#could be tried for climate-related deaths

[alicemccombs]

“Because oil companies fought to delay climate action despite knowing about global warming, there is a case to be made that they committed reckless or negligent homicide, according to Public Citizen.”

Exactly what I’ve been saying for years.

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[crow-stars]

❝LET'S GO ICE SKATING❞

❦summary; ice skating can be such a fun time, though that may depend on whether you're new to the rink or have a bit of experience under your belt. ♪the characters in this story; ignihyde, idia shroud, ortho shroud, gn!reader ✎word count; ~494 words ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous idia, school trip to an ice skating rink, falling chatacters, first times on ice, mentions of climates in respective twst characters homeland, fun times ☛the author's notes; continuing my failboy loser idia agenda. also not me totally forgetting about ortho's athletic gear until i was half done ☪look at the catalogue?

❛IDIA SHROUD❜

❀ Fail boy loser

❀ Look at him getting sunlight as he falls on his ass 

❀ I will never not make fun of him

❀ We all know that Idia definitely didn’t want to be out in the cold, no less an ice rink

❀ He’s going to be complaining the whole time and refusing to get onto the ice because he knows he’s going to fall

❀ And he does

❀ Oh does Idia fall 

❀ And it isn’t a swift death for him, oh no

❀ When Idia gets onto the ice (through Ortho’s urging), his legs are shaking and he’s desperately clinging onto the sides of the rink and whoever allows him to

❀ Well would you look at that!

❀ Idia got onto the ice!

❀ Maybe there’s hope for Idia to actually be able to ice skate—

❀ He slipped and fell on his back

❀ Oh dear.

❀ Okay, so Idia tried to get momentum and he fell and now he is refusing to get back onto the ice

❀ This boy has no balance, he is a shrimp. And now that he’s fallen and embarrassed himself, Idia is going to retreat back to the safety of his room

❀ Please comfort him or he’ll never leave his room again

❀ Idia will be rambling and raving about how otakus like him aren’t meant to be outside

❀ He’s going to probably sitting inside for the rest of the holiday season

❀ You should probably bring Idia some hot chocolate, that might make him feel better :)

❛ORTHO SHROUD❜

❀ Don’t let him on the ice

❀ He’s a safety hazard

❀ Also I’m pretty sure that you just shouldn’t let him out into the snow 

❀ And Ortho’s not happy about that. Until he remembers that he has his athletic gear

❀ And when he remembers, ohohoho

❀ Ortho is absolutely excited. And, even though he doesn’t want to go out, Idia is definitely making Ortho a custom pair of skating (because in no way is Ortho getting borrowed ice skates that don’t fit the rest of the aesthetic)

❀ When the day comes, Ortho is practically as excited as a golden retriever puppy, talking about how he was excited to go ice skating

❀ I’d like to think that Ortho tried refraining from scanning any material related to ice skating so that he could get the full experience of being on ice for the first time

❀ And when Ortho gets on the ice, he stumbles a bit, but pleasantly surprised as well. 

❀ He’ll definitely have to cling onto someone for a bit (not Idia), mostly like you until Ortho can really get a hold of it

❀ Ortho looks like a gleeful child, if the bright flickering flames of his mouthpiece say anything

❀ Honestly, the whole time, Ortho is just a little bundle of joy 

❀ Like, he’s doing that little thing where Ortho is like “look at me!” and then he does a small little thing 

❀ I just wanna think that this is the time where Ortho gets to act like a genuine kid

[ghost-bxrd]

So, I was skimming the Fae!Dick tag, looking for Dick's reaction to Bruce's "death" and Tim's trip around the world and this happened when I found it.

(I left a bunch of these as a reply but also realized that your activity might be very overwhelming and you wouldn't see it. I don't want you to stress of that, but, like a cat, I move my present to your pillow/inbox where you are sure to see it. Hope you like it more than a mouse. Though I'm leaving off the stuff not directly related to the scene.)

Tim goes on BruceQuest without telling Fae!Dick.

Tim had known that Dick would come for him. Probably... He'd had his hands full keeping Jason and Cass in the house and Tim could be unobtrusive. He had NOT considered what it would be like to be hunted by his older brother. Benignly hunted. Nothing that could hurt him, but Tim knew the instant that Dick noticed he was gone because he could feel an unearthliness nipping at his heels. The baying of the deer. The way trees where ever he went leaned towards him, reaching for him. But he had to keep going. He couldn't let Dick catch up to him until he KNEW for SURE. Not until he had proof that Bruce was really alive. Because if he wasn't and Tim told Dick that he was... Tim had no idea what would happen. But he couldn't be responsible for breaking Dick's heart like that (his own would be enough weight to bear).

