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nyxnightshade7656 · 9 months ago

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Hooked Pt4

Eventually I do think I want this to have some spice to it, but right now it's a lot of lead up, sorry!

Once again, she was out and about late at night. She hadn’t bothered to look at a clock or her watch, but it had be somewhere around one or two in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. So she decided to roam the mansion once again. It wasn’t long before she found herself in the extravagant kitchen. It was rare she allowed herself the indulgence of using both earbuds, but with it being so late at night, she figured it couldn’t hurt. Before her Siren Song developed, she had loved singing. Now, she had to content herself with merely listening to the songs she used to sing along to.

Since she was already in the kitchen, she decided to make herself some coffee and start on some homemade cinnamon rolls. The dough took time to rise, and had to do so twice, so it was better to start those as soon as possible. Once the coffee was brewing, she got to work on mixing the batter. First she measured the flour, then she added the sugar, yeast and salt. She took another bowl and added water and unsalted butter, that she put in the microwave. Once that was warm she added that to the dry ingredients and added an egg. Once that was mixed, she added a little more flour and mixed again.

She repeated the process of add, mix, add until the dough was a smooth, soft, tacky ball of dough. She cleaned her hands, then took her pointer finger and pressed it into the dough. When her finger came back clean, she moved the dough back to the bowl and put it to the side. She cleaned up her mess, then got to making the filling. Into another bowl she put unsalted butter, brown sugar, and some cinnamon. She added a touch of vanilla powder and nutmeg, her own variation on the recipe, then mixed it all together.

The dough had risen during that time, so she floured the counter and turned the dough out. She took a rolling pin and rolled the dough into a huge rectangle, she then took the filling and added it in an even layer across the dough. Then, because she liked being extra and sweet things, she added even more brown sugar and cinnamon on top of that. Once that was done, she rolled it up into a tight log. She grabbed some super thin thread and used that to cut the log into equal sized rolls. She placed each roll into buttered pans and covered the pans with dry, clean, kitchen towels and set them aside for their second rise.

Now that the bulk of the work was done, she set the oven to preheat and got to work on making the icing. She mixed cream cheese and butter together, then added powdered sugar and vanilla paste, she added a touch of fresh squeezed orange juice and orange zest for an added bit of flavor and then wrapped the icing bowl in some plastic wrap until the rolls were baked. The oven dinged to indicate it was done preheating, so she checked on the rolls. They weren’t quite ready, so she moved to get herself some coffee.

She tilted her head as her phone went off with a text. She grabbed her phone and smile softly when she saw that her dad had messaged her, nothing long; just a simple ‘be home in an hour.’ He had been on the same mission that Gambit had gone on, so it was nice that he was letting her know he was okay. She sent a smiling emoji and a heart back, just because she knew it annoyed Logan when she didn’t use words in her texts, and then focused back on her task.

The rolls were ready, so she put those into the oven and set a timer, then went about making some other, simpler, pastries and breakfast snacks to leave in the kitchen for anyone who might later need a pick-me-up. By the time she was done, the rolls were done as well, so she took those out and let the cool a little before adding the icing. She grabbed one roll for herself and packed up several more rolls and went to the hanger. And she was just in time, because as she walked in, the Blackbird was making its decent. She gave a small, shy, smile as the ramp descended and off walked the X-Men. Nightcrawler, or Kurt as he had told her to call him, and Logan were the first two off.

“Hey kid, ya weren’t waitin’ on us were ya?” Logan asked the instant he saw her standing there. She shook her head and held out on of the fresh baked pastries to him. Logan blinked, then shook his head and took it, “Stayed up cookin’ again?” She just gave him a smile and nodded. Kurt ‘bamfed’ beside her and looked over her shoulder, “Oh! You made Zimtschnecken! Zey smell göttlich!“

She had no idea what any of his German meant, but Kurt’s tone and emotions were warm. The air tasted of cinnamon, and it had nothing to do with the rolls she had made. She gave him a small, shy, smile and handed him one of the rolls, only to have to surpress a yelp when he wrapped her up in his arms and tail in a hug, “Danke, Kleine!” He let her go, then gave a little bow. While still bowed, cinnamon roll in hand, he ‘bamfed’ out of the room. Logan shook his head and gave her a look, “Sorry ‘bout the Elf. He’s harmless. You should go try and get some sleep kid. Ya look half dead.”

“Now Wolvie, dere’s no need ta lie ta ‘er like dat! She look prettier’en a peach.” Gambit made his entrance with his usual flare, and apparently a clear disdain for Wolverine’s temper. Despite all that, however, she could tell that he meant what he said. There was nothing but lemon-lime-bright sincerity coming from the Cajun. It made her blush, but thankfully her dad was paying more attention to Gambit than her. Unluckily, Gambit had eyes only on her and saw the red creep up her face neck and face clear as day. Gambit leaned down slightly to better look her in the face, “You make d’ose? Smell incroyable.”

She bit her lip and ducked her head, letting her hair fall into her face, even as she held out one of the cinnamon rolls for him to take. Gambit grinned and took the offered sweet, he took a hearty bite, only to let out a pleased sound. She could feel the creeping spice of his surprise heavy on her tongue, “Ah, Petite, knew it smelled good, but didn’ t’ink it would taste good as it smelled. Mais, not often da Gambit get a pleasant s’prise.” Instantly, Wolverine was bristling, tensed and ready to fight.

“Watch it, gumbo!” He snarled, only to visibly force himself to relax when she put her hand on his elbow. Wolverine looked down at her. He huffed, then just nodded once and turned to look at Gambit again, “I’m watchin’ you, Cajun.” He warned, then turned around and left, but not before he ruffled her hair as he passed. Gambit watched Logan leave, a small, almost, smirk on his face. He waited until Logan was well out of super-human ear shot before he looked back at her and gave her a more genuine smile.

“Well, Petite, how should Remy tank you, hm? You gon’ spoil ‘im you keep dis up, ya know?” Her heart rate kicked up as the taste of caramel bloomed on her tongue. Affection, joy, something close-but-not-quite love. Desire. But a desire born of care and respect. Something she never thought she would feel directed towards herself. She tilted her head to the side, letting her hair fall over her shoulder to reveal her red face to him. He smiled, “Dere ya are, Belle. ‘Mon, les fin’ somewhere quieter, non?” He put a hand on her lower back, gently leading her from the hanger.

#gambit #remy lebeau #x men #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #x men 97 #deadpool and wolverine #xmen #ravenstorm2011 #habitabel #ugglywiggler

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 2 years ago

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Danya Lore

tw: frostbite, execution, murder, drowning

Danya is from back in the equivalent era of ~1920s His homeland was in extreme disarray, and it was clear a civil war was on the horizon. Knowing that her son would be one of the first drafted because of his magic capabilites, she immediately got in contact with his headmage, Danya's mom wanted him to go to RSA originally but the headmage there was xenophobic, and pitched it as the students being in a state of high fear and that it likely wouldn’t be a safe or welcoming place for him, and kept the bribe that he was sent so she had to to steal again in order to reach NRC in hopes they would accept her son. His mother also paid the headmage at NRC to ensure he was given private lessons by the teachers at NRC until he could speak fluent but heavily accented English He was to have no contact with his mother or anyone really outside of NRC for his own protection, and had come with none of his belongings, his only memory being the song his mother used to sing him and his little sister to sleep, and he quickly found "Once Upon A December" to be his signature spell after accidentally casting it and freezing another student after they startled him on a late night walk Panicked, he left them there and went back to his dorm (which was segregated, not completely unlike Ramshackle, but somewhere much safer and fit for nobility- his mother was a lady in waiting, but in order to send him off, stole money from her Duchess) The kid he froze was luckily, alive but not completely unharmed. He forgave Danya and actually apologized for scaring him, willing to give him another shot as friends, but Danyas guilt made it impossible to accept that as he knew the damage the frostbite had caused under the glove that had been extended to him in friendship In his guilt he went for a walk to clear his head, and continues to do so for several nights. He found out from the headmage a few weeks later that his mother and little sister had been caught thieving, and both of them had been killed. Trying to process that, he took himself down to a lake in the nearby forest, humming shakily to himself trying to remember the sound of their voices if nothing else He didn’t notice the other students best friend following him until he sat down beside him and got to talking. Eventually the other student convinced Danya that letting some of that magic energy go would make him feel better, he could freeze the entire top of the lake, and nobody would be hurt or mind, especially because it was already late December and most students were still on holiday. Danya finally agreed but just as the spell was cast, the other student shoved Danya off the dock, easily breaking through the thin layer of ice and watching in satisfaction as his own magic froze over him, freezing and drowning him Only a day went by before the staff realized he was missing, but nobody found his body or knew what happened to him until the next year in December, when his ghost started roaming campus. He likes sitting in the stairway up to the headmages office, but hes most often seen roaming campus late at night, humming the lullaby his mother used to sing him. He avoids Pomefiore students and beastmen alike now.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twst talks #v talks #danya alistrotov

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emberlynnrayne · 5 months ago

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1-20-15

Progress.

I keep telling myself about the progress I've made.

And it's true- I've come a long way.

But I'm still a caged animal. Both a dog and a bird.

How long will it take before I can be human again?

I am so suspicious and angry and defensive. I could pretend it's just with strangers and new people, but I know better. I'm still afraid of *every* relationship. I'm still watching and waiting and testing. How comfortable can I get? How real can I be? How much can I screw up, and still be met with a safe and healthy response? When will I become too much? How long until they're sick of me? How will they respond if/when each new thing happens?

It's not just them I'm testing and watching. It's myself. How will I respond to x, if x, when x. Why am I responding to x this way? Is it reasonable? Based in reality or cognitive distortion? Will I communicate the issue effectively? Will I be the best and healthiest person I can be in situation x?

Partner has been patient. I'm afraid I'm reaching the limits of their patience. They're such a naturally good people person and I'm... A caged animal. Seeing everything as a threat or risk. Singing as long as they don't get too close to the bars.

My morning family has pets. One is a German shepherd called Drake. He's aggressive, and will bite. He barks and lunges at me. They've had him to several trainers and the consensus is? He's afraid. His aggression is based in his fear. He is a good and gentle boy to his family, but everything else terrifies him.

I'm no better than this dog.

He doesn't know I don't want to hurt him. He doesn't know I'd let him bite me if it meant I got to give him scritches and love. He doesn't know that I'd never hurt him or his family. He can only see the threat I could pose.

I am no better than this dog.

I'm still putting myself in situations I'm not comfortable with because everything is uncomfortable. Nothing is safe. I'm skating on ice so thin, the spider silk latticework, diaphanous layer between me and another hole. Another loss. Another hurt.

It's been about a year since Jill and Justin happened. My best friend chosing the guy that wouldn't respect my boundaries, and then serving me with an ultimatum to allow him in not just my, but my daughters life? I loved her and trusted her and she just kept hurting me, and I just kept loving her. This is my pattern. Loving too much. Staying too long.

I don't trust others because I don't trust myself. I don't trust others because I don't trust that people can love me. I don't trust others because people can be selfish and hurtful. And the very worst ones are the ones you love and trust.

I know this isn't healthy. I'm working on it.

I say that a lot about a lot of me. I'm working on it. And it's true. But...

