaments stringing out from reddish pink spots on the black circle’s limb.

Before the eclipse, Sol had been white with a few dark specks and surrounded by darkness, but this thing was nearly its inverse: black, with a few tiny starlike dots inside of it, surrounded by a pale ghostly light. The Sun had disappeared, and something completely alien took its place. Intellectually, Guz knew that all stars--even Zwo-nmu--had coronae, but this was the first time she’d seen the corona with her own two eyes. She supposed it wouldn’t have to be the last--maybe next time she was in space she’d try to blot out the sun with her finger.

Guz could make out four starlike points, one to the left of the Sun, and three to the right. “Look! Look! There’s the other planets! The bright ones are Jupiter and Venus!”

She looked down and around again to see Marta sitting in the grass just staring up at the thing, her visor completely transparent. Dyani had taken her visor off entirely and stared, silently.

“WAIT! NO! The uh! The filter!” Guz said. She hadn’t remembered to remove the filter from her telescope. She scrambled back to the telescope, and twisted a dial on the Herschellian Wedge. The view through the passthrough eyepiece brightened up by 100,000 times and Guz actually saw the corona, magnified 50 times, in unfiltered, uncompressed detail. The detail was so delicate and intricate. Guz could now see the row of cilia-like prominences to the left, which Dyani had seen so easily before but which she and Marta had been unable to detect. In true color, Sol’s chromosphere was magenta, not the spectral red she had seen before in the H-alpha. As Guz’s eyes adjusted, she could even make out Luna’s city lights. She recognized Tycho City, and New Berlin immediately.

“Dyani, how much time do we have left?” Guz said.

After a moment, Dyani replied. “We should have another two minutes of totality left.”

Guz looked away from the eyepiece to get another look at the gaping hole in the sky where the Sun should be.

And then, in an instant, the corona disappeared entirely. A bead of intense white light bore into Guz’s retina, and she immediately flipped her visor down.

Guz’s hands shook. Then she slowly began to smile. “THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING I HAVE SEEN IN MY LIFE!” she shouted, and she began to jump up and down. Her hair went jiggly. Dyani looked at her with a blank stare, and Guz felt a little shy and stopped her celebrations. “I just can’t believe Mellanoids were robbed of this.”

“It is a remarkable celestial coincidence. The diurnal stellar eclipses visible on the T’khut-facing hemisphere of Vulcan do not capture the character of 40 Eridani A’s corona so completely, nor do they produce an atmosphere of such… eerie character.”

“Marta! Marta! Was it different to a Solar Eclipse on Luna?” Guz said, turning around.

Marta was still on the floor, rubbing her eyes, sobbing quietly to herself.

“Marta?” Guz said.

Marta reached out for a hand. Guz gave her a hand and pulled her up. Marta sniffled.

“Are you okay?” Guz said.

Marta just nodded. She didn’t look ok. Guz looked at Dyani, who just shrugged. Marta wiped her eyes again. Guz picked up Marta’s canes, and she walked back to her chair to take a seat.

Guz returned to her telescope. The herschel wedge had not been re-enabled. The holographic eyepiece was fried.

Guz stuttered a little. “Oh. Uh. Dyani. Um. There weren’t two minutes left.”

“What.”

“It was probably more like. Um. Two seconds. So the uh. The holograph is ruined.”

“Damn,” Dyani said.

“Haha. Yeah. Um. That coulda been my eye, haha…”

“Then it is fortunate you were not looking through the eyepiece at the end of totality.”

Guz checked her PADD to make sure the data was streamed properly to her recorder. When she was convinced that it was, she turned off the telescope and began packing it back up into the Class 2 Shuttlepod. By the time she finished, the sky had grown brighter; the air warmer.

When she was done, she sat down on the grass next to Marta’s chair, and put her visor back on. Luna no longer covered so much of Sol.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it…” Marta said. “I mean I’ve… I’ve seen solar eclipses before. And they’re beautiful from Luna, don’t get me wrong. But it’s all so different when you’re on Earth.”

“It’s a shame I won’t ever have the chance to see a solar eclipse on the Moon,” Guz said. “Well, I mean, I have seen one, it’s just, when you’re on Earth, we call it a Lunar Eclipse.”