He stuck to cities and museums when he could. Places it was harder for Dick to reach him. The League of Assassins tried to join him, they wanted him for something (and to know if he was right). Tim KNEW it was a bad idea, especially for them, but they kept trying. Even though they looked more and more wary and haunted every time they met up. Tim eventually allowed them to accompany him just to protect them from Dick's eventual wrath... His final destination was the desert. If he was right, this was the final location that could prove to him, to Dick that this was real. It didn't matter that the natural beauty of the desert would allow Dick to find him. If Bruce was out there, flung back in time, Tim could show him... if not then he was wrong and he would have to come up with an excuse for why he'd run off and accept the house arrest and benign smothering and being the primary target of Dick's... 'security features' for the foreseeable future.

From there, I can't decide if Dick shows up as Tim is being stabbed or before... if it's before Dick can join Tim in the cave and Tim can show him the bat carving, kind of a pleasant emotionally satisfying moment though I'm not sure that Dick would take his time instead of just grabbing his wayward brother. If it's as he's being stabbed, it's more action packed but I don't think Tim would have even a second to tell Dick about Bruce. Everything around them would be utterly destroyed.

Also, Tim will be experiencing house arrest and benign smothering right or wrong. Yes, it's good that he worked out Bruce is alive. THAT IS NO EXCUSE FOR LEAVING DICK'S SPACE, TIM. AND YOU WILL HAVE TO SUFFER THE OVER PROTECTIVE CONSEQUENCES. (Dick might even put him in an enchanted sleep when he has to wrangle the others. Just to make sure that he doesn't go anywhere. Is that in his wheelhouse? No clue. But I have faith that Dick would find a way.)

oof yeah sorry about that. This blog has grown so much since I started it I have trouble remembering and replying to everything sometimes >.<

I love this idea! Though I think that, as a fae tied to the forest, Dick would have a hard time entering the desert. He would manage for a short while (especially for his family) but it would also drain him pretty quickly. Much like a regular human who isn't used to the harsh sun and climate.

But yeah, I totally agree it would end with Dick dragging Tim back home with SEVERAL lectures waiting to happen.

Good luck to Tim trying to leave the manor--- ever, after that. (Jk, Dick would cut back on the smothering protectiveness eventually). But for several months every turn Tim tries to take that would lead him to the outside ends with the hallways suddenly branching off back to where he started.

Jason and Cass would be entirely unsympathetic to Tim's plight. (they were also worried)

[ninjago-sideblog]

Skybound had so many good ideas and concepts that I really like the season for. On the other hand, it fumbled like 80% of those ideas soooo hard that makes me want to cry.

(suuuper long indulgent rant about Skybound underneath cut read at your own risk)

Nadakhan is my favorite villain in a bubble. He’s this disgraced djinn prince who runs away from his home realm to become one of the most feared pirate captains in Ninjago and when he tries to return home, it’s all crumbling. He then exacts revenge on those who destroyed his home by manipulating them and toying with them psychologically, eventually trapping their souls in a sword? Badass, right?

Except that all of this cool characterization is contradicted and bastardized left and right. The season dumbs down the ninja instead of making Nadakhan smarter so he can win. When he gains the ability to make his own wishes, he resorts to immediately killing everyone. His obsession with Nya is really weird considering that she was the one who CAUSED Djinnjago to get destroyed.

Jay and Nya’s character arcs are really interesting too. In a bubble. Jay has to step up as a leader after all his friends were taken by this guy, who he has to face after he kidnapped and tortured him. He fucked around and found out the hard way and has to make up for it. Nya continues to struggle with her identity and coming into her own as a ninja and not having Samurai X to latch onto. They both have to fight to keep each other safe and make sacrifices and fall back in love.

Once again though, this is all fumbled and explored in a way that makes me tear my hair out. Jay is a selfish obsessive whiny asshole who’s pining for Nya is super uncomfortable and annoying to watch instead of cute or relatable. Nya is an even bigger asshole than he is. She lets Clouse get away in the beginning to throw a tantrum on Jay, which causes Nadakhan to be freed in the first place. She causes Jay to nearly get killed by the Tiger Widow and then get kidnapped/tortured, all because she was mad at him.

So many other plot points and character choices make me so upset it really detracts from the season as a whole. To name some:

Kai’s ultra inflated ego/obsession with social media and girls

Dareth

Forcefully inserted misogyny

All of the prison arc. All of it.

Ronin betraying the ninja for the police. I get he likes money, but the ninja saved his ass and he is a known criminal. Just a weird place to take his character.

