#i got really exposed to the cold northern weather and i hate it

[the-kipsabian]

you know what made a big difference in my day today

putting some pictures i took at the nsp show as my phone lock screen and backgrounds 

[rickon-on-skagos]

Thaw

Pairing: Ned/Cersei

Prompt: Thaw from @asoiafrarepairs Spring Event

+++

From the way her bed was positioned in the room, Cersei could see the down into the yard. She spent most of the day looking out of the window since there was not much else to do since Maester Luwin had prescribed her bed rest for the last month of her pregnancy for both her and the baby’s health. For a while, she had tried to keep herself busy with needlework but quickly grew bored of it. 

She and Eddard had only been married for a little bit over a year but Cersei had quickly grew into her role at Winterfell, enjoying the way Ned trusted her to keep the servants in check. It was very different from what she was used to from Casterly Rock. Her father would have never let her do that, not when there were Kevan, Tygett or Gerion around. She had been there to look pretty and seduce the prince, nothing more. 

It hadn’t worked out how her father had planned. Cersei hadn’t married a prince and not the king, either. The prince had died and the king- the new king Robert Baratheon, First of his name- had married his true love Lyanna Stark. She had ended up with Eddard Stark. Her father had pushed for the match, unsurprisingly since there were almost no other man left that had been highborn enough for a match with her as Stannis Baratheon had married Catelyn Stark and her father would have never married her to Jon Arryn. 

She had been angry. She had raged about having to marry the northern recluse and moving into this sparse land. Cersei had wanted Jaime. She could not be queen but Jaime had been released from the Kingsguard and had come home, back to her just that she had to leave for Winterfell and he had to marry the other Tully girl, Lysa. Cersei had never been more mad in her life. Being in the North had not helped with that. The wedding had happened in the godswood, a place that still made her feel queasy today, and it had only made things worse back then. 

A soft knock snapped her out of her thoughts. 

    “Come in.” She called. 

Her husband looked almost sheepish as he came into the room, carrying a small tray. Cersei sat up a little straighter, one hand cradling her bump as he approached the bed. A delicious smell wafted over to her and her mouth started watering almost immediately. He made to say something but Cersei was faster. 

    “What’s that?” She asked, already reaching for the tray. 

He chuckled at lowly at that, his eyes wrinkling up as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

    “You said you wanted honey cakes so I got you some.” 

The cakes were delicious, sweet and crumbly, just the way she liked them best and she hummed around every bite, even going so far to lick her fingers clean of any residue. With no one but her husband in the room, she thought to let this slip for once. She was pregnant and very uncomfortable, after all. 

    “It’s thawing.” He said, looking out of the window. “Winter is over, a raven from the Citadel arrived today.” 

She watched him for a long moment, took him in and pondered. During the past few months, she had demanded some outlandish foods to fulfill her cravings and every single time, Eddard had gotten it and personally brought it to her. Robert would have never and she doubted Rhaegar would have either. But Eddard had. He also started taking his dinner in her chambers with her, trying to make it every evening and if he couldn’t, he’d send her an apology. It was… nice. 

Cersei did not love Eddard Stark but she stopped being so angry a while back. She had come here with every intend to wage war against the man who hated her brother so much for every day as long as she lived, had expected him to be cold and harsh, cruel-hearted. But he wasn’t. He had not greeted her with open arms but neither had she and it had taken them a long time until she had grown tired of lashing out and he had enough of avoiding her and then even longer for them work out somewhat of a system. 

He had come to her chamber a lot more, afterwards. It had been one of the things she gave him early into her marriage: Laying with Eddard had never been awful. Awkward, impersonal and, at times, stilted and cold but never bad. He had never slept with a woman before her which had been painfully obvious and he wasn’t her Jaime- nobody could ever be him- but he had been careful and patient, taking to her directions easily enough. 

She rubbed her bump, well aware of how he followed the movement, his fingers twitching. 

Cersei would almost call him handsome in this light. Not an almost ethereal beauty like Jaime was or Rhaegar had been or a rugged attractiveness like Robert but Ned was handsome, in a way. He was softer than his solemn face made him look but not weak how she had assumed at first. His eyes were dark grey and by all accounts, he should come off as cold and unapproachable but he didn’t. 

Her father had ruled by fear, making sure everyone knew what would happen when they betrayed the Lannisters but not Eddard. Eddard invited people to the high table during the rare feasts they held in the Great Hall and listened to them, talked with them and shared laughter with them. It had puzzled her- still did, sometimes- to see him rule with kindness and honor instead of terror. Nobody in Winterfell covered in fear at the name of their liege lord and many came to him for counsel, nobody fearing him like they feared her father. 

Eddard was a good man. 

    “Give me your hand.” She said. 

It surprised him, she could see it on his face but he did without asking any questions and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer until she could put it on her stomach. She held his hand- rough and calloused- in place and the child did not disappoint, kicking hard and strong. She winced uncomfortable. 

    “They’re strong.” Eddard said, a visible smile on his face. 

    “A strong son.” She agreed. 

She had to give him a son, father expected it of her. Every man wanted sons for their legacy. A long time ago, back when she had been a child and still naive, she had wished for daughters so she could brush their hair until it shone, read them the stories her mother used to read her and gift them dresses, jewelry and puppets for their name days. She quickly lost those dreams once she grew up. Men needed sons, not daughters. 

    “No matter whether it’s a son or a daughter, as long as they are healthy, I am happy.” 

Cersei looked up at him, green eyes meeting grey ones, and she saw the honesty in them and when Eddard leaned forward- obviously having seen something in her eyes, too- to kiss her brow, she didn’t flinch away. 

+++

The snow had not melted away completely when Cersei went into labour. Eddard hadn’t been with her when the contractions started but he was by her side once she was in the maester’s chamber, looking frazzled and worried. He held her hand as she screamed and cursed him to the seven hells and back for making her go through this. 

The air grew hot and stuffy quickly, her sweat-damp hair clinging to her skin as she pushed and pushed. It smelled like blood, too, and Cersei gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Eddard’s hand was surprisingly cool as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, whispering encouragement and praise. 

She didn’t know how long it took but her voice grew rough at some point and her breaths were closer to pants. It was the most humiliating thing Cersei had ever experienced. Spread apart and so undignified, she felt exposed and vulnerable and she wanted it to stop. Tears were burning in her eyes but she refused to let them fall, no matter how much it hurt. She was a lioness and lions do not cry. She gasped for air, fingers squeezing tight around Eddard’s hand. 

Cold lips were pressed against her temple and she instinctively leaned into the touch, mouthing words she herself didn’t know what they meant. A wail stopped her and she gasped, immediately trying to sit up just to be pushed down by the midwife. 

    “Let me-” She rasped. “Let me see my child.” 

It was a boy. Her son was small with pink skin, soft tufts of light hair and grey eyes and still screaming when she took him from the maester, announcing his presence loudly and Cersei loved him. 

He was perfect, absolutely perfect. 

+++

The godswood unnerved her still, especially the heart tree with its weeping face. She had rarely been to the Stone Garden in Casterly Rock, never seen a reason to. Something about the northern woods felt different. 

Her shoes sank into the muddy ground and she pursed her lips, her skirts lifted to not drag through the dirt. Spring had fully arrived and most of the snow had melted already, leaving everything wet and muddy. It wasn’t warm, yet, and Cersei wondered if it ever really got warm up here. 

She finally found her husband underneath the heartree, sitting in the shadow of the big tree, their son in his arms. He was talking in a too low voice for her to hear but she could see his lips move, not even noticing her as he was too focused on their son. It did something to her, seeing him taking an interest in their child. She pushed the feeling down harshly, not liking the way her heart leaped in her chest when she saw him sitting in the nursery, rocking an upset Robb back to sleep as if it was nothing. 

    “My lord.” She called out, catching his attention. 