“I’ve even seen terran eclipses before,” Marta said. “They don’t look like anything special from all the way up there. Just a little dark spot going across Earth. When I was younger, I wondered what terrans were so hyped up about, you know? But I get it.”

“And! And!” Guz said. “IT’S SO COOL! THAT YOU GET TO SEE ECLIPSES HAPPEN AT ALL ON LUNA AND VULCAN!”

“Indeed,” Dyani said, “the air temperature does drop noticeably during stellar eclipses due to the reduction in insolation. It is cool shit.”

“Omen doesn’t do that! When Omen got close to Mellanus, it was a lot like Luna--but a lot brighter. But it never goes in front of Zwo-nmu!”

“Why?” Marta said.

“It is a simple consequence of Mellanus’ coorbital trajectory,” Dyani said.

“Closest thing we get to eclipses is when Cold Ember transits Zwo-nmu and if you have really good vision you can see it with just a dark visor as a little dot.”

“I remember going out in my EV suit after finishing an early morning delivery in Oceanus Procellarum one time when I was 13,” Marta said. “The Sun hadn’t risen, but off to the east I could see this faint gray glow. I turned off my suit lights and just stared at the glow, with everything else almost black, just lit a little by the crescent Earth. The milky way was out, but this gray glow was even brighter than it. I kept watching it, even as my suit began to get freezing cold, I sat down on a little boulder a few meters from my shuttle. As I waited; it must have been almost an hour, I saw just about a quarter of a silvery circular halo. I saw a tiny hint of magenta come over the mountain in the distance, and before I knew it, the world exploded into light as the Sun came up. I had the ghost image in my eye for an hour after that. Made getting home a little harder.”

“Wow,” Guz said.

“In principle, what we have just witnessed was a sunset and a sunrise on Luna, just much farther away,” Dyani said.

“A couple years later I saw my first solar eclipse--what Terrans call a Lunar eclipse--and I realized what that ghostly glow was. But even then, I couldn’t see the corona all at once. Earth blocked half of it at a time,” Marta said. “But still I figured that the whole landscape around you turning orange-red from all of Earth’s sunrises and sunsets shining on the Moon more than made up for seeing the corona all at once.”

“Does it?” Dyani asked.

“It’s different when you’re standing out in the open without a space suit. You’re not in this temperature-controlled little box. It all feels… so much more real. The Sun shining right on my face, the air gets real chilly…”

“Is that why you were having an emotional reaction?” Dyani said.

“What? No. Not quite,” Marta said. “I dunno. Maybe. But I just realized, during totality, that that wasn’t just a big bite taken out of the Sun. That’s my home up there. I’ve seen it from space hundreds of times. But never like that.”

“Yeah…” Guz said.

“The Nevasan eclipses visible on Vulcan are similar to a Solar eclipse as viewed from Luna,” Dyani said. “Except the partial phase lasts minutes and the total phase lasts over an hour. It is essentially a brief second night time. 40 Eridani A’s corona is not visible for much of the eclipse.”

“My only other chance to see any eclipses was when I was doing survival training on Andoria, but they had us on Andoria’s far side and the one solar eclipse we would have seen due to an occultation by an outer moon, we were stuck inside the ice caves. Apparently Andorians don’t consider solar eclipses worth interrupting work for. Plus, 40 Eridani B is a white dwarf, so it’s not like its corona is actually visible. Also--you know how our shadows got weirdly sharp in the last minutes before totality? It’s like that all the time on Andoria. So at least there’s that.”

Guz looked down at the ground, then back up at the slowly brightening crescent Sun, and then at the dirt below her feet. The leaves of the trees still projected crescent-shaped images on the ground. Guz held her hair out, and bubbled it up, wondering if the green-tinted caustics cast on the ground would behave similarly.

“It was certainly one hell of an expedition to close out our senior years,” Dyani said.

“There she goes with the colorful language again,” Marta muttered.

“Perhaps you should speak up so Eaurp can hear you,” Dyani said.

