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[mmmalakai]

Anywhere With You

Revivedbur x Quackity

Angst | Smut | Fluff | Post-DSMP ending (Reposted from my Ao3 with slight changes) https://archiveofourown.org/works/48298225 Word Count: 5281

-

Land, so much land surrounding him. It was dry, desolate and barren. Wilbur had always been one for more grandeur or showmanship, but not even the most fantastical of musical numbers could brighten up this boring place.

He’d lived here before, when he was younger. Before all the chaos and fun and everything else that life and death had dragged him through. A time of learning, growing up, discovering the joy in simple things and feeling somewhat content.

Sure, he’d always had that dreadful feeling that he wouldn’t amount to anything. But that was back then. There was always anxiety, always insecurities, and that wasn’t ever gonna change. And now that he’d literally been to hell and back, Will had learned that there was no point in having high expectations.

So he left. He had left the memories, the overwhelmingness, the people who had affected his life so much. He left that unforgivable version of himself behind.

There was nowhere else he had ever been. The Dream SMP had been expansive, sure. But at the end of the day, he had only ever been there and here. Utah, his real home. But he really wished he could feel that home again.

What is home? The people you surround yourself with? The place you inhabit and make memories in? Is it a sense of belonging? Whatever it was, Wilbur just wasn’t sure he had that.

He had it with L’manburg and lost it. Dream SMP never felt like a home to him. Pogtopia was just temporary. What about people, you may ask?

Tommy was home. He was one of the best senses of home he could ever hope for. Phil was home, he had cried for him and loved him even when he had to kill him. Home was with those people. And that wasn’t something he could ever reach again.

It had been so, so long since...

Since he’d said goodbye to his naive, young hope.

But he still had something. His last sense of home was that glimmer of hope, somewhere in the unseeable distance. It never felt perfect, he’ll be honest. But it was what he knew well, and that was good enough.

Will kept walking, his legs aching and his lips cracking from the dryness. He licked his lips and clenched his fists as he strode on.

-

While Wilbur had let go and found himself a new path, Quackity was sitting on the ground, staring up at the Needle of Las Nevadas with a heavy glare. Ever since everyone had left, he had decided he had to let go too. But he couldn’t.

He had tried walking away, tried closing his eyes and walking forward for as long as he could. But he couldn’t get away. Quackity’s eyes would water and he quickly ran back every time, out of breath and crying in relief as he pressed his back to the Las Nevadas borders.

The place was run down, destitute. Any sort of old customers had ransacked any money that was on the ground or whatever good merch they could find and left.

The very sight was pathetic, broken slot machines lined up and not turning on, the speakers busted and playing faint static-y white noise. Quackity had sat there always, suffering through the pain of watching a great nation die of its own shortcomings.

I guess he and Wilbur had that in common.

Quackity had thought of Wilbur a lot. The man had tried contacting him one last time for God knows what. Quackity had thought he knew better, he had ignored him, thinking Wilbur was only there to piss him off once more, as always.

Was he starting to miss that? The anger, the tension, the fighting. It was on loop, everyday replaying in his head. He would practice insults and quips and try to find any sort of leverage against that asshole. It had become habit without him even knowing. And Quackity wasn’t a big fan of change.

Fuck it. Wilbur was gone. Las Nevadas was gone, everything he was used to was gone. He had to forget all of this, he had to... forget Wilbur. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong?

-

The nameless gas station, worn down yet still open amongst an assortment of other buildings. Accepting new hires..

Wilbur smiled softly and chuckled to himself as he pushed open the glass door slowly and stood in front of the counter. Some unknown employee looked up at him in confusion and sighed.

“Welcome to this shitty gas station, what do you want?” Hm, a bit of a rude greeting, but understandable from one who was stuck working in a barely functioning business establishment.

“Do you happen to still be hiring?” The worker looked up at him with an almost amused expression. “Buddy. This place is shit, alright? Trust me when I tell you that any other hiring workplace would be better than working here.”

“Answer my question.” Wilbur’s voice came out sharper than intended, probably an effect of spending years fighting others with his words. But, oh well, it got the point across.

The worker stared at him before scoffing and nodding silently.

-

It had been quite a while since Wilbur had been employed, the manager seeming to recognise the younger him still somewhere in this pathetic husk of a man. His way with words had managed to land him an actual job, being in charge of stocking shelves and substituting for when the others were out.

They were out very often now that he was around.

Wilbur didn’t complain. Sure, it got a bit boring sometimes, but occasionally an interesting fellow would make conversation with him while he was manning the register and he’d make a new acquaintance. A few were even interested in going further than behind the counter, if you know what I mean.

So between work, chatting and fucking, he was doing pretty alright. Perhaps he missed his old life a bit, but he was content here. For the most part. His job was menial but he found happiness in serving customers. That may have been a part in as to why he started his burger van.

As mentioned, making acquaintances with strangers was alright. Decent company if your life happens to now be confined to a gas station. Sex. It was temporary relief at best. Long-lasting dissatisfaction at worst.

He wasn’t ungrateful, no. But surely there was something better than this? Men, women, anyone. They let themselves go with him, be it by domination or in submission. Christ, he never knew how much he loved being fucked by women.

But the men were what he preferred. No matter how many women he fucked or fucked him, he had this twinge of longing for a man’s cock to choke on or a boy’s tight hole to indulge himself in his sins.

It was much harder to find a connection with these people. They screwed, they came, then they left. It was just that. No feelings, no strings, no nothing. He loved it that way.

But, God strike him if he didn’t miss having stronger connections to people. His colleagues were turning out to be real bastards, leaving him with all the most tedious jobs and for the most part ignoring him. This one girl who manned the phone calls was sweet, but wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship.

And, well, she was actually a lesbian, so that obviously wouldn’t have worked out.

God, why was socialising so hard?

-

Quackity was walking. He was squeezing his eyes shut and walking straight forwards, only opening his eyes when he felt something obstructing his path.

He took breaks very often, curling up and sobbing into his sleeves until he felt fresh out of tears. He forced himself to get through it.

“Keep going... You never quit something once you start it, so you’d better fucking finish this…”

God knows where he was at this point. He just kept walking, too far to run back and definitely unable to quit now. Wilbur wouldn’t have stopped. He didn’t stop, never. He didn’t quit even whilst dead.

“Do it for Wilbur... you can do this for yourself, if not for him.”

He felt like collapsing by the time it hit nightfall and he reached a desolate, barren land, with an sign in the distance saying, ‘Welcome to Utah!’

He remembered that name from somewhere, but was too drained to think. Before he knew it, he was sleeping in a small, expandable bed that he was glad he had.

Time seemed to fly as the moon zoomed across the sky and faded away as the sun appeared, shining brightly in his eyes as he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow with a groan.

He smacked himself in the face to wake himself up and packed up quickly, trudging along with a determined frown on his face. He could see one or two buildings in the very far distance, and he picked up the pace.

It felt like so, so long before he was finally only steps away from the place. He saw a donut shop which was closed down, an office supplies building, a small family-run pizza restaurant and a gas station, along with a few other establishments that were unworthy of note.

He sat on a bench which creaked as the wood seemed almost too weak to hold him. Quackity sighed as he finally got some more rest. It took a while before he got up and explored, having regained his strength and feeling motivated now.

He walked past a few places before checking out the pizza place. It had a closed sign on the door, so he just stood outside, looking through the windows. Albeit, it was odd and he must have looked creepy having just walked into town and staring intently at this innocent little pizza restaurant.

Something caught his attention as a bell chimed, it had been sounded by the door of the gas station as someone left. A short man with dark hair winked at someone inside and smiled before walking away with a satisfied look on his face.

The large glass panes showed clearly who he was winking at standing behind the counter with a smirk, and Quackity froze. His breath caught as he saw a really tall man with curly, almost fluffy brown hair with white wisps tucked into a dark red beanie. Apart from that, he was wearing a simple employee shirt that was a bit small for him due to his height which made Quackity laugh.

Wilbur.

“Wilbur.”

He must have said it far too loudly as Will turned to look at him through the window and his eyes went wide, his smile dropping and fading into a speechless gape.

Quackity could feel his heart racing as he was drawn forward, his body moving towards Wilbur as if on instinct. The bell rang as Q opened the door and stared at the man. His emotions were at war as he suddenly felt almost abandoned by this man.

“Why?”

-

“What are you doing here?” Wilbur whispered, looking around at the empty store and flipping the OPEN/CLOSED sign to show the CLOSED side before locking the doors and walking to stand in front of Q at the counter.

Quackity stared at him, almost struggling to formulate words. “Wha- Why did.. why the hell did you run away?”

“Run away- No, answer my question first.” He felt almost insulted at the insinuation that he ran from his problems. But, maybe he did without knowing it..? No, Quackity was here and he was just messing with Wilbur’s judgement. That’s it.

Q stared at him with disgust and frankly, annoyance. Did he really have the nerve to tell him what to do? This wasn’t a game, and he most certainly was not going to control him.

“What does it matter if I’m here, dumbass? You think you’re doing any better here, you’re a fuckin’ gas station employee. Way to fall from grace, you dickhead.”