I'm still

Just

A caged animal.

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thecorpseswallower · 1 year ago

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II. Azar

Azar raised a sleeve to his mouth, blocking some of the smoke from entering his burning lungs. Hiking up the cumbersome fabric of a once-white gambeson, he managed to run another short burst before the roaring of heavy wingbeats drove him low to the earth again.

The day had started cold and silent. He’d been roused from his uneasy sleep by the smell of breakfast, and had followed his nose out from the cabin the Alfar had assigned to them. A layer of fresh snow had eclipsed the muddy slurry of rain and ice that fell intermittently in the night, and the light from the wrought-iron lanterns flickering on their hooks made the flakes appear like flower petals as they danced in the crosswinds of a looming storm. That threat had since become a promise, and Azar now shoved strands of wet hair away from his eyes, scanning the battlefield before him.

In the hall that morning, he had spoken further with the Commander. A clever and soft-spoken man, Lárus was quite the contrast to the Knight he presented to accompany them: an Alfar with a severe expression upon his otherwise delicate face. He had been introduced as Sigur of the Eastern Wall and lauded as the most skilled among their Dragon Knights, but he did not appear stirred by the praise, nor by the Scholar’s own accolades. The Knight had sharp eyes under his white lashes, silvery hair which hung unbound down his back, and a face that seemed unplaceable as either male or female, rounded and soft with high cheeks and olive-brown skin. A deep scar marred the left side of his lips, beginning at the crease of one nostril and ending at his chin. He had never spoken to any of them.

Hadrien had led them from the great hall to the armoury, explaining the craft of their wares and weapons at great length. Swords and axes were fine enough for smaller prey, but bringing down a dragon was a matter of precision, not of might. Thus spears were a far more common sight, and there were two kinds at their disposal: the grand majority were forged as thin and hollow as a needle, made to puncture vital organs and drain the beasts dry. The other kind was the harpoon, which seldom few carried.

As for their armour, it was not the dragon’s fire, teeth, or claws that posed a problem, but the initial flash of the explosion. No part of the body could be left bare without risk of burning. Dark and vibrant colours seared straight into the flesh, leaving nothing but an impression of the fabric's weave embedded into the skin, so white was the standard. Chalky stone shields as large as doorways and twice as thick were standard for their cavalry and pole-men, and that same stone was dusted upon their armour as an added precaution. Even the grand spires of Asgard were layered in the stuff.

Only the Dragon Knights had dark armour, forged from the bones of their prey and singed black in the process, so they were easy to spot among the snowy fields and in the skies above. Azar squinted at some distant figures, trying to discern Sigur’s red-plumed helmet from the others, but could not be sure for all the distance and the rain. He gathered his paws beneath himself and made for the cover of an overturned wagon.

All of the Alfar’s precautions had made sense to him at the time, but very little of the armour proved useful to himself or Emil. Their suits were so ill-fitting that Hadrien had all but begged them to stay behind, but Emil was insistent upon following his little Lord into battle, and Azar…

He slowed his pace as another dragon swooped low upon the frontlines. The glint of a thrown harpoon was all the warning it had before the weapon buried itself in the beast’s underbelly. As it rose, it took with it the chain and the Dragon Knight clutching its other end, and both vanished into the clouds.

Nothing that size should've been able to fly.

He had needed to see them for himself, to feel their presence and weight with every wingstoke to know that they were not an illusion. Four larger ones had come with an army of smaller beasts, some roughly the size of airborne dogs, while the largest rivalled a sizeable house. Their wings seemed like enormous sails, bellowing as they cut through the emptiness of air like it was water.

Azar had fallen back partly due to the difficulty of moving in his heavy armour, but also because of his investigation into the corpses the army had left in their wake. The little ones were fleshy and lizard-like, with small scales that reminded him of a Mau's tongue. They were smooth in one direction but as sharp as nettles in the other. Wiry and thin, they had mouths full of jagged teeth and wild eyes with the pupils of a goat.

The larger ones were stranger still. From such a distance, it was hard to tell if they were scaled or furred. They appeared to have a glossy shine, and their wings were less uniform than the smaller creatures, broken into segments that fanned out more like a fish than a bat. Their tails, too, seemed spiked with some strange configuration of thin, flexible scales. Two of the four had been brought down by the Knights, but they had landed off in the far distance.

He ducked underneath the wagon just as the high whistle of flash-fire sounded to his right. There was a pause, then the shockwave sent a tide of snow and dirt into his face and onto the helmet of another Knight sheltering beside him.

“Shit,” a familiar voice cursed, trying to wipe away the debris from his eyes. Each helmet had a visor made of black quartz, thinned just to the point of visibility. It was to protect their vision, though one would do well to always keep their face away from the ignition point of a dragon’s gullet.

“Alphonse?” The boy should've been with the rest of the archers, who were still several paces ahead of Azar. He balled up a corner of his loose sleeve and licked it, then brought the cloth to the boy's visor. “What are you doing here?”

Alphonse bounced the crossbow lain across his knee. “I ran out of bolts,” he said. “Why aren't you wearing your helmet? Or your boots?”

“I was slow enough as it was. Are you injured?”

“No, I just… I couldn't find a resupply wagon, and I got confused.”

“Where's that Knight we were given? Or Emil, or your sister?”

“They're on ahead. I didn't have the chance to explain where I went. Then that big dragon came by, and…”

Azar clicked his tongue. It was good the boy had found shelter, but the others would surely panic once they realised he was missing. Only Magnolia and Marciano had stayed behind in the watchtower, and not for the first time that day, he cursed Marci’s cowardice.

“Yes, that certainly is a problem, isn't it…” Azar peered out from beneath their shelter, seeing nothing but empty fields to the right of them. To their left were only thrown lances and arrows, and the heavy scent of blood. “It's not attacking the fortress. They seem preoccupied with all the footsoldiers. The Knights will either double back on us, or the dragon will move up to the frontlines. Either way, we should be alright if—”

There came a roaring from the skies, then sunlight. An enormous body tumbled out of the heavens, parting the clouds as it fell and streaming blood like a river. The dragon tumbled to the earth only a few feet to the left of the wagon, and landed with such a crash that it toppled the cart fully onto himself and Alphonse. It took all of their combined strength to lift again.

Once they managed to escape, they saw only one figure atop the beast: a red-plumed Knight spooling the long chain of his harpoon back around his hand. He paused for a moment, surprised.

“Oh,” said Sigur. “There you are.”

His voice was rough with ash and smoke, but he did not seem more than winded by what he had just done. A cheer rose from the Knights on the frontline. Some appeared to be turning back towards the three of them, spears at the ready to ensure the beast was slain. Only one great dragon remained.

Azar had to shout to him to be heard over the approaching army. “Where are the others?

Sigur gestured at the sea of spears and banners and white, dusty armour. “In there. They’re holding their own.”

“Alphonse ran out of bolts,” Azar explained, gesturing toward the boy’s crossbow. Sigur only nodded.

“The flock should rout soon. Take him back to Himinbjörg.”

Alphonse seemed happy enough to have the excuse. Azar drew the clunky, heavy sword he had been given to wield and set about escorting the young Lord back to the fortress, letting Alphonse lead while he watched the sky. Now and then they stopped to avoid the gaze of any dragons overhead, crouching low to the ground or hiding behind the same structures Azar had used as windshields during his advance. The sounds of battle had quickly grown distant, and soon only a steep incline stood between them and the walls of Himinbjörg.

As Azar was about to part ways with him, an overwhelming presence descended from on high. He immediately dropped the sword and gave the Aos Sí boy a shove, telling him to “Go!” in no uncertain terms.

The dragon swooped low, its talons extended; but whether it was by some primal intuition or simply a matter of good reflexes, Azar evaded its grasp. He darted to the side, sprinting on all fours through the snow. When the creature came to land, the two locked eyes.

The dragon's wings acted like forearms as it propped itself upright. Along the outer shell of its wings was a strange sort of carapace. Satin-like in lustre but almost leaf-shaped in appearance, they seemed like clusters of fine fibres that hemmed the edges of its body, the ridge of its spine, the mane of its neck. Nearer its face and along its otherwise scaly form, it sprouted needle-like clusters, patterned as a mottled white and grey.

More curiously, the snow and rain it had arrived with did not seem to hit its form at all. It was as if the world warped around it, a thin layer of distortion haloing its body like the glass at the bottom of a bottle.

It had the head of a horse, but opened its jaws to reveal rows of jagged teeth as it lunged forward, snakelike, and seized the entire right half of Azar's torso in its maw.

The pain was secondary to the shock. As it began to lift its great head, Azar collected fire into his free hand and shot it blindly into the air— a desperate, almost reflexive action which did not so much as graze the beast, but did catch its eye.

The dragon dropped him unceremoniously, looking down with a cocked head as Azar clutched at his own bleeding body. He thought to run, and would have willed himself to act if only he could, but as if in a daze, he lay there staring up at the creature as the scales of its throat began to change in hue. Like metal being heated, the bright burn of light grew from a dull red to brilliant white as it opened its maw, lit from the inside by a furnace of its own making.

There was no torrent of flames that followed, only a sharp, blinding flash of heat.

Azar spoke no words as he lifted his hand. Fire, regardless of its source, was still fire. He met it as if he were catching the body of a lover, melding its shape around him. The sheer velocity of force behind the emission was too strong to fully redirect, but despite the burn on his palm, the scent of singed hair and the draining of his wounds, it was the creeping exhaustion that welled within his own body that hindered him most.

Still, he had seen it. He understood it. Not the mechanisms by which it was produced, but where the heart of a dragon's flame lay. A fire is a fire, and all fire needs kindling to burn. Where Azar could pull those materials from dust or the earth, so too must a dragon have a cache at the ready.

His vision had narrowed to a point. His breathing was ragged, and his paws were tacky with blood. Reaching out with whatever strength he could summon forth, he turned his wild eye to the beast, intent on grasping that glowing ember in its throat and coaxing it to burn.

The dragon recoiled. Confused, in pain, whatever strangled sounds it was trying to make were squeezed out as nothing more than a hiss. The fire in its throat quickly choked the air from its lungs, singing a black hole through its scales. But that was not enough.

The beast scrambled backwards, attempting to take flight in aborted, clumsy jerks. Its head was held to the snow, attempted to smother the burn while its wings flapped erratically, its tail thrashing. Azar looked upon the sight without seeing it.

His focus was entirely on the call of the flame within. It was as he was, now a part of him. He could sense the rapid progression of it as more and more of the bountiful fuel was consumed, growing ever larger, ever stronger. The writhing, mewling husk was only a barrier between himself and the flame. He slowly dragged his own body after the dragon as it attempted to flee, the sound of ringing bells distant in his ears.

Then, from behind, there came a sharp whistle. Something cut through the air and impaled the beast through the wing, pinning it to its ribs as a spear lodged itself into the dragon’s heart. It fell limp almost immediately, and a voice called out, but the words were garbled to Azar’s ears. As he slumped to his knees, he turned his frenzied gaze away for only a moment to see a sea of white figures approaching from the fields.

And then, an eruption.

The viscera that sprayed back onto his face was warm. It was the last sensation Azar was conscious for.

