#Pacific Hurricane Season

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

"#HurricaneOtis has intensified by 80 mph in the past 12 hours (from 65 mph to 145 mph). That's the fastest 12 hr intensification rate in the eastern North Pacific (to 180°) in the satellite era (since 1966), breaking the old record of 75 mph/12 hr set by Patricia in 2015."

-- #philklotzbach Meteorologist at CSU specializing in Atlantic basin seasonal hurricane forecasts.

[desperatecheesecubes]

Not to self: you should probably stop saying 'yeah yeah let me swallow first' before answering the phone at work. But also people should stop calling when I'm eating my granola bar c'mon now.

[cardierreh15]

Variants

This is just part one of two! Enjoy ⚡️🐺

***I do not give anyone consent to copy, translate or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mild Violence .

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm ⚡️

Description: Ororo wakes up in another universe, she meets someone familiar…

Word Count: 4.8K

Song: Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (but whatever your favorite version is)

Earth-811, Days of Future Present (my own twist) to Earth-199999

Side Note: Please keep in mind, this is not at all accurate and I am only writing something I thought up. Anything from how she got to this Earth from to her meeting Logan is not canon events.

Side, Side Note: Lyrics are in regular italics. Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Part One

Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing "Hallelujah”

It was a beautiful day on Earth 199999. Not a cloud to be spotted. The birds chirped and there was even a cool breeze to combat the humid air that the season had brought in on its back. But all of that was about to change.

With the bat of an eye, dark heavy clouds rolled into the view of the sun. Blocking out any rays that were toasting up some skins and feeding flowers. Violent lightning bolts filled the sky and loud thunder shook the ground beneath the feet of man. Rain beat down like rocks and the wind blew so strong, it toppled cars and pulled trees from their roots.

In the middle of that chaos, was a woman who would change the entire timeline of this world. Though, she had no idea where she was or whether she was even alive. But she was what this world needed.

Falling unconscious from the thunderous clouds, she collapsed into the pacific. Engulfed and swallowed up by the merciless deep blue. One would think that was the end of this Storm Goddess. But fate and destiny were willing to bend the rules when it came to fulfilling their name.

Upon her contact, the impact of her landing had not only caused hurricanes but water spouts that could tear up an entire island and record breaking tsunamis. Countless lives had been lost upon her ascend.

Months had passed on by and the world was slowly healing from the detrimental damage that came with Ororo’s hard landing. Reporters and storm researchers tried to get to the bottom of what could’ve caused something like this to happen so simultaneously and without warning. The UN (United Nations) had already started on their own journey trying to get to the bottom of it; if it was mutant related and purposeful. As if they give a damn about that really. On her Earth, the United States were the reason why she was here in the first place.

Ororo was found caught in a fishing net in Vancouver. She was well preserved and oddly enough, still warm to the touch. Yet, still knocked into a deep coma that not even inhaling water could wake her from.

A man, not from this plain, had noticed that she wasn’t exactly human. And if the other fisherman had suspected her of being a mutant, they’d have her shipped off to a lab somewhere in the US after they collected their reward. So, he took her back to his home in Alberta, Canada. Far away from society and where he could be himself.

The stranger would come check on the brown sleeping beauty every once in a while. Everyday in the morning before he went to chop wood to aid her fireplace and then once before sunset. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly pin it. She was enigmatic! And the feeling of limerence grew the longer she stayed. The way her white finely twisted dreads lay splayed out beneath her head, her thick white brows and lashes. How the shade appeared to enhance her skin and feminine features. Even in her time of nadir, she took his breath away.

Almost like a forbidden kind of beauty. The one that came with a dark past.

Those days had turned into weeks and finally a month had passed since her arrival at the stranger’s residence.

Ororo’s eyes had flashed open, white as her hair as she inhaled so much air that instantly burned her lungs and choked her out.

Sitting up, she placed her hand over her chest before gripping the linens that she wore. She wheezed as salty tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe. Her vision blurred, her head felt so heavy and it throbbed with an achy vengeance. The words of her lover repeated in her ears.

I love you, Ororo. You don’t have to come back for me. If you find a perfect world, stay there.

She coached herself to steady her breathing as her snowy eyes had faded into something more human. Brown as the Earth’s soil. Ororo hiccuped as her awareness finally hit her like a ton of bricks. She scanned the bedroom for anything to tell her where she was. Or at least, which part of the Multiverse she had landed in.

Pulling herself from the warmth of the heavy comforters, she felt as if she’d been only asleep for a day. Her limbs and balance worked as they did when she was fleeing from the Sentinels. Though, it came with only a little bit of soreness. That was from the battering of the waves.

She whimpered as she rotated her arm to aid the soreness there. ‘Aah. Where the hell am I?’ The bedroom was a piece of paragonal work. Lots of natural light that was let in by 3 large arched windows and a large skylight window that made stargazing comfortable when night came. 

The furniture was vintage; carved out of mahogany and donned with gold handles and knobs. All of the furniture was dusted clean, the mirror at the vanity didn’t see a speck or smudge. A telltale sign that someone had been in here to visit her quite frequently.

With the bedroom’s cleanliness, came no clues of where she was. Ororo began to rummage and search through the dresser drawers and the nightstand. 

Breathing heavily as she felt herself growing anxious with tears filling her eyes, she felt herself falling apart. 

Don’t come back for me. 

Logan please.

I mean it, thundercloud. If you find a perfect world, stay there. 

‘Ooh! Fuck you, Logan!’ She exclaimed through gritted teeth as tears fell from her eyes. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ She exclaimed as she slammed her fists into the mahogany wood that cracked beneath her strength. 

A loud thunder crack echoed outside, with a bolt hitting right outside her bedroom window.

Tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fists as she brought them up before opening her palms. The tiny bolts flickered before vanishing completely and a tear fell in their place. 

Wiping her snotty nose with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and wiped her tears with her free wrist. How was she going to make it without him?

The sound of 80’s rock and roll brought her out of her misery. The same kind of music they’d listen to together on his motorcycle when times were much simpler. She used to peel the clouds out of the sky or simply push them over the next city so they could go riding. 

The smell of his cigar smoke mended into his brown leather jacket. The way his thick dark hair used to fluff about in the wind and how he used to risk their lives by rubbing her arm when she held him tight.

Good times.

Ororo rushed towards the large wooden door and tugged it open with its golden knob. She was met with fresh air when she rushed outside. The sound of the music was no longer muffled by the thickness of those wooden walls. Yet it did echo and bounce off of trees in the surrounding area.

Quickly making her way down the wooden steps, she founded the calls and howls of the infamous Axel Rose. It didn't take her long to find the host; just a cut around the cabin and she was standing in front of it. Catacorner from it was a makeshift garage. Old broken down cars, motorcycles, and tires lie scattered about.

This looked just like Logan’s garage. A mess and unkept.

She felt as if this was all some kind of fever dream. 

Inclined to meet the person who saved her, Ororo began to journey forward until she came across a mature and very large Fir tree that sported claw marks. She walked towards it as the fast music became a blur in her ears. She ran her finger tips over the marks. 

9 claw marks but in threes. She knew only one person who could pull this off. 

‘Oh my god— JAMES!’ Her heart fluttered like crazy as she sped walked to the garage and pushed the doors open. ‘JAMES!’

There he stood, back turned as he worked on his bike. He wore his classic white wife beater, denim jeans and brown boots. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he squeezed the clutch of his bike. She was sure that he couldn’t hear her over the shouting of Guns N Roses and the purr of his motorcycle, so she reached her hand up towards one of the hanging lamps and shot a lightning bolt at it. 

A gleaming smile curled up on her lips with a twinkle in her eye.

That caught his attention, causing him to stand up straight.

There was a long pause before the individual reached over and turned down the old school radio that sat on the toolbox. 

‘You know it’s been a long time since someone called me that.’

His voice… He didn’t sound like the Logan she knew and loved. Though from this angle, he was the spitting image. Her smile remained. ‘Wh-what do you mean we—‘

The male finally turned around to face her. But the cloud of smoke from the cigar that he puffed on, made him impossible to make out.

She used to hate the smell, now she lived for it. Craved it.

‘You still smoke those-‘

Stepping through the cloud, the individual revealed himself. 

His hair was curly thick, styled up to resemble ears as if he were a puppy. The same way her James used to style his hair. He even sported that very same beard cut with the center of his chin shaved and his jaws furry. 

His eyes were bright blue unlike the original Logan’s, comforting brown.

Her smile faltered as she placed a hand on her stomach and took a step back.

‘Hmm.’ The man grumbled as he reached behind him and scooped up a white dirty hand towel to wipe his hands. He held his lit cigar in his jaw before taking it out with his clean fingers.

Ororo stood there, her eyes wide in shock and confusion. Her mouth opened to ask a question but the words just wouldn’t come out!

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You seem to be walking well.’

He was the one that saved her.

‘H-‘ she swallowed, ‘How long was I out?’

Tossing the dirty cloth on the toolbox, he placed the cigar back between his lips and inhaled greatly. And when he exhaled, another large cloud of smoke shrouded the garage.

‘Well,’ he grumbled, ‘You’ve been here for about a month. I uh— suspect you have no idea what’s going on… do you?’

A month? There’s no way I have been here for a month! I stepped in that portal yesterday! 

Ororo placed her hand on her neck as she felt her blood pressure begin to spike. Her body began to gently rock side to side as her stomach twisted and turned.

‘Wh-where did you find me a-and where am I?’

‘You’re in Alberta…’

Her eyes grew, ‘CANADA?!’

‘Some fishermen in Vancouver found you sleeping in a net with some salmon.’ 

She brought her fingers up to her temples and began to rub that spot when her head began to throb. 

And right on cue, thunder roared outside. 

Logan looked up at the roof as rain drizzled and created a song atop the metal. Then he looked back at her. She appeared to be fighting a migraine. And the more she fought, the heavier the drizzle became.

Then it clicked.

‘You alright over there? Need some pain meds?’ He mumbled with his cigar in his mouth.

‘Mmph! It’s okay just—.’

‘Uh-huh. Y’know, there’s been some dangerous storms going on. Tsunamis, Hurricanes, typhoons, the whole nine.’

‘Mmm.’ Ororo grimaced at the pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she clenched her jaw together. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I don’t know. But, the storms started about 4 months ago.’ 

I’ve been here for four months?! Oh my god.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’ Ororo whimpered as her vision blurred once again from tears. Her chest began to heave and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

‘Oh, whatever you do just—‘

Barf. Clear bubbly flim mixed with yellow bile splattered on the smooth concrete. 

‘Take that… outside. Aw shit.’

The woman collapsed to her hands and knees as he rushed over to her aid. She choked as her insides forced and fought to be on the outside. The taste of the raw acid burned at her esophagus and mouth. The rancid taste only made her gag more. 

‘Hey, it’s okay.’

It’s okay, Storm. If we’re meant to be… we’ll be.

Her eyes turned white with tiny bolts dancing around them, heaving harder as she stared at the disgusting vomit.

‘You have to look away! Look at me!’ 

As soon as Logan snatched up her hands, lightning zapped him to hell. 

Fortunately nothing that’ll kill him, but it stung like shit. ‘Aah!’ He hissed as he snatched his hands away, fanning them painfully. ‘Fuck!’

You’re my strong girl.

Ororo shut her eyes tightly as the heaving turned into a sob. ‘I can’t do this without you…’

The drizzle had turned into a heavy pitter patter. Thunder roared outside, causing the tin can of a garage to rattle. 

Logan’s brows tugged into one as the burning tingling began to fade into his hand. He watched as the woman crumbled into herself. 

This wasn’t tears of fear or confusion. But of mourning and grief. He could practically smell the pain exuding off of her. Logan knew what it felt like to lose someone. To be completely lost in a world that didn’t accept who he was. To be alone. 