“Oh, look who’s deflecting. For such an esteemed gambler, you have a terrible poker face. I can see you’re hiding something. Out with it, darling.” Will exhaled in exasperation and smirked, despite his growing anger.

This conversation was pushing both of their buttons, and they hated how much they loved it.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. You… scum.” That elicited an actual laugh from Wilbur. “Scum? Please. You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Shut it! Y-you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Nor you, ducky. Speak. Now.”

Fighting back was redundant. They both knew that. Wilbur had the higher ground here, he always did, right? Either way, Quackity growled and hid his face while speaking.

“I- Everyone else was gone. I had to move on too, y’know? I didn’t know where I was going, I was just.. going.” It was a mumble, barely audible yet you could hear the resentment in his voice. Quackity scowled as his tone became defensive. Why did Wilbur do this to him? “You did too.. Everyone else left, but you? You ran away.”

Quackity looked up at his unreadable face and scoffed even louder, before adding as an afterthought, “And you know what? Fuck you, asshole. I’m allowed to be anywhere I want.”

Wilbur scoffed and stared at him as if he was mentally deficient, “I didn’t run away, Q. I left of my very own volition, I had a solid plan for my future. It was.. a strategic retreat.” He laughed as he received another glare from Quackity.

“You know this is Utah, right? Surely I told you this is where I grew up?” Q frowned again and stood tall.

“And yet you didn’t think to let anyone know you’d leave to come back here?” Quackity seemed angry, for some reason, somewhere between bewildered and betrayed.

“What?” That made Wilbur’s head spin, a headache already forming in him as he screamed internally.

“I ju- I let everyone know! I-I went around to everyone I knew, every.. every person I hurt! I apologised to every single one, and they forgave… they all forgave me.” Will’s heart felt as though it was burning, and his hands were clenching onto his coat tightly.

“Oh really? You were nice to everyone for once in your life, so you decided to fucking leave? Since when have you ever done something to benefit others?”

“Oh my god, Q. Are you actually serious? I left because it was better for everyone! That’s the point! They all forgave me, but..” Will cut himself off abruptly as his eyes watered, cursing himself for getting so emotional. Damn you, Quackity, for making him feel like this.

“Wilbur Minecraft Soot, if you don’t finish that sentence, I swear to XD and whatever other stupid gods are up there.. Why did you leave?”

“You wanna fucking know, huh?” Wilbur was so quiet, a drastic contrast to his almost screaming before. It made Quackity seethe.

“Obviously.”

“I wasn’t ready to forgive myself.”

Quackity stared at him in disbelief and annoyance, waiting for either the truth or some sort of alibi to confirm this. Wilbur stared back at him before scoffing and elaborating reluctantly.

“I.. It was better for me to leave than to just expect them to welcome me back. That’s why I left.” The man’s voice had gone quieter, more hesitant. He had just exposed himself Quackity with everything he didn’t want anyone to know, and he couldn’t take it back now.

How did this man manage to pull everything out of him?

Quackity was staring at him, his jaw firm in place and breathing through his nose. “So, why didn’t I know? Why did I not get an apology? You think I’m not worth apologising to, asshole? You ruined my goddamn life-”

“You didn’t let me!” Wilbur cut him off abruptly with a yell, throwing his beanie off in frustration. “I asked you to meet me. I stopped by your office, I asked Tommy to check on you, I did anything I could to reach you! You were never in your office, Tommy said you told him to fuck off, you never gave me a single chance to talk to you!”

Will was seething now, trying his best to hold himself back. He inhaled sharply and stood still, as composed as calmly he could’ve been expected to be.

Quackity heart was racing, his hands sweating and his eyes watering as Wilbur poured out all his anger to him. It had been so long, this adrenaline was what he had wanted for so long, right?

“I didn’t.. know that-” “You never wanted to.” Wilbur’s voice was eerily quiet, still sharp and laced with pain.

A chilling silence washed over them as Quackity finally felt tears run down his cheeks. His face was still, almost emotionless and unreadable, but for those few tears that wouldn’t stop running down.

“I thought you were.. you were there to piss me off again. To.. do whatever, I don’t know.” The silence was so painful, yet Quackity’s words breaking it seemed to make it worse.

Wilbur was frozen in place, his jaw set and fists clenched in frustration and desperately trying to keep himself together. “I wanted to say sorry. I did, Q. I- I really just needed that. But I didn’t get to. You didn’t let me.”

“I didn’t.. I just..” he sniffed again quietly while wiping his tears away. “I didn’t know you were gonna leave. I thought you’d come back. You just always end up coming back, and I just..”

“You thought all I wanted was to annoy you? A nuisance, is that all you saw me as?” Wilbur finally moved again, tugging at his own hair, an unconscious reflex that helped him to feel more grounded.

“It was. But I missed it. I- I got used to it, and I.. it didn’t feel right when you were gone.”

The other man looked down at Quackity with a genuine look of surprise. It was almost as if he were hoping to hear that.

“You missed the fighting, or you missed me?” His words were carefully thought through, there was no way Q could get out of the question without an answer he wanted to hear.

“Don’t ask that..”

“Too late. Do not ignore me again.”

“Y-you...”

Wilbur paused for a moment, thinking Quackity was going to call him something or insult him again. Then he realised.

That was it. “You.”

“Me.”

“You.”

-

Wilbur inhaled with a shudder. Q refused to look at him.

He made the first move, pulling Quackity in tight, the shorter man holding back tears as he pressed his face to Will’s chest and muttering to himself.

“I don’t understand, wh-why now?” Quackity muttered, mostly to himself. This was why Q shut it out. This gut-wrenching, heart-aching feeling was entirely why he hid behind forced smiles and a confident demeanour. Why for so long he repressed his desire for the man holding him so close.

Will blinked and went tense, not expecting Quackity to be so blunt about it. He sighed shakily and swallowed.

“C-can I apologise now?” Soot’s voice was quiet and hesitant, compared to how powerful and arrogant he always seemed. He seemed almost anxious now that they’d both revealed so much about themselves.

Quackity nodded slowly and glanced up at Wilbur. Wilbur was running his fingers through his own hair, again trying to calm himself down. His beanie was on the counter as he leaned on it and looked at the ceiling with a distant expression.

“I fucked you up so badly. God, Q.. I gaslit you, made you believe you weren’t good enough. I.. I really called you a second-place medal.”

Quackity’s breathing seemed to go slower as he tried not to react too much at Wilbur’s words.

Will continued on, “You built an entire empire by yourself, you built your life back up when all of us left you. You were so much more powerful than I ever let you know, and you still are. Every time I thought back on you, I would think about how we fought. Not out of anger, but because of how clever you were. You kept me on edge, I had to plan so much around you because you were so good at thinking ahead.”

“I don’t even know how I could’ve ever thought of you as beneath me. You.. you’re more of a leader, a president, a person than I’ve ever been, throughout my life and death.” Wilbur had gone on such a long ramble that he hadn’t even realised he didn’t apologise yet.

Quackity was also too caught up in his words to think straight. His heart was pounding from everything that had ever happened between them. Neither of them realised how they had stepped closer to each other ever so slightly with every sentence.

“Quackity, my old friend, enemy, rival. My counterpart. Yin and Yang. You complete me. I missed you, I need you, and I hate that it’ll always be true.” Wilbur blinked as he finally returned to reality and his heart skipped when he saw Quackity almost pressing against his chest with such a misty look in his eyes.

“You.. I didn’t mean to say- Q, I just..” Wilbur was stammering, an immense contrast to the way he’d acted every other time the two of them ever spoke.

Quackity was just standing there, breathing slowly with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You didn’t say ‘sorry’ yet.”

Wilbur blinked and exhaled shakily, “Y-you’re right. Of course you’re right.”

Quackity looked up and hummed expectantly which Wilbur chuckled at softly, “I’m sorry, Quackity. I did so many things wrong in my life, and you never deserved what I did to you. I wish I could make it up to you, but all I can do now is say sorry.”

The silence had returned, but its painful atmosphere had shifted to something safer and more comforting. Wilbur and Quackity looked at each other with strangely warm smiles as Wilbur relaxed and held out his hand.

Quackity glanced down at it and back at Wilbur with a slightly amused expression. “I.. I forgave you a long time ago, Wilbur. I just wanted.. needed to see you again.”

Wilbur blinked back tears as Quackity slotted their hands together. Wilbur rubbed his thumb across the back of Quackity’s hand with a distant look in his eyes.

“You missed me too. You.. you said you needed me. What does that mean to you..?” Wilbur brought his other hand close and held Quackity’s hand in both of his gently.

“I don’t.. I don’t know what it means. I just.. knew it.” Quackity muttered out quietly with a slight blush. Wilbur gripped his hand tighter, “You- but you.. I need.. I want answers, Q..”

Quackity tries to pull his hand out, but Wilbur’s grip is firm. “I don’t have answers, Will, just please..”

“You wanted me.”

They stared at each other, longing to understand what was between them.

“Of course I do, I.. I followed you here, didn’t I? That’s.. why I joined the election. That’s why I tolerated Schlatt. My life, it’s because of you. You’re why I forced myself to put myself together and build Las Nevadas. You inspire me. You piss me off. You mean so much to me.”

