#not pictured: the ominous wall of rain in the opposite direction

[ataviisms]

the sky hits different up here

[wannabecoyote]

Sasha woke up, she didn’t remember falling asleep but that’s just every Tuesday for her. Her whole body is sore and lethargic, also a normal Tuesday. What isn’t a normal Tuesday however is WAKING UP IN AN UNFAMILIAR CELL. She very much does not appreciate being imprisoned for god knows whatever reason or at all really. She sat up and tried to practice the breathing exercise she and her friends found.

Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Rinse and repeat.

She swallowed once she feels calm enough and looked around the room. She’s very surprised that she isn’t descending into yet another panic attack but she ain’t gonna question her good luck now.

She felt for her phone and breathed out a sigh of relief when she found it is still in her pocket. With trembling hands she typed a message to her friend.

‘dude I could be dying rn. im pretty sure I was kidnapped. no cap. idk where I am. keep my witch stuff.’

She took a picture of the cell and sent it to Dylan.

She pocketed her phone with another inhale to fortify herself. She looked around and found her cell sealed with a laser beam thing. Like a sheet of light keeping her in. Like some real Steven Universe shit.

She walked up to it and tried to touch it. She pulled her hand back with a curse when she was zapped unceremoniously by the rude laser. She started flicking her hand trying and failing to shake the pain off.

She put her singed finger in her mouth and looked around for something that could help her. To the opposite of the laser gate was her cot, a raised platform that comes up to her thighs and padded with cushion. To the right hand side was a sink with running water and a glass near it. She assumed that was for her to drink. All she found that are detachable from their posts are pillows, the glass, and blankets. She walked over and snatched the pillow from the cot to test it against the laser.

She held the pillow forward and slowly touched the other side to the laser. She was startled from this when a something moved in the hallway. She threw the pillow away and focused on the figure that slithering closer to her cell by the minute.

She pulled a face of disgust when a weird hybrid of gorgons, aliens from the movie Aliens, and freaking predators came in front of her. It was very disconcerting.

“Human, you are before your queen, bow.” The talking monstrosity said.

The audacity!

“I’m sorry but you ain’t my queen. My queen is Sappho and you don’t look anything like her,” she said and the guards beside the queen gasped.

The queen’s face distorted in anger. Sasha’s face showed her disgust at how uglier the queen became.

“Eugh, dude seriously ngl you look like someone punched your mother’s stomach when she was carrying you and then when she gave birth to you she somehow dropped you multiple times because she always gets surprised by how ugly you are,” she said with a shrug. If she was gonna die, she’s gonna make the most of what she has right now.

The guy on the left let out a noise that sounded a lot like a laugh. Sasha smiled proudly and gave the alien a wink. It feels good to know someone appreciates your humor. They stepped back a bit, spooked. The queen’s face becomes more distorted but this time she was looking at the alien that laughed.

“You find this amusing? You are nothing but dust in the cosmos. You are nothing. Remember your place [species slur]!” she shouted at them. The poor guy bowed their head and uttered a silent acquiescence.

“HEY DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO THEM YOU NIGHTMARE IN ELMS STREET LOOKING ASS!” Sasha shouted. NOBODY, FUCKING NOBODY FUCKS WITH THE ALIEN GUY. HE IS B A B Y.

Both aliens looked at her, one with a look of horrified admiration, and the other with pure contempt in her eyes. Nine of them. Creepy. Why’s it gotta be a fucking odd? Why fucking nine? It’s fucking gross. Eugh.

She was startled out of her disgust for the nine eyes by the sound of someone pressing in the code for her cell…presumably. The laser wall disappeared and the queen loomed ominously over her. She bolted as soon as she can. Narrowly dodging the disgusting snake alien thing that tried to strike her. She took the alien’s appendage and ran. Dragging them along with her to wherever the fuck.

“Why are you doing this human? I am not an ideal hostage, no one cares about me,” the alien said. Sasha’s heart broke with the way that they said it. As if it was something factual. No one should be made to feel like that. If she was gonna escape she’s gonna take this bean with her.

“You are not a hostage,” she said. Behind them the queen is screaming profanities at everyone and the soldiers are gaining on them. “You’re a friend, I can see that you hate it here. You’re as much of a prisoner as I am. We’re gonna get out of here, yeah?” she looked back and her alien friend nodded with a look of disbelief on their face.

“Why?”

“Because they don’t treat you right.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you, besides, I will slow you down.”

“Of course it does! I made you laugh, you’re my friend now.”

“What exactly is a friend? You’ve mentioned it twice now.”

“You don’t know what friends are?!”

“I do not. I am sorry,”

“No! Don’t be! I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She sighed, this is difficult. “A friend is someone that you like, someone you spend your time with. Someone that you can rely on. Someone who can rely on you.”

“…and I am your friend? How?”

“Like I said, you laughed at my joke.”

“That sounds superficial, especially compared to what you mentioned friendship entailed.”

“It doesn’t have to be really deep, does it? I like you because I do. Do you not want to be my friend?”

“It is not that I do not, it is that I do not understand why you would want to be mine.”

“I just do okay? You’re a great dude.”

She looked at the soldiers chasing after them.

“How many?” she asked the confused alien. “Few. There aren’t much.” She nodded and asked where they are as they ran for their lives. They yelled out directions and she followed as best as she could.

She ran faster than she ever has in her life. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her alien friend tried but they couldn’t keep up with her. They lagged behind but she wouldn’t leave them. She couldn’t.

They reminded her too much of herself.

So she stood. In front of him. Shielding him from the soldiers that had caught up with them. Her friend told her to run. To leave them. To save herself. She didn’t.

The first soldier engaged her and she punched him. Remembering all those self-defense lessons from tiktok. They were bipedal and has almost the same structure as humans so she assumed they have similar anatomy. Her assumption proved true when the alien she punched in the throat gasped and flailed for air. Her confidence renewed she jumped to the next alien. She tore through them, using everything she has on her arsenal. Her hands, fingers, nails, feet, her teeth, and everything else that she has.

They were fragile. They were easy to destroy. She has cuts all over her body but she cannot feel pain right now. Her friend is looking around at the carnage she has brought with fear in their eyes.  All the fight left her body when they looked at her with fear. She moved forward to reassure them that everything was going to be okay but the queen arrived.

She was holding a gun of a sort and she was pointing it at Sasha. She ran straight for the queen, her teeth barred, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The queen expecting her to run was thrown off guard when she slammed against her. Sasha rained punches on her captor. Blindly smashing and hitting. The sound of pounding of flesh and bones crunching filled the air. She did not stop until two arms wrapped around her and restrained her.

“…okay, it’s gonna be okay. It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re safe.” It was a familiar voice. She didn’t know whose voice. She can feel the strength leaving her body. She hasn’t slept in two days.

“Alien… friend… safe..?” she asked, slowly losing her consciousness.

“Yes, your alien fiend is safe.” He sounds like he’s smiling.

[jjyusmile]

lee hyunjae - above the lights (ft. the boyz)

happy the boyz day!

pairing: hyunjae x {gender-neutral} reader x the boyz as besties

words: 3.9k

warning: mentions of food and drink! light mention of alcohol / alcohol poisoning

note: this is my present for the boyz third anniversary... I was inspired by the berlin boylog and their trip to the christmas markets last december. but I thought it would be cute for all of them to be there heheh! of course, I made it biased and a little romantically fluffy but this is to show my appreciation for all of the boyz! the romance is just to show this is a bec story :’) thank you so much for your support always!!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

stepping out of the restaurant, the chill in the berlin air washed over each of you as you stepped through the doorway onto the cobbled streets. wrapped in puffer jackets and scarves, hoods pulled up to shield your ears from the breeze. you all huddled under the cover that lazed over the shop entryway as rain drizzled from the sky. each of your cheeks tinged pink as the frosty chill nipped at your skin. eventually, warmth cascaded over you as heat radiated off the eleven boys clustered around you in an attempt to figure out where to go next.

as they murmured to each other, scrolling through google maps to gage your whereabouts, you looked up at the bare trees lining the streets. each was draped in strings of lights to the point where you almost forgot they wouldn’t blossom for another few months. the atmosphere surrounding you was festive and cheerful.