He smiled at her and for a moment, Cersei wondered how she looked to him. She was beautiful, she knew that but what did he think about her? She had to look awfully out of place with her golden hair, her dress that, despite being weather appropriate, had a distinct style that was popular in the Westerland, adorned with complicated embroidery and the heavy golden jewelry she had brought with her. She didn’t look like the northern ladies that had visited Winterfell and she didn’t try to. Cersei was a lioness. 

    “My lady.” He replied as he stood up. 

She crossed the little clearing, passing by the dark pool and when Eddard held out his hand for her, she took it and let him guide her to where he had been sitting. He sat down next to her, Robb still safely nestled in his arm, blinking up owlishly at his father. She reached for him and Eddard gave him to her easily and both of them smiled at their son, soft and unguarded.

    “Maester Luwin was looking for you.” She said, suddenly remembering why she had come to look for him in the first place. “A letter from White Harbor arrived today.” 

Eddard nodded shortly and thanked her, kissing her brow again before leaving, his form quickly disappearing between the trees. She looked down at Robb and smiled when he grasped for her fingers, making some gurgling noises. It almost made her less angry about the letter tucked away in a pocket of her dress but not forgotten. 

She had written her father as soon as she could, telling him about the birth of his grandson and in his response he had not asked about her health, only asked- no, demanded- for another son to secure the line of inheritance. That was all that mattered to him. Eddard was different in that regard. 

Maester Luwin had advised them to wait a few moons before laying together again and Eddard had not pressed but accepted it. She had always heard about him being honorable to a fault but she had not expected him to actually be like that. Not once did he try to sleep with her anyway and she had yet to hear about any secret trips to the brothels in Wintertown. 

Robb yawned and Cersei kissed his forehead. She loved him so much it almost scared her. She didn’t even love Jaime this much and even if he would ride up to Winterfell now and asked her to abandon everything to run away with him she wouldn’t. Because of Robb. 

    “I love you.” She whispered to him. She had never told anyone but Jaime this. “I love you so much, little lion.” 

He just blinked at her, not understanding what she was saying but paying attention anyway and Cersei laughed. He looked a little bit like his father in that moment, she thought. Robb would never feel like an outsider here, the godswood would never be unnerving to him and he would be a great lord, she would make sure of it. 

+++

Cersei gave Robb to the handmaiden along with a few more instructions and once everything was to her satisfaction, she left and made her way towards Eddard’s chamber. Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she didn’t understand why. He was her husband, he had seen her naked several times and she had never been shy about her attractiveness nor sex but when Maester Luwin had told her she was cleared to see after her wifely duties again, something like nervousness had lodged itself into her stomach. It was still there when she knocked on his door. 

He looked a little bit surprised to see her but let her in anyway and as soon as he closed the door again, she stepped into his space. Since he was only a few inches taller than her, they were almost eye to eye when she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers curling into his long, dark strands. Almost hesitantly, he put his hands on her hips.

    “Cersei?” He asked quietly, a slight frown appearing on his face. 

She licked her lips, taking him in and finally leaned forwards, brushing their lips together in an almost tender kiss. Eddard let her, his fingers flexing slightly and he kissed her back shyly. Cersei had never slept with anyone just because she wanted to except Jaime but somehow, Ned had sneaked his way into her heart. She hadn’t even noticed. 

    “Maester Luwin gave me the clear today.” She said once they pulled apart. “I thought it was a reason to celebrate, my lord.” 

    “Are you sure?” 

She smiled and pressed herself further against him, enjoying the way she could feel his body warmth through their clothes. Her nose brushed over Eddard’s, his breath was hot on her cheek and Cersei felt almost giddy. 

    “Absolutely, my lord.” 

He lifted her up easily, making her first yelp in surprise and then laugh as he carried her over to the bed, carefully laying her out on the soft furs. 

    “Call me Ned, please.” 

    “Ned.” She said, not stumbling over the name despite being unfamiliar with it. 

That night, Cersei did not sleep alone, instead found herself wrapped in a tight embrace, Ned’s legs entangled with hers and her head resting on his shoulder. She splayed her hand over his chest, absently playing with the coarse chest hair growing there. Ned was fast asleep, his hand loosely tangled into her hair, too, snoring softly. 

Cersei closed her eyes, feeling more warm and comfortable than ever before, and wished for a spring to bring her a girl. 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes

Sorry it’s a few days late. We got a new kitten day before post day and she cuddles. I can’t write and cuddle a kitten AND I will *not* refuse a kitten. Plus, between house viewings for my sister and taking my daughter to hang out with her cousins, my weekend got hijacked. But there IS good news. I’ve got a laptop! So pace should increase and my hope is to be back to a weekly update schedule by Christmas. 

Chapter warnings: Nondetailed talk of death of disabled, elderly, children, toddlers, infants and animals.

Masterlist 

Chapter 33: Town

Clint watched the boy in the rear view mirror. He was long, lanky and far too skinny. With what surely were still trembling hands, the boy gathered what was left to him and walked away, dragging his feet with each step. Part of Clint was angry with himself for giving away valuable supplies to someone he knew was going to more likely than not be dead before spring thaw. It was wasteful in a world that one couldn’t afford to be wasteful in.

What would Dee have done? What would she have said? Would she have given the boy food? Would she have invited him to join them? Would she have hated him if he turned the boy away empty handed?

Clint sighed and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the positive things. He was alive. Dee was alive and Trust would likely be alright. The sun was shining bright in the sky. It was a beautiful day with only the slightest bite of bitter cold to the air.

Sun filtered through naked tree branches and danced over the glossy green needles of the pine. Something large and brown caught his eye in the distance. It was on the side of the road as the small town gave way to the rural fields that separated the smaller village where Sasha’s clinic sat.

“Are you serious?” Clint couldn’t believe his eyes.

Standing on the side of the road, eating at bushes was a large bull moose. He was standing tall and proud. Clint kept far enough away, not wanting to startle the beast as he grabbed his gun and rolled down the driver’s side window. Icy air rolled inside, purging the heat from the truck faster than he thought possible.

After throwing the heat on full blast, Clint leaned out the window and took aim. The moose wasn’t scared. The beast paid the truck no mind as he raised his massive head and made his way up out of the ditch and onto the road.

Clint waited until he was halfway across before taking the shot. He needed this. They needed this. The sound of the gun echoed through the forest. Birds took flight, startled from where they sat. In the center of the road, the moose went down. Legs kicked twice before going still.

“Fuck yeah.” Clint breathed to himself as he pulled the truck closer. “I don’t know what you’re doing here buddy, but boy am I thankful for seeing you.”

Moose were not common in Missouri. Sure, he’d seen one on occasion wander into the state but they kept more toward the northern border. Whether it was the wacky weather or the simple lack of humans to interfere allowing them to expand their territory, he was thankful.

A deer or elk could feed him and Dee for a week or so. A turkey for a few days. A bull moose would feed them for the month easily while still supplementing the clinic.

After grabbing a large hunting knife out of the glove box, he set to work. It was hard and gory work, but he did it as fast as he could. The contents of the body spilled on the ground around him. Removing the antlers was another task in itself. They were large and at one point he smacked himself in the face with them. Trust would enjoy gnawing on hooves and antlers.

With the innards and head removed, the carcass was a bit lighter. Still, it was a struggle to move it into the truck bed. He had thought of bagging up the innards and taking those with him as well. In the past, he had used innards to bait traps and even fish.

Now, it probably wouldn’t work to trap any predators or scavengers. The simple fact is there was too much dead meat laying around for some moose innards to really be of a notice. In the fall, the meat will have spoiled or been eaten and the scavengers would be hungry. The hunting would be good in the fall.

Clint washed his hands and arms in the powdered snow at the side of the road. Now he was a little less miffed about having given away supplies to the boy. There were large smears of red marring the fresh white of the snow. The layer of fresh snow covering the highway was thinner. The sun baked and melted the exposed ground far better than the forest floor and snow always seemed to melt faster on asphalt.