Wilbur rubbed his thumb against Quackity’s hand softly. He was stunned by such a vulnerable and genuine answer from the man. “You mean that..?”

“Wilbur. I’d do anything for you. I’d go anywhere with you. I’ve wanted everything that you’ve had, wanted to be all you’ve been. I just.. want you.” Quackity looked down at the ground as he squeezed the other man’s hand, hoping the action would speak louder than any words.

Wilbur tilted Quackity’s head up by his chin and chuckled at his worry-riddled face.

“Can’t believe we both wanted each other for so long.” Quackity’s heart pounded at that as he inhaled sharply.

“You’re so.. untouchable. How is it that.. you want me back?” Will seemed so infatuated with this man in front of him.. Quackity hummed quietly before smiling softly. “Maybe you’re just blind.” “Maybe I am.”

They both leaned in slightly before Quackity reached his free hand up to bring Wilbur’s face down, kissing him.

Will was surprised but quickly melted and kissed back with just as much love. He laughed as he pulled away, looking down at the man in front of him with a smirk. “You really want me that badly?”

He scoffed at Wilbur but grinned. “Why don’t I just show you? You got a spare room around here?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You really mean that?" "Why, are you scared?" Oh, this fucker knew him so well. "Never."

-

They both wandered to the back where Wilbur slept. There was a small bed, a bit too large for the room but long enough to accomodate Wilbur’s height and big enough for both of them to fit.

Quackity exhaled and smiled, closing his eyes as he lays on the bed and feels Wilbur’s presence on top of him. “Finally, Will.. God, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”

Wilbur groaned as he leaned down and kissed his neck, nuzzling his head into Quackity’s shoulder lovingly. “You’re gonna get me even more riled up, dumbass.”

A giggle escaped from Quackity’s mouth, “Good, that’s what I want, Wilbur.” Quackity ran his hand through Will’s hair and held his head down while Wilbur pressed kisses against his neck.

“You’re beautiful, Q. So, so so beautiful, so perfect..” Wilbur kept on showering him with compliments and soft kisses as Quackity laughed underneath him.

“God, you’re an idiot. That tickles, Will.” Wilbur just grinned at him and kissed his lips softly. He got up and took his glasses off, setting them aside along with Quackity’s beanie, his own having been forgotten and abandoned on the counter.

His uniform came off and was dropped to the floor as he started unbuttoning Quackity’s shirt slowly. “I missed you, God. I need you so much, Quackity.”

“You have me, what are you waiting for?” Quackity chuckled as he held Wilbur’s face softly.

“I have you.. I can’t believe I have you, darling.” Before either of them knew it, Wilbur was laying on the bed with Quackity sitting on top of him, rubbing their dicks together slowly.

Q whimpered as the feelings overtook his mind, his thoughts dissipating into pure lust as he moaned out, “Will..”

Wilbur repeated his moans back to him, slowly slipping his hand into both of their waistbands and sliding them down. Will sat up as they both helped push down their pants and boxers, dropping them as Quackity knelt down between Wilbur’s legs on the floor.

“Quackity, are.. are you sure?” The man nodded while biting his lip, sliding his fingers down the sides of the man’s waist.

“You know I need more than that, Q. Are you absolutely sure?” Quackity sighed and smiled at his consideration. He never been treated like this before.. “I’m so sure, Wilbur. Please, I just want to..”

He cut himself off as he took Wilbur into his mouth, his lips stretching around his cock. Will grabbed the back of Q’s neck as he slid his tongue against Wilbur’s cock.

His mouth engulfed his dick, surrounding it in warmth and wetness as his tongue kept rubbing against every nerve and surface area of skin. Wilbur hissed out, “Qua- ah.. Quackity, please..”

His moans only served to spur Q on as he took Will in deeper and started deep-throating him, slowly as to not trigger his gag reflex which was surprisingly less sensitive than he had previously realised.

He supposed what Schlatt had done had possibly helped out with that.

Wilbur couldn’t control himself as he pushed Quackity down further, forcing him to suck in more of his cock. Both of them let out whimpers and groans as Quackity desperately tried getting some friction on his own dick.

His hands stayed on Wilbur’s thighs but his own hips started to grind against the floor to try and get any sort of contact to his sensitive and painfully hard erection.

Will bucked his hips forward just the slightest bit from lack of self control and Quackity’s gag reflex couldn’t take it. Q gagged and pulled off, breathing heavily and stopping in his grinding.

Wilbur bit his lip harshly, the taste of blood starting to seep into his mouth as he started to fall from that high of his unreached climax. He looked back down at the man beneath him and waited for him to recover before lifting Quackity back up to sit on his stomach.

“You.. do you wanna..?” He looked down at his lap and gestured with his head movements. It was enough for Quackity to understand and he nodded. “You have lube, right?” The man nodded and reached for the corner of the bed frame, a small bottle of lube crammed in the space where the base met the side table.

Quackity took the bottle and chuckled at how much had been used. “Horny little fuck.” Wilbur blushed and smiled, along with rolling his eyes. The cap was popped open and lube was smeared onto Quackity’s fingers sparingly as to not use it all up.

“Sweetheart, I can get anything I want from here if I work for it. But don’t you dare call me that again. Unless you want me to go rough..” Quackity scoffed as he leaned forward and trailed around his entrance carefully, slipping in a finger once he felt comfortable.

He moaned at the mix of electricity and stinging pain. He pushed another finger in as Wilbur watched, hypnotised by the beautiful man on top of him. He cupped Quackity’s face and kissed him gently, helping to soothe him through the pain of being stretched.

Soon, he had three fingers inside of him and he pulled them out with a whimper. He lifted himself up while Wilbur hand assisted him.

Quackity shuddered as he finally felt relief. He grinded down as his hands slid into Wilbur’s hair and grabbed on.

“Oh, yes.. Quackity-” Wilbur was panting as Quackity bounced up and down, circling his hips around and tugging on Wilbur’s hair.

They let out desperate moans as the pleasure overwhelmed both of them, fogging their minds as sweat ran down their skin and mixing into a concoction that soaked into the mattress.

“Oh- G-God..” Q’s breath caught as Wilbur hit his prostate dead-on, whining as he grinded himself down as much as he could.

Will groaned as he helped the other man move again, thrusting his hips up in time with Quackity’s bouncing. “Th-there?” Quackity nodded frantically as he started rubbing his cock desperately.

Wilbur wanted to watch as he strikes himself but the pleasure was too much for him. “I- I’m gonna.. oh..!” Will moaned out Quackity’s name as he came, the heat and friction of his tight little hole being too much for him to hold out.

“Will- I, Wilbur..” Cum filled his ass and he whined as he kept getting thrusted into. Wilbur hissed slightly as his cock continued to be used after such an orgasm, but continued so Quackity could feel that same way.

“Please, tell me you’re close, please-” “Yes- yes, so close, Will- please, don’t stop!” Quackity responded. Wilbur could feel another orgasm of his own building up and he bucked his hips with more determination.

Quackity came with a loud and whiny moan. Wilbur opened his eyes, continuing to stroke Quackity through his climax. Q panted heavily as he came down from his high, climbing off Wilbur’s lap and laying down next to him.

“I really like you..” Quackity’s fuzzy mind didn’t filter enough to process those words before they were said. Will let out a laugh as he grinned at Quackity. “Y-you do?”

He blushed as Wilbur wrapped an arm around him, cuddling him in close and kissing his forehead. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wilbur chuckled at him before sighing and closing his eyes.

It’s fascinating how what you don’t have, you want. What you need, you neglect. Whatever you love, you don’t realise it until it’s gone.

They got what they wanted in the end. They’re not perfect, far from, but they have all the time in the world to try. And that was definitely enough.

[fossilageminerals]

Know Everything About Corythosaur Fossils

Dinosaurs have become extinct millions of years ago, but their remains are still preserved in museums, and many fossil lovers love to collect different and rare fossils and minerals. However, many of us have a passion for collecting rare earth minerals. The purpose of collecting can be anything, such as educating or decorating in the living room or making an object using many fossils. Are you a fossil collector? Here we will read about the corythosaur fossils that will excite you to know more.

Fossil hunters often look for dinosaur or oreodont fossils for sale or to study their existence in detail. The curiosity of fossil collectors makes them know about fossils in depth. Continue reading to learn more about dinosaur fossils.  

Explore More About Corythosaur Fossils

When the first-ever fossils of the dinosaur were discovered, fossils of many different species were unearthed all over the continent. Corythosaur fossils are one of the fossils that are mined in Colorado's Dry Mesa Quarry as well as in Utah's Cleveland Lloyd Dinosaur Quarry. Corythosaurus is a part of the group of duck-billed dinosaurs called hadrosaurs, which walk and run on their two hind legs.

Corythosaurus was named after a specimen collected by Barnum Brown in 1912. It is among many lambeosaurus that possess crests, and it was the crest that lends Corythosaurus its name. Corythosaurus is derived from Greek and means "helmeted lizard."

Corythosaurus had a prominent crest on its head, which looked a bit like the hard hat worn by the ancient Greek soldiers. They were about 33 feet long, with a height of around 7 feet at the hips, weighing approximately 5 tons. The beaks of these creatures were toothless, while the cheeks had hundreds of teeth used for chewing up food.