They were arguing again. Guz didn’t think Dyani liked her very much, but she definitely didn’t seem to get along with Marta. “Thanks for coming out to Italy with me for this,” Guz said.

“Yeah,” Marta said. “It was… an adventure.”

“The Italian peninsula is home to many interesting historical sites. Perhaps we should visit some of them,” Dyani said. “For example, the fallen tower of Pisa.”

“Touristy nonsense, it’s just a field full of a bunch of people pretending to try to lift it back upright,” Marta said.

“I wanted to see it. Anyway we should probably start with finding any town, since our shuttlepod isn’t flying any time soon,” Guz said.

Marta gave Dyani some side-eye.

“That was not my fault,” Dyani said.

--------------

And yes, there really will be a total solar eclipse visible in Afroeurasia on March 19th, 2379 (at about 12:30 in Italy.)

Marta Martinez and Dyani were two of Guz's classmates at Starfleet Academy. In fact, Dyani was Guz's roommate. Dyani is @raydrawsdaly's OC. Marta and Guz are my OCs.

#Future Eclipse #Solar Eclipse #long post #fic #fanfic #Star Trek #Eaurp Guz #Dyani #Marta Martinez #Original Character #Original Characters #Starfleet Academy #Eclipse #Science Fiction #Slimegirl

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123567-9qaaq9 · 5 days ago

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Green Hydrogen Market Trends: Growth and Opportunities Through 2024-2033

Hydrogen itself is a versatile energy carrier, and it can be produced through various methods. Green hydrogen refers to hydrogen that is produced using renewable energy sources, such as wind, solar, or hydroelectric power, through a process called electrolysis.

The global Green hydrogen market was valued at $828.2 million in 2023, and it is expected to grow with a CAGR of 67.19% during the forecast period 2023-2033 to reach $141.29 billion by 2033.

Green Hydrogen Overview

Green hydrogen represents a significant breakthrough in the field of renewable energy and sustainability. It is a form of hydrogen gas produced using renewable energy sources, distinguishing it from grey or blue hydrogen, which are derived from fossil fuels. The primary method for producing green hydrogen is through the electrolysis of water, a process that utilizes electricity generated from renewable sources such as wind, solar, or hydropower to split water into hydrogen and oxygen.

Request a free sample report of the Green Hydrogen Market Trends

The Growing Market for Green Hydrogen - Market Demand Drivers

Decarbonization Targets- Many countries have set ambitious net-zero emissions goals, with hydrogen seen as a critical solution to decarbonize sectors that are hard to electrify, such as heavy industry, shipping, and aviation.

Advances in Technology- The cost of producing green hydrogen through electrolysis has been steadily decreasing due to advancements in renewable energy technologies and electrolyzer efficiency.

Corporate Commitments- Major corporations, particularly in the energy, transportation, and industrial sectors, are committing to using green hydrogen as part of their sustainability strategies.

Government Supports and Policy Incentives- Governments worldwide are creating policies and providing incentives to promote the use of green hydrogen.

Download Complete TOC of the Green Hydrogen Market Trends

Green Hydrogen Market Segmentation

1 By Application

Oil and Gas

Industrial Feedstock

Mobility

Power Generation

Industrial Feedstock Application to Dominate Global Green Hydrogen Market

2 By Technology

Proton Exchange Membrane (PEM) Electrolyzer Alkaline Electrolyzer Anion Exchange Membrane Solid Oxide Electrolyzer

Alkaline Electrolyzer to Lead the Global Green Hydrogen Market (by Technology)

3 By Renewable Energy Source

Wind Energy

Solar Energy

Others

Solar Energy to Hold Highest Share in Global Green Hydrogen Market

4 By Region

• North America - U.S., Canada, and Mexico

• Europe - France, Germany, U.K., Spain, Italy, Russia, and Rest-of-Europe

• Asia-Pacific - China, India, Japan, Australia, South Korea, and Rest-of-Asia-Pacific

• Rest-of-the-World (ROW)

Get more market insights on Advanced materials and chemicals

Key Market Players

Linde plc

Air Liquide

Air Products and Chemicals, Inc.

Engie

Uniper SE

Siemens Energy

Green Hydrogen Systems

Cummins Inc.