-- Next ->

#ch 2

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xtruss · 1 year ago

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Ten Strangest Natural Phenomena In The United States of America!

Death Valley's Sailing Stones!

Death Valley National Park was established as a natural monument in 1933. Although its name could be more inviting, its beauty is undeniably unique. Its main attraction is the geological phenomenon known as the sailing stones—a mystery that kept scientists and explorers in awe for decades.

In the early 2010s, time-lapse photographs and rigorous investigations uncovered the enigma. The rocks, ranging from weighing a few ounces to over 700 pounds, move every winter without human or animal intervention when the wind blows strong enough to slide them over thin sheets of melting ice. The ice melts and moves when exposed to warm morning sunlight, a process known as ice shove.

Great Smoky Mountains' Lightning Bugs!

Sometime between the third week of May and the third week of June, the beetle species, officially known as Photinus carolinus, will enter its mating season in the Great Smoky Mountains. Male fireflies synchronize their flashing lights so females can recognize them. The spectacle put on by millions of lightning bugs blinking simultaneously in the dark forest nights attracts hundreds of tourists who plan their visit several months in advance.

Yellowstone's Geysers!

The attractions of Yellowstone Park have been in the making for over half a million years. Geysers, hot springs, fumaroles, and mud pots result from the interaction between underground volcanic activity and groundwater. The superheated water of hot springs—trapped in channels leading to the surface—erupts when the steam in the inner layers of the volcanic caldera (where Yellowstone lays) lifts the cooler water in the upper layers causing the flashy phenomenon called geysers. The most famous performer of the geothermal show is Old Faithful, a highly predictable geyser that erupts every 45 to 100 minutes.

Horsetail Fall in Yosemite!

Every summer night for almost a century, burning hot embers were poured from Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park down the cliff to the valley below. The 3,000-foot drop of incandescent coal put on a magnificent show that attracted growing crowds from 1872 to 1968. Nowadays, a natural spectacle evocative of the man-made fire has taken center stage: Horsetail Fall in Yosemite, an evanescent waterfall that sometimes—during the two last weeks of February—turns bright orange when backlit by the sunset gleam.

Mendenhall Glacier!

Alaska's scenery is unparalleled. Many of nature's finest exhibits call the northernmost state home. One is Mendenhall Glacier, an enormous glacier that flows from the Juneau Icefield, a 1,500-square-mile stretch of rock, snow, and ice. The frozen giant started retreating three centuries ago when its annual melting began exceeding its annual accumulation of ice. Nevertheless, it would take hundreds of years for the glacier to disappear completely, so there is more than enough time to visit it and admire its greatness.

Singing Sands at Great Sand Dunes National Park!

The air pushing through the sand grains of an avalanche at the Great Sand Dunes National Park creates sounds similar to those made by certain birds or insects. The singing or booming sands usually occur during sandstorms or when people push the sand down the dunes. Due to the various applications of this sound in song and ritual, it is a natural phenomenon that has attracted adventurers, artists, and mystics to the San Luis Valley in south-central Colorado for decades.

Overwintering Monarchs in California!

As autumn settles in, thousands of monarch butterflies leave the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains to spend the cooler months in the central coast region of California. The bright-colored insects gather mostly at Pismo State Beach in San Luis Obispo County, roughly midway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, but can also be found in several other locations down the Pacific coast. The amalgam of a massive number of overwintering monarchs and the green foliage is a delightful sight that impresses spectators, especially the younger ones.

Bioluminescent fungi in Appalachia

Most of us are familiar with pixie dust, but have you heard about fairy fire? Deep in the woods of the Appalachian Mountains, a rare phenomenon takes place in the dark: bioluminescent fungi illuminate the forest bed and decaying tree logs with a bright green glow. This state of brightness is caused by an oxidative enzyme called luciferase, which can be so potent that the radiance might remain visible even when the fungi are taken out of the forest. Conditions for the mushrooms to light up are very particular, so you might only sometimes find foxfire, as it is also known. Nonetheless, there are better chances if you explore the southern Appalachians.

Mother-of-Pearl Clouds in Alaska

Officially named polar stratospheric clouds, this natural event only happens when the temperature above the Arctic Circle falls below minus 114 degrees F, causing widely spaced water molecules to blend and form ice crystals in the otherwise dry stratosphere. High-altitude sun rays beam into the ice, reflecting rainbow-hued light into the clouds. Since the only U.S. state that is part of the Arctic Circle is Alaska, it's the only one where you might be able to catch a glimpse of this mesmerizing color display.

Petrified Lightning at Great Sand Dunes National Park!

The sculptures made when dry sand is struck by lightning are called fulgurites. Even though they look like rocks—which gives them the nickname of petrified lightning—they truly are glass tubes covered by burnt sand. The largest dunes in the U.S. found in the Great Sand Dunes National Park are the ideal place to find these whimsical pieces of natural art. However, if you ever find yourself in the desert during a thunderstorm, get away from the dunes immediately.

#The United States of America 🇺🇸#10 Natural Phenomena

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shespeaksinsongs · 3 years ago

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💝 share bear - send me one emoji and character from hp and i'll write a blurb related to it!

Draco 🥶

hello my dear marcela <3 i hope you like this one! reader is a bit whiny, but i think it's cute this time.

"Draco," Your teeth chattered against each other, your breath manifesting itself into the thin air. "it's really cold."

You were currently up in the snowy mountains, parked in your car, sitting in the trunk, "enjoying the view". But you'd be enjoying the view a lot more if you weren't freezing your skin off.

Draco sighed, pulling you into his side as he warmed you up, rather quickly. "I told you, you shouldn't have eaten that ice cream before we came here." You looked him with a dead look in your eyes, but the smirk on his face at the notion that he was right made you giggle.

Still, there was a pitiful and concerned look in his eyes as he brought you into his laps, warming you up even more.

"No "I told you so's"!" You struggled to say, your hands in between your thighs as you curled up into his body further. "Your girlfriend is cold, and y-you're," You shuddered audibly, feeling a chill go through your body. "making fun of her! You ought to b-be ashamed of yourself-f."

"S-sorry, my-y l-love." He teased you, laughing, kissing your forehead as he readjusted the blankets on top of you.

"Shut up!" You pushed him, although you quickly retreated back to his body. Why are all men human furnaces? You wondered. "How are you not cold?" You asked, breathing against his neck in an effort for the warmth to bounce back onto your face.

"Well, I didn't eat ice cream, for one." He said in a sing-songy voice, taunting you. He pulled a face, mimicking the one you were making, your teeth almost gritting in a rigid smile, as he widened his eyes at you.

"You are so annoying sometimes." You said rolling your eyes, smiling at his laugh. His antics were a nice distraction for a minute, but not for long, until you felt the cold bite your skin menacingly.

You opened Draco's jackets and coat, burying your face in his chest, which was warmer than anything you'd ever felt.

"This is so much better." Your relieved voice said, muffled.

"You're not even enjoying the view, darling." Draco complained, despite caressing your hair and bringing it over your ears, so they were warm.

"I get a view better than this," You gestured behind you, despite not being able to see the cold landscape. "every day at home, with a heater!" You said quietly. Although it was muffled, Draco could still understand perfectly what you were saying. If you could've seen his face, it would've been a mixture of the face one makes at a puppy and a baby.

Having had enough of his warmth, you zipped up his several layers as you laid your head back onto his shoulder, admiring the view, like you went there for. You sighed, once again seeing your breath dance in the air. "After this, we're going to the desert."

You squinted your eyes, trying to see past the miles and miles of crimson red sand, but it was no use.

You shrugged off your jacket, leaving you in a tank and some shorts as you separated yourself from Draco's arms, which were holding you tight to his body.

"Draco, I'm hot!"

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco fluff #draco malfoy blurb #hlbutterflycelebration

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tastesoftamriel · 4 years ago

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I know you've done several Cheeses of Tamriel, but what about Cheese*cakes* of Tamrel? I uh... might have a slight obsession with cheesecake (it's so good!)

Oh, one of my favourite desserts, the humble cheesecake is worth scouring Tamriel for! While some races like Argonians don't customarily use cheese in their food, it always manages to find its way into local treats such as these...

Altmer

Moreish. Fluffy. Melt-in-your-mouth. These are but few words when I could sing the praises of Alinor-style chilled cheesecake all day. The cheesecake, usually made from a mix of sheep and cow milk soft cheeses, is lightly frozen to an ice cream-like texture within a fresh choux puff shell. Swirled through with berry compote, vanilla, and topped with fresh fruit like peaches and lychees, this is a truly exceptional dessert when paired with a sparkling dessert wine.

Argonians

Black Marsh isn't a particularly hospitable climate for raising cattle, so cheese is a pricey commodity that mostly richer Argonians have access to. I once had a cheesecake at the upper-crust (no pun intended) inn in Lilmoth, which was made from imported Cyrodiilic cheese. What made it special was the use of local ingredients, like the saltrice crust sweetened with scuttlebloom nectar, and the to-die-for passionfruit jelly on top.

Bosmer

Cheesecake is one of the few desserts that the Green Pact Bosmer can indulge in, and they do so often! The milk of mammoths fed on sugar beets and cane is sweet and makes a delicious soft cheese. Studded with bacon bits and baked until firm, this sweet-and-salty treat is a dessert experience like no other in Tamriel.

Bretons

Nobody does the classic biscuit-based cheesecake quite like they make it in High Rock. The freshest of fresh cream cheese is sweetened with beet sugar, sometimes swirled through with chocolate or jams, and served atop a homemade caramel biscuit base (sometimes with a drizzle of melted chocolate or custard, because why not). The best part? It's great served hot or cold! If you want to try an easier (but just as tasty) variant, have a go at making my High Rock Fluffy Cheesecake.

Dunmer

The scuttle cake made by the Dunmer is, unsurprisingly, burnt. This isn't a joke, the burning is intentional...and delicious. Scuttle is whipped until fluffy with kwama eggs, sweet marshmerrow, and is then baked until dark brown with a caramelised surface. It doesn't look the most appealing, but it tastes absolutely divine!

Imperials

Oh beloved lemon cheese tart of Chorrol, how you haunt my dreams every night I do not eat you! Ahem. Yes, it's that good. The base is made from leftover biscotti that's been soaked in brandy overnight, and the lemon ricotta filling is zesty and tart without being overly sweet. Other popular seasonal flavours include blackberry in summer, and pumpkin in autumn, but lemon has a special place in my heart.

Khajiit

I adore a specific bakery in Riverhold that makes these delicious cheesecake slices soaked in caramelised moon sugar and cinnamon syrup. Creamy soft cheese is layered between filo pastry to create a stacked cake that's airy and has a nice bit of crunch to it too. Be sure to have a slice if you're ever in Elsweyr!

Nords

Aside from quark cake, we Nords also love making goat cheese cheesecakes, which are lighter in consistency and flavour than cow's milk cheeses. We beat together fresh chevre, eggs, sugar, and snowberry jam, and bake it atop a simple biscuit crust. It's served warm with snowberry preserves or jazbay jam, and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Served with a shot of schnapps, it's a classic homey dessert loved across the Province, and even has an Altmer seal of approval!