Corythosaur fossils hands had four fingers, with the innermost finger lacking while the other fingers were clubbed together, bearing hooves. This evolution suggests that the reptile could use its two hands as support during locomotion.

These creatures may have been gregarious, moving from place to place in groups that protected them from danger from others. When they see or locate any predator, they use it to make warning sounds to alert their group. It helped them stay protected and even allowed them to get food quickly.

They were known to be herbivores, and they used to feed on pine needles, conifers, ginkgos, seeds, cycads, twigs, and magnolia leaves. It has been stated that most of their diet consisted of a twig.

Make Your Collection Significant By Adding Corythosaur Fossils.

The craze of collecting fossils can take fossil collectors to the next level. Fossil collectors ensure to get every fossil that enhances the look of their collection. If you are looking for albertosaurus fossils for sale, you can contact Fossil Age Minerals. It is like a paradise for fossil lovers and collectors. They can provide you with various authentic fossils and minerals at an affordable price.

[kisuminight]

You know, I keep saying that I’m going to post pictures of my project and then fail to take pictures of said projects. So here are the projects that I’ve been up to for the last 5-ish months:

Yarns. I may have posted some of these before, I forget which ones exactly. Note these are only the finished projects: I have a chunky 2-ply black and white that isn’t washed yet, and I’m playing around with the fleece I got from our local State Fair. So far, I’m having a lot of fun with the Shetland wool.

I think I’m most proud of the RavenFrog yarn, which is the Garden Wall Colorway for a superwash merino braid. I have an in-progress picture of the Raven Frog down below. I picked up that fiber while I was in Utah for a funeral. I also picked up a braid of camel, silk, and merino that I’m looking for a good color match to do a 3-ply with.

My second favorite is the Aurora-Northern Lights “Tranquil” three ply. That was my first chunky yarn, and it came out great. I really like seeing little bits of the pink from the sari silk in the one Aurora strand. This was made from the July 2021 Paradise Fiber Club.

I may have shown these before? This is my bio-nylon from Paradise Fibers on the two left, and a mix of Solid-colored “Sapphire” Corridale, “Fraulein Forget-me-Not,” and the Ashford “Storm” merino and silk blend. 

The left-most is a blend called “One True King” from the Chronicles of Newnia line from Paradise fibers. Lucy’s blend is purple colored, and I’m waiting for the next sale to get some of that. The right-most is pure silk, which I ice-dyed. That was my first dye-work and I’m not quite pleased with how it turned out. I also have discovered that I do not like dying fiber.

Here are assorted washed fibers hanging up to dry by the window.

I’ve also been knitting a shawl. I finished this one just two weeks ago after 2 months of working on it (I got really distracted by spinning). This shawl is a lace-cable pattern called “Earthstar.” The patter was made by one of the creators that made my lovely “Wild Swan” pattern over on Ravelry.

I made it with flax lace yarn, which makes it a nice shawl to wear in the summer heat. I also used a needle a couple of sizes larger than you’d call for with flax lace (US size 5) which gives it a lovely mesh/airy texture.

We’ve also been fostering kittens! I’ve gotten much less done then I really should’ve because I’ve been very distracted. They’re about 11 weeks old right now, and they go in for spay-neuter next Sunday. Their birthday is on Wednesday, except for our short-hair tux in the middle, whose birthday is on Tuesday. We got them with the mama when they were just 2 days old. Our short-haired tux was an orphan that the mama accepted, he is one day older than the rest.

There are six kittens named after spices--clockwise from the top we have Ginger (short haired calico), Saffron (fluffy calico), Nutmeg (black & white spots), Curry (orphan tux and only boy), Cinnamon (female tux), and Coriander is not-appearing because she is camera shy.

[superfoodish]

Can Hair Loss Be Stopped?

Don’t Lose Hair Men and hair loss seems always to have been a losing combination. Although male pattern hair loss is very common—two out of three men will experience it—and is hardly ever associated with serious health risks, it’s hard to imagine a common condition that is met with more anxiety. But much of the stigma surrounding male hair loss is due to half-truths and exaggerations. So if you start noticing there’s not as much hair up there, don’t pull out the rest of it in worry—take our quiz below and learn what’s going on with your body and how you can slow the follicle fallout.

If you’re losing hair, it’s male pattern baldness. False. It’s true that for 95 percent of men who lose their hair, male pattern baldness, or androgenetic alopecia, is the culprit. With this condition, an enzyme called 5-alpha reductase converts testosterone to dihydro testosterone, a hormone that causes hair follicles to shut down hair production. Male pattern baldness can begin appearing in men in their 20s and usually progresses slowly from the front or apex of the scalp, or both. But male pattern baldness is not the only cause of male hair loss—and it’s important to talk to your physician or dermatologist to determine the cause, because it can point to certain health problems. For example, if your hair is falling out quickly and in small patches, it may be a sign of alopecia areata, an autoimmune disease in which the body attacks the hair. Stress can also lead to rapid hair loss. In these cases, the hair usually regrows after several months. Other causes include a severe ailment or major surgery; protein, vitamin B, or iron deficiencies; medication complications; or thyroid disease. It’s your mother’s fault. False. Male pattern baldness is a largely genetic characteristic that can be inherited from either your mother or your father. It’s even possible to acquire the hair-loss gene from both parents. In fact, the same gene also causes hair loss in women, although because of hormonal differences, women tend to lose their hair in small amounts all over their scalp. There’s hope. True. Here’s the good news: In many cases, male pattern baldness can be treated. In the early stages, many conventional physicians prescribe either minoxidil lotion, applied topically, or finasteride, taken orally. These medications have been shown to slow hair loss in many patients and, in some cases, cause hair to grow back. According to Robert Brodell, MD, professor of internal medicine in the dermatology section at Northeastern Ohio Universities College of Medicine, complications associated with both drugs are minimal, but there are downsides. Not only are the medications expensive, but they only work for as long as you take them.

“I tell my patients that they are going to be on one of those medicines for 5 years or 10 years or 15 years, until they are married and have kids and don’t care anymore,”

says Brodell.

“And then when they stop their medicine, we fully expect them to start losing their hair again.”

Great strides are being made in the field of hair transplants, but like any invasive therapy, these procedures are expensive and time-consuming and should not be undertaken lightly. If surgery or drug therapies aren’t for you, a number of naturopathic remedies might offer similar results—without the high cost. Keith F. Zeitlin, ND, a naturopathic physician with a private practice in Connecticut, recommends the herbs saw palmetto (Serenoa repens) and stinging nettle root (Urtica dioica), and the supplement beta-sitosterol, which all appear to work similarly to conventional medicines by shutting down the enzyme 5-alpha reductase’s creation of dihydrotestosterone, the hormone that ceases hair production. “If we can inhibit that enzyme, we can actually inhibit hair loss,” says Zeitlin. (For more information, see “Herbs and Supplements for Hair Loss,” below.) Another option is mesotherapy, a treatment in which very short needles are used to inject homeopathic remedies; vitamins such as biotin; or conventional medicines such as minoxidil just underneath the surface of the scalp. “The skin is used as a natural time-release system,” says practitioner Harry Adelson, ND, a Utah-based pain-medicine specialist. “Whatever it is you are injecting remains in the area for up to a week and continually penetrates down into the deeper tissue.” You can live a hair-healthy lifestyle. True. Although there’s no apparent validity to the old wives’ tales that sexual activity or excessive hat wearing can cause hair loss, other lifestyle choices may indeed hurt your hair. In fact, it might make more sense to keep that hat on; a study conducted at the University Hospital of Zurich in Switzerland proposed that ultraviolet rays from the sun might injure hair follicles (Dermatology, 2003, vol. 207, no. 4). How you clean and care for your hair may also be a factor in hair loss. According to the American Academy of Dermatology, too many chemical treatments such as dying, straightening, and bleaching, as well as excessive washing, towel drying, and brushing, may weaken or damage your hair, causing it to break or fall out.

Those worried about hair loss should also reevaluate their diets. Zeitlin warns that very large doses of vitamin A can lead to vitamin A toxicity and eventual hair loss. He recommends his patients replace vitamin A-rich foods and saturated fats, which may also encourage hair loss, with green vegetables, whole grains, essential fatty acids, and other foods rich in hair-healthy vitamins and minerals such as zinc. What you drink may also play a role: According to a 2003 study, alcohol consumption may aggravate hair loss (British Journal of Dermatology, 2003, vol. 149, no. 6). Hair loss is a bad thing. False. Let’s not forget the cheapest, easiest, and safest treatment for male pattern hair loss: doing nothing at all. After all, hair loss is not usually a health concern and, despite what our culture may sometimes suggest, there’s nothing wrong with showing a little skin—on your head, that is. After all, look at Patrick Stewart, Bruce Willis, and Sean Connery. “I certainly wouldn’t recommend that anybody have their male pattern baldness treated who isn’t bothered by it,” says Brodell. “I’m losing my hair, and I’m not using any of these treatments.”

The post Can Hair Loss Be Stopped? appeared first on Super Food Recipes.