Recent Developments

• In 2023, Linde plc announced plans to increase green hydrogen production capacity in California, responding to growing demand from the mobility market.

• In February 2021, Air Liquide and Siemens Energy signed a memorandum of understanding with the objective of combining their expertise in proton exchange membrane (PEM) electrolysis technology. In this collaboration, both companies intend to focus their activities on key areas such as the co-creation of large industrial-scale hydrogen projects in collaboration with customers, laying the ground for manufacturing electrolyzers at large scale in Europe, especially in Germany and France, and R&D activities to co-develop next-generation electrolyzer technologies.

Conclusion

The Green Hydrogen Market stands at a pivotal point in its development, driven by the urgent need to address climate change and the global push toward sustainable energy. As countries, industries, and consumers prioritize decarbonization, green hydrogen has emerged as a key solution for achieving net-zero emissions, particularly in sectors that are challenging to electrify, such as heavy industry, transportation, and power generation.

With a combination of technological advancements, declining renewable energy costs, and strong government policies, the market for green hydrogen is poised for significant growth. The expanding role of corporate sustainability commitments, coupled with increased investment and international collaboration, is further accelerating the transition toward a hydrogen-powered economy.

#Green Hydrogen Market #Green Hydrogen Report #Green Hydrogen Industry

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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On a spring day in 1978, a fisherman caught a tiger shark in the lagoon surrounding Enewetak Atoll, part of the Marshall Islands in the north Pacific. That shark, along with the remains of a green sea turtle it had swallowed, wound up in a natural history museum. Today, scientists are realizing that this turtle holds clues to the lagoon’s nuclear past—and could help us understand how nuclear research, energy production, and warfare will affect the environment in the future.

In 1952, the world’s first hydrogen bomb test had obliterated a neighboring island—one of 43 nuclear bombs detonated at Enewetak in the early years of the Cold War. Recently, Cyler Conrad, an archeologist at Pacific Northwest National Laboratory, began investigating whether radioactive signatures of those explosions had been archived by some particularly good environmental historians: turtles.

“Anywhere that nuclear events have occurred throughout the globe, there are turtles,” Conrad says. It’s not because turtles—including sea turtles, tortoises, and freshwater terrapins—are drawn to nuclear testing sites. They’re just everywhere. They have been mainstays of mythology and popular culture since the dawn of recorded history. “Our human story on the planet is really closely tied to turtles,” Conrad says. And, he adds, because they are famously long-lived, they are uniquely equipped to document the human story within their tough, slow-growing shells.

Collaborating with researchers at Los Alamos National Laboratory, which was once directed by J. Robert Oppenheimer, Conrad was able to use some of the world’s most advanced tools for detecting radioactive elements. Last week, his team’s study in PNAS Nexus reported that this turtle, and others that had lived near nuclear development sites, carried highly enriched uranium—a telltale sign of nuclear weapons testing—in their shells.

Turtle shells are covered by scutes, plates made of keratin, the same material in fingernails. Scutes grow in layers like tree rings, forming beautiful swirls that preserve a chemical record of the turtle’s environment in each sheet. If any animal takes in more of a chemical than it’s able to excrete, whether through eating it, breathing it in, or touching it, that chemical will linger in its body.

Once chemical contaminants—including radionuclides, the unstable radioactive alter egos of chemical elements—make their way into scute, they’re basically stuck there. While these can get smeared across layers in tree rings or soft animal tissues, they get locked into each scute layer at the time the turtle was exposed. The growth pattern on each turtle’s shell depends on its species. Box turtles, for example, grow their scute outward over time, like how humans grow fingernails. Desert tortoise scutes also grow sequentially, but new layers grow underneath older layers, overlapping to create a tree ring-like profile.

Because they are so sensitive to environmental changes, turtles have long been considered sentinels of ecosystem health—a different kind of canary in the coal mine. “They’ll show us things that are emergent problems,” says Wallace J. Nichols, a marine biologist who was not involved in this study. But Conrad’s new findings reveal that turtles are also “showing us things that are distinct problems from the past.”