The ninja turning on Jay immediately and effectively sacrificing him to the ultra deadly giant spider

Cole and Lloyd being unceremoniously/anti-climatically removed from the season so Jay and Nya could be alone

Marriage plot (specifically Delara and the marriage plot only ever being used as an excuse for Nadakhan to fight with Jay over Nya which is really gross)

I wish Delara was explored more and was not a creepy Nya clone for Nadakhan to drool over, ew

Dareth

Cole, Lloyd, and Nya using up their wishes immediately in really stupid ways

Tonal whiplash from the goofy lighthearted first half of the season to the dark hopeless second half

Echo Zane (before the Echo fans come after me, I like his character, but he just introduces a lot of plot implications that are never resolved or addressed for a character who has like 10 minutes of screen time max and never gets to come back)

We never learn why Cliff and ‘Libber’ abandoned Jay with the Walkers. Cliff obviously cared about his son, he made a shrine for him in his dressing room, so why did he never contact him before his death? What happened to Jay’s mom? Did Wu know? It’s annoying to have this plot point, only for it to never be explored in the whole show besides a line about being adopted in Prime Empire. Maybe we’ll get some context in Dragons Rising, but I doubt it.

We were robbed from a rematch between Captain Soto and Nadakhan

I honestly wouldn’t mind the ending, if it wasn’t for the fact that the writers can’t decide wether everyone remembers the alternate timeline or not. That and it’s seems like the events of Skybound don’t effect Jay and Nya in later seasons like at all besides a wink and a nudge at the viewer. Once again, Jay was kidnapped and physically/psychologically abused and tortured, and Nya straight up died. They are the only people who (completely) remember and gained what should be a massive amount of trauma but nope! Lloyd has more on-screen/canon trauma over Harumi than Nya does about DYING or Jay does about TORTURE. Again, I don’t think that Dragons Rising will explore this to any extent either.

I also don’t mind the whole trapping the ninja in the Djinnblade thing, I just wish the ninja could have had more screen time. Either by keeping them around longer before trapping them, or showing what inside the sword was like idk

Nadakhan and Jay are kinda weird because I’m not sure why he singled him out out of all of the ninja. I know the Doylist answer is that Jay is the focus character for the season, but I find it weird that instead of getting the other ninja while he could, he wasted a lot of his time toying with Jay on Misfortunes Keep. Why didn’t he just kidnap all of the ninja on Tiger Widow Island instead of giving them a chance of escape. His obsession with Jay could have been easily explained or explored it it never is?

TL;DR, Skybound is a mess of really good and really bad ideas Frankensteined together in the messiest, laziest way they could. I still like it quite a bit, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t frustrate the hell out of me.

[sronti]

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

In Brazil’s Favelas, Green Roofs Might Help Relieve the Heat

How one group in Rio de Janeiro teamed up with researchers to adapt green roof technology for their community.

Sweat was dripping down Luis Cassiano’s face. It was 2012, and Rio de Janeiro’s hottest day to date: At nearly 110 degrees Fahrenheit, the seaside city had just barely beaten its previous record set in 1984.

Cassiano and his mother, then 82, had lived in the same narrow four-story house since they moved to Parque Arará, a favela in northern Rio, some 20 years earlier. Like many other homes in the working-class community — one of more than 1,000 favelas in the Brazilian city of over 6.77 million — its roof is made of asbestos tiles. But homes in his community are now often roofed with corrugated steel sheets, a material frequently used for its low cost. It’s also a conductor of extreme heat.

While the temperatures outside made his roof hot enough to cook an egg — Cassiano said he once tried and succeeded — inside felt worse. “I only came home to sleep,” said Cassiano. “I had to escape.”

Parque Arará mirrors many other low-income urban communities, which tend to lack greenery and are more likely to face extreme heat than their wealthier or more rural counterparts. Such areas are often termed “heat islands” since they present pockets of high temperatures — sometimes as much as 20 degrees hotter than surrounding areas.

That weather takes a toll on human health. Heat waves are associated with increased rates of dehydration, heat stroke, and death; they can exacerbate chronic health conditions, including respiratory disorders; and they impact brain function. Such health problems will likely increase as heat waves become more frequent and severe with climate change. According to a 2021 study published in Nature Climate Change, more than a third of the world’s heat-related deaths between 1991 and 2018 could be attributed to a warming planet.

The extreme heat worried Cassiano. And as a long-time favela resident, he knew he couldn’t depend on Brazil’s government to create better living conditions for his neighbors, the majority of whom are Black. So, he decided to do it himself.