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[aspenridgephysicaltherapy]

Aspen Ridge Physical Therapy: Your Partner in Recovery in Layton, Utah

Aspen Ridge Physical Therapy in Layton, Utah, is dedicated to providing compassionate and effective physical therapy services to help you recover from injuries, manage chronic conditions, and improve your overall quality of life. Our experienced physical therapists use a personalized approach to create customized treatment plans tailored to your specific needs and goals. With our state-of-the-art facility and commitment to excellence, Aspen Ridge Physical Therapy Layton is your partner in recovery. Contact us today to schedule an appointment and take the first step towards a healthier and happier you

[petty-and-pearlescent]

The Stars, the Trees, and the Moon

CONTENT WARNING: death, description of gore, marijuana

It was mid-August, and Ryan was leaving to go back to Salt Lake City that next week for his junior year at the University of Utah. That night was going to be the last night we would be able to hang out before he left. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, but the air was still hot and dry. We were sitting in the bed of his truck, parked off of the main road a ways on a gravel path. The truck stereo Ryan had set up and designed himself was playing Fleetwood Mac through the open back window. We were surrounded by old trees; thick trunks rose into distant black peaks of needles against the stars, seeming to sway in the wind in time with Stevie Nicks herself as they stood over us.

“You wanna hit this?” Ryan held out the joint he was smoking, I rolled over to grab it. 

“Thanks,” I said, taking an over-ambitious drag that quickly resulted in a fit of coughing. 

“Didn’t know you became a little bitch being down in Corvallis al this time,” he chuckled as he reached into the backseat to grab me some water. As I drank, he watched me with a sly smile before inhaling and blowing smoke up towards the branches above us. He crushed the spent joint on the lip of the truck bed and leaned back onto the pillows he’d brought along.

“Fuck you,” I said with a smile, shoving him into the metal side of the truck. “Just because I don’t take fat rips right before class every day doesn’t mean I’m a little bitch.” 

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and folded his arms behind his head. I laid down next to him and looked up. That far from Portland, we could see almost ten times as many stars as we could back in town. We watched them for a while, listening about halfway through Rumors before Ryan groaned as he sat back up, “What time is it?”

I sat up as well, putting my hands on the window track for balance as I leaned into the cabin of the truck. I squinted my eyes to make sense of the LED clock on the center console. “About one thirty. You’re mom still enforcing a curfew on her little boy?” I said with a smirk. The late-night lectures Mrs. Waterson used to torture to us with in high school when we stayed out past curfew were reason enough for us to speed all the way home to beat the clock. 

“No.” He sighed and began packing up the pillows and placing them in the backseat, avoiding my gaze. “I uh, have to start packing up my room to move out. I was offered an internship over the summer in Salt Lake for next year that will probably turn into a job after graduation, and I think I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, I understand if you’re upset or—”

“No, you’re fine,” he made eye contact with me as I interrupted him, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m just a little caught off-guard, that’s all.” Almost as if to punctuate the change in mood, a cold mountain breeze slunk through the trees. 

“Well,” Ryan stood up and climbed out,” let's get going so I can get you home.” I nodded, and we piled into the truck. The somber end to the night, combined with being mildly high, kept us from making any conversation as Ryan put the truck in reverse and backed out down the gravel road. Little pieces of rock pinged against the undercarriage, drowning out the music. I closed my eyes and leaned my seat back as turned onto the paved mountain pass back towards Portland. I tried to ease into sleep as fast as possible to escape the majority of the drive home.

“FUCK,” Ryan suddenly yelled as he smashed his horn, brakes screaming. My eyes snapped open just in time to see a human form in the truck's headlights smash into the grill and disappear under the front bumper. We skidded to a halt almost 300 feet later. 

“Fuck. This is bad, this is really really bad,” Ryan grabbed at his hair as he got out, leaving the driver’s side door wide open. While the body of the truck wasn’t damaged, there was an incriminating streak of blood across the front. The air smelled heavily of iron and burned rubber, twin skid marks lead from the rear end all the way to a vaguely visible motionless heap.

“Is he okay?!” I yelled after him. As I got out, I fumbled with my phone trying to turn on the flashlight as I sprinted across the asphalt. The bright white light clicked on just in time to reveal the growing pool of glistening crimson around the body. I could see Ryan standing there over him in the dark, blood beginning to pool around the white soles of his sneakers. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” I mumbled under my breath as I kneeled down beside him. As I turned over the limp body, I gasped.

He was mangled, plain and simple. The face was an unrecognizable mess of red with patches of white bone visible underneath. The only way I could tell he was a man was the mess of matted beard where the chin should be. The blood-soaked flannel he wore was a deep violet under the fluorescent light. The large backpack he was wearing had torn open, spilling camping gear across the road. He was completely still, no movement to signal the presence of life. 

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Ryan said as he began to pace. Behind him, the headlights shone out into the trees, creating hard white shapes that no longer seemed to sway in time with the music seeping from the stereo. I looked from the truck, to the body, to the trees, to Ryan leaving bloody footprints in the street. It felt like something clicked in my head: I didn’t feel scared, or confused, or even high. I had to make a decision. 

“We’re gonna hide him.” 

Ryan stopped pacing and looked at me like I was crazy. “What? Where?” 

“You have garbage bags in your backseat don’t you? The lake we used to camp next to is only about 20 miles out of the way. We can dump him there,” I said as I pulled my hair out of my face in a high bun and began walking towards the truck. When I got there, I turned around to look at Ryan. “Come on, we have work to do.”

He stood stunned for a minute before finally nodding. Together we managed to wrap the body up in a black garbage bag along with the strewn camping supplies. We were able to half drag him to the trunk before dropping him in the back and covering him with a tarp. Ryan clicked the stereo off as he started the truck again, letting the silence hang thick like oil in the air as we resumed the drive through the woods.

The road narrowed slightly and became bumpier the closer we got to the lake. Once we got there, we backed up onto the loading dock and got out of the truck. The moon was visible now, it wide face barely clearing the top of Mt. Hood. The lake was a giant flat mass of black, it's far shore hidden in the darkness. Moonlight reflected off of the black water, bathing us in white as we stared across the water’s surface. Ryan turned his head to look at me and I met his gaze. The light from the moon carved deep shadows into his face, making him look years older. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and swallowed hard before turning back towards the truck. Together, we lifted the body out and dragged him as far on to the lake as the old wooden dock would take us before pushing him in.

[manuelacasasoli]

August 21st, 2012 (2) Canyonlands National Park, Murphy Loop, Island in the Sky District, Utah, USA This gorgeous national park is divided into three districts: Island in the Sky, The Needles, and The Maze (https://www.nps.gov/cany/planyourvisit/hiking.htm). Murphy hogback (or Murphy loop) is a moderate to a strenuous trail, 10.8 miles long (17,4 km) with an elevation change of about 1312 feet (400 m), located into the Island in the Sky, in the Moab area. Quickly after the beginning, a swooping dive onto the White Rim brings you to the depths of the Earth's crust! It can be so hot and dry that you need much more water than in other trails in this area. So, bring with you a lot of water. The last three pictures were taken at the Mesa Arch (https://www.nps.gov/thingstodo/cany-mesa-arch.htm), an easy walk of just a half mile to look at one of the most beautiful places on Earth!

[twilighthomunculus]

9, 30, 54, 60, 73! (hut?)

9) favorite summer smell

already answered but I'll say again dry hot oak pollen, pine needles, and dirt

30) places I find sacred

always feel at home in high sierra forests, will try not to dox myself by saying what specific mountain range but I've shared it but anywhere granite-y, high elevation, quiet, and evergreen forests is where I feel the most at ease and content

also i miss read that as scared for a second and I was like "slot canyons in utah" those are pretty spooky but also very cool

54) what did i learn from my first job

espresso machine B-)

60) If I was in an anime what would it be

I can say space western, I would say space western BUT when I actually think about being in space I get hella claustrophobic n shit. As long as I know I'm save at all times with a cool gang of friends then yea. But honestly I would really hope its any sort of low stakes comedy in a relatively modern time period

73) favorite weird flavor combo?

my dumb ass read this as color combo and i wrote a whole paragraph about it......... Its not really obvious at first but vanilla and citrus go really well together and it should be involved in more ice creams

[dipulb3]

Multiyear drought builds in western US with little relief in sight

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/multiyear-drought-builds-in-western-us-with-little-relief-in-sight/

Multiyear drought builds in western US with little relief in sight

The weather patterns have left parts of the Northwest soggy. Still, 80% of the land in the western states face some official category of drought.

More disturbing is the size of what’s called the “exceptional drought” area, according to the US Drought Monitor. Parts of Arizona, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, Colorado, California and Texas classified as exceptional drought, total 265,200 square miles. For comparison, that is nearly equivalent to the size of Texas.

There are four categories of drought defined by the US Drought Monitor ranging from moderate to exceptional. Exceptional drought areas have defoliated trees and shrubs, the grass is brown or dead and lakes and streams are extremely low or dried up completely.

Drought is not just a lack of rainfall, it is a prolonged precipitation deficit that can and will affect all things. Even a desert can be under drought conditions. In an area that averages 6 inches of rainfall per year, plants and animals thrive. If the rain stops, the consequences will be deadly.