Conrad’s team at Los Alamos handpicked five turtles from museum archives, with each one representing a different nuclear event in history. One was the Enewetak Atoll green sea turtle, borrowed from the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum in Honolulu, Hawaii. Others included a Mojave desert tortoise collected within range of fallout from the former Nevada Test Site; a river cooter from the Savannah River Site, which manufactured fuel for nuclear weapons; and an eastern box turtle from Oak Ridge, which once produced parts for nuclear weapons. A Sonoran desert tortoise, collected far from any nuclear testing or manufacturing sites, served as a natural control.

While working at Los Alamos, Conrad met isotope geochemist and soon-to-be coauthor Jeremy Inglis, who knew how to spot even the most subtle signs of nuclear exposure in a turtle shell. They chose to look for uranium. To a geochemist, this might initially feel like an odd choice. Uranium is found everywhere in nature, and doesn’t necessarily flag anything historically significant. But with sensitive-enough gear, uranium can reveal a lot about isotope composition, or the ratio of its atoms containing different configurations of protons, electrons, and neutrons. Natural uranium, which is in most rocks, is configured very differently from the highly enriched uranium found in nuclear labs and weapons.

To find the highly enriched uranium hidden among the normal stuff in each turtle shell sample, Inglis wore a full-body protective suit in a clean room to keep his uranium from getting in the way. (“There’s enough uranium in my hair to contaminate a picogram of a sample,” he says.) Inglis describes the samples like a gin and tonic: “The tonic is the natural uranium. If you add lots of natural uranium tonic into your highly enriched uranium gin, you ruin it. If we contaminate our samples with natural uranium, the isotope ratio changes, and we can’t see the signal that we’re looking for.”

The team concluded that all four turtles that came from historic nuclear testing or manufacturing sites carried traces of highly enriched uranium. The Sonoran desert tortoise that had never been exposed to nuclear activity was the only one without it.

They collected bulk scute samples from three of their turtles, meaning that they could determine whether the turtle took in uranium at some point in its life, but not exactly when. But the researchers took things a step further with the Oak Ridge box turtle, looking at changes in uranium isotope concentrations across seven scute layers, marking the seven years of the turtle’s life between 1955 and 1962. Changes in the scutes corresponded with fluctuations in documented uranium contamination levels in the area, suggesting that the Oak Ridge turtle’s shell was time-stamped by historic nuclear events. Even the neonatal scute, a layer that grew before the turtle hatched, had signs of nuclear history passed down from its mother.

It’s unclear what this contamination meant for the turtles’ health. All of these shells were from long-dead animals preserved in museum archives. The best time to assess the effects of radionuclides on their health would have been while they were alive, says Kristin Berry, a wildlife biologist specializing in desert tortoises at the Western Ecological Research Center, who was not involved in this study. Berry adds that further research, using controlled experiments in captivity, may help figure out exactly how these animals are taking in nuclear contaminants. Is it from their food? The soil? The air?

Because turtles are nearly omnipresent, tracing nuclear contamination in shells from animals living at various distances from sites of nuclear activity may also help us understand the long-term environmental effects of weapons testing and energy production. Conrad is currently analyzing desert tortoise samples from southwestern Utah, collected by Berry, to better relate exposure to radionuclides (like uranium) to their diets over the course of their lives. He also hopes that these findings will inspire others to study plants and animals with tissues that grow sequentially—like mollusks, which are also found in nearly all aquatic environments.

The incredible migratory patterns of sea turtles, which sometimes span the entire ocean (as anyone familiar with Finding Nemo may recall), open up additional opportunities. For example, sea turtles forage off the Japanese coast, where in 2011 the most powerful earthquake in Japan’s history caused a tsunami that led to a chain reaction of failures at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. With lifespans of up to 100 years, many of those turtles are likely still alive today, carrying traces of the disaster on their backs.

Recently, the Japanese government started slowly releasing treated radioactive water from the Fukushima Daiichi plant into the Pacific Ocean. Scientists and policymakers seem to hesitantly agree that this is the least bad option for disposing of the waste, but others are more concerned. (The Chinese government, for instance, banned aquatic imports from Japan in late August.) Through turtle shells, we may better understand how the plant’s failure, and the following cleanup efforts, affect the surrounding ocean.