While speaking with a friend working in sustainable development in Germany, Cassiano learned about green roofs: an architectural design feature in which rooftops are covered in vegetation to reduce temperatures both inside and outdoors. The European country started to seriously explore the technology in the 1960s, andby 2019, had expanded its green roofs to an estimated 30,000 acres, more than doubling in a decade.

“Why can’t favelas do that too?” he recalled thinking.

Continue reading.

[nerves-nebula]

oh shoot sorry it sounded like prejudice, my apologies

(long, also tw??) It's more like in my town there's only like 2 motels and one is 1000% a love motel (which, not saying those are bad, but that building is such a health hazard that it gets closed down a lot. Anyone going there is risking their life tbh). And the other one shut down a while back after the roof collapsed.

There's a fair bit of shady things that go on around here (we're a town that's big enough to be considered a city but it's more like a small town that just kept growing to include other small towns. It's weird and means that there's sections of town that's built up and large sections of older houses kinda falling apart) which means we're uhh on route between larger cities for not great things. (trafficking, kidnapping, etc sorta bad stuff).

Even though there's strict gun laws here there's a surprising amount of covered up shootings (and in general murder and unnatural deaths) that happen, like we're not in america and we have multiple-times-a-year shooting drills at school. Our town was once called the murder city before the 2000s lol.

It's more for general safety, though there's a huge homeless issue here. There's not enough homes, rent is extreme, there's far more people than there should be dying on the streets of overdoses, etc etc and a lot of covering it up/it not being reported/publicized. However the locations of the motels are too far from the main downtown so it's more of a "it's horrible that people have to choose between the streets and walking for an hour or three for an overpriced mouldy room".

ig that's just reflective of the current climate here, I could go on but the town's gotten pretty bad lately. Cops suck, town section divides, stalking/harassment, and all the other stuff I could go on about. It really is terrible that there's nothing happening to push for more affordable housing and help for those that need it, and I really really hope the best for everyone in a bad situation (i myself was homeless for a month before getting an overcharged room with a shady dude. I ended up sleeping in trees lol) but it's like balancing between sympathy and not wanting to get attacked, hate crimed, stalked, or whatever else.

Not to say that it'll happen the moment someone goes outside, but it's also like.. more common than it should be. I've had some run in with people on the bus harassing me and trying to find out where to find me where there wouldn't be surveillance. It's pretty easy to find drug deals going on. There's extremely few mental health resources and even less that are even available and there's a huge shortage of doctors. There's a tent town that has appeared in the news coercing children into "moving in," and the police basically said the kids are choosing to run away and if the parent's can't stop them it isn't their issue. A guy one of my cousins was dating was shot by a cop because his older brother was involved in all that (RIP).

ig it's a thing my parents taught as a way of protection. Kids in our family get pocket tools (aka protection aka legal way to carry a knife) once you're old enough to be out and about on your own, and it's probably added to a part of the family having to talk to protective services because of gang related issues and other stuff. My uncle (ayy hunter moment) on one side is a known child predator with a group of friends with similar tastes and has tried kidnapping a different cousin (and possibly other kids) and tried doing that to me at his own son's funeral (my name was changed so I could better avoid him). He's connected with my aunt who was forced into a situation where they were group raising kids and a few died and child protective has done nothing :/

We ain't rich and it's more of developing a radar of "will that place kill you or not" sorta thing, possibly related to all the shit happening in my family. Like there's SO many people cut off because they've tried killing kids or other stuff. We've been robbed the few times. My family will choose to park the car outside of the city and sleep in it rather than use the motel rooms, or camp in the better seasons. We had to do that when I was in grade 7 because we were homeless for a few months. Had a lot of sleep overs that time lmao.

Sorry for rambling, I've been trying to move outta here for a while but the nearest towns are pretty bad too. The only times I've been to the motel is when helping out my cousin who does prostitution sometimes and sometimes has had clients that are too much trouble so there's definitely some trauma association there.

Anyways I'm glad to hear that outside of my town outside halls are good and not a sign of risk!!

no need for apologies i was sure you had reasons and I didn't necessarily expect an explanation, it just reminded me of stuff going on in my home town is all.

im sorry you're in such a shit situation, it sounds awful. I hope you can move away sooner rather than later. but for now your "will that place kill you or not" radar seems useful so I'm glad you have it.

and i dont mind rambling. i like to hear about other people's lives (in case that wasn't clear from me reading and responding to almost every ask I get hah) and I like hearing why you think the things you do, or why you have certain associations that I don't. its always interesting.