“The Four Corners [Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah] is the epicenter of this drought,” said Brian Fuchs, climatologist at the National Drought Mitigation Center at the University of Nebraska. “When droughts like this happened long ago, the people living there just had to move.”

The western US has had no shortage of dry spells over the last year thanks to the failed Southwest summer monsoon.

Check to see when the next chance of rain is for your area.

Las Vegas had a streak of 240 days from April to December 2020 without measurable rain — a trace or less — smashing the previous record of 150 consecutive days in 1959.

Yuma, Arizona had a dry streak of 242 days last year, their third longest streak, while Phoenix was dry a consecutive 110 days. Bishop and Needles, California, also had record dry streaks of over 200 days without measurable rainfall.

Winter usually brings welcome rainfall to the West, but La Nina has made its usual impact, funneling moisture to the Northwest and keeping the Southwest dry.

Los Angeles, Phoenix and Yuma, Arizona all tied for their driest February with no measurable rainfall. Las Vegas only measured 0.01 inch of rain in all of February — the 11th driest.

“Obviously this La Nina has been dry, but even in the last couple of El Nino events, where we should be very wet, our precipitation has only been slightly above normal and not 150-200% above normal like we had in the 1970s and 80s,” said Andrew Church, meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Albuquerque.

Mountain snowpack is not enough to dent the drought

In the West, winter snowpack can be more effective at relieving drought than summer thunderstorms, the snowpack melts slowly and doesn’t just runoff the parched soil.

“Winter is the bank account of water storage and water accumulation. It sets the stage for summer,” said Fuchs.

Those living in wetter climates see rainfall as the main driver of drought reduction, but in the West, winter snowpack is much more important. It acts like a reservoir of freshwater to be used later in the year as the snow melts.

In early February, a series of storms brought a glimmer of relief to parts of Arizona, particularly in the higher elevations where there was a dramatic increase in snowpack. But in general, “there were no widespread changes to the intense, protracted drought across the Four Corners states and some adjacent parts of the High Plains and Great Basin,” said the Climate Prediction Center (CPC) in their US seasonal drought assessment.

The snowpack for the 2020-2021 winter season has not been well distributed, with parts of Washington state at 140% of normal to places in New Mexico under 10% of normal.

Unfortunately, those regions with the worst drought are also those with the least amount of snowpack.

Much of the central Rockies are at 70% to nearly 90% of normal. That doesn’t sound so terrible, but when you factor in how depleted the water system is, even a 100% normal snowpack won’t be enough to end the drought.

“Moving forward, the large area of drought covering much of the western half of the country is expected to generally persist, with areas of intensification possible,” the CPC forecasts through the end of May.

Water shortages and wildfires ahead

When below average precipitation occurs over a long period of time, people, the environment, wildlife and economic activity will be negatively affected.

“Snowpack is important, but for lower elevations, summer monsoon rains matter for ranchers and livestock. Many ranchers have been hauling in hay and trucking in water,” said Justin Johndrow, meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Flagstaff. “Our normally wet summer monsoon season was among the driest on record.”

It’s not just livestock that are being impacted, there are over 150 million acres of crops currently experiencing at least a moderate drought in the US, according to NOAA’s National Integrated Drought Information System.

“Lots of wildlife depend on the small bodies of water and we will have more impacts to deal with,” said Fuchs.

“South of I-40 here in New Mexico has been in a 20-year drought. The new normal is drought and fire season is now just the entire year down there,” said Church.

“Fire season could be much worse than normal if we don’t get a change in this current weather pattern,” Johndrow said. “The Significant Wildland Fire Potential for June (issued by the National Interagency Fire Center) is for an above normal threat.”

Droughts have been intensifying, especially in the West and Southwest US, according to the latest National Climate Assessment. Combined with the reduced snowpack and a larger of percentage of precipitation falling in short, heavy downpours (that doesn’t allow for as much penetration into the soil), climate change is playing a key role in the scarcity of water in the West.

“As the drought worsens and becomes more prolonged, more people will increasingly have less access to the water that they use for drinking, earning a living, or recreating,” warns Andrew Robertson, chief of the Hydrologic Assessment and Modeling Unit at US Geological Survey

But the situation isn’t completely dire — we can adapt to minimize the impacts.

“In the Middle Rio Grande basin around Albuquerque, water conservation efforts, like xeriscaping and transitioning to surface water to supply much of the city’s drinking water, groundwater levels have actually been rebounding despite the decades of drought,” said Robertson. “So, there is hope when people work together to acknowledge and address these resource challenges.”

Appradab’s Jackson Dill and Brandon Miller contributed to this report.

[sciencespies]

Area burned by severe fire increased 8-fold in western US over past four decades

https://sciencespies.com/nature/area-burned-by-severe-fire-increased-8-fold-in-western-us-over-past-four-decades/

Area burned by severe fire increased 8-fold in western US over past four decades

The number of wildfires and the amount of land they consume in the western U.S. has substantially increased since the 1980s, a trend often attributed to ongoing climate change. Now, new research finds fires are not only becoming more common in the western U.S. but the area burned at high severity is also increasing, a trend that may lead to long-term forest loss.

The new findings show warmer temperatures and drier conditions are driving an eight-fold increase in annual area burned by high severity fire across western forests from 1985-2017. In total, annual area burned by high severity wildfires — defined as those that kill more than 95% of trees — increased by more than 450,000 acres.

“As more area burns at high severity, the likelihood of conversion to different forest types or even to non-forest increases,” said Sean Parks, a research ecologist with the U.S. Forest Service Rocky Mountain Research Station and lead author of the new study. “At the same time, the post-fire climate is making it increasingly difficult for seedlings to establish and survive, further reducing the potential for forests to return to their pre-fire condition.”

Parks will present the results Wednesday, 9 December at AGU’s Fall Meeting 2020. The findings are also published in AGU’s journal Geophysical Research Letters.

Scientists have known for years that wildfires are on the rise in the western U.S., coincident with recent long-term droughts and warmer temperatures. Many western states, especially parts of California, have undergone several multi-year droughts over the past four decades, a fact scientists attribute to human-caused changes to the climate. However, it is less clear how fire severity has changed over the past half century.

In the new study, Parks and John Abatzoglou, an atmospheric scientist at the University of California Merced, used satellite imagery to assess fire severity in four large regions in the western U.S. from 1985 to 2017. Rather than analyze the amount of area burned each year, they instead looked at the area burned at high severity, which is more likely to adversely impact forest ecosystems and human safety and infrastructure.

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“The amount of area burned during a given year is an imperfect metric for assessing fire impacts,” Parks said. “There was a substantial amount of fire in the western U.S. prior to Euro-American colonization, but that fire did not likely have the extreme effects that we’re seeing now.”

Beneficial fires

Wildfires were historically a common component of many forest ecosystems, especially in dry areas that receive little or sporadic rainfall. Fire was such a common occurrence in some regions that many tree species — especially certain species of pine — evolved traits that allow them to not only survive fires but to facilitate their ignition as well.

In the mountainous slopes of California, for example, ponderosa pines, sugar pines and giant sequoias sport thick bark that keeps the living tissue underneath insulated from extreme heat. Some tree species also drop the branches growing closest to the ground, which might otherwise allow fires to climb up into the canopy.

Species like jack pines are so dependent on fire that their seeds are unable to effectively disperse until a passing blaze melts the resinous coating surrounding their cones. And the slender, needle-like leaves of pines dry out more quickly than the broad leaves of deciduous hardwoods, making them excellent kindling.

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The catch is these trees evolved to cope with frequent, low-intensity fires. During a severe fire, even the most well-adapted plants can succumb to mortality. If too many trees die, forest regrowth can be impeded by the lack of viable seeds.

“Forest burned at high severity bears the biggest ecological impacts from a fire,” said Philip Dennison, a fire scientist at the University of Utah who was unaffiliated with the study. “These are the areas that are going to take the longest to recover, and in many places that recovery has been put into question due to higher temperatures and drought.”

A 2019 study authored by Parks found up to 15% of intermountain forests in the western U.S. are at risk of disappearing. In dry regions, such as the southwestern U.S., that number increases to 30% when assuming fires burn under extreme weather.

As western North America continues to reel from the vice-like grip of droughts and increasing temperatures, scientists expect severe fires will become even more common.

“One take home message is that fire severity is elevated in warmer and drier years in the western U.S., and we expect that climate change will result in even warmer and drier years in the future,” Parks said.

#Nature

[priyacmi]

EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market, By Product Type (Needle Electrodes, Patch Electrodes, Cup Electrodes, Disk Electrodes, and Others), By Application  (Diagnostic, Therapeutic, and Others), By End User (Hospitals and Clinics, Diagnostic Centers, and Ambulatory Surgical Centers), and By Region (North America, Latin America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East, and Africa) - Size, Share, Outlook, and Opportunity Analysis, 2020 - 2027

Disposable EEG electrodes are specifically designed to provide quality recordings and reduce cross contamination while saving time and money compared to reusable EEG options. Disposable EEG electrodes offer useful, real-time EEG data during various mapping or monitoring procedures and are used to transfer energy of ionic currents into electrical current in the body. The currents passed into the body are amplified and used for diagnosis of various diseases. Technological advancement in the field of monitoring electrodes have resulted in high demand for EEG disposable medical electrodes. For instance, in January 2015, researchers at North Carolina State University introduced a new dry sensor to monitor Electrocardiography (ECG), Electroencephalograph (EEG), and Electromyography (EMG) all day long with high accuracy, even in situations when wet sensors are ineffective.