Orcs

I mentioned the echatere cream cheese tarts beloved by Orcs across northern Tamriel, but Wood Orc timber mammoth cheesecakes are also worth writing home about! Unlike the Bosmer, Wood Orcs use regular, farmed timber mammoth milk that's sweetened with honey. It's poured into clay ramekins and baked to remove the strong mammoth odour which usually comes with unpasteurised milk, with the end result being a sweet, creamy pudding. It's served hot, with a sprinkle of brown sugar for those with a sweet tusk.

Redguards

Since goat milk is the primary staple in Hammerfell, it stands to reason that the Redguards also make a goat cheese dessert. A traditional Hegathe confection is a firm slice of chilled, whipped goat cheese mousse that's sweetened and flavoured with cardamom, rose and pistachios. It's sandwiched between two amazingly thin wafers of puff pastry, and drizzled with honey and rosewater to serve. Truly delightful!

#Asks #Cake #Cheesecake #Cheese #Food #Dessert #World building #Worldbuilding #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #Tastes of Tamriel #tastesoftamriel

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crimsonfluidessence · 3 years ago

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Prompt 27: Hail

Content Warning: 5.5 Spoilers

She was not going down so easily, as one might expect.

Lunar Shiva's next move was to freeze the ground in a thin layer of ice- followed by heavy snow, wind, and hail all concentrated in this one arena they were fighting in. The cold seeped down to his bones, and people slid across the arena, in range of her fierce kick.

It was a miracle they survived at all- that he survived, especially, when the primal had looked directly at him with that gaze of hers. But nearly freezing to death wasn't the worst of it.

The worst was the aftermath, in the bases set up on the Carteneau Flats for the Alliance. The knights who had been encased in ice were taken for treatment for frostbite, and Esredes once more felt helpless as he watched them in the infirmary.

It was then that the leader of the Ala Mhigo division approached him. She was a Miqo'te that didn't look like she was even old enough to be his age, and yet she talked in such an approachable and casual manner it felt like he was being approached by a mere fellow soldier in the Alliance. She seemed to sense the look in his eyes and told him to assist by getting blankets, and having something to keep him occupied seemed to help him snap out of the deep part of his mind he had put himself in. She even asked if he was all right. Every part of him wanted to answer no, but it was not wise to explain to an Alliance commander that by Alliance rules you should technically have been put to death long ago, even considering the rocky relationship between Ishgard and Ala Mhigo.

Still, his mind did not completely ease as he went about trying to assist the healers until he was sent out. A lot of people died today. If there had been one less primal to fight, that would have meant more forces to distribute to save others, and therefore, it was his fault that some people died. It often was his fault when people died, one way or another. But what were all of these recreations of primals they fought but born of the desperation of other groups of Spoken just like his own, trying to fight back against unfair conditions? Putting their hopes in a savior when the world had abandoned them, just like he had?

By this point, Esredes was outside by by the campfire, staring out at the scenery of Carteneau Flats as his thoughts swirled like a blizzard. A bard was singing, and he did his best to focus on the melody.

It was his fault, yet here he stood with the Alliance. They were the ones regarded as heroes. And no one knew, no one except for the entirety of the Ishgard faction after he outed himself at the cells... He'd trade several dozen tempered Imperials' lives if it meant Shiva had succeeded, and he knew that. But he didn't even have that. Banishing Shiva ultimately lead to the end of her life, and so in the end, everyone perished.

And if the concept could be conjured up even when she was long gone... what kind of irreversible stain had his efforts left on Eorzea?

Once he was a mere Temple Knight, an insignificant, untalented noble trying to take his small space in the world. And he just had to work his way up to being regarded as a highly dangerous criminal; that was one thing, it would fade into nothing and memory with the ages.

But Shiva could outlast their entire movement, the twisted phantom of her memory resurrected over and over again for purposes far beyond hers. Was this the fate he and all the others who helped had doomed her to?

Esredes glanced back at the fire, its warmth faintly reaching him even from over there. A part of him wished for the mysterious apocalypse even just thinking about it, but his gaze wandered to the various people gathered around the fire, and his mind replayed the various times people had tried to ask him if he was all right tonight. One Maelstrom woman had even asked for a hug.

And silently, he drew closer to the fire, listening in more on the idle banter around the fire, until he eventually took a seat to stare into it.

Fire. It reflected his eyes and it melted ice. It burned people to ashes, but it gave life. Dangerous as it was, without it there'd be no life at all. And here he was with these other people he didn't know, yet nonetheless united in the same purpose, and he was alive. And the warmth would bring those frostbitten knights to recovery, slowly.

And maybe fewer children were left alone in the snow since her sacrifice. Who was he to know either way? All he had right now was the warmth of the fire, the soft melody of music, and the often foreign sensation of silent belonging among strangers. And so he shut his eyes, and focused on the melody, taking his place once more amongst those who stood up to the cold of this world.

#in action #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxviwrite #ffxiv shadowbringers spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #shb spoilers #5.5 #screenshots #second iteration combat outfit

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asweetprologue · 5 years ago

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the process of rewarming

Octoberfest 6: Hypothermia (whumptober #21)

Read on ao3

Kaedwin was sharply beautiful in the winter. Every surface glinted like polished crystal, the world coated in a fine layer of ice and snow. Blankets of white muffled the countryside, broken by the intimidating bulk of the northern mountains. The thick pine forests were heavy with snow, the trees bowing under the weight of winter in full swing. Above them, the sky was a steel gray that promised more harsh weather to come.

The path that they walked was narrow and slick, the unforgiving mass of the mountain rising on their left and sloping downwards treacherously on their right. Jaskier paused, his breath puffing out before him as he spared a moment to look out over the countryside. The entire scene was cast in sharp black and white, the snow, trees and mountains beyond forming a stunning but severe monotone. It was bitterly cold, the icy fingers of the northern wind stabbing under each and every gap in his thick winter clothing.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice came from ahead. Jaskier looked away from the view, though the sight he turned to face was no less stunning. The witcher was just as bundled up as Jaskier, his armor traded out for a thick cloak and a padded coat, the rest of his usual gear loaded onto Roach. He looked even larger than usual, the bulky clothes adding extra breadth to his shoulders. His golden eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the snow, though the rest of his face was cast into shadow by the hood he had pulled over his head. Roach snorted beside him, shaking her mane out and tugging at the reins in Geralt’s hands. The path was small enough that Geralt had to walk her, not willing to risk a wrong step. “We need to keep moving,” he said, nodding up the mountain. “If we don’t reach Kaer Morhen by night we’ll be stuck in the snow.”

The clouds above did seem to be growing ever darker. Jaskier nodded, jaw clenched to hide his chattering teeth. Geralt’s eyebrows came together in a frown when he didn’t respond verbally, but Jaskier could do little to assuage his worries.

This was the first time that he’d been invited to travel to Kaer Morhen with Geralt, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up by complaining about the cold. If Geralt thought Jaskier couldn’t handle the journey, he’d never let him come along again. So yes, his fingers were nearly numb and his eyes were burning from the wind and his feet were clumsy as he followed Geralt up the path, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Not if it meant Geralt taking back his invitation in future years.

So Jaskier hunched his shoulders and continued after the witcher in silence.

They were, Geralt said, no more than an hour or two away from the Kaer Morhen valley, and from there it was an easy walk up to the keep itself. The path that they currently walked was the most difficult part of the journey, made worse by the fact that they’d gotten a late start. Geralt had been finishing up a contract near Oxenfurt, and they’d only barely made it to the pass before it was closed for the winter. The snows had begun falling in earnest a week ago, and by the time they’d made it to the northern mountains they had been well and truly covered in ice and snow. There was nothing for it, however, so they’d started their reluctant way up. They’d been at it for a few days, but this area was clearly the riskiest. Jaskier had seen how Geralt’s mouth had gone thin when they discussed the last leg of the journey, but he hadn’t commented on it.

They walked in silence for another half an hour or so before the path leveled out, splitting again into two diverging trails. The first led downwards, into what looked like a thin vale. As Jaskier followed Geralt along the other path leading further upwards, he could see that the trail below widened into a small valley. There was a river that ran parallel to their track, and here it widened into something almost large enough to be a lake. The water moved fast enough that it had not completely frozen over, only the edges glinting with sharp ice. It was some twenty feet below them, the mountainside sloping downwards sharply to meet the pool. The frigid waters reflected the light of the low hanging sun, throwing a shifting mosaic onto the cliffside across from them. It was a stunning scene, begging to be captured through pen or song.

Perhaps it was because he was so taken by the environment that Jaskier stumbled. One moment he was staring out over the small valley, and the next his feet were rapidly sliding out from under him. The patch of ground in front of him that he’d assumed was solid crumbled beneath his heel, snow tumbling away and taking him with it. The thick blanket of snow on the path shifted, moving to fill the space abandoned through Jaskier’s misstep. He found himself slipping, drawn towards the edge of the cliff as if a tide was rushing over him. Jaskier fell, already half over the edge of the cliffside and headed towards the valley below.

Suddenly he was being tugged roughly up and to the side. Geralt’s hands were insistent, grabbing the front of Jaskier’s coat and pulling. Jaskier could feel the snow and ice beneath them still slipping, and he met Geralt’s eyes in a panic. If Geralt didn’t move, they would both go over with the crumbling mountainside.

Geralt’s face was set with determination. With a heave, he pulled Jaskier up and twisted at the same time, shoving Jaskier out of the way even as Geralt tumbled over the side of the cliff.

“No!” Jaskier launched himself forward, trying to catch something - a sleeve, a hand, anything - but he met empty air. The snow under him shifted, and Jaskier scrambled backwards again to avoid going over the edge. He stared at the blank space where Geralt had been, dread making his breaths come in stuttering gasps. Across the decimated path, Roach snorted, pawing at the ground in agitation.

Jaskier stumbled to his feet, heart in his throat. It wasn’t so far of a fall, he thought. Geralt could survive a twenty foot drop easily, especially if the snow had cushioned his fall. He was probably fine. Jaskier just had to find a way to get down to him, as quickly as possible.

Once he’d managed to retrieve Roach, Jaskier swiftly backtracked down the path until he found the spot where the two roads diverged. He urged Roach down along the other trail until it began to widen out, leading into the little valley. The snow here was thick and heavy, having fallen from the nearby cliff sides and collected below. Jaskier had to shove himself through it, feeling the damp powder making its way into his boots. He ignored it, making his way as quickly as he could back towards the lake. Roach followed behind him slowly, her reins gripped tightly in his gloved hand. Geralt would be fine. He had to be. Jaskier just had to find him, and then they could continue to Kaer Morhen and he would have all winter to convince Geralt that this was all just a spot of bad luck. It would be a good argument. Jaskier just needed to find him.

It took longer than he would have liked to make their way to the side of the pond. Jaskier began to look around frantically, trying to figure out exactly where Geralt had gone over. The upper path loomed above them, seeming higher up from this angle than Jaskier remembered. The snow was disrupted in many places, probably from various animals passing through the valley. Jaskier couldn’t tell where Geralt had come down, he couldn’t see anything but the snow, already covering up his own tracks, let alone any signs of Geralt -

There was a cough.