Reaching out to her, tiny lightning bolts reached out to embrace his fingertips as if they were familiarized with his energy or aura. 

They didn’t burn him this time, just tiny manageable pinches. He placed his palm on her back and sighed softly.

If we’re meant to be…

His mouth parted to say something, afraid to say the wrong thing. 

Ororo blinked her eyes open before looking over at him. 

He was almost the exact same replica of her James. That same mean scowl that she adored greatly.

‘You’ve got blue eyes.’ She said in a hushed tone as she stared into his eyes.

‘You’re very observant.’ Logan said sarcastically with a small chuckle leaving his lips. ‘What is it that they call you?’

My Stormsy. Hey there, my lil’ thundercloud. Hang on lightning bolt! Stormy. 

‘Oro—‘ she sniffed, ‘Forgive me but, I don’t think you’d be able to say my name, white boy.’ She scoffed.

Logan raised his brow, ‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

She tried to muffle her giggle but it fell through, ‘Ororo.’

His brows rose and he blinked hard once.

‘Oro—OK, do you have a nickname?!’

Ororo’s small smile from her giggle had turned into a charming grin as laughter escaped her, ‘Yeah,’ she sighed softly. He was just like him. From his facial expressions to how effortlessly hilarious he was. She was comfortable near him.

‘Storm. Just call me Storm.’

‘Now that sounds… do-able.’ His smirk curled up into a small smile before he felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. They both looked up at the ceiling. Another fell on his forehead.

‘Well, that would explain the weather.’ Then wiped his head free of the water and looked back over at her, then it clicked. He was a terrible host.

Her white eyes began to fade into her brown ones.

Glancing down at the barf, he then glanced back at her, ‘You must be starving.’

‘No, no. It’s OK, I’ve been too much trouble already just—‘

‘No, I insist. You haven’t ate—‘

Wrrrrr. Ororo slapped her hand against her stomach as it sang its hunger song, as if she could shut it up like a finger to a set of lips. She snatched her eyes away from his gaze and shut them in defeat.

‘Mmm. I thought so. Alright, up, up, up.’ He took his large hands and helped her to her feet. ’

Rolling her eyes at his condescending tone, she pushed herself up to her feet with his help.

‘Ya alright?’ He asked as he slowly pulled his hands away.

‘Yeah,’ The electricity vanished once again within her, ‘Thank you.’

‘Mmm,’ his head fell to the side, ‘Don’t mention it. Look, I’m gonna get this cleaned up—‘ 

‘James, please—‘ she paused. 

He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘You’re the only one who can get away with calling me that.’ Turning away from her he walked towards the far corner of the garage. 

Ororo let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. Were they all the same in every universe? Hardheaded and guileless. Arguments were always challenging with him. 

‘You don’t have to clean up after me, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress.’

‘Well,’ he scoffed as he picked up a bucket and a mop, ‘You were just kind of sleeping beauty for ‘bouta month. I’d say you’re pretty damn close enough. Oh, and— Aurora… mind easing up on the rain until we get the food here?’ 

Her mouth fell before she stammered over her words. ‘We—I—‘

Wait a minute did he just call me beautiful? Damn, they are just alike. 

And he left her inside of the garage to retrieve water for the bucket.

***

Ororo did not in fact keep the rain in check. Instead, when she went back into the cabin she found herself missing James more and more. But, how could she miss him when he was right outside? 

Oh, she was so confused. Stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to count her blessings. Who knows what would’ve happened if he didn’t find her. She could’ve been poked and pried at beneath wandering eyes. Chopped up in itsy bitsy pieces and thrown in a particle accelerator to be sold to the highest bidder.

At least that was more humane than the chaos that ensued on her world. 

A knock echoed in her bedroom and the sound of the knob twisting followed.

Ororo was bent over the vanity, checking for any oddities that the portal could’ve left her with. So far, so good. The door creaked open and she turned torso to the side.

‘Hey—whoa—‘

With her voluptuous rump in view, she rested her chin on her fist, ‘Your mama ever taught you to knock? What if I was naked?!’

‘Well for one, I did knock. And my mama, didn’t exactly raise a gentleman if you want me to be honest. Come, I’ve got Chinese.’ 

***

The pair sat in silence as they indulged on their take out. Ororo did her best not to inhale all of it so she ate slowly.

Logan chuckled, ‘That’s cute!’ 

Shit, he was on to her.

‘Mmm? What?’ She grumbled as she placed her hand over her lips so that she wasn’t spitting out food.

‘Oh nothing. It’s just you’re trying so hard not to kill all of your food. Eat! Trust me, you definitely need it more than I do.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She said as she stifled her giggle and took another bite out of her food. 

‘Right.’ He snickered and took a sip of his beer. 

The dining room grew quiet once again, soft thunder filled the silent void between them. Not necessarily on purpose but she was studying him. They were eating sweet n sour pork. 

James hated pork. He hated the smell, the salty-ness, the texture and the tummy ache and headache that it gave him after it all. She remembers having to cave in to buying turkey bacon. 

The things you do for love. The sacrifices you make.

James was also right handed. Everything he did started with his right side and eventually the left would aid it. Not that the left was as strong as the right, but when it came to swinging his claws, it always got the job done.

This Logan was an ambidextrous individual. Using both of his hands to work into his food without looking funny. It was so natural.

‘I can feel you burning a hole in my face.’ He murmured as his bright blue hues remained glued to his plate.

It was then when she finally blinked, ‘sorry you just— you just remind me of someone I—‘ she paused as her head fell into her lap.

Logan’s eyes flickered up at her for a second, reading her like a book. ‘Boyfriend?’

She remained quiet.

‘Yeah, I know that look. Sported it a few times myself. Would you like to talk about it?’

Oh she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Should she start with Mystique mercilessly murdering Senator Robert Kelly? Or how her blood contributed to the industrial process of the Sentinels that killed mutants or threw them into concentration camps? How this Logan sitting in front of her could be one of hundreds and maybe thousands of variants of her dead lover?

That was a lot to take in. He wouldn’t even believe her.

‘I—Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

You take up all my time, Lightning Bolt. A punishment when I have to leave but a reward when I come back home to you. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let out a gentle breath. ‘I’m —‘ Ororo tried to process it herself. If she hadn’t lived it, it wouldn’t have even made sense to her either. 

‘This is going to sound crazy.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve seen and heard crazy. There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already heard.’ 

He mustn’t be so sure.

Even that little comment was something James would’ve said. Verbatim. 

‘Alright.’ She sat up straight and let out another breath of air, ‘I’m not from… here.’

Logan sat quietly. She had his full and undivided attention.

‘I’m not from… here.’ She repeated.

‘Oookaaaay, I think I got that the first time.’ He sighed and folded his arms together. ‘What do you mean?’

Damn it was a lot harder to say than she thought. Perhaps she try a different approach. She would talk about… him.

‘My boyfriend… he uh— he was one of a kind. Smart, goofy, sweet… he was everything I dreamed of. He uh— and his brother had it rough. His family was well off… and in most cases the mother and father weren’t around much thus, was raised by their nanny. One night, some man comes into their home and kills their father. It was then when he discovered his powers. He grew—‘ 

Ororo glanced down at Logan’s fist as his fingers tapped against the table cloth. 

‘Claws.’ Her gaze rose to his once again. ‘He stabbed the man in hopes of getting to avenge his father… but it was then revealed to him that the stranger was in fact he and his brother’s biological father.��

Logan stared at her in complete horror. But he remained calm.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

‘What then?’ He asked before picking up his beer once again. 

‘He and his big brother ran away. Fought in World War II. Years later he met me at Xavier’s School of Gifted—‘

‘Youngsters.’

‘Youngsters.’ She repeated slowly. 

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, ‘How do you— How do you know all of that?!’

Swallowing her spit, Ororo pressed her lips together, ‘I know — so much more, Logan.’

‘So what, do you read minds like Charles?!’ His voice was a little bit more stern than before.

‘Ja-Logan, it’s not like that! I—I come from a different timeline!’

His eyes grew in disbelief and he raised his hands, ‘Alright. That’s enough sweet n sour pork for you. Now you’re just talking out of your ass.’ He reached over to grab her container but she grabbed his wrist tightly. It was heavy. Just as she thought.

‘Has it ever occurred to you why or how a complete stranger would know your name?!’ 

‘Maybe you’ve been looking at my mail?!’

‘Your name is James Howlett! You had a brother named Liev, also named as Sabertooth—‘

‘What?!’ He chuckled.

‘You were born 1882! Here in Alberta, Canada.’

‘These are all things you can look up on google sweetheart.’ He said as he gently pulled his fist away.

‘That would make sense if I could use google in my sleep!’ She bit back. She watched as he pulled her styrofoam container away. ‘And I don’t think you added your Adamantium skeleton to the census.’

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the lord of song

With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing hard.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? That metal doesn’t even exist.’ He added as he carried off their take out to the kitchen.

Now, she was annoyed. She folded her arms across her chest and slouched back against the wooden chair with her full lips in a slight pout. That was until she realized what he said.

‘Wait—‘ she quickly stood to her feet and walked into the kitchen, ‘I never said anything about Adamantium being metal!’ 

Logan opened the refrigerator to place the containers inside, ‘You didn’t? Well, it sounds like it would be metal. The “Tium” at the end of it adds the razzle dazzle.’ 

Ororo was growing irritated with his banter. So she snatched the refrigerator door handle and slammed it, not caring much if the food was in there properly. Her backside was pressed firmly against the cool stainless steel.

‘Hey!’ He glared at her.

‘You asked me if I wanted to talk about it and I AM—‘

‘I didn’t ask you for a damn biography on my life!’

Her head fell to the side before looking down at his fists. 

‘Show me.’

Logan stepped back, his thick brows tugging into one. ‘Show you what? There’s nothing to show you!’ 

‘I want to see them! Show me!’ 

‘Lady, you’re really losing it right now.’

‘I WANT TO SEE THEM— NOW!’ She exclaimed as her eyes glowed white with lightning and she raised her hand to cast a lightning bolt at his chest. 

The white electricity sent him flying back against the wall, leaving a large cave in, in its place. He fell to his hands and knees as he groaned and howled in pain. White lightning bolts danced and trickled around his torso, arms and neck. ‘GUH—AAUURGH!’ 

She hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was too late. ‘Oh my god! James!’ Ororo rushed over to him but stopped in her tracks when she heard the unsheathing of his blades. 

She blinked away her glowing eyes as he painfully pulled himself up to his feet. Bubbles of saliva dripped from between his teeth. At his sides were those infamous Adamantium claws. They were beautiful. 

She glanced up at him in caution as she began to slowly approach him. 

Logan growled, taking a step back as he breathed heavily through the pain. 

‘James please, I’m sorry! I know all of this sounds crazy ok? You have to believe me.’

‘B-believe y-you?! Hell, I d-don’t even know you!’ He sputtered through the pain.

The words pained her, ‘I-I deserve that. But I know you.’ She finally walked to him and reached out to wrap her small hand around his fist. Logan turned his head away from her.

Maybe there's a God above,

but all I've ever learned from love,

was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.

And its not the cry you hear tonight,

its not somebody who's seen the light.

‘In a different time— you loved me. And looking at you now…’ she placed her hand against his jaw and turned his gaze back towards her, ‘Means that I have a second chance. Think about it, you went all the way to Vancouver … you had no idea I was there but you came there for me.’

Logan stared down at her, his heaving panting began to slowly return to normal.