The bodies of these creatures have been keeping score for millennia. “For better or for worse, they get hit by everything we do,” Nichols says. Maybe, he adds, “the lesson is: Pay more attention to turtles.”

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osakanone · 1 month ago

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Hello Angel Cellar I am going into battle And I want your most biblically accurate angels

Music: New Mobilesuit Report: Gundam Wing: XXXG 00W0

A skeletal knight. Her armour is comprised of seashells curving like the body-panelling of some futuristic motorcycle. Metallic gold dances over ocean white. Her skeleton beneath is too, metallic shrouded in where light cannot reach of gears, pistons and swirling mechanical systems that make the F22 Air Superiority fighter of the US airforce look like the Wright Brother's flyer. Her shoulders and forearms are mighty pauldrons dressed about a rounded mechanical hub, like miniaturized riot-shields protecting fascists from the wrath of the people. Upon her chest is not breast, but the bonnet of a car, torn open by a hexagonal beak. Within it, a gemstone, an eye of enormous green like, a pearl held clamlike gazing and watching asll it surveys. Cast about are swirling panels like surf-board guitars of wings and winglets in dove-like forms. They branch like veins, arteries, muscular capillaries in incomprehensible forms supported by mechanical trusses of the space-station: wings lashed by rectangular crane-arms. She reaches to her left. She watches, beneath a samurai's gleaming white helmet, of elf-like long pointed winglet like ears and a steely gemstone gaze. Over her mouth, a facemask, studded either side by her helmet crown. Her chin, a bearded like horn. Upon her forehead, a third eye, upon the studed razorsharp twin boomerang of her tiara. Above, a fourth upon a mohawk of metal. This crustacean armour is made machine-like by rhombus and trapezoid like sections connecting flowing lines. Her boots of gold have goats-feet for heels, and forward some strange combination of a sneaker, and a hot iron press.

Her wings give the impression of a lacy white wedding-dress. Of the vapour-trails left by fighter-jets. There is vulnerability here. She looks dainty almost. Like you could hurt her. But you cannot. Upon her throughout are tiny holes, thruster vents which both inhale and exhale through mechanical insets. Bell thruster church bells like the mighty rockets that took humans to the moon in funnels of fuel frozen liquid hydrogen scream with nuclear fire. E equals Emm Cee Squared becomes diamonds of gasseous heat shocking our thick ocean-like atmosphere. Around her orbit rifles shaped like sabres in clusters of three all longways in a triangle together. They orbit her in mighty rings. Upon each hip, half of a strange rifle, a distortion of physics itself in which the very concept matter collapses and dies in its dragon's breath -- where the very particles used to conceal such mighty weapons are petrolium lit by her, as a match. Each, resembling a scientific instrument sit docked as if holstered. As if she is a cowboy ready to draw. Her feathers are like knives. This thing scarsely called robot, this being is filled with love. She will protect you.

Her name is Zero.

#mecha #gundam wing #mech #robot #giant robots #mechanophilia #...#?#mechposting

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brookston · 1 month ago

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Holidays 11.6

Holidays

All the Good Things Wrapped Up in One Day

Arbor Day (Republic of Congo, Samoa)

Bank Workers’ Day (Argentina)

Constitution Day (Dominican Republic, Tajikistan)

Electric Razor Day

Fala Day

Fill Our Staplers Day

Finnish Swedish Heritage Day

Flag Day (Chad, Finland)

Global Refill Day

Green March Day (Morocco, Western Sahara)

Gustavus Adolphus Day (Sweden)

Hydrogen Bomb First Test Day

International Day For Preventing the Exploitation of the Environment in War & Armed Conflict (UN)

International End Gossip Day

International Tracksuit Day

Legalization Day (Cannabis)

Malaria Day in the Americas

Marching Band Day

Marijuana Recreational Legalization Day (Colorado, Washington)

Marooned Without a Compass Day

Measure Up Day

National Basketball Day (a.k.a. Play Basketball Day)

National I Read Canadian Day (Canada)

National Ladies Learning Code Day (Canada)