Jaskier sprang into action, abandoning Roach as he rushed toward the sound. There was a small overhang on the west side of the vale, against the wall their path had been on. When he neared, he could see that there was a line drawn through the snow from the side of the lake, as if something had been dragged through it in places. Jaskier felt his heart crawl up into his throat. Until now, he’d refused to think about what would happen if Geralt had fallen in the lake. He ran towards the overhang, following the shallow path through the snow.

Geralt was slumped under it, in a small clearing where the snow had been unable to fully reach because of the overhang. Jaskier could immediately see that something was wrong as he crashed to Geralt’s side. The witcher’s skin was even paler than usual, his lips tinged blue. His white hair fell in frozen sheets around him, and his wet clothes had already turned icy in places. He looks dead, Jaskier thought suddenly, and it was the worst thought that he’d ever had. Bile pushed up into his throat, but he forced it back, instead cradling Geralt’s face in his hands. His skin was so cold Jaskier could feel it through his gloves. Holding his own breath, he moved his face close to Geralt’s slightly parted lips.

After a long moment, he felt a puff of air against his cheek. Relief hit Jaskier like a punch in the chest, his fingers tingling with it.

Witchers could survive low temperatures better than humans could, he knew, but he also knew that the process of warming them up was troublesome. Their hearts were so slow - a blessing and a curse. It would keep him alive even as his limbs shut down, but it would be harder to get him back to a normal temperature for the same reason.

Alright. Alright. He had to focus. One step at a time. Geralt’s cloak was in a pile next to him, one edge slightly singed. He must have been trying to light a fire, Jaskier realized, but the cloth had been too saturated. Step one, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. Wet, freezing clothes had to come off. Jaskier hated the idea of exposing Geralt’s pale, damp skin to the open air, but he knew that the stiff coat he wore now wouldn’t do him any good. He reached out and started prying the fabric away, one layer at a time.

It was hard work, much of the clothing already coated in thin sheets of ice. Jaskier pulled and tugged and shifted until he finally wrestled Geralt out of his thick, useless coat. The layers underneath were just as soaked, but not yet quite as frozen. Jaskier stripped Geralt down as quickly as he could, leaving him bare. He didn’t even shiver, just lying on the cold ground with his breath barely forming clouds in the cold air. Jaskier hurried to Roach.

They had extra clothes in their saddlebags, cotton shirts and pants and a few blankets. Jaskier grabbed them without looking, arms piled high with material as he fell back to Geralt’s side. He pulled two shirts over Geralt’s head, and then laid down a blanket to protect him from the cold ground and rolled him onto it. The freezing earth would leach heat away from him just as surely as the snow or wet clothes would. Satisfied with Geralt’s position, Jaskier fumbled with his pants and socks until he was at least mostly clothed.

Step one completed. Step two: shelter. The ledge was something, but they were still exposed to the elements. He didn’t have the time to go hunting for branches to make a lean-to, and there was very little foliage this high up the mountain anyways. They had a wax treated canvas sheet rolled up behind Roach’s saddle, but he had to find some way to mount it if he wanted to keep the snow off of them.

Roach, bless her, was standing utterly still, clearly aware that something was going on. Jaskier headed back to her, and unclipped Geralt’s swords from their place against her side. They were all he had to work with in terms of any sort of scaffolding, so they would have to do. After grabbing the canvas, Jaskier shuffled through the path of snow back to Geralt. He leaned both swords against the back wall of the cliff, near Geralt’s head, spaced a fair distance apart. The canvas he dragged out and looped over each sword, the heavy weight of them pinning the rough fabric to the wall and holding it several feet above Geralt’s head. The other end of the canvas he dragged out until he reached the snow, half a foot or so away from Geralt’s toes. It was easy work to find a couple of stones to hold the end in place, resulting in a sloped little shelter.

It would have to do for now. He wanted to make step three a fire, but Jaskier had to admit that he wasn’t great at starting them on the best of days. He never had to; Geralt always just snapped a finger and the kindling was crackling merrily away. They could make one later, when Geralt woke up and was cross about how cold their little tent was. They could always do it later. Grabbing the rest of the blankets from Roach, Jaskier gave her a quick kiss on the nose. He felt bad to leave her saddled and free to wander around, but he had to trust that she would be alright. Geralt needed him.

Decided, Jaskier scrambled inside of the makeshift shelter, careful not to pull too hard at the canvas. Geralt lie on the blanket inside, still absolutely still. Jaskier could see that his chest was rising and falling shallowly, but it didn’t truly assuage his fears. Tugging off a glove, he laid a hand on Geralt’s cheek and nearly winced. The witcher’s skin was freezing, as cold as the snow outside.

There was nothing for it. Jaskier began tugging off his own clothes, wincing at the frigid air as it assaulted him. Geralt needed body heat to warm up, if they couldn’t have a fire. He left his boots and pants on, but everything else came off. After a moment of consideration he laid the coat and shirt along the seam of the canvas, blocking more of the harsh wind from entering their delicate abode. That done, he shucked off Geralt’s twin layers of shirts as well, now that they were no longer so exposed to the elements. Grabbing the remaining blankets that he’d pulled from Roach, Jaskier covered the both of them fully and laid down next to Geralt in the small, cold space he’d created.

It was like laying down next to a block of ice, like one of the dazzling sculptures that sat in the square in Novigrad during the yule festivals. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s bare chest, gooseflesh erupting across his skin as it met Geralt’s. He was so cold, Jaskier thought, shivering as he huddled with Geralt beneath the mess of blankets. How could anyone survive being this cold? He felt dead already, his slow heartbeat even slower now as it sluggishly tried to keep his blood pumping. Jaskier tucked himself close, putting his head under Geralt’s chin as his own heart seized in his chest. He didn’t know what he would do if Geralt wasn’t okay - not just how he would get down this fucking mountain, or face Geralt’s family, or, fuck, how he would tell Ciri. He didn’t know what he would do, if Geralt wasn’t there anymore. A crushing void threatened to open in his chest just at the thought of it.

And it would be his fault besides. All for forcing Geralt to take him on this bloody journey to Kaer Morhen, where he’d never even asked Jaskier to come. Jaskier had asked, begged even, said, But I want to meet your family and Ciri needs someone who knows how to tell a good story and I miss you, when we’re apart. And Geralt had caved, eventually, allowing Jaskier to come along where he wasn’t even wanted. Now he was going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere, because of Jaskier.

A sob fell from his lips before he could stop it, a few stray tears sliding from his cheeks to land on Geralt’s collarbone. The small space under the blankets was growing, if not warm, then something less than freezing, so hopefully his tears wouldn’t freeze in place. Sniffling, Jaskier gathered Geralt’s hands in his own, still icy to the touch, and pressed them between their bodies. Geralt would be furious if he couldn’t wield a sword anymore because of something as silly as frostbite.

It felt like they laid there for ages, and Geralt did not wake. Jaskier was anxious to the point of nausea and bored besides, wanting to pace and fret but unwilling to move an inch from his spot by Geralt. The occasional flurry and the cold ground under them ensured that the space never grew truly warm, but Jaskier found his skin becoming sticky with sweat where he was pressed to Geralt. How often had he thought of this, he wondered, on nights when they would share a bed or a bench in the tavern? He’d feel Geralt’s bulk against him through his clothes and his heart rate would pick up, his cheeks flushing as he thought about what it would be like, to feel Geralt skin to skin. To be held by him as a lover. They were silly thoughts. Geralt wasn’t interested, Jaskier knew that. He barely tolerated his presence after all these years. It wasn’t Geralt’s fault Jaskier couldn’t keep his heart to himself.

After an age, Geralt started to shiver. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief; it meant the worst had passed.

Jaskier scrambled out of the small tent as soon as he was relatively sure Geralt wouldn’t immediately die without him there. Step four: fire. Before heading up into the mountains, Geralt had filled a burlap sack with some light pieces of wood, explaining that the terrain provided little by way of kindling along the mountain path. Jaskier tugged back on his coat and gloves and retrieved the sack from Roach, who was waiting with an air of impatience outside of their shelter. Jaskier dumped the bag to the side and set about clearing an area to put the fire. The extra snow he piled up around the little area, building a short wall that reached about halfway up to the overhang protecting their little spot. Hopefully it would help shelter them from the wind and keep the fire lit.

It took him forever to get the flint and tinder to agree with him, even using a clean, dry shirt from his pack as tinder. His fingers were clumsy and numb with the cold, and he was inexperienced with the tools. Eventually a spark flew from the stone in his fingers to the fabric and caught, and Jaskier hurriedly leaned down to blow on it gently. Once the piece was well and truly burning, he pulled a few of the smaller sticks from the bag of kindling and added them until a little fire was casting odd shadowing against the wall of the cliff and Geralt’s unconscious form.

Sitting back with a sigh, Jaskier gave himself a brief moment to warm his fingers before he refocused on Geralt. The warmth of the fire would reach him better without the canvas in the way, and with the pile of snow now blocking more of the outside air, Jaskier felt it was better to expose him somewhat. He moved one of the swords holding up the canvas tent cover until it was open on one side, letting the warmth of the fire into the small space.

Finally finished, Jaskier stripped his coat back off and huddled under the blankets with Geralt once again. Over the next hour or so, he stirred only to put more kindling on the fire, trying to keep it at a small, steady flame that wouldn’t burn through their supply of wood for too long. They would need it to last them through most of the night.

He was dozing slightly when he felt Geralt shift beneath him. Instantly he was wide awake, shooting upwards and almost knocking over the canvas. He stared down at Geralt, who was blinking up at him sluggishly. The little tent was almost warm now, the heat of the fire trapped at least partially within the makeshift walls. Geralt moved as if he was going to sit up, but Jaskier put a hand on his chest to still him, the movement agitated.

“Don’t,” he said, quietly. “You - Are you alright? How do you feel?”

Geralt was still looking at him with a confused expression on his face, like he was trying to piece together exactly where he was and what Jaskier was doing there. “Jaskier,” he said, his voice full of gravel and grit, “what happened?”

Unable to be anything but blunt, Jaskier said, “You fell in a lake. My fault, I’m afraid. Can you feel your toes? I’m terribly worried about them.”

Geralt made a face. “They burn, so yeah,” he said with a grunt. In the small space between their chests, his fingers twitched. Jaskier forced himself not to flush. “Witchers don’t get frostbite,” Geralt continued, still shifting here and there as if to assess the damage.

“How does that track,” Jaskier said faintly. The relief he felt was dizzying; now that he was awake, Geralt seemed to be recovering even faster. His cheeks had a slightly pink tinge to them, and Jaskier could feel that his heart rate was elevated.

“We heal from it, if we get it,” Geralt replied. “Roach?”

“Just outside,” Jaskier said, unable to stop a fond smile from flitting across his lips. Of course Geralt would be more worried about the horse than his own health. “Very cross at us for making her stand out in the wind, I’m sure.”

“I should take a White Raffords, probably,” Geralt mused, almost to himself. He looked tired; his eyes had that half present quality they sometimes did when he came out of a long meditation session. He met Jaskier’s gaze again, tracing over Jaskier’s face and then down his neck and chest. Jaskier swallowed. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked him, tone subdued.