‘I know that you hate New Age music, I know that your hobbies include choking down cigars and chopping wood. I know that you love riding your bike on sunny days in the mountains! I know that you dreamed of living in a small cabin like this one.’ Her voice cracked as she did her best to fight back her heartbreak. He never got to see the life he deserved.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

‘I know that you’ve moved far away to keep from hurting others. I was there, Logan.’

Ororo’s words were almost inaudible; being choked up with tears, she stared up into his eyes as she fought hard not to cry again. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Sheathing his blades back into the safety of his knuckles, he reached up to grab her fist gently into his large hand. 

‘How much did you love me—him?’

‘Oh James…’ her eyes fluttered as a thick warm tear fell down her cheek. ‘With all of my being…’

Those words ached him a little as if he knew that she did, as if he witnessed her love for him. He’d fallen in love many times. But they never amounted to anything in the end. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe—

If we’re meant to be— we’ll be.

Ororo burst into a gut wrenching sob before Logan brought her into his strong, heavy arms. He rested his cheek atop her head as she soaked his filthy wife beater. 

Hallelujah. 

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

The Whale Sanctuary Project have their sights set on Wikie and Keijo and they want to accelerate their plans and make a bay pen to put them into.

This "revolutionary plan" is exactly like what these whales already have - round the clock vet care, med pools, gated pools, slide outs - but with more stressors and uncontrollable variables than before.

These ~natural elements~ is just the naturalism fallacy being used as a marketing ploy. These whales don't understand this "natural life." You might as well be plucking them out and throwing them on a different planet.

Now, if you haven't worked on and around the ocean before, let me shed some light as someone who had to take a boat out to the Pacific Ocean to work with dolphins every day.

The ocean doesn't take kindly to man-made structures.

It will wear things down, ocean winds will rip your pontoons out and shred them, storm surges don't care about the weighted blocks you put down to stop your net lifting out. The animals will need to be fed in hurricane force winds that pull you off your feet. The net will need to be checked by divers and maintained no matter the season.

Your animals will have to fight daily with currents and tides that tug them around - sometimes those tides can pull them into nets. Wild marine life will harass them for their fish and naive animals will spook and shy away from coral and fish and anything that they haven't seen before (so good luck getting stationing for feeding when there's a weird looking fish around). You have to scoop out trash, cigarette butts and plastic bags and hope to whatever god you have that your retrieval training is enough to stop your animals from eating them. Your animals will very likely eat leaves, sticks, pebbles, anything they can get their mouths on.

(Since the sanctuary doesn't like training, I wonder if they'd even train a retrieval behaviour since it's "unnatural".)

A sea sanctuary is just captivity with a fun little animal rights activist spin on it. It is still captivity, no matter how big you make it. Wikie has been in human care for over 20 years. She has adapted to her current environment and throwing her into a bay pen is going to be stressful for her. She won't know anything about this new environment and there will be only a flood of new stimuli with nowhere to retreat from it.

The beluga Little Grey got stomach ulcers within only a few days of being out in the smaller acclimation bay pens. Little Grey and Little White have only been in human care for a bit over 5 years and they are struggling, even with the chance to decompress in their indoor pool.

Why are we planning this? What is this serving? We have no evidence that a sea pen is an inherently better housing situation for cetaceans.

We started with sea pens when orcas were first being captured! And orcas died there too.

Namu was one of the first captured killer whales and he died in a sea pen. The sea pen doesn't magically fix welfare issues caused by poor management.

"But that wasn't a REAL sanctuary!"

Okay then if sea pens are so inherently enriching and fix all welfare issues, why was Keiko logging for hours in his bay pen? Why did he become overweight and sluggish and sexually fixated on a giant red ball until someone who actually knew what they were doing started a proper training plan for him?

Why did Nami die with 180 lbs of stones in her stomach that she had ingested while living in a sea pen? Aren't sea pens so inherently enriching and stimulating that they don't need enrichment or training sessions? As Lori Marino put it in a bizarre webinar last year: "they'll be enriched by the flora and fauna; they won't need trainer relationships."

Anyway stop falling for these scammers and advocate for actual animal welfare that has science to back it up.

[soapcan18]

Thought I’d share these for anyone who hasn’t seen them :) They’re the official descriptions for each of the Anemoi albums on The Oh Hellos’ website!

Notos

Notos, the first installment in an ongoing series, is named for the ancient Greco-Roman god of the south wind, who brought storms in the summer. Musically, the record draws from the siblings' memories of summers spent exploring the Pacific Northwest with their grandparents, as well as their experiences with the frequent threat of hurricanes as they grew up on the Texas Gulf Coast. Thematically, the series considers the question: "where did our ideas come from?" Notos recounts a time when the duo weren't even aware there was a question to ask, and reflects on the backfire effect we experience when confronted with new information for the first time.

Eurus

Once that first question posed in the Notos EP is asked — "where did my ideas come from?" — it opens the floodgates to more. While wrestling with them all can ultimately lead to a fuller understanding of the world around you (and leave you with more empathy than you started with), it can also leave you feeling alienated from the communities you used to identify with. Eurus, released in early 2018 as the second installment in a series, is a continued interrogation of our own beliefs, and as Eurus was the wind most closely associated with autumn, the record seeks to capture the feelings of dark woods, dry branches, dead leaves, and wondering who had migrated — you, or your flock?

Boreas

Boreas, the northern wind, ushered in the harsh frosts of lonely winter. The arrangements of this third installment evoke images of snow-blanketed darkness, candlelight behind cupped hands, and a vast night sky ribboned with stars and auroras. As we wrote these songs, we found ourselves confronted with the ways we’ve personally and communally reflected the character of this wind — how we often avoid discomfort, even at the expense of others, until we are left cold, hard, and unfeeling. In this record, we ask the winter to instead kindle us into something warmer and softer than who we’ve been.

Zephyrus

The series concludes. Zephyrus, the final cardinal wind of this project, brought the gentle warmth of spring that summoned up a new year of growth rooted in the fertile ashes of all the structures that keep us isolated and unfeeling — the kind of growth we can see in ourselves, if we can muster the courage to be vulnerable. The arrangements mirror and embrace this shift, rising up like tender leaves breaking through concrete and cascading down like mountain rivers surging with the first thaw of the season. It’s been a long year; thanks for listening.

[dysthanasia-series]

Story (Re)Intro

Title: Apophenia

Genre(s): Speculative fiction, vampires, urban fantasy, paranormal fantasy, near-future

Summary:

Mermaids don't exist. Every agent of the Coven, the organization that researches and governs the supernatural community, knows that. Accepting a classified assignment to investigate sightings along the Broken Coast is just an easy paycheck as far as Isaac Soto is concerned (not to mention another way to avoid dealing with his trauma and relationship issues).

A chance meeting with a charming stranger in a roadside diner changes not only the course of Isaac's assignment but the trajectory of his life. A life now in danger of being cut short unless he figures out how to escape the bloodborn who takes him hostage, a necromancer out to kill both of them, and the corruption at the heart of the organization he thought he believed in.

Apophenia is the introduction to Dysthanasia, a series that follows a cast of human and supernatural characters as they navigate a post-climate apocalypse Earth, fight against (or with) various factions vying for control, and find peril, solidarity, love, redemption, and purpose along the way. Discover what the world became and meet those who will determine what it might yet be.

Taglist Sign-Up (or just ask to be +/-)

Dysthanasia Taglist: @thecyrulik @k--havok @thatndginger @space-writes @sunset-a-story @theglitchywriterboi @extrabitterbrain @ashirisu

Full first chapter under the cut

Words: 3,553

Content Advisory: Swearing, flirting, mentions of past bad breakups

To Chapter 2 >>

Comic Sans Character Guide

Taking an assignment along the Broken Coast always got a reaction. Everyone from the archivist gathering relevant case materials to people not even in Isaac’s department eagerly volunteered a list of their deepest fears as soon as they heard where he was headed. Storms out that way were ten times as crazy—tornadoes, hurricanes, flash floods that could sweep away anything or anyone in their path. Then all the earthquakes left over from the Break to boot? It was a miracle humans survived out there at all. The drive from Chicago alone was brutal, at least twenty-six hours, assuming the highways were in decent repair and smugglers hadn’t set up roadblocks to ambush travelers. No civic guards in the territories made it a wonderland for criminals plying their dark trades, from thieves to murderers. Any decent people that far outside a reliable grid scratched out an existence through hunting and gathering, their tech and habits straight from the paleolithic. The coast was as far from civilization as anybody could get without joining half of California under the Pacific. That’s why they never went any farther west than St. Paul, and if he were smart he’d follow their examples.

So, Isaac had let out a sigh of relief when Director Khang told him this job was strictly classified. Not a word breathed to archives—all the info he needed would be accessible from his tab. Even his colleagues wouldn’t know where he’d gone until after he submitted a final report. As great as the other agents in his department could be, salt of the earth really, Isaac appreciated having breathing space to work. Nevermind if that work was the Coven equivalent of a wild goose chase. He got paid per diem anyway.

He did have to admit his coworkers’ unsolicited past comments had one thing right. The drive to Nevada territory, while scenic at times, wore him out even when broken up over two days. He might’ve extended the trip to twice that long under normal circumstances if Director Khang hadn’t stressed urgency. Stopped to buy a pie at the shelter farms strung all across the Midlands since berries were in season. Taken a dawn hike when he hit the Rockies and allowed himself to think of his dad, tía, and cousins where no one could see him break down. Still, when he spotted a roadside rest stop with a little place to eat about an hour south of Sin Strip Beach, Isaac decided he’d earned a leg stretch and some breakfast.

He parked under the last row of solar panels, patted his car on the hood, leaving a handprint in the layer of desert dust that had settled over it, then plugged it into the charging station. Eight other vehicles shared the lot even at three a.m. Mostly pickup trucks that had the rusty scars and mismatched parts of salvages, but there were a couple of humble sedans just like his mixed in. A breeze tousled his already messy curls but didn’t have the teeth to bite through his jacket. Under the smell of sun-baked earth and creosote, Isaac caught a whiff of sea brine. He squinted toward the western horizon. The glitter of stars remained unbroken until they met the gentle swelling silhouette of hills in the distance. No incoming storm clouds, not yet. Roads and weather permitting, he’d reach Eureka by mid-morning. Maybe he’d even manage to get some actual work done. Maybe.

The rest stop had all its windows intact, metal storm shudders rolled up. Though a big terra cotta pot beside the entrance brimmed with gravel and cigarette butts, the walkway itself was swept clean. A little bell over the door tinkled to announce Isaac’s entrance. About a dozen pairs of eyes spared him a glance, but his old jeans and faded green flannel jacket sparked zero interest. Just another traveler passing through. He made a beeline for the narrow order window. No kiosk interface waited there, only a board on the wall listing menu items and a magpad to jot down the ones he wanted. The chilaquiles plate was crossed out, which was a shame. Isaac settled on a waffle, huevos con nopales, and coffee. He pushed the magpad and a credit charge chit through the order slot, nodded at the kitchen staff behind the glass, then snagged the only remaining table, luckily beside a window.

Isaac pulled his tab from his jacket pocket and checked the outer screen. Two message notifications greeted him. The same two he’d been putting off replying to for a month. Jonah, ever patient, hadn’t added anything since sending his initial one, of course. The number of unread replies on Elfy’s, however, had ticked up, making for a grand total of fourteen. A long string of attempts to reach out, starting at hey, how’ve you been, morphing into I’m worried about you, and winding up around don’t make me hunt you down, prick.

He'd answer soon. The moment he finished his assignment he’d get back to her, to both of them. A week, at max. Elfy would let him have it for keeping her in the dark for so long, but then they’d make plans to grab drinks and catch up once he returned home. Jonah would joke about Isaac training to become a hermit before telling him all about his weird adventures in the northwest territories, tracking down tales of dire wolves and Bigfoot. Maybe Isaac would even get an assignment out that way so they could see each other outside of the Coven’s winter solstice party for once. Nevermind how awkward the visit might be at first because of Isaac’s drunken decision making at the last one.