National Michele Day

National Report Home Health Care Fraud Day

National Stacey Abrams Day

National Team Manager Day

Obama Day (Kenya)

Pine Nut Day (French Republic)

Recreational Cannabis Legalization Day (Colorado)

Saxophone Day

Scotchtoberfest (The Simpsons)

Skirret Day (French Republic)

Stranger Things Day

Tazaungdaing (Myanmar)

United Americas Day

World Cee-C Day (Nigeria)

World Lets Stop Shouting Awareness Day

World Materials Day

World Paper Free Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Do Tater Tots Ever Grow Up? Day

Global Donut Day

National Nachos Day (a.k.a. I Love Nachos Day)

Peanut Butter Lovers Day

Independence & Related Days

Constitution Day (Tajikistan)

Cycoldia (Declared; 2018) [unrecognized]

Day of the First Shout For Independence (El Salvador)

Mexico (Independence Declared; 1813)

Polish Republic (Declared; 1918)

1st Wednesday in November

Eat Smart Day [1st Wednesday]

Hump Day [Every Wednesday]

International Pathology Day [1st Wednesday]

International Stress Awareness Day [1st Wednesday]

Men’s World Day [1st Wednesday]

National Advent Calendar Day [1st Wednesday]

National Eating Healthy Day [1st Wednesday]

National Holiday Calendar Day [1st Wednesday]

National Stress Awareness Day (UK) [1st Wednesday]

Take Our Kids to Work Day (Canada) [1st Wednesday]

Wacky Wednesday [Every Wednesday]

Website Wednesday [Every Wednesday]

Wheat Beer Wednesday [1st Wednesday of Each Month]

Wilderness Wednesday [1st Wednesday of Each Month]

Wobbly Wednesday [1st Wednesday]

Weekly Holidays beginning November 6 (1st Full Week of November)

None Known

Festivals Beginning November 6, 2024

Dublin Book Festival (Dublin, Ireland) [thru 11.10]

Hawai'i Food & Wine Festival (Oahu, Hawaii) [thru 11.10]

Jazz Fest Sarajevo (Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina) [thru 11.9]

Stockholm International Film Festival (Stockholm, Sweden) [thru 11.17]

Worlds of Flavor International Conference and Festival (Napa Valley, California) [thru 11.8]

Feast Days

Adelaide of Italy (Christian; Saint)

Albert Camus (Writerism)

Alois Senefelder (Artology)

Barlaam of Khutyn (Christian; Saint)

Birth of the Bab (Baha'i) [1 Muharram]

Birth of Tiamat (Ancient Egyptian mother of gods, goddess of primeval chaos)

Burroughs Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Cosimo de Medici the Elder (Positivist; Saint)

Dabucuri uiga, (Initiation Rites of the Young Men; to Jurupari, South American Guarani/Tupi God)

Demetrian (Christian; Saint)

Dodo Grieving Day (Pastafarian)

Feast of All Saints of Ireland (Ireland)

Festival of Total Submission

Herne’s Day II: Predator (Pagan)

Illtud (a.k.a. Illtyd or Iltntus; Christian; Saint)

Illitud’s Bell (Celtic Book of Days)

Learn a New Swear Word Day (Pastafarian)

Leonard of Noblac (Christian; Saint) [Coopers] *

Los Posadas (Latin America) [until 12.24]

Lucy Jones (Muppetism)

Melaine of Rennes (Christian; Saint)

Misa de Gallo begins (Rooster’s Mass; Philippines) [until 12.24]

Stephanie Vozzo (Artology)

Tiamat the Dragon Mother Day (Everyday Wicca)

Winds of Change Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Winnoc (Christian; Saint)

Wish-Granting Championships (Fairies; Shamanism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Tycho Brahe Unlucky Day (Scandinavia) [33 of 37]

Uncyclopedia Bad to Be Born Today (because it’s National Day to Lose Money on Horses.)