“it’s so pretty,” kevin came to stand beside you, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. you hummed in agreement not taking your eyes off the cascades of red and white that flickered along the street. you hadn’t noticed your hands were shaking from the bitter chill in the air.

you were pulled out of your gaze as elbows rested against your shoulders from behind; the proximity immediately warmed your body through. the comforting scent of your best friend surrounded you; sighing, your hands stilled and you melted into his chest. hyunjae chuckled as his arms came around your waist, pulling you into him. the murmurs became distant while you were distracted by hyunjae whispering close to your ear about how much kevin resembled a grizzly bear in his sherpa hoodie. shy giggles escaped your mouth as your hand shot up to cover your mouth; hyunjae hid his face in the crook of your neck to hide his own laughter.

the group had slowly moved down the street with you and hyunjae trailing behind. it wasn’t unusual. the shy touches followed by playful shoves… it had always been like that. except touches that were once familiar became more intimate. in your eyes, you were no longer just best friends. but you tried to ignore the tingles that ran up your arm when he mundanely passed you your morning coffee; the way he would pull you a little closer when you were all huddled around the small tv in sangyeon’s apartment; when your walks in the park turned into hours of sitting snuggly on a bench under the cherry blossom trees in the spring. the same way, right now, his hand brushed closely against your own. you welcomed the light touches under the chill int he air.

reaching a corner along the streets of berlin, all of you circled tightly around the fold-out map of the city, each one of you nudging the other to get a better look. how could a place so big seem so tiny on the crinkled pages that chanhee held out in front of him? eric closed his eyes and ran his finger in squiggly circles across the landmarks of the city. a squeal clouded your senses the moment changmin noticed eric’s fingertip grazing toward the oversized wooden stall wrapped in colourful lights -- the berlin christmas markets.

in a flash, changmin was running in the direction of the festivities, dragging younghoon by the cuff of his jacket sleeve; the pair were giggling like school children. seeing their energy dawned the realisation that you had been walking around all day -- your feet ached and you were overflowing in the warm vegetable soup you ate… and finished sunwoo’s bowl, too. your sleepy form was close to giving up and going back to the hotel until a figure stepped out in front of you and crouched down. juyeon turned to look at you with warm eyes and tinged pink ears that poked out from under his cap. a slight nudge of his head prompted you to jump on and then you were hugging his back as he carried you down the street. he bent down jokingly to tie his shoelaces with you still on his back. you giggled.

jumping down, rushed with excitement, you didn’t wait for wait from juyeon to finish, you pulled him up with a force that almost tore his arm off. he never got to finish tying his shoes. from behind, hyunjae wandered along the street, helping eric keep his balance as he stepped one foot in front of the other as he grazed the curb of the footpath. but his focus was trailed on you with a shy smile on his face. he couldn’t pinpoint what had shifted and when it did -- but something had definitely changed.

you skipped toward the rest of the group as you entered the markets, dragging juyeon in tow and immediately linking arms with sangyeon. he pulled you toward each stall that grasped your attention. the image of haknyeon trying to ensure the strings of cheese didn’t escape his mouth left you in a fit of giggles. the way these boys interacted with each other was like you were a big family. at one point, kevin gathered everyone in to fit on the tiny screen of his phone, your head squished under hyunjae’s arm as it wrapped around you to lift you up high enough to get in frame. a bundle of hysterics soon followed.

the stalls that lined each side of the market were flooded with smiles and families rushing around to get a glimpse of everything. the tree that perched at the center of it all loomed over you with flecks of gold as the sun began to set. each bauble glistened under the streams of sunlight that reflected against them. specks of light danced across the stalls. the market became too crowded for the group to stick together, you decided to meet back at the tree at 10pm. hyunjae ducked down quickly to kiss your temple with a whispered “see you later” moments before he headed off in the opposite direction without sparing you a glance; juyeon and younghoon were already aiming at targets in a competition to win the abnormally large stuffed panda. the action left you slightly disorientated as you stared at his retreating figure, all bundled up warm in his oversized puffer jacket that he always joked could fit you as well. distracted, haknyeon wrapped his finger around yours to drag you toward the stall filled with an array decorations.

changmin grazed his hand along the ornaments that dangled in rows along the walls. he picked up a snowglobe from the bottom shelf and eyed it carefully.

“something has changed, hasn’t it?” he asked, not takng his eyes off the glittering flecks that danced around the ornament as he shook it delicately.

the question startled you, a sharp inhale could have been heard from a mile away. you played with the sleeves of the jumper hyunjae had lent to you that poked out of your coat. “what do you mean?”

he directed his attention toward you as haknyeon stepped beside him, voicing his thoughts for him. “you’re not just… you two anymore. you’re… you two.”

a roll of changmin’s eyes met with a chuckle at hak’s choice of words -- ever ominous with next to no clarification.

you, on the other hand… you stood there unmoving. had things changed? they must’ve done for others to notice. hyunjae had become more public with his subtle flirting -- but didn’t he do that with everyone? you had always been close, closer than everyone else in the group… it was only natural that these moments happened every so often, right? but they weren’t every so often anymore, the voice in the back of your mind shattered any excuse you attempted to make. now that you thought about it, this was one of the first moments since you began your trip around europe that you were without hyunjae by your side. your mind drew back to the last moments you saw him. hiding his smile in the crook of your neck. a kiss to your temple. your eyes squeezed closed as your heart squeezed harder in your chest.

changmin noticed the change in your moon and diverted his attention quickly to the precious decoration that he shook a little harder between his hands -- flickers of glitter and fluorescent snow swooshed around the tiny bubble. “I think I’ll buy this one.”

you were glad for changmin’s thoughtfulness -- he always understood. the conversation had diverted from you sooner than it started.

it was only when you you found yourself in line for mulled wine beside kevin that you let your thoughts slip away. he had found you wandering the stalls alone when you lost the giddy twosome to the hook-a-duck game. and now your hands were stuffed into the pockets of sangyeon’s jacket as you leaned your head on his shoulder... chanhee did the same on the other side. the temperature had dropped significantly as the sun had completely set over berlin; you noticed the puffs of condensation that left sangyeon’s mouth in clouds of fog as he zipped his leather jacket up and over his chin. his bright smile was lit up against the strings of lights along the mulled wine stall. glancing sideways, jacob wasn’t too far away, snapped pictures of the decorations and families celebrating the festivity.

the front of the queue couldn’t have come fast enough -- it felt like hours before kevin stood at the small window in the stall ordering two mugs of red and two of the ‘white angel’… it was jacob that persuaded you against the red, reiterating that you were, in fact, an angel like him.

“but we have to match!” his giddy smile reached from ear to ear-- it was too cute to turn down. you weren’t much of a drinker, apart of the odd party that the boys used to hold at one of their apartments. those nights ended in hyunjae or a very reluctant juyeon holding your hair away from your face as the events of the night came back to bite you.

“fine,” you playfully rolled your eyes as you nudged his shoulder. he came over to rest his head against your own shoulder as chanhee stole sangyeon for himself.

an extra large stein of mulled wine was placed in your hands by kevin. it felt like you had been handed the mug of a giant, it being bigger than your own head; you had to use both hands to clutch around the sides, the warmth a welcoming feeling. you noticed, as you went to draw your first sip, that the mug was decorated in silver flecks as the words ‘white angel’ flicked in cursive against the liquid; your eyes drew back to jacob who grinned at you with a wink.

you didn’t miss sangyeon coaxing chanhee into trying a sip. his sweater paws gripped at the bottom of the stein as he tipped the liquid toward his mouth, sangyeon holding the burgundy liquid to make sure chanhee didn’t take an unfair shre. a loud bellow erupted from your stomach when chanhee’s expression morphed from curiosity to sheer disgust at the kitten lick of a sip he had taken. he turned to glare at you while taking the bottle of water from jacob’s rucksack to wash away the taste.

“I told you -- I don’t drink!” he exclaimed, playful eyerolls could be seen from left and right, even strangers in the queue enjoying the show.

“it’s not like we held you hostage and forced you to try it!” sangyeon countered, taking a large slurp from his drink. his eyes crinkled in slight disgust before his eyes widened as he stared at the liquid with fascination. a light giggle bubbled in your throat as you went to take a sip of your own.

you were perched on the end of a wooden table beside the tree, knees drawn to your body as you clutched the quickly evaporating warmth in the mug. you hadn’t even saved any for hyunjae. of course your thoughts would go straight to your best friend. you smitten fool.

your eyes became heavy with drowsiness as you watched kevin take pictures by the tree. they had found changmin and haknyeon as they wandered around aimlessly, stuffing their faces with powdered sweets. haknyeon stretched his arm out slightly to hold a candied strawberry in front of your face; your eyes widened slightly at the site and you took the sweet gratefully as he skipped back to the boys. the muffled silence drowned you as you sat by yourself, chin perched against your palm. you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander to the boys that brightened your days.

in the distance, you noticed juyeon and younghoon giggling at the same game they hadn’t left since you arrived. not far behind them were eric and sunwoo; the redheaded boy looked around as if there were stars in his eyes… hood up to brace his features from the cold. eric chatted excitedly in his ear about one of his old family christmas traditions but his attention was focused on the strings of warm lights that hung above. distracted, you didn’t notice the first few toasted chestnuts that headed in your direction. it wasn’t until one landed softly in your lap, your gaze wandered your surroundings to find its owner. the rest of the boys were crowded around the tree, gleefully grinning as jacob captured their gentle expressions on his camera. kevin held his wine in front of the tree, phone camera at the ready to snap the perfect shot. but, none of them wanted your attention. your gaze shifted to the left where you noticed a familiar figure hiding behind the candy floss stall.

you were drawn in that direction.

you knew it was him before you even saw his face.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you shouted, pretty much into the void, at the group. a barely visible thumbs up came from sangyeon who’s attention didn’t falter from the camera.

a chuckle escaped your lips as you wandered slowly toward the hidden rascal. he was delicately removing the shell of the next chestnut. you snuck up behind him, a cheeky grin washed over you automatically as a plan formulated in your head. tip toeing forward, your fingers stretched out as you neared his hoodie clad back, the fabric resting lightly against the top of his head. a quick countdown found you clinging tightly onto his back in an attempt to frighten him; a yelp sounded from your best friend as he dropped the remaining chestnuts from his clutches.

his hands flew up to clasp around your wrists. you didn’t miss the way his tense form faded away the moment he inhaled… did he recognise your scent? the same way you did his…

“you got me.”

his eyes crinkled as his head turned to face you, a smirk forming on his lips. the moment his eyes laid on your own they glistened in the most overwhelming way. each time you looked at him, with your face in such close proximity, you couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through your veins.