Promises made, Isaac flipped his tab open to use the full inner screen. He tapped the file application and scrolled through until he found the assignment info Director Khang had sent him. He’d skimmed the basic objectives between rushing to pack for the sudden trip, so he took his time looking them over again. Sightings off Broken Coast. Integrated wereshark community in Nevada territory headed by Hart, Lawrence M. Verify eyewitness testimony. Coordinate search efforts and data collection. Isaac continued down to the attached transcription of statements. He kept them on one side of the screen while making notes on the other.

Multiple unidentified creatures had been encountered along the shoreline as well as in open ocean, both near the surface and as deep as a thousand meters. Anthropoid from the midsection up—arms, hands, shoulders, rounded head. Below the belt, however…caudal fins or flukes. Tentacles. Even a spiny carapace equipped with four or maybe six segmented legs in one case. If the reports had come only from humans in the community, Isaac wouldn’t have bothered to accept the assignment, per diem or no. It wasn’t like drunk people seeing mermaids while they were out fishing was a first. The fact that the bulk of the details came from three weresharks, though…well.

We couldn’t smell any plastic or rubber o algo así, claimed Tecla Santana Machado, speaking for both herself and the spirit of the great white shark bound to her soul. Didn’t smell like any prey we knew either. Se nos cayeron los chones cuando lo vimos. Scared the hell out of us tambièn.

One second it was there, and the next it kind of, like, I dunno, flickered? And then it would show up somewhere else. From Anaru Shortland, a thresher. We could sense the little pins and needles coming off it when we saw it. The, you know, like, electricity. When it disappeared or, or teleported or whatever it was doing, it felt more like a current. Just water pressure swirling around.

Isaac had formed a couple of hypotheses by the time the order bell announced his food was waiting on the pickup counter. First, that someone had figured out how to bind new types of animal spirits. While the Coven only had records of success with big cats, wolves, seven species of sharks, alligators, crocodiles, and bears (though not since the sixteenth century) that didn’t mean people weren’t experimenting. Isaac scowled while drizzling salsa over his eggs. He refused to congratulate anyone for butchering wildlife just because they didn’t like the species of spirit being handed down from their elders, or they wanted to stand out. Turning the culprit(s) in wouldn’t necessarily fix the problem either. The Coven might prosecute them, but once word got out that another kind of transformation had been discovered it would inspire other careless people to replicate the results. Not such a simple assignment, after all. Then again, the werecreatures Isaac had become familiar with preferred to enforce their own codes of conduct. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d buried his head in busywork while the community beat a greater sense of responsibility into a troublemaker. He added inquire about local customs to his list of notes.

The second, more optimistic explanation for the whole situation involved forms of sorcery or witchcraft above his paygrade. Illusion or summoning or other stuff that involved drawing intricate chalk diagrams under a certain phase of the moon. In which case, he’d gladly report what was happening and let the higher-ups bicker amongst themselves about whether the werecreature or magic department held higher jurisdiction.

Headlights pierced the night outside and slashed across Isaac’s vision. He shielded his face with one hand, peering through his fingers. A sleek black sedan with official-looking plates whipped around a corner of the parking lot, looking for a space. His heartbeat gave an arrhythmic jump and kicked into a faster pace. Corporate farm or railway reps never made a night more relaxing. Highway bandits and smugglers at least had the decency to let people go about their business after a modest bribe. Isaac slouched farther into his seat and noted all exits.

A lone, short figure wove its way through the parked cars from the back of the lot. Isaac allowed himself to breathe a tad easier. Company shitheads were always at their most dangerous in packs. The light filtering out from the diner illuminated the newcomer as they approached. Clean-shaven, no suit or tie, although there was a white button-down shirt beneath their close-fitting athletic jacket. Isaac’s hand clenched around his knee when he caught a nocturnal-green flash reflected from their eyes. Or…no. No, they were just a naturally lighter color. He relaxed and stopped pressing against the window to stare. Straightening up, he did his best to fake nonchalance.

Every gaze in the diner locked onto the owner of the fancy black car as soon as they were through the door. Rather than shrivel up and wither into dust, they offered a smile, complete with dimples, that could’ve been brought home to the most skeptical parents. They gave a sweeping bow to the room in general before strolling straight up to the order window. The click of leather dress shoes against the tile floor sounded loud enough to carry for miles into the surrounding hills.

The newcomer paid no further mind to their audience as they put in a quick order and received a steaming coffee mug in return. Turning from the little window, they scanned the room for a spot to sit. A collective shift of unease rolled through the crowd. Isaac’s blood pressure doubled when the stranger’s eyes—a startling shade of blue-green like a tropical sea—settled on him and his window seat. He considered just getting up and leaving as they made a beeline for his table. Except a) that might spark a confrontation if they got offended, and b) he hadn’t finished half his plate yet. Isaac made the tactical decision to grit his teeth and stay put.

“Olá, tudo bem?” The stranger motioned to the chair across from him. “Posso me sentar aqui?”

Portuguese, spoken at a low pitch and rapid pace, but Isaac understood enough. “No hay bronca,” he mumbled.

That did the trick. The stranger sat and gazed out the window, hands wrapped around the mug but not sipping from it. One by one, wary stares glazed over with indifference and disengaged. Breathing easier, Isaac turned his attention back to his food. Mostly. Between bites he snuck peeks at his uninvited guest. Smooth brown skin a couple shades lighter and warmer than his own. No ink, no mods, no scars or lines on face, neck, or hands. Early to mid-twenties, though one could never be sure. People tended to place him a few years over his actual age of twenty-nine—his grumpy attitude and habit of dressing like somebody’s abuelo threw them off, according to Elfy. Like Isaac’s hair, the stranger’s was black. Unlike his, it was combed and stylish, shorn close at the sides but left longer and tamely wavy on top. Even their brows didn’t have a strand out of place, thick and arched and providing a perfect frame for the unusual eyes that darted over and caught him.

Isaac choked a little on a piece of waffle. He coughed and swallowed, a hasty apology loaded on his tongue. Too late. A dimple reappeared along with the stranger’s smile.

“Você é local?”

He had the courtesy not to sigh. At least the rest of the place had resumed their own conversations so one more wouldn’t stand out. “No.”

“De onde você é? Você percorreu um longo caminho?”

“Eh…”

“Oh, desculpe! Você fala espanhol, não? How about English?”

“Sure.”

“I was asking you where you’re from. Sorry—the coast is the only place I get to speak Portuguese anymore, so I use it whenever I can.”

Coming from anyone less well-dressed, Isaac would’ve flagged the question as a prelude to robbery. Not that he had much worth stealing besides his tab and the pistol he’d left in his bag in the trunk. Well, they could swipe the six silver-tipped bullets the Coven had issued him in the side zipper pocket too. He’d tossed the rifle the rounds had come with into Lake Michigan years ago, though, so unless they had their own he didn’t see much of a point. Interesting conversation pieces maybe.

“I’m from Chicago,” said Isaac.

“And I thought I had a long trip!” A second dimple appeared to match the first. Combined with lips and a set of cheekbones won in a genetic jackpot, it really wasn’t fair. “Ah, sorry again. Maybe I should make introductions before attacking you with questions. I’m Renato, he and him. A pleasure to meet you.”

Isaac shook himself out of the daze that’d fallen over him and clasped Renato’s extended hand. Elfy would skin him alive if she found out an attractive stranger had crossed his path and he didn’t at least attempt friendliness. “Isaac, also he, him, his. So, um. I take it you’re not from the coast either?”

“Oh, no, though I travel up and down it for work sometimes. I just finished a job down in the Floodlands and I’m on my way up to Denver for another. No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

“What do you do?” Something illegal probably, but the ritual of small talk demanded he ask.

“Security for a research organization. I’ll be escorting someone from the city to a new project out here for a few weeks. Something about taking stock of marine life.”

“Like seeing how the fish population is doing, or looking for new species?” Hopefully not the mythical variety.

Renato’s shoulders rolled in an elegant shrug. “Oh, I don’t know the details. I’m only the muscle after all.”

Compact muscle. Isaac was willing to bet they’d come to the same five and a half-ish feet if they both stood—he might even beat Renato by an inch if he stopped slouching so much. He looked down at tan hands wrapped around the plain white coffee mug. Long fingers with short and manicured nails, prominent sinew under the skin, no nicks or bruises on the knuckles. Maybe he wore gloves when he punched people. Maybe he just carried a gun under that sporty jacket of his. Or, like Isaac, maybe he relied on negotiation instead of the skills he’d acquired on a shooting range (six months training followed by recertification every three years as required for all Coven researchers, plus blasting empty bottles or cans in a field for the fun of it sometimes). A face like Renato’s had to be a free pass to charm his way past a lot of obstacles.

“What brings you out to the western wilds, Isaac?”

“Well…something similar actually. I study big predators. Wolves and cougars mostly. Alligators once in a blue moon. I keep track of their movements and population sizes, births, deaths, habits, that sort of thing.” True, even if the predators in question spent most of their days on two legs and paying the bills just like him.

“Que coincidência. Do you enjoy your job?”

“Mostly, yeah. I get to travel a lot, see tons of interesting places, expand my horizons and all that.” Nevermind that if not for the Coven—and Elfy especially—he wouldn’t have made it through the past ten years without degenerating into a mat of depressed lichen on his sofa.

“Doesn’t your sweetheart…or hearts…get lonely with you away that much?”

Tension knotted between Isaac’s shoulderblades, but he managed to keep his face neutral. “I don’t have any to worry about. Turns out having a partner who isn’t home for weeks or maybe months at a time is a big turnoff for most people.” It’d definitely been a dealbreaker for Jeremy, who’d come to believe the long absences and great pay meant Isaac was secretly a smuggler kingpin. A couple of years after their breakup, the absurdity almost outweighed the pain.

“Love is a tricky thing to keep, isn’t it? Like a rare fish in an aquarium. Too much of one thing, too little of another, the slightest unplanned change in conditions—anything can wind up killing it, even when you pour everything you have into its care.”

Despite the dramatic delivery, Isaac found the corners of his mouth twitching with an urge to smile. “I take it you haven’t had much luck with romance either.”

“Alas, no. Despite the fact my ex-girlfriend and I grew up together and went on to work for the same employer as adults, we were terrible for each other. Selfish asshole and spiteful bitch isn’t a winning combination, as it turns out.”

Isaac’s eyebrows jumped up. “Is that how you’d describe yourself? An asshole?”

“All my critics agree, and that many people can’t be wrong. Selfish, easily bored, insincere, manipulative.” He ticked each condemnation off on his fingers and sighed. “Who knew a pretty paint job could hide so much rot within the walls.”

“Mm. Sure is a shame none of those qualities can be changed.”

Renato nodded, his eyes wide and sad. The little divots starting to form on either side of his mouth, though, suggested his critics had a point. “Isn’t it? Things are going much better in my current relationship, though, so perhaps there’s hope for me yet.” He dipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a tab. “Do you want to see a picture of my darling Tes?”

The sinking sense of disappointment in his middle caught Isaac off guard, but he made himself nod. After a bit of scrolling, the tab was offered to him. Isaac stared at the candid picture on the screens, then glanced up at Renato, who had to cover a grin that broke containment with one hand. He returned to the image again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“She’s beautiful,” he said with a snort. “Did you buy her a castle or a cave?”

“Please. Meu amor deserves only the best—I got them a castle and a treasure chest that blows bubbles to decorate their tank. And I have no idea if Tes is a girl, now that you mention it. I’ve never bothered to look up if you can tell that sort of thing with goldfish.”