The warmth from the carcass and the blood worked to melt down the snow on the road. In a few places, the black of the asphalt peeked through where blood soaked away the snow.

Clint knew all it would take was a large blizzard and the road could easily become lost to travelers. Part of him wondered how folks up farther north, into Canada were coping. Was their government more cohesive than America’s? Did they manage to get power restored before people froze to death in the bitter winter?

It would be worth exploring. And unlike many, his truck could tame some unplowed roads and heavy snow drifts. Would Dee be up for it? Exploring and checking on the world? Did he want to? Was it a good idea?

He shelved the thoughts for now as he brought the truck back to life. What mattered right now was that he had a whole moose and a solid meat supply for the near future.

When he approached the turn off for the Clinic, he drove by instead. While he wanted nothing more than to get back and start butchering the moose, he wanted to cover his tracks. The sheer lack of traffic left many roads covered in a undisturbed layer of snow and he needed to disturb it. As it was, almost all the tracks on the road were his. It made it rather obvious that someone was stationed in the clinic.

He drove up the road and pulled into a side street. He followed roads, turning at times and backtracking, beating down snow and making it look more used than it was. He pulled into pristine driveways only to pull out and repeat the process. Occasionally, he would get out and try the doors. Some would be unlocked.

Inside unlocked houses he found pasta, flour and grains that had been left behind when the occupants had turned to dust. There were piles of settled dust around armchairs and dining tables. Sometimes, there were bodies rather than dust. Children who could not fend for themselves and were too young to open doors or think to leave the house.

Toddlers trapped in houses with a toddler proof door. Babies in cribs. Dogs and cats without a way out. Wheelchair bound bodies who perhaps knew better than to try. Elderly without the strength to travel a great ways.

The snap had intended to remove half the life from the universe but it had caused so much more loss of life than that. Clint ignored the frozen bodies, often in varying states of decay based on simply how long they had managed to hold on.

He made note of houses with generators, woodstoves and fireplaces. Later he would come back and drain fuel from generators. Wood stacks sitting out were added to the truck. He didn’t have to worry about heat or power at the farmhouse but Sasha did and would greatly benefit from these supplies.

He had no intention of giving it all to her however. If they made extended trips away from the farmhouse, they would need wood and fuel both. Plus, it was a valuable resource for trading for as long as a barter economy lasted.

He spent over an hour making tracks in the snow and gathering supplies from houses and cabins. Occasionally, eyes 45would peek out at him from windows when he pulled up to a house. On one occasion, a man came out waving a gun.

“I’m armed!” He hollered as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Neat.” Clint answered as he reversed down the driveway only to pull in again. “I’m not going to bother you.”

“What are you doing?” Curiosity won out over caution for the man.

“Making tracks.” Clint answered as he pulled in once again, from a slightly different angle.

“Why?”

“So it looks like a lot of people live here and to hide which houses actually have people.”

“Why?” What was the man, two?

“So people who don’t mean y’all well can’t look at the snow and pinpoint what houses people are still living in to steal supplies.”

“You’re stealing supplies.” The man pointed out as Clint got out of the truck. The man didn’t look ready to follow through with his threats and Clint honestly didn’t fear him.

“From abandoned houses. Need some flour or sugar? Pasta? I hit jackpot in a house down the block.”

“Sarah May’s house.”

“Sure. The woman was dead inside so she’s not using it. There was some water too.”

“Oh. Okay.” The man dumbly caught the box of pasta Clint tossed his way.

“Here, help me make tracks. You should probably start doing this too. I’m not always going to be in the area to cover it. How many of you are in the town?”

“A handful of us.”

“Cool.” Clint handed him a few cans of pasta sauce. “Got a bag?”

“Yeah, I’ll get one.” The man was clearly still very confused on what was happening. Clint didn’t mind parting with supplies now that he had the moose in the back. He could afford it. Plus, these people lived near the Clinic. It would be good to have a relationship with them, even if it was just in passing. Strangers get shot.

It was nearing sunset when he had finally called it a day. Randy, the man who braved going outside had helped him, walking paths between houses and shoveling walkways from houses to the road. Clint didn’t promise Randy much beyond a share of the supplies they found. They waved and smiled at a few faces peering out windows but no one else braved going outside.

Clint left boxes of pasta, flour, sugar and a few cans of food on doorsteps of houses that had faces in the windows. Far more houses were empty than had faces and very few had been broken into. The benefit of being rural was simply the fact that most of these people had emergency rations and could hole up and survive for a while.

How many of them would make it to spring planting, he had no idea.

“Are you with the government?” Randy finally braved asking.

“Nope. But they are working on setting things something close to right again.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I’ve got a friend who’s living near here. And I don’t want people coming and killing her for her supplies.”

“People are doing that?” Randy clearly hadn’t ventured out of this small rural neighborhood.

“Yeah.” Clint answered. “A lot of people are, to be honest. Others are gathering people up and using them as slaves, calling themselves Kings.”

“The government is allowing that?”

“Not really. They’ve retaken control of the east coast and are moving West but it takes time. Half the population just up and vanished. Add in casualties from accidents and stuff- they had to pull bodies from all over to have enough to take back the East Coast. They can only push west so fast, keeping in mind supplies, troops and how much power they can maintain. It’s slow but they are coming.”

“I thought they would never come.” Randy admitted. Clint could understand that. It’d been nearly five months since it had happened. In many ways it felt like yesterday. At the same time it felt like several lifetimes ago.

“They will. Just keep hanging on, gathering supplies and staying warm. If you run out of food or water, you won’t make it long.”

“If I run out of water, I’ll melt down the snow like Cathy down the road has been. Haven’t seen her recently but I haven’t been even looking’ outside much. Only reason I looked today was the sound of the truck.”

“I wouldn’t drink snow water.” Clint said. “There’s ash and dust in it. If you have to, filter it as best you can. I don’t know what drinking the ash that the people turned into will do.”

“Good point.” Clint started the truck and threw it into reverse.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Will- Will you be coming back?”

“With supplies for you?” Clint asked but didn’t give him time to answer. “Probably not. But I may come back to drive around again. I don’t know. Kinda just winging it.”

“I didn’t mean to make you think I wanted to use you for supplies.” Randy stammered. “I just- It’s nice to have interaction with a friendly face. Someone human and real.”

“I know.” Clint said and backed out. There wasn’t really anything left he needed to say.

The drive back to the clinic was as uneventful as the drive out had been. He drove by it a few times, turning around on different driveways and pull offs, making the road look more traveled before finely pulling in. Dee was sure to be worried about him by now.

The sun was hanging low in the sky as the truck rumbled to a stop in front of the secluded clinic, lighting the sky aflame with oranges, pinks and reds. The temperature was quickly dropping from a balmy twenty as the darkness of night encroached. Thick trees surrounded the clinic, shielding it away from eyes and making it seem like its own world.

In the window, he could see Dee’s anxious face looking out and was soon joined by the other two. The wave of relief that passed over her when their eyes connected was visible even from this distance. As he killed the engine and set about unloading the cooler and frozen meat, they were surely inside clearing the door.

A body crashed into his back as he leaned into the truck to grab a tomato plant. Arms wrapped around him and clutched him. Rather than grab the plant, he wrapped his arms around himself, holding her arms to him.

“I was scared.” Dee whispered into his back. Her voice was soft and weak with the relief of a fear unrealized. It instantly made him regret the time he spent covering his tracks and gathering supplies. He should have come back first and let her know what he was doing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” Clint turned in her arms, wrapping his own around her and holding her tightly to him.

“Where were you?”

“Driving around, covering tracks. It was obvious that someone was coming and going from back here. I didn’t want to lead someone to us.”

“Makes sense” She mumbled into his chest.

“I should have come and told you first.”

“Lovebirds, did you get Trust a cone? He’s been going at his stitches.” Sasha called as she marched up to the truck.

They couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t normal for them to have witnesses to their quiet moments. The tenderness between them usually was private. The intrusion into their moment was enough to snap them back to reality.