Jaskier felt a spike of anger and grief shoot through him, forcing him to inhale sharply. He wanted to box Geralt around the ears a bit, and only refrained because the man was in a delicate state. “Of course I’m alright, Geralt, you self sacrificing piece of horse shit! I’m the one you shoved out of the way and fell into a frozen lake at the bottom of a ravine for!” He fisted one hand in the blankets around them, mortified to find tears pricking at his eyes. He looked away, trying to hide the evidence of his guilt.

He felt cool fingers suddenly on his jaw, forcing him to turn back towards Geralt. The witcher’s face was soft, eyes hooded with exhaustion and what looked like affection. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “I’d do it again,” Geralt said, tired but full of conviction.

“I’m not worth it,” Jaskier said, sniffling. Geralt’s palm was warming up on his face, more and more alive with each passing moment. Jaskier wished he could do that all the time - give Geralt more warmth and life and love just through a touch. “Not your life.”

“You are,” Geralt said, with a finality that brokered no argument. His fingers skimmed down from Jaskier’s jaw and over his shoulder, until it stopped to rest against the center of his back. Holding him close. Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, a barely there press. His lips were still a little cold, drawing a shiver from the bard. When he collapsed back, he pulled Jaskier with him, curling around him beneath the blankets. “You are,” he said again, into Jaskier’s hair. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I wasn’t prepared to protect you.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jaskier said, blinking against the skin of Geralt’s neck. He was a bit dazed, still feeling the phantom of the kiss like a cool burn. “I did.”

Geralt huffed against him. “I said Ciri missed you,” he said, his fingers spread wide and comforting on Jaskier's back. Tracing around his spine in soothing circles. “I said you’d beat Lambert at gwent, and that Eskel would like that egg thing you make in the mornings, and that you would find a million songs to write about Kaer Morhen in the winter. I thought I was clear enough.” Jaskier felt a puff of warm air against the top of his head, a cold nose in his hair. “Sorry. Will you come to Kaer Morhen with me?”

Jaskier laughed, a sound half choked by tears. “It’s a bit late in the year,” he said, shuffling closer. “A bit of a big thing to spring on a fellow at the last minute.”

Geralt hummed, a sleepy sound that Jaskier knew meant he was dropping off. The little shelter around them was warm, and he knew they would be alright until Geralt woke again. “Next year,” Geralt murmured into his hair, “I’ll ask sooner.”

“And then maybe you won’t fall into a ravine because there’s so much damn snow,” Jaskier said, sighing as he tucked himself deeper into Geralt’s side. Next year.

“Melitele willing,” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt warm all the way through.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #jaskier #geralt/jaskier #my work #october2020 #hypothermia #whump #whumptober2020 #no. 21

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 4 years ago

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Diamonds Are the World’s Best Friend: The Important Roles Diamonds Play in Society

by Shelby Wyzykowski

In the classic 1953 movie “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” is a memorable musical number performed by silver screen legend Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a striking pink satin gown and dripping in dazzling jewels, she is surrounded on the stage by a bevy of handsome suitors that are dressed to the nines. In this glamorous setting, she sings the praises of diamonds…how nothing in the world can compare to how it feels to possess these glittering gemstones. But off-screen, Monroe’s taste in brilliant baubles was radically different, preferring costume jewelry to the real thing. I have to admit that I agree with Marilyn. Diamonds have never held much interest for me. That is until now. After doing a little research, I’ve discovered that, besides their use in the jewelry industry, there are other ways in which diamonds are utilized in society today. In fact, there is so much more to these captivating stones than just their scintillating sparkle.

Perhaps you’ve heard the adage “one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.” Well, it just might surprise you that this saying holds true for diamonds. In the jewelry world, a diamond with perfect clarity is the much-desired ideal. But in the scientific world, a so-called “poor” specimen that is full of inclusions (imperfections), could hold a treasure trove of geologic information. Researchers are studying them to try and uncover the secrets of the deep-Earth environment. The majority of diamonds are created fairly close to the Earth’s surface, between 93 and 150 miles down. But there are some diamonds, called super-deep diamonds, that come from far down in the Earth’s mantle and are as deep as 500 to 600 miles (the mantle, which is mostly made up of solid and very hot rock, is directly below the Earth’s surface layer, or crust, and makes up more than 80 percent of our planet’s volume). These 3.5 billion-year-old gems formed at a pressure that is 240,000 times the atmospheric pressure at sea level, and this fact makes these tiny stone time capsules extremely valuable to researchers. No doubt geologists would love to travel deep under our planet’s surface like the characters in Jules Verne’s 1864 science fiction novel Journey to the Center of the Earth. Unfortunately they can’t, but these super-deep diamonds are the next best thing to journeying there themselves!

With these diamonds, scientists are uncovering clues to the origins of water on Earth. Did water come from incoming asteroids and comets, or was water an integral component at the planet’s formation? We’re still not quite sure. But diamond research has brought us closer to figuring out how much water lies deep underground. Scientists think that there may in fact be as much water present in our planet’s deep subsurface as there is found in our oceans. They have developed this idea after discovering a special water encased in the inclusions of deep diamonds. Called ICE-VII, this water ice can only be formed under tremendous deep-Earth pressure. In addition to water, geologists have found an elusive mineral in diamond inclusions. Scientists had theorized it to be an extremely common mineral that makes up to 38 percent of the Earth’s volume, but it’s been impossible to create in a lab. Now that it’s been found in nature, researchers have the proof of its existence and have named it Silicate-Perovskite (or Bridgmanite). In addition to Bridgmanite, they have discovered other trace minerals and elements that are commonly present in the Earth’s crust. This means that the materials were subducted (drawn back down into the Earth) billions of years ago by plate tectonics. Deep in the mantle, the materials were encased in a forming deep-diamond and then eventually sent back up to the surface by way of volcanic eruptions. Even more exciting than all of these discoveries is the thought of what geologists still have yet to uncover. They still hope to find carbon from primordial organic matter in these special diamonds. That matter could be a clue to the origins of life on Earth!

"Earth’s most abundant mineral finally has a name" byArgonne National Laboratory is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

In addition to their contributions to the scientific field, diamonds also have practical uses in society. In the mid-1950’s, synthetic diamonds were invented. Created in a lab, they are chemically and physically exactly the same as natural diamonds. However, these man-made gems do not possess the allure and mystery of natural diamonds, so they are not very desirable in the jewelry market. But since diamonds are the hardest known natural substance, they are ideal for industrial use. For example, they can be pulverized into a fine abrasive that can be made into a “diamond paste” and used for polishing other jewelry-grade gemstones. Small particles of diamond can also be embedded in tools like saw blades, drill bits, and grinding wheels. These diamond-coated tools are very wear-resistant and can be used for mining, deep-sea drilling, and road construction. And there are some ingenious uses for diamonds that you may find to be very surprising. Diamond windows can be made from very thin (thinner than a human hair) diamond membranes. These windows cover X-ray machines, laser openings, and vacuum chambers. A diamond can also make your music sound better. A speaker dome made out of diamonds can vibrate very rapidly because this gem is such a stiff material. So it is ideal for enhancing the performance of high-quality speakers. Diamonds can even help you keep track of time. Small mechanical devices, such as watches, have tiny bearings inside of them that make everything move (in a watch, it’s called its “movement”). A thin coating of diamond makes these parts wear-resistant and ensures accurate time-telling and lasting durability. From helping to build highways to making your timepiece tick, who knew that diamonds could be so useful in so many ways!

CM18561 is located in the Native Elements case in Hillman Hall of Minerals and Gems. Source: https://carnegiemnh.org/emu_widgets/mineralogy.html#details=ecatalogue.2019718

Yet another important role that diamonds have played in our world is how they have influenced history. The brilliantly blue, supposedly cursed Hope Diamond, for example, has not brought much luck to its owners since it was discovered over 350 years ago. It was in the possession of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI until their untimely deaths during the French Revolution. Subsequent owners also met with unfortunate outcomes until it was donated to the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History where it is now safely on display. Another famous diamond, the 750 year-old Koh-i-Noor, has been owned by many royal rulers. It once decorated the Peacock Throne that was used by the Mughal Emperors of India, including Shah Juhan, the builder of the Taj Mahal. Now in England, the stone is part of the Imperial Crown. Due to an alleged curse, it can only ever be worn by the royal family’s female members. Finally, there is the Regent Diamond, which was unearthed in the early 1700’s. After being owned by several rulers, it disappeared during the French Revolution. Years later, it reappeared in the sword of Napoleon. But he was unable to hold onto it for long. After being defeated by the British in the Battle of Waterloo, the once-great ruler was exiled to the tiny island of Elba in disgrace. Since 1987, the Regent’s home has been at the French Royal Treasury in the Louvre in Paris. But you don’t need to travel to France or Great Britain or Washington D.C. to see the Regent Diamond, the Koh-i-Noor, and the Hope Diamond. Replicas of these three stones plus many more world-famous diamond replicas are on display at the Hillman Hall of Minerals and Gems. While you’re there, you can also admire some expertly crafted pieces of authentic diamond jewelry that would make any gem lover’s heart skip a beat.

Even though Hillman’s diamond collection is truly amazing, I can’t help but wonder if it would have impressed someone like Marilyn Monroe. Apart from a single piece of jewelry, the diamond wedding band that was given to her by Joe DiMaggio, she had no real affinity for diamonds. Apparently, the legendary actress didn’t believe that they’re a girl’s best friend. But if she had been given the opportunity to find out about all of the other meaningful ways in which diamonds benefit our world, perhaps this screen siren might have developed a new appreciation for these precious gems. I know that I have. I’d like to think that Marilyn would have too.

Shelby Wyzykowski is a Gallery Experience Presenter in CMNH’s Life Long Learning Department. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #Diamonds #Minerals #Super Science #Minerals and Gems #Diamond #Bridgmanite

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oytnp-moved · 4 years ago

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Just a little thing I was inspired to write by this post

also here's the song i had stuck in my head while writing it because of the painting im working on irl :)

TL;DR fully grown man calvin f.ischoeder makes a nuisance of himself because his spouse is trying to paint instead of kissing him

Griffin startled as a glass of water entered their vision. They stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, until it jiggled slightly, ice cubes tinkling against the sides.

"Oh." They slid their paintbrush to sit between their middle and ring fingers and accepted the glass gingerly, taking an automatic sip. "Thanks love." They turned their head a little as their husband pressed a kiss to their cheek.

"You've been at this for hours," he said, a hint of a whine in his voice. "You should take a break." He kissed them again on the jaw.

"I'm in the zone, Cal, I can't just take a break," they scoffed. Calvin grumbled wordlessly, snaking his hands around Griffin's waist and pulling them back against him as he moved his lips to their neck. "Calvin I'm holding paint," they warned, gesturing with the palette in their left hand. "I'm gonna get paint on you."

"Mmhm." He nosed at the spot where their neck and shoulder met, placing another soft, lingering kiss there.

"Calvin you're wearing white."

"Mmmhm." He slid one hand up their chest and hooked a finger into the neck of their ratty old t-shirt, pulling it aside enough to expose new shoulder real estate to cover in kisses.

"Calvin."

"Hmm?"

"Cal."

"Mmn." Dissatisfied with what he could reach from his current angle, he shifted his grip to their hips and spun them around, drawing a yelp from them.