“Either way, I’m sure your ex is seething with jealousy.”

“She should be. I won Tes as a prize at a carnival game for her the night we had our final breakup fight.”

“I can see why fish like you better than people do.” He soothed away any sting the words might have carried with a smile, though.

“Oh, I’m told I can be charming company, at least in small doses.” Renato’s fingers were warm against his when the tab was passed back.

“You must be, if you have any ex at all. Not to mention your own panel of critics.”

“Such cruelty and judgement. You and her would get along great.”

“Do you have her contact info? Is she still single?”

“Sadism. Pure and simple. I can’t—” A notification ping interrupted. Whatever Renato saw on his screen put a dent between his brows.

“Do you have to go?” The drop was much steeper for his spirits the second time.

“No, no. It can wait.” The tab protested with another ping. “I’ve been driving nonstop since sundown, so I’m ahead of schedule really.” Eyes never straying from Isaac, Renato held down the device’s power button and slipped it back into his pocket.

Isaac’s hopes rose again with a flutter. They also stirred up the old post-breakup excuses he used whenever someone showed interest in him. One by one, though, he swatted them down. Two years since Jeremy. Almost five months since he and Jonah had desecrated some poor archivist’s office. He could let that stretch into three years…ten…twenty-five…an entire lifetime measured in loneliness.

Or.

He could take a step toward rebuilding his crumbling personal life. If he made a leap of faith here and he landed in a huge pile of disappointment, well, so what? He’d be driving up the interstate come morning regardless. If it went smoothly, he’d have an exciting story to share with Elfy as an extra peace offering over those drinks.

Isaac rested his chin in his hand and looked out the window. “So. Your car. Is it as nice on the inside as it is on the outside?”

To Chapter 2 >>

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Grist:

Summers keep getting hotter, and the consequences are impossible to miss: In the summer of 2023, the Northern Hemisphere experienced its hottest season in 2,000 years. Canada’s deadliest wildfires on record bathed skylines in smoke from Minnesota to New York. In Texas and Arizona, hundreds of people lost their lives to heat, and in Vermont, flash floods caused damages equivalent to those from a hurricane. 

Forecasts suggest that this year’s upcoming “danger season” has its own catastrophes in store. On May 23, scientists from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration announced that the 2024 Atlantic hurricane season could be the most prolific yet. A week earlier, they released a seasonal map predicting blistering temperatures across almost the entire country. 

One driving force behind these projections are the alternating Pacific Ocean climate patterns known as El Niño and La Niña, which can create huge shifts in temperature and precipitation across the North and South American continents. After almost a year of El Niño, La Niña is expected to take the reins sometime during the upcoming summer months. As climate change cooks the planet and the Pacific shifts between these two cyclical forces, experts say the conditions could be ripe for more extreme weather events. “We’ve always had this pattern of El Niño, La Niña. Now it’s happening on top of a warmer world,” said Zeke Hausfather, a climate scientist at Berkeley Earth, an environmental data science nonprofit. “We need to be ready for the types of extremes that have not been tested in the past.”

During an El Niño, shifting trade winds allow a thick layer of warm surface water to form in the Pacific Ocean, which, in turn, transfers a huge amount of heat into the atmosphere. La Niña, the opposite cycle, brings back cooler ocean waters. But swinging between the two can also raise thermostats: Summers between the phases have higher-than-average temperatures. According to Hausfather, a single year of El Niño brings the same heat that roughly a decade of human-caused warming can permanently add to the planet. “I think it gives us a little sneak peek of what’s in store,” he said.

Since the World Meteorological Organization declared the start of the current El Niño on July 4, 2023, it’s been almost a year straight of record-breaking temperatures. According to the National Centers for Environmental Information, there’s a 61 percent chance that this year could be even hotter than the last, spelling danger for areas prone to deadly heat waves during the summer months. An estimated 2,300 people in the U.S. died due to heat-related illnesses in 2023, and researchers say the real number is probably higher.

All this heat has also settled into the oceans, creating more than a year of super-hot surface temperatures and bleaching more than half of the planet’s coral reefs. It also provides potential fuel for hurricanes, which form as energy is sucked up vertically into the atmosphere. Normally, trade winds scatter heat and humidity across the water’s surface and prevent these forces from building up in one place. But during La Niña, cooler temperatures in the Pacific Ocean weaken high-altitude winds in the Atlantic that would normally break up storms, allowing hurricanes to more readily form. 

[warningsine]

Hotels and homes destroyed, impassable roads and thousands of people cut off. This is how Acapulco, in the Mexican state of Guerrero, has been left after the passage of Hurricane Otis, the most powerful Pacific storm to make landfall on Mexican territory in the last 30 years. The cyclone, which in 12 hours went from a tropical storm to a category 5 hurricane, the highest possible classification, has left the popular tourist destination resembling a war zone with uprooted trees, debris, roofs torn off and buildings without walls. Neither the National Meteorological Service (SMN) nor local and federal authorities were able to predict the intensity of the hurricane. Scientists were also caught by surprise. The speed with which the cyclone intensified was unusual and forced Mexican authorities to issue an evacuation alert for the area just hours before Otis made landfall.

The SMN warned at 12:00 p.m. Tuesday, that the hurricane would reach Acapulco at 6:00 p.m. the following day. However, the storm arrived earlier than expected and devastated the coastal city at 12:25 a.m. Wednesday. Winds of more than 270 kilometers per hour (168 mph) hit the town and the state of Guerrero, one of the poorest in the country, destroying everything in their path. More than 500,000 people were left without electricity, internet and telephone connection in the early hours of the morning and only part of the service has so far been restored. The breakdown of communications has complicated access to the affected areas and there is still no official information on the number of victims and the amount of damage caused, although it is expected that material losses will amount to millions of dollars.

The unusual power of the hurricane has attracted the attention of the scientific community, which links the devastating power of Otis to the El Niño season, a phenomenon associated with changes in the atmosphere and the fluctuation of water temperature in the Pacific. “There is a hypothesis that it could be related to the rise in ocean temperature, which does not mean that there are more hurricanes, but it does mean that when there is one, the cyclone accelerates its formation by taking on more energy under these conditions,” explains Claudia Rojas of the Department of Process Engineering and Hydraulics of the Metropolitan Autonomous University (UAM).

There are those who point to a relationship between climate change and the strength of hurricanes, although the scientific community is still investigating the matter. “El Niño is inducing these cyclones to reach high categories. However, it is difficult to attribute the responsibility for Hurricane Otis to climate change,” says Christian Domínguez, a researcher at the Institute of Atmospheric Sciences of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). “What is known on a global scale is that with climate change there will be fewer hurricanes in the Pacific, but they will be more intense,” he adds. “With the information we currently have, it is not so clear that the intensity has to do with climate change because there are not so many historical records, although we have not ruled it out.”

After making landfall, Otis was downgraded to a tropical storm after depositing heavy rainfall in several states in central and southern Mexico. However, the threat has not yet passed. “The risk is not only posed by the strength of the winds. There are more dangers that such a phenomenon can entail, such as landslides and the flooding of rivers and streams,” says Domínguez. In Acapulco, some 20,000 people live in areas susceptible to flooding or landslides. The hurricane season in the Pacific begins around May 15 and ends around November 30, as such Guerrero could still experience the consequences of other cyclones, says Rojas. “Research work has shown that after a prolonged drought, very intense rainfall events occur, as is the case with tropical cyclones that can reach these [high] categories.”

Otis is not the first hurricane in recent years to strengthen so rapidly. In 2015, Tropical Storm Patricia escalated to a Category 5 hurricane in 10 hours. The difference with the current phenomenon was that it did so offshore, and authorities in the states of Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit were able to evacuate 50,000 people before it made landfall. The storm, catalogued by the SMN as “extremely dangerous” and by the media as the “largest in history,” quickly lost strength after making landfall in Mexican territory thanks to the mountainous system of the Sierra Madre Occidental, which eroded the outer ring of the cyclone and prevented greater damage and devastation. Guerrero, in this case, did not have the same luck.

Acapulco International Airport, which receives millions of tourists every year, has been completely flooded and suffered serious damage to its infrastructure, forcing the suspension of all flights. The main highways are also closed, preventing communications with Mexico City. Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador had ordered his Security Cabinet to go to the affected area, but on seeing the seriousness of the situation, he decided to personally supervise the rescue efforts himself. The Mexican army has initiated an emergency protocol and 37 shelters have been set up throughout the state for victims.

[monsoon-memoirs]

2024 Hurricane Season Breaks an Unusual Record, Thanks to Hot Water

The 2024 hurricane season has already made history, setting an unprecedented record that highlights the stark contrast between Atlantic and Pacific storm activity. For the first time since satellite monitoring began in 1966, the Atlantic basin has generated more accumulated cyclone energy (ACE) than the entire Pacific Ocean through early July. This unusual phenomenon is largely attributed to the exceptionally warm water temperatures across much of the North Atlantic. Phil Klotzbach, a senior research scientist at Colorado State University, explains that these abnormally high ocean temperatures are influencing storm activity in both oceans, albeit in opposite ways. In the Atlantic, the warm waters have fueled an active start to the hurricane season. The region has already experienced several named storms, including the powerful Hurricane Beryl in early July. This early season activity has contributed to the record-breaking ACE levels, which measure the total energy of a hurricane season based on storm frequency and maximum wind speeds.

Conversely, the Pacific has seen an unusually quiet start to its tropical cyclone season. The western North Pacific experienced only one typhoon in May, and for only the second time on record since 1950, it went without a named storm from June 1 to July 15. In the eastern North Pacific, Tropical Storm Aletta's formation on July 4 marked the latest start to the season on record in that region. Scientists attribute this lack of Pacific storm activity to several factors, including the absence of a strong monsoon trough in the western North Pacific and excessive easterly wind shear in the eastern North Pacific. Interestingly, the warm Atlantic waters are contributing to these conditions by influencing global wind patterns. The dramatic spike in tropical Atlantic water temperatures from March to June 2024 has persisted, creating a La Niña-like circulation pattern. This pattern reduces westerly wind shear in the Atlantic, making conditions more favorable for storm formation. However, it increases easterly winds in the eastern North Pacific, hindering tropical storm development in that region. While it's still early in the hurricane season, forecasters predict above-normal activity for the Atlantic basin. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) forecasts 17 to 25 named storms, including 8 to 13 hurricanes, of which 4 to 7 could become major hurricanes.

As the season progresses, researchers will continue to study the influence of climate change and other factors on tropical cyclone patterns. The unusual start to the 2024 season serves as a reminder of the complex interplay between oceanic and atmospheric conditions in shaping hurricane activity across different regions.

Are you ready to maximise your chances of recovering damages? Contact us now, call 8338582031 to get a FREE CONSULTATION with both a state appraiser and an attorney! When you contact us, you will receive immediate consultation from both a state appraiser and an attorney. Get a preliminary assessment of the damage to your property and an estimate of potential insurance compensation. Take advantage of the expertise of construction professionals to accurately assess property damage.

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

National Hurricane Center monitoring a system in the far Eastern Pacific Ocean on the first day of hurricane season in that area of the planet that could become a disturbance later this week.

Hurricane season begins for the Atlantic/Gulf/Caribbean in just over two weeks.

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Mar! For the ama,

I know you've previously talked about being on a ship, is that for a competition or hobby? 👀 How often do you do it and how long are you at sea?

Hi Tessa! Thanks for the question ☺️

Sorry the answer is a bit long 🙃 bc it’s kind of neither but has become a little bit of a hobby now that I’ve had the experiences I’ve had in the last year?