“So what did you bring us?” Dee asked.

“First- Cones for Trust. There’s some medications in the bag but I couldn’t find any books that looked useful.”

Sasha took the offered bag from him. “It’s better than nothing.”

“I’ve got some rice, flour, sugar, pasta and canned food too.” Clint added. Sasha nodded and headed inside the house with her bag.

“This is a lot.” Dee said, looking at the pile of bags on the floorboards of the cab.

“It’s not all for her. “Help me unload and we’ll lock what’s going back to the house inside.”

“You don’t trust them?” Dee whispered.

“With food? I don’t trust anyone with food. We’ll leave them more than enough and can even teach them some ways to cook it. But we’re not going to suffer to support them when they won’t put the effort into supporting themselves. I went out. I got the food. I put myself at risk while they sat here safe and sound.”

“I was sitting here safe and sound too though.”

“You’re different. You’re a part of my team. You’re you.”

“And that makes it different?”

“No, I guess not. The fact that I love you makes it different.”

Dee rolled her eyes, the tension leaving her shoulders and a smile creeping up her face. “I love you, too.” she admitted, grabbing boxes and bags of flour, sugar and pasta out.”

“We’ll save about a quarter of the dry stuff for us.” Clint directed.

“Trust is fine. Gave him something for the pain and put the cone on. He should be resting and completing the world’s saddest act.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Dee laughed as Clint shifted, leaning back against the truck’s window, hiding the view into the backseat.

“Start taking things in while we unload.” Clint directed.

“Did you find any formula?” Sasha asked as she bent down and plucked up as many boxes and bags as she could carry.

“I’ve got a few partially used cans and a few unopened ones. Found them in some abandoned houses.”

“Great- the more the better. I’m not sure Rachel’s going to be able to breastfeed nearly enough.”

“She can’t make enough milk?” Clint asked.

“In theory, she could. But it’s complicated. Her heart has to be in it, she has to give it her all and even then. Women’s minds have gotten in the way of their bodies’ doing what is natural for as long as men have been disappointing women.” Dee couldn’t help but laugh at Sasha’s words. It was true and it sucked.

“Ouch.” Clint said, plopping a bag of flour onto the pile in Sasha’s arms.