“I got you…” an intensity clouded his irises like the sweetest chocolate. your words had more of an impact than you had  originally implied.

steadily, you unclasped your wrists from hyunjae’s warm fingers as you stepped down, feet placed firmly on the ground as you shyly grinned up at him.

“hi,” you chriped, the smile not leaving your lips for a moment.

“hey,” he whispered, eyes melting into yours.

without much thought, he intertwined your fingers snuggly with his own. leading you behind the stalls and into the unlit alley. you knew by the confidence in his walk that he had a plan up his sleeve. trailing behind him, your gaze was fixed on the smile that hadn’t left his lips. you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the idea that he was enduring a similar inner conflict to your own. you weren’t just best friends any more.

you approached a dark, abandoned stall with a small ladder leading up to the roof. he stopped abruptly and looked down at you expectantly. his eyes flicked up to the roof and back to you… after you, his eyes said. his hands gripped lightly at your waist as he helped you up the ladder, fingers grazing delicately at the tshirt that rode up along with your sweater…  his sweater.

it was the little things by now. years of small gestures that lit up the blood in your veins added fuel to the fire.

he wasn’t far behind you as you settled in, feet dangling over the edge of the unfinished stall, hyunjae settling closely beside you. your knees knocked against his, whether it was on purpose or not was a question left unanswered.

your eyes took in the sight before you; smiling children stuffing their faces with bratwurst, couples snuggled cosily in their pods on the ferris wheel -- the prime spot for a romantic evening -- and then  your best friends. your eyes fell on all of them, messing around with eyes lit up like children on christmas morning. a smile washed over you subconsciously. they were the loves of your life -- every single one of them.

but your face was burning. the person that stole your heart without even realising wasn’t focusing on the flickering lights from below. a golden haze washed over his face, his features accentuated under the shadows. his eyes were boring into your own -- your skin of your cheeks could’ve melted at the intensity. his eyes were full of musical wonder.

“hey,” he whispered, again, face crinkling as his smile met his eyes.

“you’ve said that already,” you taunted, cheekily. a nudge against his shoulder to accentuate your joke.

“I know,” he paused. “my mind can’t come up with much more right now. I’m a little breathless.”

“right!” your focused drifted toward the festivities below you. “isn’t it incredible!”

it was his turn to pause. his fingers reached for your hand, intertwining with your own as he drew them into his lap. “yeah… it is.”

his tone brought you back to reality. you were sat here side by side, fingers intertwined delicately as his thumb grazed over the back of your hand. you noticed him exhale a shaky breath. your free hand lifted to brush the fallen strands away from his eyes as the wind blew softly. before you could withdraw your hand, hyunjae quickly clasped your wrist, pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing.

“jae?” it was your turn to release a shaky breath. you had tiptoed over “the line” for years now -- subtle touches, flirty jokes and much needed cuddles. but you had never been in this close... close enough to see the delicate bead of sweat that formed on the side of his neck. the lights from below highlighted his cheekbones in a subtle glitter.

he hummed in response, his attention focused not on your eyes, not on the fair below, but on your lips. his own plump lips forming a pout in temptation.

“jae…” you tried again.

his eyes fluttered closed at the plead in your voice. you didn’t know yourself whether it was an attempt to stop him, or, more likely, an urge for him to continue.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was strained, his fingers squeezing a bit tighter to reassure him that just because he closed his eyes, it doesn’t mean you disappeared.

you gravitated toward him. it wasn’t the holiday season, it wasn’t the subtle loneliness that sat with you throughout your unclaimed adolescence. you were never alone, because he was always there. even though it had shifted from being platonic, despite your hesitance, he was the one who you were drawn to no matter what.

his sweet gestures held more weight now. the way his eyes poured into yours lit a bundle of nerves that sat close to your stomach, releasing butterflies each time his eyes flickered between your own.

“don’t apologise,” your own eyes closed for a moment, inhaling deeply.

a brush of his nose against yours drew you back to reality, your eyes shooting open, blinking rapidly as your heart jolting in your chest. his breath fanned against your lips, your own doing the same.

a smile washed over his lips, eyes crinkling. “did you drink?”

“blame kevin, he bought it.”

he let out a chuckle as he nuzzled his nose against yours once more. comfort washed over you as you inhaled his warm scent, hints of cinnamon and musk.

“I’ll remember to thank him.” his smile was permanent now, it wasn’t disappearing for good.

“thank him?” you questioned, eyebrow quirking. the proximity heating your cheeks by the minute.

“I don’t think you would’ve agreed to have been here with me right now if you didn’t have a little liquid luck.”

you hummed, a giggle greeting your lips as they brushed over his. his eyes hadn’t flickered from your lips, waiting for the perfect moment. but as the wave of confidence took over, he realised that any moment with you was the perfect moment. as long as you were there, it would always be perfect.

he closed the small space and captured your lips with his in a delicate kiss. emotions that you had both swallowed throughout your friendship poured into it with such intensity it made your head spin. his head titled to deepen the kiss, his arms sliding up as his palm cupped your jaw tenderly, yours wrapping around his neck; your thoughts couldn’t wander far from your reality. as he pulled you to fit snuggly against him, your body moulded perfectly against his. his once cold fingers now sparked at each touch against your skin.

he pulled away for a moment only to place gentle kisses along your jawline to the sweetspot below your ear. he peppered kisses on every feature that he loved about you, careful to remember that you were still in the public eye, even though you were flying high in the sky at this moment. his forehead pressed against yours as he sighed in content. the moment you had been waiting finally became a reality; your hands coming up to hold his face in your hands, echoing his sigh.

your thoughts drew back to the inquisition of changmin and haknyeon earlier this evening, “they were right.”

he drew back slightly, careful not to let your palms drop from his face, with a questioning eyebrow raise, “who was right?”

you grinned widely at his jealous tone as you pulled him back in for another kiss. faint echoes cheers came from below as you moved away from his lips to find the commotion. your best friends were pointing and brightly squealing at what they had just witnessed, beaming smiles prevalent on all of their faces. a low groan escaped hyunjae’s throat as he attempted to hide in the crook of your neck, a familiar feeling washing over you as the shy smile made its way back onto your lips.

it didn’t stop his fingers from intertwining with your own again, though. and once the commotion had subsided, he pulled out a festive box filled with heart shaped chocolates, popping one into his mouth before giving in at your childish pout.

neither of you had felt as whole as you did in that moment... just above the lights.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TO. the boyz

thank you for everything. you are the best thing that ever happened to me -- you are the reason I smile daily, along with so many other theb. you are a family that welcomes anyone with open arms. I hope it stays this way forever. 

you deserve every happiness and I hope you know how much you mean to us all. always remember deobis love you.

I love you all so so so much.

A/N: thank you for celebrating the boyz third anniversary with me! I hope you enjoyed :’)

#오래도록_빛날_더보이즈의_3주년 #3YearsWithTHEBOYZ @WE_THE_BOYZ @Creker_THEBOYZ

[njolras]

les mis walking/metro tour of paris

first of all i can’t even start this post without giving the biggest thank you to whoever is behind chanvrerie.net, because their website is truly where i found all of these details. i just pieced them together in a way that covered more ground, but they also have a marais walking tour if you want a smaller area, and more sites that i left out for various reasons. regardless of if you’re even going to use my guide, though, you should still check out the site. it goes into a lot more detail about the history of all the sites in question, although i’ll fill some in here too, and in general about how the paris of les mis became the paris of today.

that being said, parts of chanvrerie are sadly outdated -- the website doesn’t seem to have been updated since 2014 -- and when i went on earlier this week no pictures would load on the site. i had already wanted to do a walk around some of the most famous sites from the novel, but i thought i would try to make it something i could pass on to others as well due to that. read on if you’re interested!

this tour will probably take you about an hour and a half. it can be done either by paying 1€90 for a metro ticket at one point or by walking the distance, which is certainly doable as well. the picture above isn’t EXACTLY the route i describe here, because google maps is dumb, but it’s close enough that you can get a general idea of what you’re looking at. the RED on the map is the walking route -- the bulk of what you’re going to see. the place where there is no red is where you can either choose to walk or take the metro.

at the end of the post, i will go into a bit of history that you can read if you’re interested, and i also at some point will probably make a second post with tips for the metro stops and other places you can see along the way which aren’t necessarily les mis-related but are cool anyway.

the tour starts at the metro station sainte-françois xavier, which is on line 13.