"Calvin!" Griffin held their hands as far away from Calvin's body as possible, meeting their husband's charming grin with an unimpressed look. They sighed, a smile creeping onto their face despite themself, and rested their forearms over his shoulders carefully. "Are you really this desperate for my attention?" they teased.

"I think you know the answer to that," he responded primly, his fingertips dipping under the hem of their shirt, tracing lines on their back.

"Big bad Mr Fischoeder can't handle being apart from me for a couple hours?" They kissed him briefly, chuckling when he chased their lips. "So needy."

"Well, don't go spreading it around, but I happen to rather like you," he murmured.

"Luckily for you, my love, I rather like you too. In fact it's why I married you." Calvin's face softened as it always did when they mentioned being married - it had been several months since the ceremony and he still felt giddy at the thought of being their husband. He leaned in slowly, wondering whether they were done teasing him. When all they did was stare at him with fondness in their dark blue eyes he closed the gap, kissing them deeply.

"Okay, darling," said Griffin after a long moment, pulling away a little. "Am I going to get to drink the water you so kindly brought me, or are we just going to stand here making out until I pour it down your back?"

"Oh! Yes, right, of course." He withdrew somewhat sheepishly, allowing Griffin to put their palette down and take a drink, gaze shifting to their canvas. Their mouth thinned into a line as they became immediately lost in thought.

Calvin observed them fondly. As much as he loved seeing them dolled up, always wearing extravagant, fashionable outfits regardless of their suitability for the actual occasion, there was something intimate about getting to see them relaxed like this. Their hair was pushed back from their face by a headband, the glasses that they only wore at home were slightly askew on their nose, and their outfit was nothing fancier than a threadbare shirt and jogging bottoms, both splattered with old dried paint.

He absolutely adored them.

"So, how goes the art?" Their canvas was mostly layers of dark blues, purples and greens, amorphous shapes, and one solid neat circle of black.

"Fine, fine. Just thinking about what I have to do, what order I need to do it in." Their paintbrush drummed nervously in the air, flicking spatters of alpine green against the hardwood. Calvin prudently decided not to mention it, instead looking around at the sketches taped up on the walls, trying to get an idea of what the finished piece would look like. Unfortunately the abstract squiggles of colour and pages filled with gesture drawings of pigs didn't help him much.

"Well I… suppose I'll get out of your hair," he said begrudgingly, stepping close to place another lingering kiss on their cheek. Griffin looked at him with a surprised expression.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to, darling." They leaned into his chest, seemingly to emphasise their words. "You're welcome to stay and watch me paint - can't promise it'll be entertaining, though."

"If you're sure I won't be bothering you." He tried and failed to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Griffin shook their head, draining the last of the water and setting the glass down.

"Here." They turned to a nearby chair, speculatively eyeing the pile of paper, pencils and paints on the seat - then swept it all onto the floor. "Sit yourself down. In fact," They glanced at Calvin as he sat, crossing his legs just so. "Would you sing me something, since you're here?"

"Oh, well, if you insist," he said brightly, doing a miserable job of containing his excitement. "Let me see…"

Griffin returned to their painting as he mused over his song choice. Before too long their brush strokes were accompanied by Calvin's rich voice, then almost subconsciously by Griffin's own, softly singing along with the songs they knew. As the day lengthened, the pair sang the painting into shape, and Calvin thought it looked beautiful.

Griffin thought it looked just okay, but that's artists for you.

#if ur curious in my head cal picked something by sinatra or cole or smth like that #bc 50s love songs are my favourite like they just GOT IT. the yearning. the joy. the rapture. they Got It folks.#calvin tag #im out here allowing myself the fantasy of being loved 😳😳😳😳😳#A Content

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takingcourage · 5 years ago

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Face to the Sun

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,000

Note: Several weeks ago, @krishu213 asked for a Jaime x Arden fic for day 27 of the @julychoiceschallenge (”sunflowers”). I love this request for several reasons:

It’s Jaime Lewis, and writing about him is always a delight.

I was a long-time resident of the Sunflower State, so it brings up happy memories of my midwestern roots.

Since In Stasis, I’ve had a headcanon about sunflowers and what they mean to Jaime. Having an excuse to explore it in more depth was a real treat. : )

Anyway, enough rambling! Suffice it to say that writing these experimental little drabbles put a smile on my face. I hope they bring you joy as well!

April

A thin layer of ice clung to the toe of Arden's shoe, though it turned to droplets by the time she arrived back at their front door. Skimming her soles across the rough fibers of the doormat, she stifled a shiver. As she reached for the handle, she cast a woeful eye over the patch of mulch outlined by popsicle-stick stakes. Thick as the wooden chips were, they weren't enough to warm the soil below.

Checking it had become a part of her daily routine, almost without fail. Jaime still didn't know why; but for her, it was difficult to think of the spot without a smile cracking her lips. He'd obliged her whim, leaving the area blank as he drew up plans for the rest of their landscaping. Someday -- hopefully sooner rather than later -- he would understand her motives.

If only spring could feel her sense of urgency.

May

Opie's wet nose shocked the bare skin of Arden's forearm, and she fought to keep her grip on the packet of seeds as he traveled down to her wrist. Brushing him back with a giggle, she shifted her feet a few inches to the left. As Jaime whistled to attract the dog's attention, she slid the ruler further down the narrow trench, stopping to press in a seed every six inches.

Though she knew nature would soon take its course, she didn't want her efforts to be sporadic. Their front garden had become Jaime's pride and joy, and she'd be devastated if her surprise detracted from it in any way. She’d measured this first row carefully, making certain to leave space behind for subsequent rows in the coming weeks.

Reaching the end of the trench, she began covering what she’d already planted. Jaime watched from the other side of the lawn, an inquisitive slant to his brow. She raised a hand for a campy wave, matching his grin as fine particles of dirt fell back to the rich, dark earth.

June

Arden could still remember the first time she'd heard Paula complain of having a black thumb. She'd hopped up to her toes and gazed over the fence, expecting to see a cursed pirate spot marking the woman's hand. Instead, the hand gripping the watering can appeared completely ordinary. Somewhat disappointed, Arden had slumped back against her side of the pickets to retrieve the book she'd been reading.

Some eighteen years later, she was grateful to note that she didn't share the other woman’s affliction. Last month's sprouts had grown strong and steady, thickening to leafy stalks that seemed eager to take on the growing summer heat. Though still unrecognizable, she knew Jaime had guessed their genus nearly a week before. He'd remained quiet on the matter, but she’d noticed the particular attention he’d been giving the short, gangly rows. Though each of his plants was well cared for, not all of them reminded him of his adopted mother.

As she watched him tend them through the window, Arden wondered if any of his construction-paper facsimiles might be in the attic with Paula’s other mementos. He’d spent that first summer making endless recreations of his new mother’s favorite blooms, brightening her kitchen in a way that real flowers never could.

July

Curing a finger around the thick stem, Arden gently tugged the bloom toward her nose. The flowers, still developing, had become unmistakable as the month progressed. Though the curved yellow petals held no scent, she smiled at the sensation of them tickling her nostrils.

From several yards away, Jaime began counting down from three. She froze into place, still pretending to sniff the bloom as he captured the picture with his phone. Although she'd been photographing the plants regularly, this was the first image since they had started to dwarf her.

She beckoned him toward her for a second pose, releasing the stalk to wrap an arm around his waist. Rising up to kiss his cheek, she collapsed into laughter when her lips could only reach his jaw. Noting her predicament with a grin, he bent a few inches lower before attempting the next shot.

August

Many of their first blooms had been laid to rest at Northbridge Memorial Park, the most stunning assortment having been reserved for two late-summer bouquets. The next row had been taken to the retirement community a few miles from their house. The third and fourth rows still stood before the house, towering over the porch rail like a wall of sunshine.

They’d deliver another set of homemade arrangements before the summer ended, replacing the faded blooms with ones that could still bring light to the quiet spaces.

Many weeks before, Arden had researched the meaning of sunflowers over a lunch break. Among other sentiments, they stood for warmth, adoration, and affection. She didn’t know if Paula had been conscious of the symbol, though the descriptions fit her life well. Its other attributes -- loyalty, positivity, and gratitude -- still shone through clearly in her son.

September

Arden formed her palm into a cup, using the fingers of her other hand to search for bits of flower that had mixed in. Dumping the plump seeds into a jar, she allowed the debris to scatter to the mulch below. She watched for a moment as the specks drifted under the golden light from above.

They hadn't planned it, but their evening of sorting had fallen on the first sunset of autumn. Jaime sat across the porch, singing below his breath as he picked through the seeds. A year and a half into marriage, she was beginning to develop an appreciation for that country music station he favored. The genre had never been her style, but her husband's renditions did hold a certain appeal.

He met her look, his lips still forming words that were almost silent. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she realized the tune was directed toward her. Still feeling the weight of his gaze, she separated the next handful of seeds between their three containers. Some went into the bucket for roasting, others into the one for birdseed, and the rest clattered into the plastic jar labelled next spring’s planting.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #julychoiceschallenge #wishful thinking #jaime lewis #jaime lewis x mc

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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[created by: --rainboweyes--]

oo1. Do you miss someone who you shouldn't right now? No.

oo2. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? I did in the past.

oo3. What time did you get up today? Ugh, I dozed off around 5AM and woke up an hour later in horrible pain. I took my medicine and put on a heating pad and fell back asleep around 730. Then for some reason I woke up at 9:45 and wasn’t able to fall back asleep. I’ve felt like a zombie all day. I took like a 2 hour nap around 3, but naps just make me feel worse. Sigh. oo4. If you could have any job/talent, what? (regardless if can or not)? I wish I could sing. oo5. Who, in your opinion, is the best thriller writer? For the past couple years I’ve just been reading mystery and thriller books and I’ve really enjoyed them all. A lot of them are a series, which I love. Willow Rose, AJ Rivers, and Mary Stone are some of my favorite authors of those genres.

oo6. Does your Mum eat meat? Yes.

oo7. Was your Dad ever in a sports team? Yeah, he played baseball growing up and through high school.

oo8. Do you like apple and cinnamon crumble? Nah, I’d prefer a coffee cake crumble or just a cinnamon swirl crumble.

oo9. What's the most interesting thing you've learned today? I was surprised when I heard that some teachers are making their students, like elementary school age, watch the inauguration in its entirety and then write a paper about what they liked about it. I don’t know, I just thought that was kinda crazy. I definitely support talking about it and showing some short clips or something, but the whole thing at that age? Nah. That’s some heavy stuff to take in and try to understand at that age. Not to mention, one kid wrote they didn’t like it and found it boring and the teacher said that was unacceptable. Wow.

o1o. Do you prefer thick or thin crusted pizza? I like high rise dough or pan crust. I can’t do thin crust, there’s like nothing to it and that doesn’t work for me. I’m weird with how I eat pizza cause I only eat the top layer of it, so I need more dough to work with.

o11. Do you know anyone who is blind? No.

o12. Do you prefer monkeys or pigs? I don’t really have a preference.

o13. Have you ever had an eerie/paranormal experience? What happened? No.

o14. Do you own every DVD boxset of your favorite show? I have a few boxsets of I Love Lucy and one of The Dick Van Dyke Show.