As soon as Sasha turned away, he opened the truck door and unloaded everything he was willing to give up before Sasha had a chance to come back out. Sasha returned with Rachel just as they tossed a blanket over what they intended to keep for themselves on the floor and shut the door.

~~~~~<3

@winterisakiller​, @tnystrk-exe​, @nonsensicalobsessions​, @alcoholic-muffin​, @coyotesongwriting​, @usedtobegoodfriend96​, @theoneanna​, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids​, @j-u-s-t-4​, @missaphrodite23​, @tinchentitri​, @bambamwolf87​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @xoxabs88xox​, @carissime72​, @myoxisbroken​, @wegingerangelica​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

[moonsquaremars]

My Languages

Part 2

Danish. 

I can’t really say what attiréd me to Dansk. Was it the movie, the Prince and Me, with the fabulous Julia Stiles? One could say that. If you look at life as purely materialistic, and nothing more. But to be quite frank, that movie didn’t make that big of an impression on me, other than the fact that it was my only real exposure to Denmark growing up. I didn’t know any Danes. In Kentucky, where I was raised, there’s not a sizeable scandinavian community. There really is nothing tangibly physical that I could say caused me to become so enamoured with Denmark, Danish, and the nordic region at large. I can’t even quite conceptualize when it began, either. I just recall thinking about all the languages I wanted to learn, and somehow Danish became a priority. 

The spiritual side of me suspects I had a great past life there. Have you ever had a country (or person) you’ve met, and just kind of love or hated for no particular reason? Well, you probably have past life energy there, so the theory goes. So that must be it. Or maybe it’s just all of the aquarius in my natal chart. Scandinavia seems so aquarius. Technologically advanced, intelligent, prosperous. They weren’t always that way, but the region’s history is so rich and fascinating. I feel like I could live in Denmark, Norway, Finland, the Faroe Islands, for a thousand lifetimes. It’s a pity I don’t have any connection to them, yet. 

On the subject of synchronicity, where things just kinda unexpectedly happen but all make sense. Like the fact that my friend’s dad brought up alchemy randomly (I rarely hear about alchemy) then a couple hours later someone else randomly brings it up. Two in one day. It’s kinda like that.

Well, I could go two paths here. Stay on synchronicity, or go back to middle school when my infatuation with Denmark arose. My routine, while living with grandma, was to wake up in the morning, go to the living room. She would make us cinnamon toast, and I would watch TV. When I was younger, I’d then go out and play with neighborhood friends. But this was middle school, and we had drifted apart. I habitually would just browse the computer, while I comfortably sat in the living room, feeling cozy and warm in juxtaposition to the cold, gloomy, winter weather outside. Reading about Danish culture, and specifically the alcoholism, made me feel so warm and /excited/. Just reading aout Denmark and how people would get hammered and throw up on the city streets, riding their bikes. Gee. I was like, this is amazing! I wanna live there. Maybe that’s where my alcoholism started?

Well I suppose maybe that was just it. I just saw a movie about a Danish prince, then stumbled upon random internet information and the rest is history. Well, not quite. After I had a deeply profound conversion to Mormonism, I ran away from home to Utah. I met a homeless man there in temple square, and I of course was heaily mormon and set on the church being true and not open to other spiritual thought, but obviously still exposed to it. Well this homeless man and I were talking, and he told me about some experience he had where he was speaking in tongues and the people he was with said that he was speaking Old Danish. Well what are the odds that I run away from home, strike up a conversation with this random homeless man, and he mentions having a spiritual experience where he spoke a language only a few million people know out of billions. Maybe it’s not that unique, maybe he was speaking gibberish, and some returned missionary with decent exposure to northern european germanic languages got the impression he was making Old Danish noises. I don’t quite recall the details, but I will entertain the skeptics. 

Regardless, maybe we had a past life connection. I haven’t seen or talked to that homeless man since, but I always think about that when I think about Denmark now. And I have been able to study Danish. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I wish I had more time and more use for it. I could say rød grød med fløde for hours. I could die in Copenhagen a happy man. A happy, drunk, alcoholic man, with all of my hygge and the cosmopolitan amenities europe has to offer. 

Alas, I really do have no use for the language. No one shares my passion, and I have other things to worry about. It will always pique my interest though when Denmark or scandinavia is mentioned. Maybe one day I’ll get to at least visit the country, maybe that will give me some kind of closure. I will end by reflecting on one of the happier nights of my most recent life. It was a chilly night, I was dating Craig, a man much older than I who I wasn’t particularly attracted to in the romantic sense (was I?), but he made me feel comfortable. So comfortable, and loved. He fell asleep on the couch like usual, and I stayed up watching the tele. This time I was down the rabit hole of watching youtube videos about scandinavian history. I pranced around the house while he slept, eating these oriental flavored pretzel things from costco that were quite good, and just felt so in awe and in love with life. Soaking up the atmosphere and that warm cozy feeling that comes with being under the same roof of someone you love and trust on a moonlit, frosty night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. And now I recall a similar feeling, with my high school boyfriend Andrew. It was a similar relationship. I had little romantic and sexual interest, but like Craig, Andrew was quite pushy and kind of coerced me into the relationship. And I got comfortable. We had spent the evening walking down Frankfort avenue, eating sushi at my favorite restaurant, Osaka, then stopped in a mom and pop catholic bookstore. They impressed me with their language selection, which is always the first section I go to in any library or bookstore. There was a book on Dutch and Finnish that I was torn between, but I ended up getting the some decades old Teach Yourself Finnish book. I ended the night up in his attic bedroom in his charming old home. I popped some hydrocodones, and as he slept I taught myself Finnish while the warmth of the opiates spread throughout my body. I was happy. Genuinely.

[nexhqs]

INTRODUCING GLEB PETROV …

NICKNAMES : Glen

GENDER : Cis man, he/him

OCCUPATION : Journalist

DATE OF BIRTH : 10/04/86

SPECIES : Human

FACE CLAIM : Armie Hammer

❝  The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.  ❞

PERSONALITY

AESTHETIC — smoking at midnight, beat up paperback novels, tchaikovsky played in the morning, cooking breakfast at four in the morning, bruised knuckles, pants covered in dog fur, forged documents, oil paintings, french food, gold, stargazing, paper lanterns, calligraphy, freshly pressed clothing, dark brown oxford shoes, silk ties, black suits, the sound of scribbling notes, boxes piled too high, newspaper print, dark knit turtleneck sweaters.  

LIKES: russian literature, his mother, calligraphy, purple ink, old books, newspapers, telling the truth no matter how harsh, his dog, astronomy, classical russian composers, science fiction novels, handwriting analysis, antiques, numbers stations, radio shows, the sound of running water, the russian ballet.

DISLIKES: his father, guns, anything illegal, yelling, being interrupted, cats, majority of people, police, violence, smiling, religion, lilies, the color white, cold food, coffee, video games, pop music, the beatles, children, licking stamps, hats, the idea of marriage, sputnik.  

BIOGRAPHY –

content warnings for murder and abuse.

    When Alisa Volkova met Slava Petrov, it wasn’t love at first sight for either of them. No, Alisa wanted someone who could keep her brother safe. Their romance was cold, a transaction really—they never loved each other. Less than two years later, Gleb was born. As a second generation American, life wasn’t entirely simple for him. Where his mother’s family adopted American culture much easily, his father did not; he was harsh on his children, feeling that well behaved children made them into well behaved adults. Gleb and his younger brother, were raised with a heavy hand at home. While his father never hit him hard, he was often yelled at and disciplined if he misbehaved. Unfortunately, the bulk of the abuse was towards his mother. Because of the way Gleb was raised, he adopted the softer approach to people from his mother, but the coldness of his father.  

In Russian, Gleb means Heir of God – a name his father always hoped would be fitting for him, but soon realized that his son would never be the son he hoped for. Gleb always hated his name, though the strong Russian tie never bothered him, it did bother him because he knew what it meant to his father. Little did he know that his father’s real career wasn’t an antiques dealer, but a criminal. Even if he was the elder Petrov son, Gleb wouldn’t take over the business—that went to his younger brother.  

He was seventeen when things changed. Gleb wasn’t home at the time but came home to police outside his parent’s house. They led his father out in handcuffs and didn’t say a word to him as the coroner wheeled a body bag out. At first, he thought it was his brother, but then he saw his brother walk from the house, a shocked look on his face. Eventually all his questions were answered, when he found out that his mother had uncovered what his father really did for a living and spoke about leaving him and taking the children—the neighbors heard their arguing. Filled with anger, his father had beaten his mother, killing her. The trial felt like it took a long time, but it was over in a few months. Gleb and his brother moved in with their uncle.  

When he graduated high school, he went off to college, thankful to put half a state between him and his family. He spent four years studying journalism. After graduating college, Gleb decided to trade the colder northern weather for the warmer weather and took a job in Louisiana before finishing up his master’s degree in communication. He worked for a few years as an editor after graduation. Then he got offered a full-time job as a journalist in Eden, Louisiana, where he has been ever since with his dog Dima.  

CONNECTIONS –