The EEG disposable medical electrodes market is estimated to be valued at US$ 655.17 million in 2020 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.0% during the forecast period (2020-2027).

Fig1. EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market Share (%) Analysis, in Terms of Value, By Product Type, 2020

The increasing prevalence of neurological disorders and product launches are expected to drive growth of the EEG disposable medical electrodes market

High incidence of neurological disorders such as epilepsy, Parkinson disease, Alzheimer’s and dementia, and cerebrovascular diseases is expected to boost growth of the global EEG (Electroencephalography) devices market over the forecast period. For instance, according to the World Health Organization (WHO) report of 2019, around 50 million people worldwide had epilepsy, making it one of the most common neurological diseases globally. Furthermore,  According to the Society of Neuroscience, in 2015, epilepsy affected an estimated 10.5 million children worldwide, and the types and severity of the disorder varied significantly.

Moreover, products launches by market players is expected to accelerate the EEG disposable medical electrodes market growth in the near future. For instance, in April 2020, Nihon Kohden Corporation, a Japan-based manufacturer of precision medical products and services, announced the launch of a new Premium Disposable Gold Cup EEG Electrode. The disposable electroencephalogram (EEG) electrodes help healthcare workers prevent cross contamination between patients while maintaining high quality EEG signals. Each package of Premium Disposable Gold Cup EEG Electrodes includes 10 gold cup electrodes, and are available in four convenient cable lengths, including 40, 60, 80 and 100-inch, for ease of use in most test situations.

EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market - Restraints

However, growing use of alternative products such as reusable EEG medical electrodes is expected to hamper the EEG disposable medical electrodes market growth over the forecast period. For instance, the benefits provided by EEG reusable medical electrodes include low cost, more durable, flexible, and lightweight. Natus Medical Incorporated offers Genuine Grass Reusable Cup EEG Electrodes which are rigorously mechanically and electrically tested to assure long life for very high recording clarity and dependability. These reusable electrodes are compatible with steam and EtO sterilization. The cups of these electrodes are made up of gold or silver to reduce the chance of infection and cross contamination.

EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market – Regional Analysis

North America accounted for the largest share in the EEG disposable medical electrodes market, in 2019 owing to increasing merger acquisitions between key players in the region. For instance, in June 2014, Medtronic Plc announced acquisition of Covidien Inc. for US$ 42.9 billion. With this acquisition, Medtronic gained a diversified product portfolio, and 87,000 employees in more than 150 countries. 

Furthermore, increasing prevalence of neurological disorders is also expected to boost the growth of EEG disposable medical electrodes market in the region. According to the Alzheimer’s Association estimates in 2017, around 5 million Americans were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and the number is expected to increase over 16 million by 2050. This creates a highly conducive environment for growth of EEG disposable medical electrodes market in North America, especially for neurological applications.  

Fig2. EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market Value (US$ Mn) & Y-o-Y Growth (%), 2017-2027

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EEG Disposable Medical Electrodes Market - Competitive Landscape

Key players operating in the EEG disposable medical electrodes market are Medtronic Plc, 3M, Ambu A/S, GE Healthcare, Johnson & Johnson, Nissha GSI Technologies, Olympus Corporation, Conmed Corporation, Graphic Controls, Yancheng Tianrun Medical Technology Co., Ltd., B. Braun Melsungen AG, Stryker Corporation, Utah Medical Products, Inc., ZOLL Medical Corporation, Symmetry Surgical, Rhythmlink International, Erbe Elektromedizin GmbH, KLS Martin Group, Screentec Oy, Nihon Kohden Corporation, Natus Medical Incorporated, and Koninklijke Philips N.V.

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[lawrencedienerthings]

Humanity and nature, mother and son, fulfillment and regret — a field guide

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Colorado News

Emily Wortman-Wunder is an essayist and fiction writer, with recent work in the Kenyon Review, Creative Nonfiction, Nimrod, High Country News, and elsewhere. “Not a Thing to Comfort You,” winner of the Iowa Short Fiction Award, is her first book. She teaches scientific writing at the University of Colorado Denver.

The following is an excerpt from “Not a Thing to Comfort You.”

UNDERWRITTEN BY

Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Explore the SunLit archives at coloradosun.com/sunlit.

2020 Colorado Book Awards winner for Short Story Collection

“The Endangered Fish of the Colorado River“

Colorado pikeminnow. Ptychochelius lucius. Slender, cylindrical, with an endless body and a long, pointed snout. Once so abundant it was the poor man’s meat, it was devastated by dams and invasive species. Predicted to go extinct in my son’s lifetime but, as it happened, outlived him.

Once the fish grew big as deer and filled the rivers so thickly you could hear them swimming from shore. So say the old timers, at least, the ones who gave it its first name: the squawfish. Even into college, Max would call it that, to needle me—“You and your mamby pamby PC pikeminnow,” he would say slyly—but also, I think, he just loved that name the best. The way it squawks off the tongue, two brash syllables to the prim mouthful of what we call it now. I secretly agreed, despite its history, despite the misogyny and racism twisted into it like runoff in a river. The squawfish always felt like my fish: the subject of my senior project, my master’s thesis, my early years of fieldwork; I was working on the squawfish when I met the engineer. In the long dry years after Max was born the fish was renamed the Colorado pikeminnow, but that name always felt like it belonged to someone else. Perhaps what Max always accused me of was right: I wanted to turn back the clock.

Max as a baby was gummy, devoted, irresistible. The way his starfish fingers reached out to grab my eyes, the way he grunted as he nursed, the way he crawled into bed with us in the middle of the night, all the way into kindergarten. The way he adored Russian fairy tales and colored pencils and baby birds. The way he would line up all of our shoes, pair after pair, curving over the sill and out the door. All of this, and I still felt the pull of the river like an undercurrent of despair. I thought I would never be able to leave him, until I did.

Emily Wortman-Wunder.

I was an inappropriate mother from the start. Squawfish, I explained when Max was way too young, means, roughly, cuntfish. Trash fish. Fish as easy to reap as the tribal women; like them, though, it held something of itself in reserve. Given half a sandbar and a bit of flood, the pikeminnow made its comeback as stealthy as a woman slipping back into her old haunts. Like me.

This was the story of my life, the one for which I thought Max would eventually forgive me: left my dream job to marry an engineer, had his baby, lived a sensible decade buried in the suburbs and then, against all odds, clawed my way back to work with the pikeminnow, its resurgence mirroring my own. 

Bonytail chub. Gila elegans. A large cyprinid fish of the Colorado river, growing up to two feet long and reproducing rarely, if at all. Like most desert fish, it is dark above and pale beneath, hidden in both directions. Tail so thin and bony that even nine-year-old Max could grab one in his hand and hoist it from the water.

“How come we never find any little ones?” he asked, and long before I finished telling him about dams and age classes and functionally extinct he had wandered off, bored of me already. “I’m still talking,” I yelled after him. He shrugged as he disappeared into the sage.

His boredom was a weapon, a silent protest against how I made him come to Utah every summer as part of the custodial agreement. “The river is the world as it ought to be,” I’d tell him. He would sit shotgun in my pickup and not say a word for 362 miles, as we drove up out of the city, across the mountains, and down into the desert. As soon as we hit camp he would slip away, liquid and alive; he’d chase lizards, pocket arrowheads, and throw rocks endlessly across the water, enjoying it the way I hoped he would. But the instant he caught me watching he’d go sullen.

I spent my off hours straightening his Scooby Doo sleeping bag, rigging the Dutch oven so that we could make pizza on the fire, loading him up with ring pops and firecrackers and s’mores. Still, one mistake and he’d be bitterly against me. “You care about your stupid fish more than me,” he’d say, kicking at the fire. “That’s why I love Dad more than I love you.”

“Did you put him up to this?” I once demanded of my ex, near tears. Through the phone I heard him push his woodworking goggles to the top of his head and sigh before he answered. I could picture the soft sweaty dents beneath his eyes, the sharp smell of cut wood, the way he’d brush the sawdust from his beard before answering, and I had a wave of longing so acute it almost knocked me down. 

“Not a Thing to Comfort You” by Emily Wortman-Wunder.

I could hear him carefully distancing himself from his bitterness. My fault, I knew, but I refused to allow myself regret. The fish had no use for patio projects, soccer games, vegetable gardens or the-game-on-Sunday life, and I had chosen the fish, or what was left of them. 

“Max is just a kid,” he said at last. “This is about him being nine.”

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve: every year I hoped that this would be the one Max learned to love the river, love camping, love me. Instead he perfected the art of the preteen pout. He dropped my gear into the water, my clothes into the fire, my food into the sand. He ran away when I got out the sunscreen and then howled in pain and rage when his back was too raw to sleep. I told myself this was natural; I told myself he would grow out of it. I told myself the nights of sobbing would be worth it in the end.