PART 1 - LEFT BANK/LATIN QUARTER

Stop 1: Rue Plumet (Rue Oudinot)

When you exit the metro station, you will come out on a triangle of sidewalk in the middle of the street facing the church Saint-François Xavier. Cross the street to your left, so that you end up on the left side of the main wide street (Boulevard des Invalides) and continue to walk in the direction you were facing when you came out, keeping the church on your right side until you pass it entirely. Directly on your left, you will pass high black fences with gold ornaments at the top. The Rue Oudinot, which is the modern location of the Rue Plumet, will be a left turn right after that black fence ends.

(Unless otherwise noted, all quoted material will be from the Chanvrerie website.)

There’s a rue Plumet in modern-day Paris, but it’s way off in the 15th arrondissement. The street Hugo had in mind has been renamed the rue Oudinot, though many of the surrounding streets–including the rue du Babylone–still exist under the same names.

Sadly, the rue Oudinot is only on one side of the street and the numbers begin in the mid-20s and count down -- therefore, there’s no number 55. On Chanvrerie the author says that Theodule’s barracks are still visible, but also mentions a cul-de-sac at the end of the street, and I could find neither of those things. There is a public garden with an entrance on the rue Babylone, one street over, if you’re wanting a moment to lift up your skirts and run dramatically through some greenery, or perhaps two hours to bonk your head against a tree, but due to restructuring and continued urbanization, none of the current houses have yards that are accessible save for a small private garden in front of a modern apartment building.

Corner of the rue Oudinot from the Boulevard des Invalides, just before you should turn

View looking down the rue Oudinot from the corner

Stop 2: Faculte de Droit (Law School)

This is where you have a few different options.

The first choice, which I would recommend if it’s really hot, really cold, raining (like it was when I did this), or if you get tired easily or can’t walk very long distances, would be to get on the metro. To do this, when you reach the end of the rue Oudinot, turn right onto rue Vaneau. Continue until the end of that street, then turn right again. The metro station Vaneau, on line 10, is right around the corner, clearly marked with metro signs. There’s also a big Egyptian-style statue in a niche in the wall next to it. 

Signs marking the Vaneau station (sorry it’s so blurry)

Go down onto the metro (you will need to purchase a ticket if you don’t have one, which costs 1€90) and head in the direction of Gare d’Austerlitz. You will ride for 5 stops, and then get off at Cardinal Lemoine.

From Cardinal Lemoine station, exit onto the street with the same name (if you recognize it, Hemingway lived on the street for a few years while in Paris) and walk up the hill until you hit rue Clovis, which will be a right turn. Continue on the same street -- if you get confused at all, you can just follow signs that point towards the Pantheon. Shortly, the Pantheon will become visible, and you will pass Saint-Étienne-du-Mont church on your right after a few blocks, at which point the rue Clovis will turn into the Place du Pantheon. (Victor Hugo, along with a lot of other famous French people, is buried in the Pantheon.) As soon as you pass said Pantheon, the Faculty of Law is right up ahead -- it’s a big building with columns out in front and “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité” emblazoned over the entrance. You can go inside the courtyard if you’d like, and there’s a small plaque out front explaining the building’s history -- albeit in French. Unlike a lot of the other buildings on this tour, the Faculty of Law was built in the 18th century, so the building that stands today is as Hugo pictured it.

Your second choice for reaching this building if you’re up for a longer stroll or want to see more of Paris is to walk. There are a bunch of different routes you can take and it really depends what you want to see, but by and large it’s a little over a half an hour to walk to the Faculty of Law from the rue Oudinot. Definitely doable, especially in nice weather. Heads up, though -- depending on how you walk from there to here, you may end up backtracking on your way to the next stop. Another reason why I recommend the metro!

The building as viewed from the Place du Pantheon

A closer view

Stop 3: Cafe Musain

As one could probably expect, the Cafe Musain’s location is pretty close to the rest of the university. To get there from the Faculty of Law, just continue onto the main road that goes ahead from the Pantheon, which is called the rue Soufflot. Don’t cross the street; you’ll want to be on the same side as the Faculty of Law. It’s a really nice walk towards the Jardin du Luxembourg -- the sidewalks are very wide and there are a lot of little shops and such. When you’ve gone as far as you can and are looking at the traffic circle in front of the entrance to the gardens, look left, and that’s the site of the Musain. Across the street from a McDonald’s... a beautiful view of the Jardins... okay yeah it’s a Burger King. Sorry. :-(

Hugo tells us the Café Musain was on the Place Saint-Michel, but the spot that bears that name nowadays was called the Place du Pont-Saint-Michel back in the 1830s and the Place Saint-Michel itself was by the Jardin du Luxembourg. It’s now called the Place Edmond Rostand.

This from Chanvrerie is, I’m assuming, true, but also, the street that makes a right angle with the rue Soufflot is, in fact, the Boulevard Saint-Michel. 

The former Cafe Musain

PART 2: RIGHT BANK/LE MARAIS

Stop 4: Javert’s Suicide/Quai de Gesvres

At this point, you’re going to cross the Seine and the Isle. If you’re facing the Luxembourg Garden, turn right from the rue Soufflot onto the Boulevard Saint-Michel. From there, it’s a straight shot out through the Saint-Michel neighborhood, across one side of the Pont-au-Change (the bridge that the boulevard becomes at the river), over the isle, and across the other side of the bridge. The part of the walk alongside the river on the other side from where we’ve been for the past few stops -- known as the Right Bank, as opposed to the Left Bank -- on the right side of the bridge is the site of Javert’s suicide. Specifically we’re talking about the area between the Pont-au-Change and the Pont Notre-Dame, which is officially called the Quai des Gesvres. There’s a little walking trail below street level, some picnic tables. It’s pretty nice.

Javert did not, as is commonly believed, throw himself off a bridge–he jumped off the embankment on the side of the river, into a part that’s placid enough right now but had nasty rapids back in 1832. Before he jumped, he left several notes for the good of the service at the Place du Châtelet police station, which still exists opposite the Pont Notre-Dame.

Funnily enough, due to the absolutely miserable weather when I was taking these pictures, the Seine looks pretty ominous here. If you turn to your right once you get to the other side of the river, you will reach the station.

The ill-fated site, as seen from the Pont-au-Change

The Châtalet police station, with the sign for Quai des Gevres visible. Again, sorry for the picture quality. At this point the weather drove me home because it was becoming impossible to hold my umbrella and my phone at the same time, so the pictures from here on out are going to be sunny.

Stop 5: Courfeyrac’s apartment (16 Rue de la Verriere)

After you reach the station, turn left at the corner onto the rue Saint-Martin, then walk until you reach a big intersection. From here you want to walk down the diagonal road that’s at about a 2-o’clock from where you’re facing. It’s called Rue de la Coutellerie. Once you get to the end of this street, you’ll be on the rue Rivoli. Turn right and walk in the direction of the giant building you’ll see -- this is the Hôtel de Ville, the Paris city hall. You’ll also be able to see the BHV across the street on your left side, which is a department store. Both are big, recognizable, and clearly marked. Keep walking on the rue Rivoli in the same direction until the BHV ends; then go one more block until you can turn left. As of June 2019, it was a Starbucks on the corner where you should turn. The street is the rue des Mauvais-Garçons. Walk down it for one block, and then it’s another left onto the Rue de la Verriere. Courfeyrac’s apartment where Marius crashed with him on occasion was the number 16, which currently houses a fancy pastry shop on the bottom level.

Another one that hasn’t changed or been renamed. Courfeyrac moved out of the Latin Quarter and into the rue de la Verrerie to be in the part of Paris “where insurrection liked to install itself,” and indeed was only a few blocks away from Saint-Merry.

A few blocks away is a little generous, as you’ll see in a second, but regardless it’s definitely closer than the Latin Quarter.

The current number 16 rue de la Verriere, with a pastry shop on the bottom floor and apartments above

Stop 6: Jean Valjean’s Apartment on the rue de L’Homme-Armé (Rue des Archives)

Continue walking left on the rue de la Verriere until you reach the corner, at which point you should turn right; this is the rue des Archives. You should walk on this road until you reach a large stone building on your right.

The section of the rue des Archives between the rue Sainte-Croix de la Bretonnerie and the Clos des Blancs-Manteaux used to be the rue de l’Homme-Armé. There’s a plaque on no. 40 indicating the former name of this part of the street, though it should be noted that this is not where Valjean’s apartment would have been–no. 7, rue de l’Homme-Armé would have been the fourth building on the other side of the street.

Number 40, now a nursery school, does indeed have a plaque giving its address as being on the rue de l’Homme-Armé. And assuming that there were no odd numbering issues on the street, counting the fourth building on the other side of the street (from the start of the original road) would make Jean Valjean’s apartment’s current address 25 rue des Archives, on the corner of the rue du Plâtre. The bottom floor is an upscale boutique.