[irunevenus]

King Louis XVI: The Monarch Who Could Not Save France from Revolution

Louis XVI (1754–1793) is often remembered as one of the last kings of France, whose reign culminated in the French Revolution and the subsequent downfall of the monarchy. Ascending to the throne in 1774, Louis faced a France in crisis, marked by economic troubles, social inequality, and growing dissatisfaction with absolute monarchy. While attempting to implement reforms, his inability to meet popular demands and his disconnection from the social realities of the country contributed to his tragic downfall. This article examines the life of Louis XVI, his attempts at reform, the atrocities that marked his reign, and ultimately his execution.

A Promising Start and the Rise to the Throne

Louis-Auguste was born on August 23, 1754, in Versailles, the son of the Dauphin Louis Ferdinand and Dauphine Maria José. He became the Dauphin of France after the death of his grandfather, Louis XV, and received an education preparing him to rule, though his character leaned more toward peace than war. In 1770, he married Marie Antoinette, the Archduchess of Austria, a political union intended to strengthen relations between France and Austria.

When Louis XVI ascended to the throne in 1774, he found France in crisis. The country faced enormous debts accumulated from previous wars, including the Seven Years' War. Despite his goodwill and intentions to implement financial reforms, such as working with Minister Jacques Necker, Louis hesitated to make drastic decisions, leading to widespread discontent among the people.

Attempts at Reform and Resistance to Change

During the early years of his reign, Louis XVI and his ministers attempted to implement a series of reforms to stabilize the economy and alleviate social tensions. Necker proposed tax cuts and a fairer taxation system. However, the interests of the nobility and clergy, who resisted any form of reform that could threaten their privileges, complicated these changes.

Moreover, the financial crisis continued to worsen, leading Louis to convene the Estates-General in 1789, an assembly that brought together representatives from the three estates of society: the clergy, the nobility, and the common people. This convening was a crucial moment, as it revealed deep popular dissatisfaction and a growing demand for representation and reform.

The French Revolution and the Fall of the Monarchy

With the convening of the Estates-General, the Third Estate, representing the vast majority of the population, formed the National Assembly and pledged not to disband until a new constitution was drafted. The revolutionary climate quickly intensified, culminating in significant events such as the Storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789, which symbolized the people's struggle against oppression.

Louis XVI's reaction was hesitant. Instead of supporting reforms, he attempted to reverse the course of events by calling troops to Versailles in hopes of intimidating the Assembly. This action only fueled further discontent. In October 1789, a crowd of Parisians marched to Versailles, demanding that the king and his family move to Paris, where they could be more accessible to the people.

In 1791, Louis and Marie Antoinette attempted to flee to Austria in search of military support, but they were captured in Varennes. This failure further eroded the public’s trust in the king, who began to be viewed as a traitor.

The Abolition of the Monarchy and Execution

As the Revolution progressed, sentiment against the monarchy intensified. In September 1792, the National Convention officially abolished the monarchy, and Louis XVI was tried for treason. During his trial, he appeared disconnected from reality and continued to insist that he was a divinely appointed monarch, denying the charges and portraying himself as a victim of circumstances.

On January 21, 1793, Louis XVI was executed by guillotine in a public square, an event that shocked both supporters and opponents of the Revolution. His death symbolized the end of the era of absolutism in France and marked a new beginning, but it also plunged the country into a period of extreme violence and instability known as the Reign of Terror.

The Legacy of Louis XVI

The legacy of Louis XVI is complex. While he faced enormous challenges during his reign, his inability to connect with the people and his resistance to significant change contributed to the revolution that dismantled the monarchy. His execution was a turning point in French history, representing the people's struggle for freedom and equality, but also a moment of tragedy and loss.

Louis XVI is often seen as a tragic symbol of an obsolete monarchical system that failed to adapt to the new demands of modern society. His life and death reflect the deep tensions between absolutism and republican aspirations that characterized the late 18th century, the repercussions of which still resonate in France and around the world today.

[a-lwni]

i was talking to my coworker earlier about his old roommate - he claims this guy is the only person in his life he's ever left things on bad terms with. the only person...

i smiled and nodded as if i could relate but , ,

hm not wanting to shortchange myself here, bad habit - for me it's a case of... for most of my life not knowing how to talk about differences in communication styles. or how to be secure in the differences

not knowing how to change a relationship when it feels too consuming, i've ghosted countless people. [but these days i wouldn't shy away from about running into them again, i'd pick right back up where we left it. whether or not that will be welcome is a different story, and case by case]

this afternoon i finished a book where the oldest sister, a parental figure since well before the early deaths of the parents, after making sure that her sisters were stable or at least able to take care of themselves, tries to disappear. she does her best not to be found.