SIENNA KINNEY – Making enemies is easy for Gleb, but Sienna was one of his first enemies in town. When he arrived in town, he wanted to do an expose on the thrift shop, but he couldn’t get anything from her. So instead he wrote a scathing business review on the shop. Occasionally, he’ll walk in and hope that she’ll just give up whatever secrets she’s hiding, because he’s now convinced himself that she is hiding something.  

PENNED BY VEX.

[resonantrequiem-blog]

Chapter 1

[Confrontation and Contemplation]

@siren-legion

The night air was slightly chilly. 

Perhaps a little too much so.

Ethan was spending his break time outside, enjoying a rare cool night in the blooming spring. He wasn’t all that for heat. He much preferred the cold. So, this rare bit of chill was more than welcomed.

After finishing quite a few songs, his throat felt raw. He was used to this feeling---the overuse of his voice to satisfy a hungry crowd. At some point, it had become the norm. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d always kept his head down, lying low, avoiding attention. It’s how he got away with so many things as a kid, and it’s how he kept from engaging with anyone.

Of course, once he was old enough, that just wasn’t enough to keep people away. His apparent “attractiveness” caught the eye of many suitors. He repeatedly turned them down, but for some reason, they just never let up.

And somehow, this “attractiveness” had become a valuable tool in both of his jobs.

Ethan sighed.

The northern wind ruffled his mess of curls, tickling his face.

Ethan already knew the woman was there, watching him.

He did not move.

The woman chuckled.

Layla couldn’t hide her grin.

Prancing up to the vertically gifted fellow, Layla spoke with a merry tone, “Isn’t it lonely out here? You must be rather bored, no?”

The brunette grunted irritably. The young woman knew she was already getting on his nerves, but she remained determined. She had some business to address with him, and she refused to leave until she’s had her way.

“Well?” she pressed, taking a step closer.

Mistake number one.

“Step any further and I’ll gut you.”

The casual ease with which he spoke. It sounded like he was talking about the weather. He just didn’t have a care; the thought of eviscerating her didn’t bother him in the slightest.

She could see it in his eyes. He really could. And would.

Oh, how exciting.

Raising her hands in mock defeat, Layla conceded, “Apologies, dear. I’m simply curious is all.”

The male snorted with what must’ve been mock amusement. “Curious, eh? You’ve been watching me for the past few months, and you simply write it off as ‘curiosity’? That’s one hell of a curiosity you’ve got there.”

Her grin widened.

“So, you noticed? You really are a scary man,” she cooed. “I was extra careful, too. You must have some talent for observation.”

“Years of practice.”

She clapped her hands together gleefully. “I expect no less from the scary Purple Gallinule of the South! Or at least, that’s what they call you around this area, right? For being a former murderer and all.”

The muscles in Ethan’s neck tensed, turning to finally look at the woman he now addressed. 

His eyes were chillingly, hauntingly empty. Save for the desire to destroy.

“How do you know that?”

A dangerous question.

Layla would need to answer carefully, lest she create an unnecessary conflict.

Her smile lessened.

“Oh, just a rumor I heard."

Doubt.

“I’m being honest. I wouldn’t have come otherwise. It’s no fun investigating a boring Siren.”

Ice.

Layla sighed, feigning irritation. “Doubt me all you want. I just came to see if you were the real deal. Look---I’ll introduce myself, okay? I’m Layla Chambers, the Lamprotornis Siren.” As if to show her proof, she exposed her finely crafted mask, that of which held the power to give her the ability to siphon life force off of others.

“See--”

“Leave.”

The raven-haired woman looked at Ethan with genuine surprise. It seems he’s only grown colder towards her.

Keeping her composure, Layla hummed in confusion, “Pardon?”

“Leave.” It was a command. And from the sound of it, he’s not used to being denied. 

As if to shock her more, he continued, “I want none of whatever Siren shit you’re trying to drag me into. I’m just a casual Siren. I just want to live my life in peace.”

Layla took a few seconds to let those claims soak in, choosing her next words with extreme care.

She paused.

“...Your company’s boss is the Dwarf Bittern Siren, correct?”

That got his attention.

For the first time in this conversation, he seemed to legitimately hesitate.

“What of it?”

“And you’re one of her top Sirens, right?”

His eyes narrowed. 

“What of it?”

Layla threw on a contemplative look. “It’s just that---The Dwarf Bittern Siren isn’t known for being overly generous in that regard. You can’t be one of her best, and just be a casual Siren. Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

She could practically see the flicker of life---of a fire within his crimson irises. It took everything within her not to smile with delight.

“You seem to hear a lot of things, Layla.” He practically spat her name. How charming.

“That I do. I’d be rather useful as a comrade, though, wouldn’t you think?” Her smile was positively serpentine.

Ethan now eyed her as a challenger. She could see it. See the gears turning, the spirit to defy, the kind of will that could destroy the gods.

That undeniable determination that drew her to him.

“What do you want?”

She softened her tone considerably, so as to sound more kindly. “Oh, dear Ethan, I’m not as terrible as you think. Honest!” Gesturing like that of fanatic, Layla smiled with more sincerity, like that of a seeker of good times. “Truly, I wish only to see the intrigue of your company. I offer that in return for simply learning of the interesting qualities of your life, I will help to protect you from the Dwarf Bittern. I’ve heard that she can be quite nasty, and you’d need all the help you could get against a woman like her.”

The resolve flickered.

His eyes betrayed it all.

Weighing his options.

Weighing if he should kill her.

Weighing the risk and the payoff.

The resignation.

She won.

“Honey, is something wrong?”

Ethan was startled out of his daze by Karen’s concerned voice. It took him a moment to realize that he’d been staring at a blank page in his sketchbook for the past five minutes. He’d planned on sketching something, only to get lost in his thoughts. What was it he wanted to draw again? Ah, it didn’t matter now. He didn’t feel like drawing anymore.

The brunet exhaled slowly, readjusting his sitting position and setting his sketchbook and pencil onto the coffee table before him.

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been really tired lately.”

He could tell just how skeptical she was. For a moment, he thought she was just gonna drop it like she usually did. But to his complete and utter surprise, she questioned in a soft tone, “Is it about that Siren stuff?”

Right.

She knew about that.

He’ll never get used to the fact that she knows.

Ethan felt his datemate’s arms slide around him in a soothing embrace, and he couldn’t help but relax against her touch. Her mere presence made him feel immensely better.

Karen patiently waited for his response. He was considering what he should say. What was on his mind, well---

It had everything to do with Karen.

It’s been two months since he met Layla.

It’s been two months since they’d started exchanging information.

And last night...

“You need to leave her.”

“What?” Ethan exclaimed incredulously his grip on the handrail tightening so much his knuckles turned white. He was practically fuming with rage.

Layla stared at him with unrelenting firmness, and it pissed him off even more. “I’m serious, Ethan. You know what the Dwarf Bittern is like. All it takes is one slip-up, and Karen will be the first person they go after. You’ve already said torture can’t break you. She’s your weak point, and you need to eliminate any advantages they have against you if you ever want to be free of them.”

Ethan wasn’t buying it. “How the hell is me leaving her gonna do any good? She’ll be vulnerable!”

That sly grin he knew all too well slid onto the damned bitch’s face. “Not if they think you no longer cared for her.”

“What.” A demand.

Layla took that as her cue to explain herself, and...

Ethan tilted his head to examine the fine details of Karen’s face. The soft chubbiness of her cheeks, the way her eyes were naturally small and closed into a squint. Her skin was smooth, and her nose---God, it was the cutest damned nose he’d ever seen.

Leaning down, he gave it a gentle kiss. Karen gave a soft giggle and snuggled closer. Ethan reveled in the warmth.

But he still felt troubled.

Extremely so.

After all...

How was he supposed to convince everyone that he hated the love of his life?

Convince Karen that he despised her?

...Does he even have the guts to do it?

If it meant she could be safe?

...He already knew the answer.

[arengnera]

Signal Lost

Signal Lost. The screen flashed in bold, red letters that sent a wave of fresh frustration through Carol’s mind. Another day was about to go to complete waste. A day she didn’t have the time to squander.

“No, come on! Don’t do this to me!” she yelled, balling her fist and harshly slamming the side of the device. This had been the most promising day in months, and her confidence was quickly dissipating. The angry blow made the screen flicker briefly, but it didn’t change.

She desperately scanned the wasteland, hoping against reasonable odds that she would see the origin of the signal. The barren landscape was laid out before her, igneous rocks strewn across lifeless dirt and lit by a distant star’s lackluster glow. The nocuous atmosphere carried sickly clouds in sad patterns that swirled above her in a pathetic attempt to blot out the light. Oh, how she hated this place!

Many planets across the galaxy had been terraformed, governments or large companies investing in interstellar land and hoping to turn a decent profit. This planet wasn’t so fortunate. It had an arbitrary string of numbers for a name, and no investors whatsoever. Somehow, Carol doubted that even the most mineral-hungry mining company would set up a station on this dump.

Without a functioning tracker, Carol was as good as blind. She reached up and pressed the COM button on the side of her grime-covered helmet. With any luck, the distance she had covered that day wouldn’t destroy this signal as well.

“Oliver, I lost it. The signal just... died.” She sighed into her helmet’s mic.

“What? It just came on, though! Try fiddling with the frequency and see if you can’t find something.” The techie’s voice was desperate and distorted by the radio waves carrying it miles across the desolate landscape. He had worked his whole life on this project, searching out mysterious radio signals in the far reaches of space. So far, he had discovered only a growing sense of purpose that threw his long string of failures into a relentlessly optimistic work ethic. In this sense, Carol envied him.