The plaque on the nursery school

25 rue des Archives

Stop 7: The Barricade

Saved the best for last, and thankfully it’s also a simple walk. The streets of the Marais can be a little confusing at times since it’s such an old neighborhood, but this one is not so hard. Just walk in the same direction, away from the river, along the rue des Archives until you come to an intersection where there’s kind of a kink in the road and it doesn’t continue on exactly straight. Ahead on your right you’ll see a big, very old-looking building which is the French National Archives. Here, you want to turn left onto the rue Rambuteau, and again, it’s a straight shot. You will see the Centre Pompidou, the big building with all the pipes on the outside, after a few blocks. At this point the rue Rambuteau widens and becomes a very walking-friendly area. Just keep going the same way. Pay attention to the side street names. It’s easy to get confused or miss what you’re looking for. 

The climax of the novel takes place in the redoubt of the ill-fated barricade in the rue de la Chanvrerie. Hugo describes its precise location amidst the tangle of streets between the Halles and the rue Saint-Denis, but reconstructions in the mid-19th century obliterated the original maze of slums and alleys: the rue de la Chanvrerie was not so much renamed as swallowed up by the rue Rambuteau. Nevertheless, many of the original streets survive–even if Corinthe has been replaced by a lingerie shop.

Les Halles, though it used to be a market, is now a mall, and the streets are much much wider than they were during the June Rebellion. Take a look at this map with the site highlighted in red, again of course from Chanvrerie, and you’ll see that technically the barricade occupied the space on what is now the rue Rambuteau from the rue Saint-Denis to the rue Mondetour. The “front” of the barricade, or at least one of them, would be located at the current intersection of the rue Rambuteau and the rue Mondetour. It is no longer a lingerie shop -- as those of you with REALLY sharp eyes or strong devotions to George Blagden probably noticed from his Drink With Me video, it’s occupied by a bistro. However, I’m pretty sure that the bistro is now up for sale, so don’t count on that one hundred percent.

The approximate location of the barricade in June 1832 (my picture, June 2019)

The same intersection in a screenshot from George Blagden’s video (June 2016)

END OF TOUR!

if you or anyone you know actually does this, please send me a message and let me know how it went! also just in general, if you have any questions let me know. i would also still urge you to visit the great chanvrerie site for more history and sites that i didn’t include on this tour!

enjoy :~)

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 13 Blame

2,230 words THE PLOT THICKENS. dun dun dunnnn Tagging some peeps: @blindbae​ @nifwrites​ @thegoddesseos​ @themissimmortal​

Cam gripped the steering wheel with damp hands, trailing behind Gladio’s Jeep on the drive back to HQ. Her entire body was feeling the after effects of their connection, sparks on her skin and her brain going a mile a minute, yet inside her gut she felt ill. Dave wanted to speak with her, and the way Gladio just, looked away from her….What happened?

Her wipers were struggling to keep up with clearing the rain, the downpour coming in sheets and a low rumble of thunder reverberated through the frame of the vehicle. As they entered the first winding turn before the tunnel, Cam could just make out the rough patches of dirt and terrain uplifted from the behemoth, ominous flashbacks rapid firing through her mind. She still couldn’t believe she’d assisted in downing the beast, surprised at how quickly the plan to blind it lightbulbed in her mind. How she managed to pull it off on the other hand, she couldn’t explain.

Sure she’d trained with Gladio and Greyson plenty, but something gnawed at her sense of reason. She’d overheard the hushed whispers of other hunters and veterans, how she was most likely feigning the stroke of greatness persona, coming from nothing and rubbing shoulders with the higher ranks in no time flat. Someone who’d been mediocre at best in physical education throughout high school, someone who hadn’t touched a firearm before several short weeks ago…

As they exited the tunnel and approached HQ territory, Gladio slowed down his Jeep faster than Cam anticipated and she broke hard, though immediately understood the reason for his abrupt halt; a thick puddle of blood was accumulating outside the tunnel, dripping from above where the behemoth corpse was slung by the edge of the rock shelf. An iron tang hit the back of her throat; she could smell it. Great. They’d probably called a meeting to bump priority of getting rid of the body…

They pulled up beside the main office and headed inside, one after the other without another word. It was a full house; Greyson, Prompto and Cor were seated against the far wall, Dave was pacing the room with a look of contempt on his typically relaxed face. Two of the highest ranking hunters nodded to greet them as they entered, while off in the furthest corner Steph stood, fixated on her phone, thumbs tapping the screen at lightning speed.

“Alright, she’s here,” Dave announced and every head in the room rose to look at Cam. She felt microscopic in seconds flat, leaning against the wall opposite the door, Gladio behind her. What did he mean, ‘she’s here’…

“Got a couple things to go over before the main topic of this meeting,” Dave continued, grabbing a folder from the metal desk and flipping through the paperwork. “That behemoth was no coincidence; infrared readings have doubled since the scout’s last reports from Sunday, only five days ago. We think given that it was headed due northwest when Greyson and Co happened upon it, there’s a high chance it was attracted to the infrared energy being omitted nearby.”

“How are the sightings in the area, boss?” one of the veteran hunters asked, looking over Dave’s shoulder to read the report.

Dave rubbed his forehead. “Rising. Snipers use to only hold two clips of ammo per shift, but recently they’ve been requesting double, and what’s even more concerning is just how close they’re reaching the outskirts of HQ.” He sighed, leaning against a support beam. “Might need to invest in more spotlights-”

“It’s not in the budget,” Steph interjected, all heads whipping in her direction at the back of the room. Her expression was blank. “And you know we can’t work it in as well. I’ve scoured it top to bottom and pinched enough pennies to be certain of that.”

Dave’s eyes flicked to Cam and her gut cramped. “Which brings me to the reason for our meeting. Reynolds?”

Her head snapped up, undivided attention. “Yes?”

“Where were you at approximately 4:35 this afternoon?”

Cam frowned, knitting her dark eyebrows in confusion. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“Answer the question, Reynolds,” Cor’s voice was like a serrated blade across her face.

“I was…” She thought back to it, around that time she was - “in the showers.”

Dave eyed her suspiciously until she shrugged her shoulders. He backed up towards a flat cabinet, sliding the door open to reveal a flat screen TV, a grid of closed-circuit feeds on display in small boxes. He cycled through some views with the remote until he landed on a specific one, enlarging the view, and Cam recognized it as the side wall adjacent to the back entrance of the armory...

She tensed, realizing what everyone was about to witness. Without forethought Cam’s head snapped back to Steph, but she was focused intently on the television, expression indecipherable.

Cam turned back in time to see a pre-recorded version of herself, crouched and sneaking behind the back of the armory. Much to her displeasure however, the angle of the camera only captured the side of the building, not the back, so when Cam’s recorded form ducked behind the armory she was in the blind spot.

She knew what would happen next, how a few seconds later she’d come tiptoeing back the same way she came, pocketing her cell phone...Except, she didn’t. Nearly a minute went by of zero activity on the monitor. There was no way Cam had spent that long behind the armory; She’d followed Steph and the initiate, saw them through the gap in the door, snapped some pics, and left. The entire series of events may have taken twenty seconds at best…

Also, why hadn’t they shown…”Dave,” Cam interrupted their viewing and he paused playback, “Can you rewind to a few seconds before I show up on screen?”

Wordlessly, he fulfilled her request and hit play about a minute before Cam’s appearance. Nothing, and then...Cam sneaking into view.

What the hell? “Okay, something’s not right-”

“Why’d you break into the armory, Reynolds?” Dave’s voice was firm and low, avoiding eye contact; authoritative, but lacking confidence.

Cam stepped away from the wall, taking a few strides forward. “That footage is all wrong, I-I didn’t go back there of my own volition.”

“Then explain,” Cor rose from his seat, pacing around to Cam, “what sent you back there in the first place.”

“I-I saw-”

Steph’s arms flung around the initiate’s neck, the cream and roses of her bare breasts jostling with his thrusts as he pistioned in and out of her, his bare ass flexing with the push of his hips. Their labored breathing with the speed of their fucking-

“...something.”

Her mouth dropped a fraction, nerves getting the better of her composure. She dared a glance at Steph, who to Cam’s surprise remained the pinnacle of ease, twirling a lock of crimson hair between long, slender fingers.

It drove Cam insane. She either didn’t know, or didn’t care that she was about to be exposed. She was hyper-aware of Gladio standing barely two feet behind her. Alright then, she thought to herself, pulling out her phone. “Look, I have proof that I...wasn’t alone. Just let me find-”

The pictures of Steph weren’t showing up in her gallery. They were gone.

“Wait, what the hell?” She tried with trembling hands to close the application and reopen it, hoping with despair that it was...Nope, not a glitch. The photos had disappeared.

Cam’s heart hit the back of her throat and double-timed as she caught a glimpse of Steph standing in the back of the room, one corner of her mouth barely turned up into a snide smirk.