her sisters come looking for her of course, the novel is mostly about them finding her.

at the end tho, there's this touching scene where the youngest - who sees her most clearly - gives her permission to be devastated. by the world [the novel is a kind of disguised climate novel], by grief, by expectations. permission to be devastated and not hide it

a type of permission that... the people that need it most don't know how to ask for it.

one of the many reasons i love lz is that she has perfected to open invitation. - i'm doing this thing on this day and would love for you to be there, would love to share it w you, but your presence is by no means required. it will be happening without you.

i can't describe to you how liberating it felt to discover the truth in these invites. to be able to show up without the weight of accumulated absences, i didn't think it was a possibility in a sustainable relationship, and yet

[meandmybigmouth]

Accountability? It's unheard of in america and will be struck down!

[mmckenna]

Positives of Autonomous Vehicles

When we think of autonomous vehicles, we tend to think they are futuristic as if they only belong in sci-fi movies. However they are already being tried and tested to be the next gamechanger in the sustainability industry. Autonomous vehicles are only getting spoken about more now, with 84% of the papers around the topic from 2016. This then shows the broadening of research done in this topic and therefore increases the desire for them to be implemented on the roads.

Human error

Human error is one of the biggest causes of death on the roads with thousands of people dying each year across the world with no exception on money or class. However, in the recent years we are now seeing a solution to this deadly problem; autonomous cars, this means no human error can affect driving. This then means this technology is likely to be safer than the human brain as the information is from a computer and using sensors and radars for its information. (Sagar, V.D., 2019). 

Environmental impact 

Autonomous cars are said to be not only safer but also more sustainable and better for the environment as they are electric. It also means there are no toxic chemicals being put out ones that regular vehicles do such as nitrogen and carbon monoxide, meaning autonomous vehicles can be better human health too. It is believed that autonomous vehicles are a massive movement in the force to try and significantly reduce greenhouse gas emissions (Igliński, H., et al., 2017) as right now, transportation is around a quarter to a third of all greenhouse gases (Faisal, A., 2019)

Public transport

If automated vehicles are integrated into public transportation this could mean more reliable services and less wages to pay. Automated vehicles in public transport have already been tried and tested in some countries such as Germany where they developed the first autonomous tram. This was a success as various tests were done on the tram to tests its ability to sense objects in the middle of the tack, in these tests the tram stopped very successfully due to its algorithms. This then means the tram would stop quickly for anything else that would get in the way of the track e.g. pedestrians or cyclists. In Finland an autonomous minibus was in use for around 6 months, where it was driving people to areas closer to where they lived as a final mode of transportation. Finland had created this bus to see if the trial would lead to a rise in the use of the locals using public transport rather than taking their own car. Which was in an effort to try minimising use of fossil fuels and carbon dioxide, showing automated vehicles in public transport could be a step in the right direction in terms of sustainability.  (Pisarov, J.L. and Mester, G., 2021)

Reducing drink driving 

The use of autonomous vehicles also could have an impact of drink driving. It is said that if autonomous vehicles were mainstream it could potentially cause a decrease in the rates of drink driving due to accessible and convenient transport. As stated earlier many accidents come from human error with 22% from drink driving, reinforcing just how much a huge problem the issue is. In a study it showed that just over 70% of people would consider using an autonomous vehicle if they had alcohol or medication in their system, showing once people are aware of the benefits of autonomous vehicles, they are much more willing and accepting of the idea. Ride-hailing services such as uber suggest that there could be a reduced rate of alcohol- related traffic fatalities as with autonomous vehicles are also convenient. However, it is said that shared autonomous vehicles could be an even better way of travel than ride-hailing services because it would be cheaper as there is no driver. (Booth, L., et al, 2020). 

Overall autonomous cars are a massive gamechanger in so many aspects such as potentially reducing the number of deaths with less risk of drink driving and to help slow down climate change due to autonomous cars have no carbon emissions. In my opinion people need to look at autonomous cars with a more open mind and see the amazing benefits they have to offer.

References

Booth, L., Norman, R. and Pettigrew, S., 2020. The potential effects of autonomous vehicles on alcohol consumption and drink‐driving behaviours. Drug and alcohol review, 39(5), pp.604-607.

Faisal, A., Kamruzzaman, M., Yigitcanlar, T. and Currie, G., 2019. Understanding autonomous vehicles. Journal of transport and land use, 12(1), pp.45-72.‌

Igliński, H. and Babiak, M., 2017. Analysis of the potential of autonomous vehicles in reducing the emissions of greenhouse gases in road transport. Procedia engineering, 192, pp.353-358.