“Yes, I know, I know. Look, how do we know the signal wasn’t just some crazy old homesteaders thinking they could get away from Earth politics by hiding on the outer rim? We’ve chased down false leads before,” she noted. Even for an intrepid soul like herself, some ends were not worth the means. She had trusted Oliver’s judgement for so long, and where had it gotten her? Stranded on a forsaken rock, standing in the middle of a wasteland that spanned the whole planet. Any hopes she had of finding alien life were quickly fading into jaded cynicism.

“Carol, I spent two months making a device that could properly track and decrypt those waves. And you’re telling me it might originate from Earth? I don’t think so,” Oliver retorted. His voice carried a trace of enthusiasm that miles of walking, and years of failure, had beaten out of his partner. “Just… Just keep heading in the direction it was pointing you. Maybe it will pick back up.”

“I’m just saying, what if we’re jumping at shadows? No one has found a single trace of advanced life forms on any of the planets throughout this entire sector. The chance that we could be stumbling across a civilization advanced enough to create such a signal is... well, outlandish! Remember that outpost in the Draconis region? They thought they’d found some alien city but really it was just a bunch of crazies trying to restart the Soviet Union-”

The tracker beeped harshly, cutting off Carol’s last-ditch attempt to avoid more walking. She squinted at the device through her filthy visor. The machine had reverted to its tracking screen, displaying a green blip on the far corners of her radar. The change sparked a dim ember of hope in her chest, and pushed the frustration for just a little while longer.

“Wait a second. I think I’ve got something...”

“You do? Great! Go! Go!”

Carol closed her COM and sighed. She’d give him this one last chance. After all, he had sounded so excited. She’d let the complete absence of evidence break his heart again, and not her lack of action. With a jaw set to match her resolve, she broke into a run, holding the tracker out in front as her. Each step sent a spray of freshly crushed rocks flying up behind her with a sickening crunch. The exposed and grime-caked hydraulics of her exosuit creaked with every impact. The antiquated equipment allowed her to glide almost effortlessly through the power of the machine’s battery pack. Despite its frequent complaints, it held up as well as it had countless times before. With each stride, the beeping of Carol’s tracker became more frantic as it homed in on the elusive signal.

Carol’s heart raced as her attention fixed on her device. The beeping had reached a frenzied peak, far past any point Carol had ever seen  before. Oliver was right about this one! A sudden change in the landscape ahead of her brought Carol to a sliding stop, the weathered surface of her suit and exoskeleton scraping across the sterile sand, throwing it into a wave in front of her.

“Holy hell...” she breathed, gaping in utter astonishment as she pulled herself back to her feet.

A canyon lay before her, carved so sharply out of the flat wastes it was as if a giant had cracked the surface of the planet with a decisively powerful blow. However, it wasn’t the natural landscape that sent her into awed silence, but rather what had been built into the black sides of the canyon. Stone pillars flanked a dark, monstrous doorway. Their solid, yet graceful figures curving into almost organic-looking forms. They twisted together, holding a second story over the floor of the canyon, and splitting it with a vaulted and eldritch arch.The southern balcony had crumbled under the weight of time, but the northern one stood more or less untouched. Carol could barely make out the forms of smaller doorways carved into the overhang, proving it had to be accessible from inside the structure. Of course, it couldn’t just be a singular building. It was far too massive. It had to be... a city. Carol stumbled back from the edge of the canyon, breathing hard. Her head spun. The sheer architecture alone was enough to send her mind into a confused tumble. Oliver. She had to tell Oliver!

With unsteady hands, Carol activated her COM once more. “I... Oliver, you’re not going to believe this.” Her voice shook, quivering with the shock of her discovery.

“What? Did you find something?” The researcher’s voice was even more distorted now, wavering in the distance.

“It’s... massive! A city! Built straight into the walls of this canyon!” Carol’s excitement overwhelmed her completely as the reality of what laid before her began to set in. “I’m going down there,” she added.

The discovery had evaporated her frustration at the years spent on dead planets in  the worst backwaters of the galactic rim. It had paid off! They’d discovered something that could not have been built by human hands. Something that proved humans were not alone in the cold reaches of space.

“Wait! Carol, it might be dangerous! We should get a team together to explore it!”

The warning fell on deaf ears as Carol produced a sleek, reinforced rope from her backpack and tied it to a sturdy boulder. She silently thanked herself for preparing like a boyscout.

She had found it, and she wasn’t about to let anyone else take that discovery away from her. Just one look couldn’t hurt. Science was always dangerous, after all. Quickly, Carol hooked the rope and climbing gear to her suit’s built-in harness. Once secured, she rappelled down to the canyon floor with practiced agility.  As soon as her boots hit solid ground, she turned to face the entrance. The city rose high above her, reaching over a hundred feet on, and above, the face of the canyon. It clawed at the distant sky, as if hoping to reach far enough to escape the long forgotten planet on which it rested. The thought sent a shiver racing down Carol’s back.

Steeling herself, she advanced anyway, and activated  the flashlight on her helmet. She slipped the ever present electromagnetic rail pistol out of its harness on her belt. The familiar weight of the gun didn’t provide as much comfort as she had hoped. In fact, it did little to dispel the apprehension settling in the back of her mind.

A primal instinct urged Carol to turn around as she stepped into the darkness. Her light swept the walls of the entrance as she turned her head to examine the architecture. The beam revealed that the walls had been carved with rows upon rows of oddly curved symbols, the likes of which Carol had never seen in any language. The flawless carvings made her skin crawl, yet the sheer wonder of the sight overwhelmed the gnawing compulsion to flee. Instead, Carol pushed forward, the last light of the weak rays of the sun fading quickly into the city’s shadow.

“Oliver, you’re not going to believe this...” she breathed into her still-open COM.

“Well? Get some pictures!” he urged.

She fumbled for the point-and-shoot camera secured in one of her pockets, and snapped a couple pictures before moving further into the oppressive darkness. The flashlight did little to cut into the gloom, and even less to dispel the apprehensive chill creeping up her spine. Carol’s steps echoed off the shadowed walls, causing her heart rate to spike with each footfall.

CRUNCH! Carol jumped and caught her breath in surprise. She quickly looked down, searching for the source of the sound. Light swept over something that had been cracked and bleached by the forces of time.  She gasped, her hand flying up to cover her helmet's mouthpiece. Before her lay a mangled collage of skeletal remains. It was impossible to tell how many corpses had gone into completing the horrid display, but what caught her eye was the centerpiece her boot had crushed.

“O-Oliver?” she whispered, her voice shaking as she stepped away from the brittle skeleton. The darkness seemed to rush in, closing around her like a vice.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“I-I found a skull... A human skull... Must’ve been down here for... for at least a century...”

“That can’t be right! Faster-than-light travel has only been around for twenty years!” he protested, sounding almost as nervous as Carol felt. “Get out of there! Come back to the base, we’ll call some mercenaries to check it out for us.”

Carol opened her mouth to respond, but froze with a start. A shadow lurched in the darkness behind her. A footstep. A breath. Her heart felt as if it was attempting to break free from her chest as she turned slowly away from the corpses, scarcely daring to breathe.

“C-Carol?” Oliver asked, leaning into his mic and searching his computer monitor for any unusual readings. He left the COM open, straining to hear something. Anything.

Carol’s beam of light swept out before her, revealing nothing but motes of dust dancing in the toxic air.

Oliver held his breath. His speakers suddenly screeched with feedback as a ear-shattering scream blasted out of them. He reeled back in surprise and horror, almost falling out of his chair in his sudden burst of hysteria. “Carol!” he yelled as he scrambled back to his mic, icy fear gripping his chest. “CAROL!”

The only response was the haunting crackle of static.

[abby-studies-art]

I was tagged by @alinastudies and @studyfeather so I am answering both sets of questions here!

Rules: Post the rules, answer 11 questions, ask 11 new questions, tag some friends!

Questions from @alinastudies

1. What’s your favourite book?  My favourite book right now is probably the Great Gatsby? I read it a few months ago (finally) and it was the most graceful, terrifyingly sad book I’ve ever read. 2. If you had to have a last meal, what would it be? Thai food. I can’t get enough of it seriously? I go to the mall and buy cheap take out from Thai-Express and it makes my day every time so probably that. 3. Do you prefer travelling at sea or sky?  I love travelling by sea: Sailing, cruises etc.... I never get seasick! Although I don’t get airsick very often, it still happens on long flights and it sucks. 4. Which three countries do you want to visit most?  I would love to visit: Italy, (because I dated a guy from there and he made it sound so cool!) Iceland, (because the Northern lights and on my bucket list and I've heard there are some pretty incredible mountain trails you can hike) And probably Singapore or Japan? Can I have four??  5. Do you like jewellery, and why?  I like some jewellery, I have a small collection of meaningful items that I wear daily; A teacup necklace, a snowflake quartz point, and a ring I got from my parents the day I graduated. 6. Do you believe in new years’ resolutions?  I do, I try to keep my resolutions but I also don’t beat myself up when I slip up because hey I mean, everyone has forgetful days and as long as you keep trying after you slip up I think that's what’s important 7. What did you want to be when you were little?  When I was really little, I wanted to be a pop star.  8. Do you like horror films?  I like some of them? Nothing too gory but the psychological thrillers are where it’s at!! 9. What’s your best personality trait?  I am very good at listening and knowing when people need to just vent, and knowing when people want advice. 10. What cheers you up whenever you’re sad?  Does anyone remember those Picture songs by nicepeter on youtube? I usually watch those when I’m mad or upset lol 11. Do you enjoy outdoor activities or prefer things you can do at home? Oh my god at Home..... This sounds terrible but I literally hate going outside here in its always cold and windy where I live so I avoid it as much as possible.