Something happened to Cam then, that she never experienced before in twenty five years of life. For two  seconds of unwarranted eternity, her vision tinted red. Undiluted fury in its purest form.

Anger, absolute.

Behind her Gladio took a step back, startled and uncertain as to how he just felt that.

Cam regained her sobriety, sighing. “I had pictures on my phone, however it seems they’ve been deleted.” She gritted her teeth. The bitch must have taken her phone while she was in the shower-

“Well unfortunately, Reynolds,” The Marshal was holding back his full potential for a raised voice, “the entirety of gil in the retain cash was just stolen, approximately two grand in total.” He stopped in front of Cam, his head cocked to the side. “Until otherwise proven innocent, I have no choice but to suspend you from active hunter status. Had we not been in dire need of personnel we’d be having a different conversation altogether. Turn in your weapons tonight, we’ll get you started on a job tomorrow-”

“That’s not fair, I didn’t-”

“Reynolds,” Dave’s voice was restrained. “No one else went back there tonight except you. Camera doesn’t lie.”

Altered recordings do, Cam thought to herself. She exhaled in defeat. No use fighting it for now, evidently Steph had gone to extensive lengths to cover up her little rendezvous with the rookie hunter; She’d just have to find another means of proving her guilt. “Whatever, then. Fine. Can I go?”

A long pause, silence that made the air feel thick. Someone coughed, and then, “Meeting adjourned.”

The attendees rose, but as they began to file out of the office Dave spoke up. “Actually, Greyson and Steph, stick back for a few minutes...”

Cam’s hands balled into fists and she made for the barracks to collect her weapons. It wasn’t right, but she had to roll with the punches on this. There had to be a way she could gain access to the recordings, or perhaps there was a witness around that could provide a statement...

A hand grabbed her arm and swung her around to face the opposite direction. It was Gladio. “Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” her sun was humming below her skin. Try as she did to deny it, she liked looking at him.

He frowned though his eyes were warm. “What happened?”

“I didn’t break into the armory, if that’s where you’re going with this.” Cam’s voice had a grit to it, though she tried to be sincere...She could tell him, right? What she saw? Would he react well to it or get upset? Given the unknown state of their relationship (could it even be called that? The questions were unyielding tonight) She couldn’t be certain, instead she tiptoed at the precipice and brushed over what occurred. “I saw...Steph, inside.”

Gladio’s eyebrows jumped a bit. “In the armory? That’s impossible. She’s not that kind of person.”

“Are you sure?” Cam took an involuntary step towards him, halting mid second. “Gladio, I-I know what I saw. Honest to Astrals, I saw her…”

He exhaled a deep breath, checked his six and took Cam’s hand leading her inside the barracks. It was too early for anyone to be asleep so he knew they’d have some privacy. Cam’s heart hammered when he pulled her into the dark foyer of the sleeping quarters. After ensuring they were alone he whispered, the tenor in his voice like an engine. “Look, I don’t know what happened but...just, don’t mess around with her. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide and gets what she wants, no matter what the cost.”

“Why go out with her in the first place, then?” Cam whispered back, though instantly regretted her abrasive tone. He was still holding her hand; She had no intention of letting go at that moment. “I mean, if she’s not that nice of a person...”

Gladio pulled Cam close, their torsos touching and her marking reacted with renewed heat. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his facial hair brushing her head in a comforting way before he wrapped his arms around her. “I did what I had to...to get by.”

Confusion clawed at her sense of reason and she wanted to question his response but he was surrounding her, radiating warmth and intoxicating allure. They stood still for countless seconds, their breathing synched and hearts linked, both overwhelmed at the effects of one another’s proximity. Two addicts tapped at the vein; Two ships that sailed in the night for far too long.

Gladio’s hand stroked her jaw line and pulled her face upwards, planting the softest kiss of a lifetime on Cam’s lips. With barely any pressure and only the feel of his mouth against hers, melding between them in perfect symmetry and balance, they gave each other what the other had desperately needed all their life without being aware of doing so.

Cam’s phone buzzed abruptly and Gladio pulled away, much sooner than both of them had anticipated so she could answer. She didn't recognize the number.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Gladio slipped past her and back outside, and just like that she was alone.

Cam answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Cam?” A young female’s voice greeted her, one Cam couldn’t place to a face.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s this?”

“It’s Iris,” she replied, her voice unnaturally formal. “I got your number from Prompto, I hope that’s okay.”

Cam was surprised to hear from her. “No, that’s alright. Is there something you need?”

She hesitated, but continued after some last minute deliberation.

“Yes. I have a big favor to ask.”

[ntrending]

Scientists want to put 'speed bumps' in hurricane alley to slow down storms

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/scientists-want-to-put-speed-bumps-in-hurricane-alley-to-slow-down-storms/

Scientists want to put 'speed bumps' in hurricane alley to slow down storms

The advantages of wind power are well-known. Wind is clean, plentiful, and renewable. Installing turbines in large numbers could help wean our carbon-intensive civilization from its addiction to fossil fuels. New research suggests that one day there could be another major benefit: massive installations of wind turbines could lessen the deluge when powerful hurricanes bring devastating amounts of rain onto land. During such recent storms as Harvey and Florence , which brought historic levels of rainfall ,  this could have meant less flooding and destruction, and fewer deaths.

“Offshore wind farms definitely could be a potential tool to weaken hurricanes and reduce their damage,” says Cristina Archer, a professor in the University of Delaware’s College of Earth, Ocean and Environment, who conducted a recent study published in the journal Environmental Research Letters describing the impact of offshore turbines on hurricane rainfall. “And they pay for themselves, ultimately, which is why I am excited about this.”

Climate change has been driving larger and more intense hurricanes in recent years. Evaporating sea water fuels hurricanes, whose strength depends on how rapidly water can evaporate from the ocean. When sea water evaporates, it transfers heat from the ocean to the atmosphere, which converts it into wind energy, creating stronger and stronger winds. As the temperature of the water goes up, so does the rate of evaporation — and so does the wind. The warmer the ocean, the faster the evaporation. And climate change is heating up the oceans at an ominous pace.

In earlier research, Archer demonstrated that offshore wind farms absorb kinetic energy from hurricanes, reducing the effects of wind and storm surge. Her latest study suggests that turbines might also decrease rainfall for onshore locations downstream from a wind farm — when deployed in very large numbers. “The motivation for this new study was basically Harvey itself,” Archer says. “It dumped an incredible amount of rain, and it was the rain that actually caused the flooding in the Houston area.”

To picture what happens when a hurricane meets a wind turbine — and how turbines can diminish rainfall — it’s important to understand the two significant factors that influence precipitation, convergence and divergence. Strong hurricane winds slow down when they hit wind turbines, and move upward because they have no other place to go. This brings more moisture into the atmosphere, boosting rainfall. That is convergence.

Divergence is the opposite; it causes downward motion, attracting drier air that is moving downward, which suppresses precipitation.

“Think about convergence like when there’s traffic on a freeway, and everybody is going fast and then — all of a sudden — there’s an accident and everyone slows down,” Archer explains. “You get a convergence of cars that backs up… that’s the convergence upstream of the offshore wind farms. Divergence is similar to what happens when cars finally get past the accident and everybody speeds up.”

Convergence and divergence occur naturally in many situations. “For example, wherever we have a low-pressure center — associated with storms in the mid latitudes — typically the surface winds converge towards it,” Archer says. “Vice versa, wherever we have a high-pressure center, like during clear and warm weather, winds at the surface diverge out of it. When you have a change in land use, like from ocean to land, or from forest to pasture, this causes a change in the winds — deceleration from ocean to land, or acceleration from forest to grass -and thus you have convergence and divergence, respectively.”

Over a wind farm, the wind speed slows “because that’s what turbines do,” she says. “They extract kinetic energy from the wind, therefore the wind behind them, downstream of each turbine, is weaker than it was upstream. Put more and more turbines together in a large farm and you can imagine that you would start causing convergence ahead of the farm, before the winds hit the first turbines, and divergence past it, after the farm, where the winds accelerate again.”

Therefore, in order to have precipitation, there must be upward motion to bring moisture-rich air near the surface into the atmosphere, where it condenses and causes rain. “To get upward motion near the surface, you need to have convergence,” she says. Then, “to kill precipitation, you need downward motion, which is what happens when you have divergence at the surface. Obviously you also need a moisture-rich environment to start with. If you have convergence in the desert, no matter how strong, there will not be precipitation because it is too dry.”

That’s why the scientists studied the impact of offshore wind farms, rather than land-based ones, as hurricanes form over water and dissipate quickly once they reach land. “There is plenty of moisture [offshore], thus it was more likely that we would see an effect,” she says. “We looked at hurricanes because they last long enough that the patterns of convergence/divergence can form and persist. If you think about it, a hurricane lasts for days and causes strong, steady winds from pretty much the same direction — from the ocean to the land.”