Pisarov, J.L. and Mester, G., 2021. The use of autonomous vehicles in transportation. Tehnika, 76(2), pp.171-177.

Sagar, V.D. and Nanjundeswaraswamy, T.S., 2019. Artificial intelligence in autonomous vehicles-a literature review. i-Manager's Journal on Future Engineering and Technology, 14(3), p.56.

[docpiplup]

Toledo La Ciudad de los Muertos

Part 3- Chapter I. Funerary practices in ancient times (Click here for the second part)

Chapter I. Funerary practices in ancient times

Funeral practices begin at the moment when humans believe in survival after death, adopting an attitude of fear, love and respect for those who leave life. With homo sapiens a metaphysical beginning appears when applying the ritual of burial. However, in this stage of the advanced Paleolithic, cannibalism and incineration are not banished. In the Mesolithic, only the skulls of those buried are found, proof of the importance given to this part of the human body with respect to the others. In this same period we also find groups of burials, which makes us think about the existence of organized primitive cemeteries, that is, necropolises, which tells us about the existence of cities of the dead before they died. the living were organized in them, having to wait for the arrival of the Neolithic. Some authors affirm that "for nearly five thousand years, the living have dedicated themselves to thinking about the dead before themselves" (Grilletto).

Humans, from the first stages of their intelligent presence on Earth, have thought about death and the afterlife.

In their cultural evolution they have been weaving, through religious beliefs, superstitions and myths, a system to maintain at least some hope in the existence of a supraterrestrial life where they would inhabit immaterially.

Some civilizations thought that by preserving the body from destruction they would enjoy a spiritual life conditioned on the material maintenance of the remains. Embalming techniques were then developed in those places where special climatic conditions did not allow natural mummification.

This belief spread throughout all continental civilizations, where different ethnicities and cultures applied very diver-

ses to maintain mummified bodies: from systems such as drying using the sun and smoke to more sophisticated techniques that we all know in the Egyptian, Babylonian and Western world. All of them have tried to imitate Nature when it has surprised them with the natural conservation of corpses.

Mummies, for example, are typical of all civilizations, since their artificial preparation would respond to universally accepted religious beliefs or the will of the deceased.

Mummification process in ancient Egypt

Sometimes spontaneous mummification gave rise to the development of new concepts that ended up in doctrines linked to the supernatural and the closeness of the deceased to divinity.

In Toledo we also found phenomena of spontaneous mummification, as we will see later, although these were never associated with any ritual.

The Holy Scriptures also collect very ancient testimonies about funerary practices. Family tombs and embalmings appear in Genesis itself.

Sarah, the wife of the patriarch Abraham was buried in a field that her husband bought from Ephron the Hittite in Makpelah, near Hebron, and was deposited in a cave where Abraham also found rest. Likewise, his son Isaac and his wife Rebeca were buried in the same place, creating what we could call a family burial. The son of the above was Jacob, father of twelve children who died in Egypt at the age of 147, asking to be buried with his parents and grandparents in the cave of Makpelá, more than 600 km away, so his body was embalmed, "then he commissioned the doctors who were under his command to embalm his father; and the doctors embalmed Jacob. They spent forty days on it, because this is the time it takes to embalm, and the Egyptians wept for sixty days" (Genesis, 50, 1-3). All of Joseph's brothers took Jacob to the family vault, near Hebron. Also upon the death of Joseph, and after the Israelites left Egypt, they took his embalmed body to the field purchased by Abraham.

Passages about burials are frequent in the Old Testament. In the Book of Kings or in the Book of Tobias, stories related to Jewish burials in Babylon are told: "...when you prayed with tears and buried the dead and you got up from the table half-eaten and hid day by day the corpses in your house and you buried them at night, I presented your prayers to the Lord" (Tobias, 12, 12-13).

These practices of uniting the family after death, which remained deeply rooted in the Jewish people, passed on to Christianity, reaching our culture after a journey of centuries, often conditioning the social and cultural manifestations themselves regarding Christian burials.

[stevensaus]

Searching For Justice Against The World's Worst Mass Murderers.