The story is that my parents’ puppy befriended another puppy and that puppy’s dog-parents were also boat-owners and planning a long sailing trip when we met them.🐶⛵️

I already had the interest and had wanted to try sailing like that - I love the ocean and had liked the scarce sailing I had tried and my dad used to be a sailor for awhile before I was born so I guess he passed the interest on.

So I talked to the couple who own the boat and they had room for me to join them on parts of the trip they had planned and it was too big an opportunity to pass up!! So I sailed with them down the coast of Europe in about one and a half month, then I joined them again with a friend from home for two months in the Caribbean.

During the first trip I became good friends with them and when they decided to head home and needed people to help them cross over the Atlantic back to Europe (they had to get enough people to cross before hurricane season started😳) I decided to help them! Also ofc bc it sounded scary and exciting and like a huge and challenging experience. So that’s what I was doing in the month’s time I was away last, and why I didn’t have much internet connection because I was in the middle of the ocean in a 51 foot long sailboat😳

This last trip was obviously where we were on the water the longest - it was about 7 days from Miami to Bermuda and then 16 days from there until we reached the Azores. The other times the longest was 4 days but also many shorter trips lasting everything from like 5 hours to 1-2 days. We lived on the boat the whole time though (8 people😳) (though only 5 over the Atlantic which I think was a good thing though it meant longer shifts and fewer hours of rest😅)

For now I’m done sailing. I have just moved into a new apartment back home and the plan is to finish my studies. I have a dream of one day crossing the Pacific Ocean but I don’t know if I’ll ever do it - there are many other things I want to do and places I want to travel and it would take a lot of time and money. And crossing the Atlantic was already very hard and challenging even while it was an amazing experience 🌊😬 I hope to find a way to sail a bit once in a while though, just shorter trips!

Ask Me Anything

[mariacallous]

The North Atlantic Ocean has been running a fever for months, with surface temperatures at or near record highs. But cooling along the equator in both the Atlantic and eastern Pacific may finally be starting to bring some relief, particularly for vulnerable coral reef ecosystems.

This cooling comes from two climate phenomena with similar names: La Niña, which forms in the tropical Pacific, and the less well-known Atlantic Niña.

Both can affect the Atlantic hurricane season. While La Niña tends to bring conditions ideal for Atlantic hurricanes, the less powerful Atlantic Niña has the potential to reduce some of the hurricane risk.

We’re ocean and atmospheric scientists who study this type of climate phenomenon. It’s rare to see both Niñas at the same time, yet in August 2024, both appeared to be developing. Let’s take a closer look at what that means.

La Niña and Its Cousin, Atlantic Niña

La Niña is part of the El Niño–Southern Oscillation, a well-known climate phenomenon that has widespread effects on climate and weather around the world.

During La Niña, sea surface temperatures in the tropical Pacific dip below normal. Easterly trade winds then strengthen, allowing more cool water to well up along the equator off South America. That cooling affects the atmosphere in ways that reverberate across the planet. Some areas become stormier and others drier during La Niña, and the wind shear that can tear apart Atlantic hurricanes tends to weaken.

La Niña and its warmer opposite, El Niño, oscillate every three to four years or so.

A similar climate phenomenon, Atlantic Niña, occurs in the Atlantic Ocean but at a much smaller scale and amplitude. It typically peaks around July or August and tends to have a shorter duration than its Pacific cousin, and much more modest and local impacts. Atlantic Niñas generally have the opposite effect of Atlantic Niños, which tend to reduce rainfall over Africa’s Sahel region and increase rainfall in Brazil and the countries that surround the Gulf of Guinea, such as Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon.

While much weaker than their Pacific counterpart, Atlantic Niñas can, however, partially counteract La Niñas by weakening summer winds that help drive the upwelling that cools the eastern Pacific.

Why Are Both Happening Now?

In July and August 2024, meteorologists noted cooling that appeared to be the development of an Atlantic Niña along the equator. The winds at the ocean surface had been weak through most of the summer, and sea surface temperatures there were quite warm until early June, so signs of an Atlantic Niña emerging were a surprise.

At the same time, waters along the equator in the eastern Pacific were also cooling, with La Niña conditions expected there by October or November.

A map of sea surface temperature anomalies shows cooling along the tropical Atlantic and eastern Pacific regions, but much warmer than average temperatures in the Caribbean. Photograph: NOAA Coral Reef Watch

Getting a Pacific-Atlantic Niña combination is rare but not impossible. It’s like finding two different pendulums that are weakly coupled to swing in opposite directions moving together in time. The combinations of La Niña and Atlantic Niño, or El Niño and Atlantic Niña are more common.

Good News or Bad for Hurricane Season?

An Atlantic Niña may initially suggest good news for those living in hurricane-prone areas.

Cooler than average waters off the coast of Africa can suppress the formation of African easterly waves. These are clusters of thunderstorm activity that can form into tropical disturbances and eventually tropical storms or hurricanes.

Tropical storms draw energy from the process of evaporating water associated with warm sea surface temperatures. So, cooling in the tropical Atlantic could weaken this process. That would leave less energy for the thunderstorms, which would reduce the probability of a tropical cyclone forming.

However, the NOAA takes all factors into account when it updates its Atlantic hurricane season outlook, released in early August, and it still anticipates an extremely active 2024 season. Tropical storm season typically peaks in early to mid-September.

Two reasons are behind the busy forecast: The near record-breaking warm sea surface temperatures in much of the North Atlantic can strengthen hurricanes. And the expected development of a La Niña in the Pacific tends to weaken wind shear—the change in wind speed with height that can tear apart hurricanes. La Niña’s much stronger effects can override any impacts associated with the Atlantic Niña.

Exacerbating the Problem: Global Warming

The past two years have seen exceptionally high ocean temperatures in the Atlantic and around much of the world’s oceans. The two Niñas are likely to contribute some cooling relief for certain regions, but it may not last long.

In addition to these cycles, the global warming trend caused by rising greenhouse gas emissions is raising the baseline temperatures and can fuel major hurricanes.

[wellness-life-natural]

Hurricane Season: When the Storms Hit Hawaii’s Beautiful Shores

Introduction

Hawaii is popular for its shocking sea shores and radiant skies. Be that as it may, during Hurricanes season, the islands face strong Storms. We should investigate how this affects Hawaii and how to remain safe.

What is a Storm?

Grasping Storms

A Hurricanes is an enormous Storms with solid breezes and weighty downpour. It can make a great deal of harm structures and trees. Tropical storms structure over warm sea water and can travel significant distances.

How Storms Structure

Hurricanes begin as little Storms once again the sea. As they move over warm water, they get greater and more grounded. The warm water gives the Storms energy, making it develop.

Why Hawaii?

Hawaii is in the Pacific Sea. This makes it an objective for tropical storms that structure in the sea and move towards land.

The Fleeting tranquility before all hell breaks loose

Planning for a Hurricanes

Before a tropical storm hits, being ready is significant. This implies having supplies like food, water, and medication. It's likewise great to have an arrangement for where to go in the event that you want to leave your home.

Remaining Informed

Pay attention to the news and meteorological forecasts. They will let you know if a storm is coming and what you ought to do. It's essential to remain informed so you can pursue the most ideal choices for your wellbeing.

Safeguarding Your Home

Ensure your house is prepared for a storm. This can incorporate blocking windows and getting free things outside. These means can assist with safeguarding your home from harm.

During the Storms

Remaining Safe

At the point when a tropical storm hits, remain inside and away from windows. The solid breezes can break glass and cause wounds. Remaining in a protected room, similar to a storm cellar or an inside room without windows is likewise significant.

Crisis Supplies

Have crisis supplies prepared. This incorporates food, water, electric lamps, and batteries. These provisions can assist you with remaining protected and open to during the Storms.

After the Storms

Surveying Harm

After the storm passes, really look at your home for harm. Watch out for broken glass and different risks. Evaluating the harm and make any fundamental repairs is significant.

Helping other people

Assuming it's protected, beware of your neighbors. They could require assist with fixes or supplies. Helping each other can make recuperation simpler for everybody.

End

Tropical storms can be unnerving, yet being arranged can have a major effect. By remaining informed and having an arrangement, you can guard yourself and your friends and family.

FAQs

How would it be a good idea for me to respond in the event that a tropical storm is coming?

Remain informed by paying attention to the news and climate forecasts. Have crisis supplies prepared and ensure your house is secure.

How might I safeguard my home from a tropical storm?

Block windows and secure free things outside. These means can assist with shielding your home from harm.

What would it be a good idea for me to do after a tropical storm?

Really look at your home for harm and help your neighbors assuming it's protected to do as such. Recuperation is more straightforward when everybody cooperates.

[winterpinetrees]

Mid-Year's Night (The Gap Years part 13)

June 20th 2019

A nice cliff in the elven world

In spite of everything, the Mercurali are a family. Their world is built on extreme violence, but it is not only violence.

.........

Mid-Year’s Night is a holiday in the same way that “high noble” is an identity: technically correct, lacking detail, and really only ever used to avoid arguments. The official laws made by Leda Sondaica four thousand one hundred and twenty-one years ago say Mid-Year’s Night only because calling it the Summer Solstice would exclude half the planet. It’s one of three truly global holidays, but what elves actually do is up to them. 

As a Voyager along the Storm Coast, Ryn called it the Brightest Night. They’d cover the trees with nets of glowing filament and catch the fireflies that got confused by all the lights. For Amedi, the end of June was also the start of the rainy season in the highlands, and a storm rolling in on the solstice was very good luck. (Ryn and Amedi have been bonding over that. Sooner or later there will be a Pacific hurricane and Ishtar does not want to wrangle both of them at once). The nobles of Genus Kotija had their own celebrations and Arjuna carried the ones he could with him to the palace. It’s a different night for the farmers in the shadow of the rocky mountains, and for the nomads in the Arctic circle, and for the wildblood humans who brought traditions from another world. 

Ishtar had nothing. She was the last daughter of Gens Mercuralis after an unspeakably brutal coup, and four thousand years of conflict had left her family with little culture but violence. She was raised by her last cousin (who was only half-grown himself), and the two of them were too traumatized to bother reenacting holidays they barely knew. Ishtar remembers decades of just waiting to grow old enough to earn some scrap of vengeance or power with her almost-human strength and devastatingly powerful magic. Then she met Ryn, and he showed her that there were fireflies in the grass around the Conservatory. The Storm Army gave her power and prestige, but it was also something to be a part of. There were traditions and stereotypes and all the little things she’d never gotten a chance to enjoy. She spent six years in that little world. They didn’t all make it out alive, but Ishtar did. 

Needless to say, her three children have been raised with a culture. It’s her violence and Ryn’s curiosity and Arjuna’s grace, but it’s something. It’s too cutthroat for the Voyagers and too rustic for the nobility, but it’s theirs. Someday the kids will attend the Conservatory and face the same Trial as their parents, but they will have a meaningful childhood before it and meaningful lives after. Ishtar has also taken it upon herself to help her newest councilor. Their name is Amedi Kebero, and like her, they won a major war game at the Conservatory. Unlike Ishtar, they’re having a bit of trouble figuring out what to do after. It’s really quite common. Most victors burn out. It’s the secret final test. Did you find some way to live afterward, or will you destroy yourself like Lazarus once he had nothing left to conquer? 

Ishtar found a way. It’s been one hundred and fifty years, after all, and she’s still alive. She stands on a steep rocky incline as the last purples and reds of the sunset fade over the cloudy horizon. With her stand nine others. Her husband, Arjuna, the quiet elf who she married after decades of wrestling with her official betrothal. Ryn, the commoner with dusty brown hair and stormson tattoos who saved her life. Her three children, all older now than she was during the coup that took away her childhood (To a human observer, they look ten, eight, and seven, but they were actually all born a decade apart. The nobility age slowly). And Amedi, her youngest and scrappiest councilor. Their three seneschals, Alyse, Callum, and Esther, are also present. The group are all wearing fluorescent paint on their faces and arms, a tradition that Ryn brought from home, but Amedi thought was familiar. 