One current drawback is that turbines often are now turned off during high winds. Archer said their computer simulations took the “cut-off” wind speed into consideration, which currently is 76 miles per hour for the Enercon 126, a German offshore wind turbine model. However, manufacturers now are developing new turbines that will withstand even stronger winds, such as those in hurricanes and typhoons, and these are expected to be on the market in 2020, she added.

The scientists used numerical computer simulations that covered the coast of Texas and Louisiana, examining what might have occurred in the presence of offshore wind farms during Harvey. They looked at a wide range of numbers of turbines, over different sized areas, and in a variety of layouts.

“By the time the air reaches the land, it’s been squeezed out of a lot of moisture,” Archer says. “We got a 30 percent reduction of the precipitation with the Harvey simulations. That means, potentially, if you have arrays of offshore turbines in an area where there are hurricanes, you will likely see a reduction in precipitation inland.”

The study used hypothetical turbines ranging from a control case of zero turbines to a maximum of 74,619, a number currently unrealistic for the United States, she said. Unlike Europe — where there are more than 100 offshore wind turbines — the United States only has five, all part of the nation’s first and only offshore wind farm located on Block Island, off the coast of Rhode Island.

The largest configuration had 74,000 and the smallest 22,000, she said. “So these are high numbers by all means,” she says. “By comparison, there are about 300,000 turbines in the world today.”

Although she believes the more turbines the better, the scientists found there were positive effects of using fewer turbines or placing turbines over a smaller area. “For example, you do not need to have [turbines covering a large area],” Archer says. You can get pretty much the same benefit with [a smaller layout] placed ‘smartly’ for Houston.”

With 33,363 turbines over a medium sized area, they saw a reduction of 15 percent in the Houston metropolitan area. With 28,197 turbines over the small [area], she says they saw a reduction of 10 percent. “We get greater reductions in other locations, but we focused on the totals for Houston metropolitan.”

At this time, she said the researchers can’t project the optimal number of turbines needed, although “the more [offshore] wind farms you have, the more impact they will have on a hurricane,” she says. “By the time a hurricane actually makes landfall, these arrays of turbines have been operating for days and days, extracting energy and moisture out of the storm. As a result, the storm will be weaker. Literally.”

She points out that communities can build sea walls or artificial barrier islands to protect against storm surge. But these won’t protect against rain. “The costs are high and they only serve one purpose,” she says. “An alternative is to build offshore wind farms, which [ultimately] pay for themselves, generate clean and renewable energy, and — cherry on top — protect against hurricanes, including rain and storm surge.”

Marlene Cimons writes for Nexus Media, a syndicated newswire covering climate, energy, policy, art and culture.

Written By Marlene Cimons

[clockworkpear-blog1]

The Strange Clockmaker

A young man walked on dark paved streets at night. The soles of his leather boots clung to the stone as it was wet from rain earlier in the day. The slapping of his boots and air rushing around him echoed in the empty alleys. After a short while, he slowed his pace as he passed by a large clock tower. The soles of his shoes were almost dragging on the street as he struggled to stop. Laying eyes on the clock tower was like seeing a friend after a long time being spent apart. He inched towards it, eyes locked on the door that led to the inside of the tower. His heart begged him to go inside, but he was frozen where he stood.

After several minutes of longing, an older man approached him.“I didn’t expect to see someone over on this side of town. What brings you here?” There was refrain in his voice, almost like he was suspicious of the younger man who had been standing in the street. But that wasn’t uncommon for the people of this town.

“The clock tower…,” the man answered softly. And the minute his voice reverberated through the air, the older man perked up.

“Wait a minute, you’re Mr. Nestor aren’t you? By God, I’m a big fan of your work. Is the clock tower why you’re here?,” he peppered Mr. Nestor with questions to which Mr. Nestor smiled in reply. The older man had dark black hair and almost looked menacing, but he seemed to be enthused by being in Mr. Nestor’s presence.

“Why thank you kind sir, it means a lot to me to hear that from someone. But no, I’m not exactly here for any reasons pertaining to my former work. I was simply passing by and got lost in thought,” he replied half-heartedly. But his sullen green eyes remained glued on the clock tower even as he spoke to the older man. There was no denying the deep connection between the building in front of him, and himself.

A hearty laugh broke him from his trance, and Mr. Nestor raised an eyebrow at the dark haired man. “Sorry about that,” he told Mr. Nestor. The smile was still plastered on his face as he addressed the young man. “I do the maintenance of the clock tower, and although it hasn’t been working in years, I take care of it. Would you like to go inside and see it? It is yours after all.”

Mr. Nestor hesitated for a moment. In spite of the burning desire in chest to go inside and see his old friend, he felt a specific pain of sadness. It was as if his heart was being squeezed by his past mistakes, causing guilt that kept him from jumping at the opportunity to enter the clock tower. “I really shouldn’t, there’s no way I could impose on you. We just met and-”

As Mr. Nestor floundered to find an excuse to turn around and return home, the stranger shook his head. “Nonsense. It would be no trouble at all. And besides… I noticed the look in your eye just now, so I believe that this is something you need. I would never deny someone the ability to move on, or whatever it is you’re needing in this moment.”

Mr. Nestor sighed and then was in agreement. There was truly no reason to deny his desire any longer. He then muttered a quiet but still audible “thanks” as he followed the older man to the door. The minute he slid the key in and the door popped open, Mr. Nestor shifted uncomfortably as he stood in the doorway. It’d been years since he had been inside this very building. It was created to hold his greatest achievement and his greatest regret. His heart began to race rapidly as he thought of how he was going to finally see his work once more.

It’d been a while since he was even able to visit the clock tower, much less see the inside of it. This was due to the fact that there were many things said about him in the city. He didn’t mind it at first. Whenever he would go somewhere or work with a client, he was able to ignore the rumors. But over time the information passed around about him slowly got worse. Some of what was said became so unpleasant that Mr. Nestor found it necessary to withdraw from society and become isolated.

But after a few months with only himself for company and no business, he returned to the streets of the city. The day before he wandered the streets for hours, looking everyone that he passed in the eye. This helped return a certain amount of confidence, which then allowed him to seek out the clock tower. Now he stood inside the door frame, feeling humbled and no longer guilty.

When he finally stepped inside, his eyes raked over the familiar structure. It was a large cylindrical room with a winding staircase that lined the walls. The tower itself was built from large, dark stone that gave it an ominous feel. It was fitting since this very clock tower held the clock makers’ worst mistake.

They then ascended the stairs, and as they did so, Mr. Nestor got more nervous. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black duffle coat and urged his knees to stop shaking. The walk up to the top was painfully long since the clock tower itself was the tallest building in the city. Once Mr. Nestor finally stepped onto the top platform, his eyes were drawn to the heart of the clock tower.

His art, his clock work, his life that he had boxed away in this building was now staring him in the face. Large bronze, metal cogs and gears were fastened all around, making up the inner workings that once turned the large clock’s hands. Most people that passed by and wondered about the clock tower admired the outside of it. But the outside was not the most important part, the inside held secrets and emotion that came from Mr. Nestor at the time it was being built.

“This is real beautiful clock work that you created. Did you work on clocks long before you built this place?,” the older man asked.

“I did. It was my life’s work, and I planned to build this place from the very start. A lot went into it…it’s practically my own heart.” His eyes avoided the older man’s as he started to walk around the top of the clock tower. A certain giddiness filled him as his eyes darted in every direction.

Mr. Nestor began spinning around, inspecting every inch of his handiwork. The tips of his fingers grazed across several cogs before he ended up standing in the center of the tower. Gazing at the heart of the tower with wide eyes, Mr. Nestor felt a lump get caught in his throat. The largest of the gears sat here, the ones that started turning all the others. But the smaller one in the center, that connected to the larger ones, was what caught his eye. This was the centerpiece of the entire tower. This was what he was afraid to see.

Even as the rest of the cogs, gears, and metalwork had aged with time, this one gear still sparkled in the light. The bronze finish on the outside was perfect, and the gear remained untouched by anything around it. Mr. Nestor approached it and reached out his hand in longing for the gear. This one was special for many reasons. It was so important to the building of the clock tower that Mr. Nestor had even decided to name it. The entire time he had designed the tower, he referred to the center gear as “Gizmo.”

The name came as a term of endearment, also named after a pet he had kept as a child. While he faced opposition when he was building the tower, the gear acted as a companion. He spent many restless nights in the stone clock tower discussing building plans and trying to design the clockwork. In any moment of despair Mr. Nestor always found himself looking at Gizmo, the gear he created before he started the project. A simple look over of the gear had filled him with determination and eased his nerves.

A surge of bravery flooded the clock maker and he walked over to the heart. First he raked over the gear with his eyes. It was still just as he remembered it. This was the single most precious thing he ever had, and given up. Feeling mixed emotions, Mr. Nestor touched his hand to the gear. As soon as he made contact a bright red light began to emanate from it. It quickly leaked out from the gear and filled the room. The older man had to cover his eyes once the light grew more intense.