What Max loved instead was his Gameboy and the bunk bed his dad had built him back in Denver; his TV shows, Domino’s pizza and sushi. He loved telling me about all of the things he did with his dad, and all of the things that I did not do, or was doing wrong, or would never understand. “You just don’t get me, Mom,” he said, in a world-weary imitation of something he’d heard on TV.

“Nor you me,” I snapped back.

The bonytail chub, like all cyprinid fish, has a sensory organ other fish don’t have. In the end, it was like I sensed the river with an organ that Max and my ex did not possess. I loved the sweat, the stink, the river’s algal pull; the slime of the fish, the alkali of the salt flats on either side, the ancient sandstone stained with iron; the ruins, the petroglyphs, the hidden canyons hung with vines. It mystified me that they didn’t love it, too.

Now I sit alone in my camp chair after dusk, my daily notes fallen to one side, the tang of DEET keeping the mosquitoes at bay. The air shifts and a breeze pulls along the canyon, bringing the scent of nylon tent and my dinner, a can of maple baked beans cranked open and eaten cold. I once assumed the river was vast enough to be my everything. Now that it is all I have, I find that it is not.

Humpback chub. Gila cypha. Evolved to swim the fast waters of the desert river and specialized to breed only in water warm to the touch. Possesses a distinctive swollen hump just above the head. Almost entirely scaleless; back is greenish gray, sides silver, belly white.

The Humpback Chub has thrived in the recent drought, even as other species have suffered and declined. My colleagues cheer and roar into my winter office with grins as wide as the beers they buy to celebrate. I go along, I chink beer neck to beer neck; I even, when called upon, make speeches about persistence and science and learning to let natural systems do their work.

I believe all that, but the last conversation I ever had with Max lingers in my ears. “A couple of fish, Mom?” he said to me, tapping salsa from his chip, his carpentry-calloused pinky curved delicately toward me, as if defining the space he was going to need. “Four fish? That’s why you walked out on Dad and me?”

“I never walked out on you,” I said, my own burrito ashes in my mouth. That was two months before his car failed to negotiate a curve and rammed into a tree, and I never had a chance to explain it further.

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I worked for you, I would have said, so you can have a richer world, and he would have rolled his eyes. “Things change,” he might have said. “You can’t stop time, you know.” 

For so long, I lived upon my certainty. But now I doubt. When I think of the recovery of the Humpback Chub, all I can remember is how by the end Max and I had almost made it. There were lunches, texts, and phone calls; he talked of making a trip to try the rock climbing spots near my old field camp. But as if on cue I put the fish between us every time. “Aren’t you even a little bit glad you got the chance to grow up in God’s own paradise?” I once asked him, teasingly.

He considered it carefully, the way he did everything, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the knuckle of his thumb. “Utah made me what I am today,” he said at last, “So I give it that. But what I remember was not a paradise.”

Razorback sucker. Xyrauchen texanus. Distinctive flat bottom and humped back; will grow to a meter long and look like it swallowed a boat. Oliveaceous brown above and pale yellow beneath. Smooth.

The Razorback was Max’s favorite fish. Even on the sulkiest days of his teen hegemony, he would pop up in a moment if we had a razorback in the nets and come over from where he was grumping on the shore about not having service for his phone or not having pizza in camp for dinner. He’d crouch, walking on the slick stones in his sandals as if born to it, his gray eyes intent on the prize, his growing shoulder blades blistering beneath the desert sun. 

Once in college he came along on a survey day. “I still think you ecofreaks are just afraid of change,” he said, stooping over the net while his breath blew out in frosty clouds, “But if I had to save one thing from 1872, I think I would reach in and rescue this.”

The sudden resurgence of the Razorback in 2014 shocked everyone and made wildlife headlines all around the world; no matter how far the news traveled, though, it would never find its way to Max. I whispered it to the air instead. They found some little ones, Max, I said. In nine of 47 sites. The highest return in years. 

I even made a pilgrimage back to the city, visited the gravestone with its strange clean edges. I stood under the puny hybrid maple tree and leaned in close, but when I opened my mouth, other words came out, raging and lost against the wind. “This is change, Max,” I whispered. “This is change.” 

The wind whipped my words away.

— Buy “Not a Thing to Comfort You” at BookBar. — Read an interview with author Emily Wortman-Wunder.

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[kansascityhappenings]

Joe’s Weather World: A 60s pop then some cooler>colder air coming (THU-12/5)

Good morning and happy Thursday. Another more or less great December day is on tap with some subtle differences compared to the near 60° days that we’ve enjoyed since Tuesday. There should be more clouds in the skies today especially this afternoon and the other is a pick up in the winds a bit more today…nothing crazy but a bit more of a breeze this afternoon I think. In the end though it’s very possible that today is even milder than the last two days.

A cold front will work through the area overnight into Friday and that will shove the warmest air southwards…it will come back to some degree though over the weekend before getting shoved away for a few days sometime Monday into next week.

Forecast:

Today: Mostly sunny morning with filtered PM sunshine and mild. Highs today possibly in the 60-65° range! It won’t be close to a record which is 74° set back in 2001. Winds will pick up a bit to 10-20 MPH

Tonight: Variable clouds and not terrible with lows in the 30s

Tomorrow: Chillier but still pretty seasonable with highs in the 40° range in the afternoon

Saturday: Partly cloudy and cold at first…highs in the afternoon around 50°

Sunday: Should be milder with highs in the upper 50s again with increasing clouds and filtered sunshine.

Discussion:

Really you can’t do a lot better that the weather for early December right now. Mild afternoons without all the typical wind that we get when we do warm up in early December. Again today a bit more of a breeze may develop but temperatures will still be well above average. Even this morning (through 7AM) our low is about 10°+ above average. The average high by the way is 43° for today…we should be almost 20° above average before the day is done assuming we get enough sunshine during the course of the day.

There will be a disturbance coming out of Utah later today that will be zipping towards Tulsa and Texarkania overnight in Friday. This will pass well south of here and aside from some clouds it’s tough to see how we get any moisture from this…perhaps some isolated showers towards the Lakes region and down towards I-44 overnight into Friday early morning.

This disturbance though will allow some cooler air to filter southwards tomorrow after 12AM…it will be a gradual transition though…nothing really harsh…and tomorrow instead of 50s+…we’ll be more in the 40-45° range and again more dry weather expected.

Over the weekend…a conundrum of sorts…at least for Saturday. The colder air coming tomorrow will push down towards the Ozarks and southwards…then on Saturday the winds will shift towards the south and we should start to moderate a bit. We’ll start out cold…probably 20-25° and I’m not as confident that we’ll be able to push much above 50° during the afternoon. We’ll in a sense be recirculating some of the cooler air back northwards for awhile before we warm-up more efficiently towards the afternoon.

The NAM model has had some real issues of the last few months…in terms of it’s forecast temperatures…there a re a few things it’s been just wrong about…on almost a daily basis…one of which is underforecasting temperatures and the other…typically because of trapped low level moisture that prevents temperatures from reaching their potential. Some of the other models aren’t having that issue. The warmth above the surface is going to be getting there during the day and increasing towards evening. That is a good sign.

The end story of this is that while we should be above average again on Saturday I want to take a bit more of a cautious approach to the extent of the warm-up…that’s why I think 50° or so is doable with a higher potential on Sunday. The only issue for Sunday is the potential for clouds but we’ll start warmer and should have some wind to help the cause as well. So highs well into the 50s are more likely…the issue again here though may be clouds…if there are too many clouds we will not realize that potential.

A couple of cold shots of air are coming next week…including Monday…not terrible…back to average. Perhaps a reinforcing shot sometime Tuesday evening into Wednesday AM…that may have a tinge of arctic air to it…but the bulk of the really cold air will be more towards the NE of the region and the upper Midwest…where -10 to -20° temperatures are possible in MN and WI where there is some pretty decent snowpack on the ground.

That snow cover with the arctic air…is a good combination for some bitterly cold weather up there.

Here is an early look at the forecast lows for Tuesday morning…

and Wednesday morning of next week.

Yeah it’s chilly up there!

Fro those wondering about the snow situation…nothing really looks impressive right now to me…I don’t see any glaring systems that scream snowstorm at this point. The cold air intrusion on Monday into Wednesday may tend to relax quickly on Wednesday into Thursday.

The EURO ensembles aren’t so great looking for snow wishers at this point.

There are a couple of members of the 50 or so data points above that are bullish after the 15th…but overall that is not a lot of snow ahead through at least mid month.

The thing to watch is maybe some weird disturbance can come down in the NW flow aloft…but that is a needle in a haystack thing at this point for us locally.

It should also be noted that the GFS model is a LOT colder next week and a bit beyond. IF we go up to about 5,000 feet or so and look at the temperature anomalies…you can see the difference…

and now the EURO…

Not quite to the extreme, although both agree on the coldest air up towards the Lakes region and the upper Midwest.

The maps above are a 5 day average of temperatures at 5000 feet or so from the evening on the 10th through the evening of the 15th.

Our feature photo comes from Angella Herrman…nice outdoor lights!

Joe

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/12/05/joes-weather-world-a-60s-pop-then-some-coolercolder-air-coming-thu-12-5/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/12/05/joes-weather-world-a-60s-pop-then-some-coolercolder-air-coming-thu-12-5/

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