Twilight is long on Mid-Year’s Night, but it’s finally dark. Arjuna pulls a bundle of thin metal rods from a bag. He is slender and graceful even by high noble standards, and his long hair flows in the wind behind him. His eyes flare lavender as he lights two sticks with his magic. They burn white and gold -sparklers, a simple invention that both humans and elves have made. The paint on his face and arms is geometric, with elaborate florals on his wrists. Genus Kotija designs from his family. He holds a sparkler in one painted hand and passes the other to Fen, her younger son. The boy is just barely starting to use his magic, but fire is beyond him. 

“Esther needs one too!” He points a small hand at a short red-haired woman. 

Esther is Amedi’s young seneschal. She is human, of course, but the yellow-green smudge of paint makes it almost look like her eyes are glowing. She must have forgotten she was wearing face paint. Ishtar suggested Amedi choose a calmer seneschal, but they didn’t listen. She takes the sparkler and smiles, but there’s fear in her eyes. Her own seneschal, who has been dealing with this for decades, goes over to help. Aren’t humans so nice when they aren’t trying to kill each other?

The sparklers are distributed. Suen proudly lights hers, as well as ones for the other two humans. Ryn insists on setting a fire himself. He’s barely strong enough to spark a flame, but he can manage. That’s the origin of the term “spark”, after all. The glowing paint on his bare arms looks like waves or wind patterns. Amedi has copied it along with spirals of lightning and a line over their eyes. The sparkler part is entirely new to them though. They seem to like it. 

“I hope Mav can be here next year!” says Chandra, her oldest son. He’s a sensitive boy, the sort of sensitive that can’t exist in high nobility without being corrupted. He mostly takes after his father in appearance, just with a broader build. Of course, he’s still just a little kid.

Ishtar smiles. “Me too, Chandra, but his family have been our enemies for a long time, even if Devana is our friend. Would you want to celebrate with the old Apex and the Sondaicas?”

He hesitates, but then shakes his head. Ishtar has been trying to end the ancient war between the two clans of high genera, and part of that has meant encouraging the children of her allies to meet the elves they’d always thought would become their enemies. Of course, most of those children are currently furious, grieving, and under the magic-suppressing gaze of a Betrayed arbiter until they calm down. 

Mav is a young boy from the core of Genus Marolak, and Devana is his aunt. He’s pale with wolf-blue eyes and is almost exactly the same age as her son. They’ll attend the Conservatory together. In another life, they’d be enemies like she and Kavec Adust were. Somehow, miraculously, her son has started to befriend him instead. Her daughter, by contrast, has refused to go anywhere near one of the Betrayed. It’s understandable. Ishtar wouldn’t either when she was her age. Bad memories. 

Despite their new friendship with her son, the three imprisoned children who viewed Devana as their cool aunt (even if the Councillor is technically the mother of one of them) are too volatile to be released. They have a sister at large, and their father was killed last week. No matter the optimism of little boys, these things take a long time to bury. Ishtar is supposed to say that things take a long time to heal, not bury, and she does say that out loud. In her mind though, she knows that some things are only ever handled. All that buried trauma is why Amedi nearly sets the field on fire when a shadow dashes past the group. It’s nothing, but the new councilor hasn't learned that yet. She smiles at Arjuna. 

Arjuna is an illusionist, and a very skilled one at that. It’s common knowledge that illusionists eventually suffer from hallucinations… and that their skillset can make those hallucinations a public issue. However, they’ve hit Arjuna early and they’ve hit him hard. He blames his job as an assassin. He spent so many decades looking for dangers around every corner that his magic (perfectly honed to create distractions and notice threats) began to make problems where there were none. He’s retired now. 

The whole family, humans and elves, go through a mental list. Is anyone else around? Did they hear anything or just see it? And of course, who would be stupid enough to attack them here? They all reach the only reasonable conclusion: sometimes, magic is just a pain. Arjuna pats Amedi on the back and they quietly laugh.

They’re used to it though. They’re all used to reaching for weapons they don’t carry, or drawing ones that they do. They’re used to scaring away birds with eyes that glow at loud noises and to constantly checking what the other world looks like in case they need to run. No matter what she wants, this is the world that is. Her children will attend the Conservatory, and the odds are that at least one of them will kill. Even conquering the human world won’t be enough to change that. Still, Mid-Year’s Night is a time to dream. 

The sparklers burn out and they all sit down on the rocks. Ryn’s old white-haired seneschal, Callum, looks up and identifies a bat in the dark sky. Six months ago, she was the Adversary, and Emer Sondaica was the Apex. She and her council and her family were half a year away from a coup decades in the making, praying to fate or nature or some commoner's god that no one would turn traitor. Ishtar asks her family about their hopes for the next six months. It’s a painfully boring tradition, but it’s all she can offer. 

Amedi hopes that they find the missing heirs quickly. Despite the failed attack in Vya, their spell is working after all, and they now know that the heirs of Sondaica and Adust are both in Las Vegas.

They raise their painted hands in exasperation. “It’s a void-cursed desert, honestly. What kind of idiot civilization sets off a thousand nuclear bombs without being able to metabolize radiation?” 

Ryn explains that the elven world did its fair share of stupid stuff, mostly heating the atmosphere a few degrees when they were already at the natural end of an ice age. He hopes that their conquest goes smoothly, and to start looking for a new seneschal. 

Callum approves of that. He turned sixty this past year, and he does not want to deal with a second planet’s worth of paperwork. 

Esther wants to become more at home in the palace. The staff don’t respect her yet, but half the world’s bureaucracy reports to her one way or another. The other two humans say something in their shared language. They’ve probably all felt that way. 

Alyse, her own seneschal, hopes to find the heirs as well. She always dodges questions.

Arjuna agrees with Ryn. They’ve lost enough friends this year, but hopefully their plan to take over the human world won’t cause any more grief.

The children have smaller goals. They want to see Rise of Skywalker in a human theater. Fen says that it actually releases on the new year, and doesn’t count as a Mid-Year’s hope, but they ignore him. Chandra wants Suen to meet his new friends, and Suen wants that Gens Tiercel boy to teach her more flight magic. Ishtar should probably stop that. 

What does she want? Well, the high nobility don’t believe in anything after this life, but some of Ishtar and Ryn’s old friends in the Storm Army did. Sometimes Ishtar sees a little brown-spotted raptor watching her and wonders if it’s proud of what she’s done. A hundred children still die every year at the Conservatory. One of her soldiers killed a Sondaica girl during the coup. Some nights Ryn sits her down in the Problem Room once Devana, Gullin, and Amedi have gone. He puts his head in his rope-burned hands and talks about typhus on sailing ships and what plague actually looks like because no one in the elven world has ever seen it. 

Other nights it’s Gullin Eburos who talks, and he tells her about what life is actually like for the Betrayed who monitor their prisons and voidports. He tells her about his youngest child, a little boy with ivory hair and sharp teeth who would be about her age by now if he hadn’t been Betrayed, and if that life hadn’t driven him to throw himself into the sea. And still Gullin (who holds hundreds of wildborn humans captive in laboratories across the world) codes genomes to design a pandemic that will kill billions, and Ryn (who would do anything, anything, for his children - for her children) speaks to convince commoners to hold their Betrayed to the same standards as nobleborn ones.

What does the Apex hope? Well, Apex Emer Sondaica seemed happy at the end, right before Ishtar crushed her heart with a war hammer. Not happy to die a glorious death either…just happy it was over. Ishtar is pretty certain that she’ll still be alive in six months, but if Emer’s son comes back to kill her, she hopes that it won’t be a relief. 

.............

Chandra’s fits the noble naming style and the Voyager one! He is named after a god of the moon, but also after Dr Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar, a real-life astrophysicist who defined so much of what we currently know about massive stars and what happens after they die.  

little picrews of Suen, Chandra, and Fedran. They're 10, 8, and 7, but actually like 36, 25 and 18 (those are rough numbers)

[tornadoquest]

Tornado Quest Top Science Links For October 28 - November 4, 2023 #science #weather #climate #hurricane #health

Greetings everyone. Thanks for stopping by. With a few weeks left in the Atlantic and Pacific hurricane season I will continue with hurricane preparedness information that you’ll find helpful. There are other interesting reads this week, so let’s get started. There’s a joke in here somewhere. “China’s spy-hunting campaign has a new target: ‘Illegal’ weather stations.” In our warming planet,…

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter One: Empty Spaces

(book two of As the Seasons Grey)

“When’s the last time it snowed in L.A.?” Christine asked.

“No idea,” Eric confessed. “I do know it’s been a hot minute, though. A cold minute, rather.” He peered out the window to the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains down below the plane; Christine followed his gaze to see the mountains for herself. After a nearly two hour layover in the airport in Dallas, she looked on at the vast landscape far below with a twinkle in her eye and her lips slightly parted. The only mountains she really knew were the Catskills and the Appalachians; to see the faint glimmers of Denver off in the distance under the snow line, nestled down on the edge of the Rockies made her think of Christmas time. Christmas in the beginning of June, with the tinsel and trimmings on everything even as summer commenced all around them. She leaned back in the seat with her feet up on the rung underneath the seat before them, and she sighed through her nose.

It was a long time coming there on that flight, and she was eager to feel the breeze and the spray from the Pacific Ocean. Eric had told her about the Santa Cruz Boardwalk before they boarded as well, the West Coast equivalent to Coney Island.

“All I know is there's a big amusement park there,” he had told her. “I don't know what else, just that it's a lot like Coney Island.”

It was nearly summertime, and she needed a day in which she could let loose and not think of anything for a while, especially not pertaining to that summer wedding as well. If only she could have brought Alex along, then she would not have to imagine him in a monkey suit, drenched in sweat under the New York heat. She closed her eyes and she tried to think of something else.

Anything else.

Anything that had nothing to do with a Fourth of July wedding.

“We should make a trip into the mountains at some point,” Eric then suggested, which in turn made her eyes pop wide open. “You know, just to check it all out, ‘cause we don’t really have mountains back east.”

“Right?” she chirped. “I’m eager to see the Pacific Ocean, though.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a nod. “Given the choice, I’d take the beach over the mountains.”

“The mountains can be rough at times,” she followed along. “There’s just something… dare I say, romantic about the beach. Romantic and lively.”

“Romantic and yet also sinister,” he added. “You’re looking out to the ocean, which extends for as far as the eye can see. You’re at the end of the world, pretty much…” His voice trailed off, and she noticed that he was looking at something across the aisle from them. Christine turned her head for a look over at the empty seats next to them: through the window on the other side, she spotted a field of cloud cover over the southern most part of the country as well as what appeared to be Mexico.

“Looks like there's a hurricane coming in,” he remarked.

“Already?” she wondered aloud.

“Oh, yeah. This side of the country's been crazy active weather wise for like the last year or so. Getting lots of snow and rain, and then lots of wind thereafter. It's just gonna be up and down and up and down from here on out, I suppose.”

Christine craned her neck for a better view of the blanket of puffy white clouds down below, and more so as they seemed to extend far off into the distance with the curvature of the earth. The sight of the clouds made her think of the heavens, and more so when she returned her gaze to the window next to Eric: she peered up to the stretch of deep royal blue directly overhead and she thought of Chris.

She thought of those final moments in the graveyard before they left for California, and she wondered if his spirit was still among them down there on Earth, or if he had made his place elsewhere. In that rich field of blue over the roof of the plane, she imagined him up there, long lush dark curls under the knit yarmulke, chubby little childhood tummy that was always so soft and warm for her...