o15. Actually, what is that favorite show? I like more than just one show - you can’t make me choose! <<< Me either!

o16. Do you have any friends with the same name as you? I don’t have any friends.

o17. How many people of the same name as you have you ever met? Several. Stephanie is a pretty common name. In elementary school there was a few of us in one class.

o18. What day of the month were you born on? Has this number occurred a lot? The 28th of July. I’m not sure what you mean by if it’s occurred a lot?

o19. How often do you see your best friend? Everyday, all the time. We live together.

o2o. Do you like cookie dough ice cream? Yeah. Wow, I have no idea the when I last had it, though.

o21. Do you like incense or does it give you headaches? I like some. Patchouli is my favorite.

o22. What sitcoms do you watch? I like older sitcoms like I Love Lucy, The Dick Van Dyke Show, Roseanne, The Golden Girls, Boy Meets World, Full House, Sister, Sister, Step by Step, Family Matters, Home Improvement, Everybody Loves Raymond, and King of Queens. Not too many newer ones, though. I find them super cringe. A newer one I do like though is The Middle.

o23. Do you find Tigers beautiful? Yes.

o24. I don't give up easily - is this you? It used to be me. Not these past few years, though. :/

o25. Do you prefer to watch or attempt? Depends on what it is of course.

o26. What do you wish your national flag looked like? I’ll keep it how it is.

o27. What time do you usually have a shower? I like to take them at night.

o28. Do you believe that people can be psychics? No.

o29. What is your most notable trait? That I’m awkward, probably.

o3o. Are you proud of this trait, or ashamed? It’s not the worst.

o31. Do you like waterfalls? Looking at and listening to them is quite relaxing. I wouldn’t want to get near one, though.

o32. If you wrote a song about life right now, what'd it be called? “Blah.” Ha.

o33. If you wrote a novel about your whole life, what'd you call it? I have one in mind, but it’s a play on words of my last name and I don’t want to share that.

o34. Who has the prettiest middle name you know? *shrug*

o35. So, what's your name? Stephanie.

o36. What'd be your name if you took your Mum's middle name? I’m not sharing that.

o37. Would you rather be a farmer or engineer? I wouldn’t be cut out for either one.

o38. A psychologist or a football coach? The plan was to be a psychologist, or pursue something in the psychology field, but...

o39. Do you shout when you're upset? No.

o4o. What color is your favorite vegetable? Green.

o41. Do you get more eye pain or back pain? I have chronic back pain.

o42. When was your last hug? Earlier.

o43. Describe your house to me: 2-bedroom duplex.

o44. Why did you chose to wear what you're wearing today? I always wear leggings and I was cold earlier so I grabbed my Mandalorian sweatshirt.

o45. Do you like banana milkshake? Yesss. Those are the best.

o46. What do you have in your fruit salads? I don’t eat fruit salads.

o47. Do you have a calendar in your bedroom? What is on it? I have two old Alexander Skarsgard ones. I don’t have a new one for this year.

o48. What color is the sink in your bathroom? White.

o49. Are you hungry right now? No, I had Wingstop for dinner.

o5o. Where was the last place you ate, except from home? Various places at Disneyland last February. I haven’t gone out to eat ever since the pandemic and quarantine happened. I get a lot of takeout, though.

o51. What was your favorite thing to do as a kid? I loved playing Barbies, playing house, playing school, hang out with my cousins, watch TV, and even play outside.

o52. Do you take any vitamins? Which ones? No, but I should be.

o53. Do you get embarrassed easily? Yes.

o54. Do you prefer Lion Bars or Toffee Krisps? I don’t know what either of those are, but I do know I like toffee so perhaps I’d like Toffee Krisps.

o55. What do you feel guilty about right now? There’s a lot. :/

o56. Have you ever lost something really precious to someone else? No, thankfully.

o57. When was the last time you wore makeup? Almost 4 years ago.

o58. Do you live North, East, South or West? West.

o59. Is the TV on in the room you're in? What's on? Yeah, The King of Queens.

o6o. Describe your city/town to me: It’s shitty.

o61. Are you a fan of Kings of Leon? Yeah.

o62. What do you think of the Lion King? I like it.

o63. Who makes you feel small/inferior? No one in my life currently makes me feel that way. I just... do.

o64. Are you protective of your family? Yes.

o65. Do you make friends easily, or do you keep to yourself? Well, for the past few years I’ve been keeping to myself and not seeking to make friends.

o66. What's your best friends starsign? Whatever the beginning of September is.

o67. Do you have a little sister/brother? I have a younger brother.

o68. Do you download films/tv shows? No.

o69. What size ring are you? I think a 7.

o7o. Do you like flip flops or do you find them annoying? I don’t wear flip flops, sandals, or any open-toed shoe.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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thirstyforbishiesimagines · 6 years ago

Text

Merry christmasss~ Hope this sweet, grumpy boi fills your fluffy needs for the holidays!

Dangerous Fellows Christmas Event

Eugene x Reader

Fluff

❄️ I Post Apocalypse

Eyes fluttering open, you take a moment to adjust to the blinding light of the sun peeking through the window. Wrapped within Eugene’s arms, you’re greeted with the gentle sound of him breathing peacefully beside you. You giggle softly at his adorably innocent face as he slumbers, snuggling in closer to indulge in his warmth — protecting you from the chill of the wintry air.

Suddenly remembering last night’s heavy snowfall, you immediately jump out of his arms and eagerly rush out of bed toward the window. Eugene groans with slight annoyance, however, falls back asleep instantly — totally unbothered by your actions.

Wide (e/c) irises gleaming with delight, you witness blankets of white layered upon every possible surface outside. Scrambling to put on your snow boots, you rush back over to Eugene and begin gently swaying him back and forth.

“Eugeneeee~” You sing sweetly.

He lies frozen in place, completely unfazed as he ignores your call. You try again several more times, only to be met with the same lack of response.

Patience running thin from over-excitement, you inhale deep before letting out a booming, “EUGENE!!!”

You feel him jolt under your palms. “Whaat…?” He whines sleepily, his voice muffled against the thick blanket.

“Come look! The snow piled up last night!”

Raising his arm toward his face and squinting at his watch, he grimaces before burying his face back into the covers.

“What the hell, (Y/N)… It’s 5am! Go back to sleep.”

“But it’s so fluffy right now!”

Grabbing hold of the covers, he rolls over to the other side of the bed — facing away from you and concealing himself deep within the sheets.

Unwilling to take no for an answer, you dramatically swipe the blankets off of him. Leaving him vulnerable against the cold, he curls up into a foetal position as he clings on to his fleeting warmth.

“Let’s goooo! We have to hurry before the snow settles!”

“Urgh… fine.” He grumbles reluctantly, ultimately giving in. Finally sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his grumpy amber eyes, you sprint off ahead as he sluggishly throws on his trademark hoodie.

Unable to tolerate his turtle-like speed any longer, you race back to him, pulling him by the hand and dragging him out toward the door while he struggles to slip on his boots. Stepping out into the snow, soft crunches against your feet, you beam back at Eugene — eyes twinkling with awe.

“Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous, Eugene?!” Arms out wide, you twirl around and around until your faint with dizziness. “It’s a Winter Wonderland~” You sing as you allow yourself to fall within the soft blanket of snow, giggling with glee.

“No. It’s a bunch of work, is what it is…” He sighs in anticipated exhaustion as he foresees the arduous hours of shovelling. “Anyways, now I’ve seen it; and it’s as white and cold as I expected so… I’m going back inside.”

A mischievous grin on your face, you wait as he turns around before slyly reaching out to grab hold of his hood and tugging back forcefully, making him fall backwards into the snow beside you.

“D-Dammit, (Y/N)! I’m already f-freezing as it is!” He stutters as he sits up, cradling his arms around his shivering form.

Plopping back down onto the ice-cold fluff, you begin simultaneously sliding your arms and legs against the snow as your skin becomes riddled with goose bumps.

You ignore the crippling cold creeping through your thin sweater despite stuttering as bad as Eugene. “C-come on, Eu-g-gene! L-Let’s make some s-snow angels!”

“… You’re insane. Your lips are turning blue!” He pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in conflict. “We’re going inside.”

“B-But I’m not c-cold.”

“Uh huh, sure...”

Brushing off the clinging patches of snow, he holds out a hand toward you. A slight pout upon your lips, you stare at his impatient form as your teeth continue to chatter. Sighing heavily, you finally place your hand in his and he swiftly pulls you up into his arms.

He holds you for a moment, rubbing your back to elicit warmth as you shiver violently against him. His brows furrow closer and closer with each one of your sneezes and before you knew it, Eugene had pulled you back into the house, lit up the fireplace in record time, stood you in front of the roaring flames and meticulously wrapped you up tightly within a fluffy blanket.

“Sit.”

Your mind now fuzzy from the growing cold, you promptly obey his command and sit yourself down upon the cosy rug.

“And stay.”

You nod slowly as you watch him disappear towards the kitchen, only to return a couple minutes later and hurriedly placing a warm cup of hot cocoa within your hands.

“Drink.”

Giggling at his typical gruff ways of displaying his affection, you quickly do as he says and take an indulgent sip — the sweet, soothing liquid setting your body at ease instantly.

Eugene wraps his arms around you from behind and you instinctively lean back against his comforting chest. The moment didn’t last long however, as realisation struck and you suddenly sit back up.

“Wait! I don’t think you should stay too close to me in case I get you-”

A thunderous sneeze suddenly interrupts you from behind.

“…sick.” You trail off, voice weak with regret.

“I knew it was a bad idea…” He grumbles as he nuzzles his face within the nook of your shoulder.

You turn to face him, reaching up to brush away the golden bangs hanging over his face. As you place the back of your hand against his forehead, you feel a burning heat emanating from his skin and your heart sinks, instantly feeling guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Eugene. I should’ve waited and properly prepared us to go out…”

Your head hangs low with disappointment. “I’ve just… always dreamed of making snow angels together with you, you know… once we were finally happy and safe enough to actually go outside and enjoy the snow…”

Thinking back to a time when the cold of winter only made your lives harder, you smile faintly; thankful for how things have now changed for the better. “So, when I looked outside this morning, I just couldn’t help myself… I’m sorry for getting you sick.”

Eugene sighs deeply, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I guess we can go out and make some proper ones or whatever… but only after we warm up a bit more.”

Eyes gleaming with hope, you grab his hands in excitement. “Really?!”

“I mean… we’re already sick so, why not?” He shrugs nonchalantly, though you could tell he felt a little guilty after knowing the reasoning behind your enthusiasm. “Plus, since we’re BOTH sick now, I don’t have to worry anymore.”

Eyebrow raised; you look up in confusion. “About what?”

“About doing this.”

Wrapping you tight within his arms, he eagerly crashes his lips upon yours. The feel of his softness leaving you intoxicated and breathless.

Stunned from his sudden kiss, a burning heat tickles your cheeks as you blush profusely while he holds out his hand toward you once more. Though this time, accompanied with a playfully beaming grin.

“Let’s go make some snow angels.”

x mod luna

#dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows christmas event #dangerous fellows blog #fluff #dfel #dangerous fellows eugene #dfel eugene #eugene x reader #character x reader #reader fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic blog

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