Let's talk about climate change as what it really is. Mass murder. I do not mean attempted or planned mass murder. I'm using present tense on purpose. It's happening right now. In 2021, the world's largest study of mortality related to global climate linked five million deaths each year to abnormal temperatures. {1} In the same year, two other studies came out which raised further alarms: One of the studies finds the number of deaths caused by high temperatures increased by 74% globally between 1980 and 2016. Deaths related to extreme cold increased 31% since 1990, a new report, the first of its kind, finds. -- CNN And those numbers may actually be fifty times larger. The news that environmental activists in Montana won a historic case, with a judge ruling "that Montana’s oil and gas policies are infringing on young people’s constitutional rights to a safe environment," is good to hear. That a freshman congressperson from New Mexico has introduced a "bill aimed at compensating oil field workers and immediate relatives for uninsured medical costs related to air pollution and heat-related illness" is a nice change of pace. But they still seem like a very dim light in a world -- quite literally -- on fire. But they may be more useful than it appears. Trying to hold those responsible for climate change as responsible for criminal murder charges would be near impossible. But it certainly seems like the Montana ruling has now created a precedent acknowledging that climate change, caused by emissions from fossil fuels, creates an unsafe environment. The proposed federal legislation -- should it become law -- also explicitly ties temperature increases and illness. We have international research studies that quantify how unsafe that environment is, to the tally of several million deaths annually. And we know that fossil fuel companies -- and their individual executives -- were aware of climate change, its effects, and their role in it decades ago. They knew what they were doing. They did it anyway. They tried to hide evidence that they did it. And millions of people -- real people -- have died because of their actions. And that, to me, sounds like it could just be grounds for a whole mess of civil wrongful death lawsuits. Filed not against large corporations, but the individuals serving on the boards of those corporations. The lawmakers who have accepted their lobbying (screw you, Manchin, your yacht, and your epi-pen price-gouging daughter). All of them. After all, they knew decades ago what the effects of their actions would be, and they still haven't stopped. They actively misled the public about climate change. Their actions directly opposed efforts to halt climate change. This is not a secret. Every person involved in any of those actions is personally responsible for those who have died this year and every year due to temperature and weather related events. Every. Last. One. They knew what they were doing. They did it anyway. They tried to hide evidence that they did it. And millions of people -- real people -- have died because of their actions. We must do everything possible to hold them accountable for their premeditated crimes. I am not a lawyer, and have never been. My basis for this idea is based off of some quick -- very quick -- research. And I have no clue what legal mechanisms are available outside of the US to be able to drag these individuals -- not just the corporations, but the individuals -- into court. That said, there is enough evidence out there, enough already tied together by published and acknowledged research as well as judiciary precedent, that I hope those who are familiar with jurisprudence will take this idea and turn it into a whole mess of lawsuits and a whole lot of justice. And in the meantime, as the entirety of humanity looks down the barrel of a gun loaded by fossil fuel executives and their political cronies, well... I'll just say I wouldn't want to be one of the people who did anything to help load that environmental gun. {1} As an aside to the "pro-life" crowd, that's more than five times the number of deaths than there were abortions per year in the US. Figure your priorities out. Featured Image by Kristina Kasputienė from Pixabay Read the full article

[drwhotht]

Hurt So Good: A Doctor and His Umbrella

Hurt So Good: A Doctor and His Umbrella The Tour has done of its ‘legendary’ (quotes fully intended) deep dives on a Doctor Who personality, this time revisiting John Hurt, whose gallery is one of the Tour’s largest owing to the length and breadth of his career.  Of particular amusement was a sizable tranche of photos related to a 1971 theatrical ‘Cry of the Penguins’ (also known as ‘Mr. Forbush and the Penguins’) and a number of photos of Hurt, presumably in Antarctica cavorting with the titled penguins and, in mere insubstantial fascination for a Doctor Who fan, a multi-colored umbrella. Not exactly hard to see where this is going, is it? Notions of British gentility project, perhaps even stipulate, that an umbrella (or brolly as the idiom goes) is an essential part of an everyday ‘carry,’ a defense against the gray and wet of the predominant climate of that sceptured isle.  And Doctor Who was no more resistant to this than any other English export.  Patrick Troughton was spotted waiting out the wet with a couple of Yeti while recording The Abominable Snowmen.  Jon Pertwee had one (a bright one at that) at the very beginning of Death to the Daleks.  Even Tom Baker tried deploying a rather sad umbrella during The Brain of Morbius.  But of course the apotheosis would, and will likely always be, Colin Baker.  It was always prominent in his promotional materials and even could be sighted in stories from time to time, one of which was The Mysterious Planet.  Sadly the umbrella was not up to being used as a shield against stoning. Just a bit beyond normal operational parameters we would guess. Tags and categories: Tour Updates, Roundel Roundabouts, John Hurt, The Mysterious Planet, The Abominable Snowmen, Death to the Daleks, The Brain of Morbius, Colin Baker, Jon Pertwee, Patrick Troughton, Tom Baker via WordPress https://ift.tt/wH0YFPa April 27, 2023 at 12:40PM