If only there was a way that she could tell Alex about him. Accessing his memory to bring forth to crystal clear words was such a daunting task for her that she had no idea as to where to start. Perhaps she could begin from the very first day in which she and Chris had met, but it would require hours upon hours of story telling on her part for him, and as far as she knew, Alex didn't have hours and hours of free time for her. The man was going to be married to Captain Howdy in a little more than a month, and she could feel the sands of time slipping away into the black rocky swells of the earth below. She gazed down below at the mountains, at the way the sunlight only just caressed the white caps and missed the pitch dark ravines in between. She couldn't help but think of Alex and his helmet of black hair lined with a gray streak.

They soared over the Rocky Mountains and proceeded over the rolling, rocky desert in Arizona and the southeastern corner of California. At some point, as the plane began to lower closer to the earth, she spotted the vast strip of blue on the horizon beyond them in the window opposite them.

“There she is,” Eric declared in a low voice.

“Pacific Ocean blue,” Christine said, and she could scarcely contain her excitement all the while.

The plane shuddered and shook with the incoming wind, such that she clutched at the armrests on either side of her.

“Turbulence,” Eric assured her. “And the first we've felt since we left New York, no less.”

They stared out the window to the rolling desert down below: on the distant horizon stood the glimmering subterranean jewel of Las Vegas as well as the cold, vast White Pine Mountains off to the left.

“I assume that big gap there in the ground is Death Valley,” she remarked with a gesture to the left of the mountains. Indeed, a long low dark shadow spread north all along the base of the mountains, to which Eric took a closer look at.

“I'm not too sure,” he confessed. “I thought Death Valley wasn't that close by.”

Another round of turbulence welled up around them, and Christine clutched at the armrests again. They soon cleared the desert only to follow it up with the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which were also still capped with thin blankets of snow as well. Christine felt her head spinning as the mountains fell away to the expanse of the Central Valley down below.

“I think we're getting close,” Eric told her, and sure enough, the lights for the seat belts flickered on, and they did just that. “If I remember correctly, Monterey Bay comes up after the next mountain range here.”

The Central Valley stretched on north with the Interstate 5 and the collection of tiny dots and lines that were the cars and big semi trucks. All the stories to tell down there, and so little time to even so much as consider them.

“Where's Paso Robles?” she asked Eric. “I remember Alex talking about that place when he and I had a couple of glasses of wine together.”

“Paso Robles? I think we're gonna fly right over it.”

She peered out the window on the other side of the aisle, where she was met with the tops of the coastal mountains followed by rich blue ocean. She knew they were flying over it as she could barely see the edges of the vineyards or the heart of town. Nevertheless, she wondered about traveling there at some point, traveling there and trying a bottle of wine or two with Alex and Eric on either side of her.

Another gust of turbulent wind, and they ducked further down towards the earth.

“I reckon we're gonna make a circle around Monterey before we land,” she said aloud.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Eric quipped. “It's too windy otherwise.”

They dipped further down, and Christine spotted the low green hills that surrounded Monterey Bay and the long, low crescent of a coastline that hugged the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Somewhere down there stood the runway.

Eric gripped onto the armrest next to him as they sank further down.

Christine closed her eyes and thought of Alex again. If only there was a way to interrupt the wedding. If only they could think of a proper plan, and if only there was no worries about Valentina potentially getting caught by Captain Howdy or even Alex himself. That wedding mustn't happen. She knew in her heart that they must not go through with it.

Even if it did take place on the Fourth of July, that marriage was a disaster waiting to happen. They wouldn't be married a week for the arguments to unfold; Christine still flashed back on the first night when she and Eric had helped themselves into his apartment and she nearly caught them in Alex's bedroom as well as the bathroom. The memory of that still lingered in the back of her mind, like the demon Captain Howdy was to Alex himself.

Soon enough, the plane dipped down towards the stretch of black tarmac down below, and they touched down at the Monterey Airport, a few miles outside of the town itself.

Christine was eager to step off the plane and take in the smell of the Pacific Ocean, especially once Eric got the keys to their rental car. They were greeted by a hard gust of wind out from the northeast, as if nature wanted to tell them that home was still on their shoulders. Their little black car had been parked near the front of the lot, right by the big glass sliding front doors of the airport: he helped her load up the trunk and the back seat of their rental with their things and the two of them hastily climbed into the newly upholstered front seats.

“Yowza,” Eric muttered as he ran a hand over the crown of his head so his hair would lay flat.

Something about the winds made Christine think of Halloween and also Day of the Dead: perhaps it was from the fact that everything around them, despite being a mere stone’s throw away from the beach and the ocean, felt as dry as a bone. Dry as a bone, the bones of Chris’ remains left six feet under.

Eric drove them away from the airport to the Monterey-Salinas Highway, the main artery that led closer to the Pacific Coast Highway itself: all the while, they were met with the view of the ocean and the field of blue that expanded for as far as the eye could see. Far off in the distance stood a thin veil of gray as the beginnings of a marine layer once the winds died down with the incoming nightfall. The gray that reminded her of the streak of gray in Alex’s hair.

The highway morphed into what she assumed was the main street of Monterey, Fremont Street, whereby Eric brought them to the next streetlight. He caught it green and wheeled it around so they could reach their hotel with the red roofs on top in one fell swoop. They bounded into the narrow parking lot behind a series of butterscotch-colored low buildings, and he turned to her with a straight face.

“You, my friend, are nuts,” she declared.

“Nah, it’s just all about timing,” he assured her. “Especially here.”

“And it’s amazing that you remember the way to the hotel here, too,” she noted.

“I looked up the map before we left and it seemed simple to me,” he assured her with a shrug. “Leave the airport and just follow the signs and keep an eye out for the place with the red roofs.”

They both climbed out as a big gust of wind slammed into them, and they ducked into the front lobby to check in. Christine stood next to Eric with her hands tucked into her pockets, and she wished that she had brought a light jacket with her, something other than her long green jacket.

“It's so windy!” she exclaimed as Eric signed them in.

“It's a Santa Ana event,” said the girl at the front desk. “Or a Diablo winds as they're known up in the Bay Area. After this, the southern tier of the state is supposed to get slammed with rain.”

“Wow,” Christine gaped at her. “Well, we're from New York, so... you know, if it gets windy, it gets windy. Rain usually doesn't follow for a couple of weeks or so. We have more clear cut seasons.”

“There's a big part of me that's envious,” said the girl with a smile, and she handed Christine the room key.

“No reason to be!” she insisted. “I've always wanted to come out here to the West Coast, I've never been here before.”

“You'll love it here, I promise.” The girl flashed her a wink and, after she and Eric thanked her, the two of them made their way out of the lobby and towards the covered walkway on the other side of the blacktop. It was a bit of an event to lug their things into the room, a cozy but spacious room with a cleanly scrubbed muted blue carpet and two twin beds. Christine set her bag down on the table next to the television, and then she stretched her arms over her head. Eric took his seat on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom, and he bounced on the mattress a bit as if he was a young boy again.

She whirled around, and then she stepped over to the window to open the drapes. The afternoon sunlight washed through the clean glass onto the white vents of the air conditioner and the heater as well as the grains of the carpet. The only thing missing about the room was a series of nets and sea creatures: Christine wanted it all to be indicative of the ocean and the heart of the Pacific coast.

“Okay! So, what should we do first?” He rubbed his hands together and ran his stout fingers through his inky black hair.

“I’m kind of hungry,” she said. “I actually haven’t eaten since we left New York. You wanna get something to eat?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “The girl at the front desk told me there’s all manner of restaurants up and down the street here, and about three blocks away is a big grocery store. We could get some food and then take a walk down to the beach.”

“We should go down to Cannery Row tomorrow morning after breakfast,” Christine suggested.

“Ooh, yeah! I was hoping we could walk around down there tomorrow. You know, spend half the day there, and then we could go to the Boardwalk at some point. We’re here a week, we’ll make the most of it all.”

“Eat the food and have all the fun near the beach,” Christine declared. “Get some clothes, too.”

“Get some clothes and surprise Alex,” he added.

She thought of him right then, and she thought about keeping a log for their trip there on the California coast just to bring home to both him and Valentina as well: she knew she would want to know about the West Coast once they returned home.

Eric took a step into the bathroom: within seconds, Christine was met with the whirring sound of water in the pipes. Thus, she had time to herself to write the first part of it all and call her parents with the phone on the nightstand.

It rang three times and she realized that Wendy wasn’t home yet.

“Hey, Mom, it’s Chris,” she began. “It’s about three o’clock. Eric and I landed in Monterey and we made it to our room okay. We’re gonna go and get something to eat and then take a walk down by the beach. Tomorrow, we’re gonna go to Cannery Row and maybe the aquarium, too. I’ll tell you more later afterwards. Love you—bye.”

She hung up the phone, and she padded over to the table with her purse. She took out a pen from the inside pocket, and then she picked out the pad of paper from underneath the lamp.

The flight from New York to Dallas, then from Dallas to Monterey. The views of the mountains and the vast Great Plains. The stretch of the Mississippi River into the unknown. The veil of blue overhead. The hurricane coming into the mainland from the Pacific Ocean. She thought about Alex, and she had the impulse to call him to tell him they had made it in one piece.

As far as she knew, Captain Howdy was there with him. Waiting. Haunting him. Haunting him like how Chris haunted Christine herself.

The water switched off, and she tucked the single piece of paper into her purse. She returned to her suitcase for a fresh change of jeans before he ducked out of the bathroom. All she could think about was Alex and the wedding. That wedding.

There had to be a better way. It was something she couldn’t stop thinking about as she unpacked her long green jacket and slung it around her body.

Eric left his hair to fly as they walked down the street to the big grocery store in question, a big warehouse nestled back in the trees about a block from the beach.

“This place is like a mansion,” Christine declared as she picked out a basket. The assortment of smells that hit them, from the fried chicken to the Chinese food to baked goods, followed by the big produce section and an entire aisle dedicated to kosher cuisine. 

The boxes of black and white cookies and New York cheesecake caught her attention. She picked up a box of black and white cookies, and she looked on at her own reflection in the plastic.

“You ever had any of those before?” Eric asked her.

“From one of the bakeries back east, yeah,” she told him. “It’s been a long time, though. I haven’t had one since I was like ten.��

“Let’s get some,” he suggested. “Some rainbow cookies, too…” He also picked out one of the cheesecakes on display as well. She spotted some coffee cake on the bottom shelf, and she wondered if Alex would go to bed that night with a warm feeling inside of him. He was going to bed with someone who didn’t love him.

They filled up their basket by the time they checked out, and proceeded on down to the beach. It was a bit of a walk, but it was something the two of them could handle, especially with the wind blowing and the smell of the sea salt all around them. Eric kept the burlap grocery bag in hand as they strode over the rise of sand dunes; when they reached the summit, they stopped, and they looked out to the ocean before them. The sun hung low over the blue waters and the never ending expanse of waves, and the chill of the ocean loomed over them.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked her over the noise of the gales and the waves that crashed down on the shore below. Even with the Santa Ana event in full swing on the mainland, the sea still thrashed down before them as if that aforementioned Pacific hurricane had made landfall right then.

“Alex,” she told him. “I just… I wonder how he’s doing right now. I wish he was here with us, too. I wish he could see the ocean like we are right now.”

“He’s with us in spirit,” Eric pointed out as he reached into the bag and took out the black and white cookies for her. Christine gazed back at him and the little thoughtful smile on his round face, accentuated by the hazy sunlight right over their heads. His long black hair lapped behind his head against the winds as if he walked with a sail behind his back. She stood there with one hand in her pocket and her other hand holding onto the box of black and white cookies.

If only there was a way to tell Alex about Chris.

And if only there was a way to Eric about Ann.