Questions from @studyfeather

1. What is your favourite/ideal kind of weather and why? I love rain, driving in it, reading in it, walking in it, all of it.  2. If you could learn 3 new things, what would they be? to play the violin, speak french and probably to play chess? I've tried but damn I barely get checkers so I might be out of luck. 3. What has been your highlight of 2017 so far? The highlight of my 2017 has probably been visiting Mexico and swimming in a cenote and climbing a ruin and taking all kinds of polaroids. 4. What is your favourite card game? SLAP!  Step one: Get like three decks of cards Step two: deal them out evenly to all the players until there are no cards left. DONTLOOKATTHEM!!!!!!!! Step three: one by one, everyone flips down one card at a time. if two cards land in a row that match, slap your hand down on the pile as fast as you can. If your hand is the first one down, CONGRATS! You get all the cards! That’s the object of the game! Well done!! Collect all the cards!!  If you run out of cards, you can’t put any down but you can still slap to get back in the game and VANQUISH YOUR ENEMIES. the perks? it's aggressive, violent, and never has to end! We used to play it middle school at lunch (bc most other forms of cards were banned for being close to gambling? this one just involves slapping your friends) 5. Favourite and least favourite drink? favourite: tea or coffee. least favourite: Aloe water (wtf is this lumps in ma drink) 6. If you could suggest any book or book series to me, what would it be? I just read milk and honey and it was lit so yeah that one 7. Truth or dare? Oh my god truth!! Just me over here oversharing and shit like that! 8. How would you describe your aesthetic? That blurry feeling in the early morning when the sun is coming up when your half awake but you can still hear the things you were dreaming and you can hear them clearly but you're rapidly forgetting what they meant or why they mattered.  9. Any allergies? I used to be allergic to pollen but I grew out of it when we moved into the country, I think my body got used to it from being exposed so much. 10. Any pets (in the past, present, or future)? I used to have fish, I have a dog, I want a cat I think but like its gonna have to be a cuddly cat. 11. Do you have any holiday traditions you look forward to? Christmas morning, my sisters and I can’t go downstairs until 7 am (which is also when we can wake our parents up). Since most of us are so excited we can’t sleep, we have a tradition of cutting out paper snowflakes and throwing them everywhere at like 3 am lol. 

OKAY TIME FOR MY QUESTIONS

1. Have you had your first kiss? 2. What is your best memory? 3. Where is your favourite place to study? 4. What would you call the biography of your life? 5. Describe something about yourself the way that Lemony Snicket (or your favourite author) would. 6. Mac or PC for school work? 7. Describe your favourite outfit for school/work. 8. Juice or Soda? 9. Facebook or Twitter? 10. Do you have any buttons or pins on your backpack? 11. What is your favourite show on Netflix that you recommend to everyone?

I am so terribly sorry for this long ass post, as usual, you don’t have to do this if I tag you and you aren’t interested, And THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME GUYS I LOVE THIS STUFF!!

I shall tag: @plants-before-people @busystudyign @rhubarbstudies @toomanysubjectstudyblr @scholasticus-medicinae @justgetthroughtheyear @themedtimes @studyh and anyone else lol just say I tagged you and I will back you up if anyone disputes it you tell me and I’ll fight them, okay?

[kansascityhappenings]

Joe’s Weather Blog: Wishing for those summer breezes (THU-2/22)

Good afternoon…

I hate ice…

See you tomorrow…

Just kidding…but you get the drift. Doesn’t do anything for me. Another batch of ice is moving through the area as I type this…however with all the treatment on the pavement the roads should be OK for the evening rush (if they’ve been treated). Obviously untreated roads though and other exposed surfaces aren’t so good. Just walk very gingerly from point A to point B.

This will be round #3 guess…round 1 was the worst of this…and another round of rain is likely to start the weekend…maybe two rounds. Then finally by Sunday things will be more agreeable.

Forecast:

Tonight: After the late afternoon stuff is done…we should be cloudy and perhaps a bit misty overnight. Temperatures should finally be near or above freezing for many areas from the KC metro region southwards. Some areas, up to the north of KC, towards 36 highway and north will still have issues cracking 32° for awhile. The Winter Weather Advisory for up there continues through 12AM or so. For the Metro it ends at 6PM tonight (hopefully). The counties in blue are under that advisory.

Friday: Clouds hang tough…the morning starts at 32° or so…with some refreezing possible in some areas…especially on the north side. So again…pay attention to those untreated areas and watch for black ice. During the afternoon some pretty gray skies are expected with temperatures only around 40°

Saturday: More rain comes into the area…most likely in liquid form in KC and south…with some freezing rain/drizzle at the outset possible near and north of KCI

Sunday: Better with more sunshine…milder with highs around 50°

Discussion:

Temperatures across the region have slowly come upwards today…and I mean slowly. The 2PM surface map shows the near freezing air coming into the KC area…with above freezing air to the south of here…

Here is a look at radar…

BTW…there have been issues today with the radar system. Bad enough, but when it’s on a 300 foot tower or whatever it is…and that tower is made of medal…and there’s been freezing mist/drizzle going on for hours…you can’t just run up a ladder to fix things…

Ice isn’t just hampering travel, it’s also making maintenance difficult! All of our technician staff are chipping away at the ice to reach our radar for emergency repairs. pic.twitter.com/ipcKHNFjN6

— NWS Kansas City (@NWSKansasCity) February 22, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Meanwhile the last batch comes up through the area into early this evening as the HRRR model shows.

It really won’t get out of here till after 12 AM or so…and even behind it…there still might be some mist…but by 12AM our temperatures should be close to what the HRRR shows.

There are still some areas struggling near 32° in the map above…so again some pockets of slickness may be out there.

Overall I’d rather have snow…

Our next system. coming our way early Saturday is in the western part of the country.

  That will be coming into the western Plains and moving into the upper Midwest on Saturday. At the surface there will be a low pressure area somewhere in the Plains that may drop south of here…keeping us in the chilly weather. There will be 2 main chances for rain…in the AM before 9AM…then in the afternoon near or after 3PM as as wind shift moves through the region.

Again Sunday looks better.

We should be milder Monday>Tuesday with highs well into the 50s

So did you happen to catch what happened along the eastern part of the country yesterday…my goodness it was warm.

81 max temperature records tied or broken yesterday, Wed., Feb. 21, 2018. H/T @whatdoweseehere pic.twitter.com/jt9hOkeL9a

— Greg Carbin (@GCarbin) February 22, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

As a matter of fact there were some ALL-TIME FEB highs mixed in as well..

An update for the high temp today at Bradley Airport – a spike to 77F this evening makes for a record for the date, month, and also season! Highest observed in Dec-Jan-Feb. pic.twitter.com/ugjaoPP0kc

— Eric Fisher (@ericfisher) February 22, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

What’s even more amazing, when looking at the upper air maps…was the extent of the warmth through the lower part of the atmosphere…

In a nutshell: “the most extraordinary heat event to ever affect the northeastern quadrant of the U.S. during the month of February,” in records going back to the 1800s. https://t.co/nfZobgpVKQ pic.twitter.com/xNmXv0tHDr

— Bob Henson (@bhensonweather) February 22, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

and another opinion…

My plot doesn't do it justice but the 595 dm "heat" ridge along the US Eastern Seaboard is in my opinion one of the most impressive weather records that I can ever recall in my lifetime. It takes incredibly warm air through the entire atmospheric column to support this feature. pic.twitter.com/431iZA1qxs

— Judah Cohen (@judah47) February 21, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Now note what happened today…doh!

How fast can the weather change across the Northeast? Monthly record high temperatures yesterday, snow and ice today. Record warmth still occurring today across the Southeast. pic.twitter.com/rL8bgNBdl7

— NWS Eastern Region (@NWSEastern) February 22, 2018

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Got to love the changes…

Speaking of which…after the middle to end of next week…things may get somewhat more interesting from a storm and moisture scenario…

I’ll be getting more into this in the morning blog tomorrow…but this intrigues me…especially is late Winter.

So that plunge of the NAO…or North Atlantic Oscillation. This is an indice that helps to show blocking in the atmosphere in the northern latitudes (in this case near Greenland). It’s only one though…but there are others that are connecting with this as well. During late Winter and Spring…as we transition seasons and the warmer air keeps building south of the region and with lots of residual cold weather in Canada and parts of the US…suggest to me that some rather significant storminess is becoming more likely in the USA. Whether it involves our region or if we’re the starting point to more significant weather towards the eastern part of the country remains to be seen but there may some some active weather to track.

Our feature photo comes from Savy Photos Photography of a leaf encased in ice.

A scene repeated through the region lately…

I should get the Friday blog out by 8AM or so Friday!

Joe

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2018/02/22/joes-weather-blog-wishing-for-those-summer-breezes-thu-2-22/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/joes-weather-blog-wishing-for-those-summer-breezes-thu-2-22/