Unglückstage (Unlucky Day; Pennsylvania Dutch) [26 of 30]

Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [51 of 60]

Premieres

All Along the Watchtower, recorded by Bob Dylan (Song; 1967)

And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie (Mystery Novel; 1939) [29]

Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who (Song; 1971)

The Boondocks (Animated TV Series; 2005)

Chew Chew Baby or Stick to Your Gums (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 175; 1962)

A Cowboy Needs a Horse (Disney Cartoon; 1956)

Cry Freedom (Film; 1987)

Elizabeth (Film; 1998)

The Flea Circus (Tex Avery MGM Cartoon; 1954)

Forget-Me-Net, Parts 3 & 4 (Underdog Cartoon, S2, Eps. 31 & 32; 1965)

Foxtrot, by Genesis (Album; 1972)

Go Down Mooses or The Fall Guy (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 70; 1960)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Film; 2005) [#4]

Head (Film; 1968)

Hiding Out (Film; 1987)

Hold What You’ve Got, by Joe Tex (Song; 1964)

Ickle Meets Pickle (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1942)

Jersey Boys (Broadway Musical; 2005)

John Wesley Harding, recorded by Bob Dylan (Song; 1967)

Justify My Love, by Madonna (Album; 1990)

Kitty Caddy (Phantasies Cartoon; 1947)

Less Than Zero (Film; 1987)

Little Good Beep (WB LT Cartoon; 2000)

The Little Match Girl (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1937)

Little Red Walking Hood (WB MM Cartoon; 1937)

Made in Heaven, by Queen (Album; 1995)

Meet the Press (TV Series; 1947)

The Missing Mountain or Peek-a-Boo Peak (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 69; 1960)

The Moon Fell in the River, by Guy Lombardo (Song; 1940)

Paper Doll, by The Mills Brothers (Song; 1943)

Passenger 57 (Film; 1992)

Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd., by The Monks (Album; 1967)

Precious (Film; 2009)

Rain of Terror or The Desperate Showers (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 176; 1962)

The Robot Spy (Animated TV Show;Jonny Quest #8; 1964)

Secrets of Life (Short Documentary Film; 1956)

Ski-Napper (Chilly Willy Cartoon; 1964)

Sky Trooper (Disney Cartoon; 1942)

Spectre (UK Film; 2015) [James Bond #24]

Spotlight (Film; 2015)

Symphony No. 3 in A Minor, by Sergei Rachmaninoff (Symphony; 1936)

Time Bandits (Film; 1981)

24 (TV Series; 2001)

The Universe in a Nutshell, by Stephen Hawking (Book; 2001)

The Unpopular Mechanic (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1936)

An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, by P.D. James (Novel; 1972)

When We Were Very Young, by A.A.Milne (Children’s Book; 1924)

Wintertime Dreams, recorded by Woody Herman (Song; 1936)

Woody’s Kook-Out (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1961)

Your Friend the Rat (Pixar Cartoon; 2007)

The Zoo (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1933)

Today’s Name Days

Christina, Leonhard, Rudolf (Austria)

Leonard, Melanija, Sever, Vedran (Croatia)

Liběna (Czech Republic)

Leonhardus (Denmark)

Aadi, Aado, Aadu, Ado, Adolf (Estonia)

Mimosa (Finland)

Bertille, Léonard (France)

Christine, Leonhard, Nina (Germany)

Leonardo (Greece)

Lénárd (Hungary)

Leonardo (Italy)

Leo, Leonards, Leonhards, Leons, Linards (Latvia)

Ašmantas, Leonardas, Vygaudė (Lithuania)

Lennart, Leonard (Norway)

Feliks, Leonard, Trzebowit, Ziemowit (Poland)

Pavel (Romania)

Renáta (Slovakia)

Alejandro, Leonardo, Severo (Spain)

Adolf, Gustav (Sweden)

Mac, Mack, Mackenzie, Makenzie, Mckenzie (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 311 of 2024; 55 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of Week 45 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Hagal (Hailstone) [Day 11 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Yi-Hai), Day 6 (Jia-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 5 Heshvan 5785

Islamic: 4 Jumada I 1446

J Cal: 11 Wood; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 24 October 2024

Moon: 24%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 3 Frederic (12th Month) [Guicciardini / Philippe de Comines]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Autumn or Fall (Day 45 of 90)

Week: 1st Full Week of November

Zodiac: Scorpio (Day 14 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

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