Looking down the clock maker also realized that his small heart that was tucked away in his chest, was also glowing red. The light would’ve been brighter had it not been for the fact that the very fear before his eyes had been crafted from his heart. A small piece of it was used when Mr. Nestor had created the gear. It was planned to be the center piece for his masterpiece… the clock tower.

What artist didn’t paint some part of themselves into their picture after all?

“It’s nice to feel whole again…,” Mr. Nestor breathed. But then he pulled away from the gear and the light slowly vanished from around him. He couldn’t take back the piece of his heart, not when it lived in his greatest creation. With a sigh he turned his back on the heart of the tower. His eyes immediately met that of the older man, and his new black-haired friend began to tremble in his place.

“So what they say... it’s true?,” the older man rambled as he lifted his head to gaze at the clockmaker.

“Afraid so. The people living in this town have a right to be afraid of me I suppose. They began to avoid me so much they ran me out of business.. But even if this tower collects dust and vines, they’ll never be able to get rid of it. The heart of this tower is part of my own. I built it so that clock making can live on…” His fingertips slid over a gear near him and he smiled to himself. This was what he had worked towards his entire life, and now he was standing inside of the piece he crafted from his own heart.

“Geez you’re really something…” The older man let out in a voice just above a whisper. He took a few steps away from Mr. Nestor and observed the way the dull light hit him. Mr. Nestor didn’t appear to be the humble clock maker he once was. He’d given his heart away and it changed who he was. The Mr. Nestor standing in front of him had no problem selling his soul the way an average person would.

“Am I? Well I’m glad to hear it. Because my work is just getting started. I might not have any customers anymore, but I’ll make damn sure I’m remembered,” Mr. Nestor grinned to himself. He then slipped down the stairs and back into the streets of the city. The further he got from the clock tower, the more he realized that had his work cut out for him. But that thought didn’t deter him in the slightest. He kept moving forward, eventually disappearing into the night’s cover of darkness.

~~~

Author’s Note:

Hello Tumblr! So I just recently made a new account with the purpose of posting some of my writing on here. This piece was inspired by @crankgameplays ! One day it was really rainy and I watched him fold his laundry on twitch and decided to write something where he was the main character of the story.

Ethan, at my time of posting this I know you’ve been going through a lot. Thank you for always making me smile and I hope reading this can maybe make you smile in return. I can’t do art, but I love to write. We’re always behind you dude, much love being sent your way.

I spent lots of time going through and changing my wording and the tone that was used, and it’s still kinda raw but I wanted to post it, so I hope it turned out alright! And I hope you all enjoyed!

[pamagrimes-blog]

Chicken Mom and The Big Eddy

“The River can kill you in a thousand ways.” ~ Paul Serone, Anaconda

As I stood on the banks of the Deschutes River in Central Oregon staring into the jaws of what I assumed would be certain death, it was Jon Voight’s voice I heard above the roar of the rapids. His infamous line from one of the worst horror flicks of all time, Anaconda, kept repeating over and in my head. There were other voices in my head that day, too, voices that screamed: “Run fool, run!”

Let me start by explaining that I’m a bit phobic when it comes to the water. I get nervous if the bathtub’s too full. But my desire to be a “fun mom” to our three sons forced me to set aside my phobia and book our family’s first white water rafting trip. So there I was, facing Class III rapids that made my heart beat faster than Trump can tap a tweet.

Our family had never been white water rafting, but our boys were anxious to try it. After some exhaustive internet research, I found Sun Country Tours in Sunriver, Oregon. They offered an entry level three hour excursion known as The Big Eddy Thriller. Sun Country’s website boasted rave reviews and photos of happy families giggling like fools as they plunged into the frothy white torrent. We, too, could be happy giggling fools, and all for the low, low price of only $60 each!

On the morning of the excursion, we arrived at the Sun Country offices in high spirits. Our boys spilled out of the van like happy puppies, anxious for the adventure ahead. At that moment it felt great to be the “fun mom.” The moment wouldn’t last long.

At the front desk, an athletic-looking young man greeted us with a stack of legal forms. “What is all this?” I asked my husband as we leafed through the paperwork. “We’re signing away our rights to sue them if anything goes hideously wrong,” he said.

Oh, snap! Shit just got real.

As I watched each of my boys sign away their rights on the dotted line, I felt my first tingling of trepidation. What kind of mother lets her kids do this? The fun kind, of course!

Once the paperwork was complete, we boarded a rickety school bus that would drive us 45 minutes north to the Deschutes National Forest. There we’d be paired with a guide and dropped into the Upper Deschutes River.

I watched the other passengers for signs of fear or concern. If anyone was nervous, they were covering it well. People chatted and laughed, seemingly unconcerned about what was to come. The sunny weather slowly gave way to overcast skies, and a light rain began to fall. I took this as an ominous sign.

I turned anxiously to my husband and asked, “Are you looking forward to this?” He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “It’ll be a blast.” I found this of little comfort as the closest my husband had been to rafting was riding Splash Mountain at Disneyland.

After bumping our way through the forest for a few miles, the bus finally came to a halt. The driver pointed to a path and told us in broken English that we were to follow it down to the river.

Dutifully we tromped down the switchbacks to a clearing where a team of professional guides and six large yellow rafts awaited us. One young man was handing out life jackets, and I lunged at him as if we were about to board the Titanic.

We were assigned a tour guide and a raft. Our guide, Patrick, was a small, wiry guy who looked barely old enough to shave. I’d pictured someone more like Thor steering us down the river, someone who possessed the upper body strength to pull a hysterical woman from the swirling rapids. I gulped but said nothing, afraid to expose my chicken heart and lose my fun mom cred.

Our raft had a few seats left, so Patrick assigned two additional passengers to our group; Ava and her 19-year-old daughter Tiffany, or as I dubbed them; Sporty Spice and Baby Spice.

Dripping in Nike athleisure wear Sporty Spice was nothing short of an Amazon, complete with rippling biceps, perfect white teeth and a thick blonde mane. Sporty introduced herself locking my hand in a vice-grip. I tried not to wince as she crushed most of the 27 bones in my hand.

You know those buddy comedies where they match two physical opposites? That was Sporty Spice and me. I was the Jonah Hill to her Channing Tatum. Sporty was the alpha-female, a blond Xena Warrior Princess, while I was the poser in cheap aqua shoes and a tattered baseball cap.

Sporty Spice offered to take the bow position as she was an “experienced power rower.”

Of course, she was.

“These Class III Rapids are child’s play,” Sporty scoffed. “I’ve been down class V rapids; you wear a helmet for those.”

Our guide Patrick seemed overly impressed, confessing he’d never even seen Class V rapids. This exchange did nothing to boost my confidence in him. It looked as though our lives would be in the hands of Sporty Spice. I prayed she was as tough as she looked.

Before climbing into our raft, Patrick announced the middle seat was open. It was the safest spot in the boat and came with a panic strap. My hand shot up. “I’ll take it if no one else wants it!” I offered a little too quickly. My boys shook their heads.

Uncool.

I’d outed myself as the chicken of the group. I wanted to be the brave mom but let’s face it; Sporty Spice had that job locked down. “You’ll be fine,” Sporty said slapping me on the back so hard that I gagged on my gum.

We shoved off and eased downriver toward the first group of Class I Rapids. They were a snap. I began to relax and unclenched a little. Next up were the Class II Rapids. These were a little wilder but thrilling, and our team navigated them with ease.

Between rapids, Patrick pointed out various lava rock formations, Osprey nests and other local points of interest. My boys were having a blast, smiles all around. Fun mom comes through again! I was beginning to think this white water rafting thing was a piece of cake. But that feeling would be fleeting.

As we rounded the bend, Patrick announced we’d be going ashore to scout the upcoming Class III Rapids so that he could explain some necessary maneuvers. Securing our raft, we trudged through the water and hiked uphill into the forest to get a better view of the rapids below.

When I first laid eyes on those rapids, I froze. I was unable to conceive that my entire family, would momentarily be careening down them on what amounted to a flimsy rubber sheet.

These were nothing like the rapids we’d experienced. What lay before us was a churning, roaring torrent of water, a river wild, thunderous and dangerous with sheer drops at every turn. My stomach began to percolate.

As everyone eagerly gathered to view the river, I hung back reviewing my options. I could walk back to Sunriver, sure it was a 30-mile trek, and I was in the middle of the freaking Deschutes Forest but what was my alternative? Panic set in. I was trapped. There was only one way out, and it was over those churning rapids.

Suddenly I didn’t give a rat’s ass about being fun or cool or brave. I was the chicken mom and would embrace it wholeheartedly!

While I kvetched, Patrick explained how to stay afloat on the rapids if thrown from the raft. My mouth went dry, and I clutched Patrick’s arm. “Do you mean we might go down the rapids….without the raft?” Patrick patted my hand and assured me that many people claim it’s the best part of their trip.

What???

Nowhere on Sun Country’s website did it claim “You’ll have a jolly old time when you’re tossed from the raft and sail down the rapids on your ass.” To add to my anxiety, Patrick began checking our life jackets, because as he put it, “If not tightly cinched, the river could rip them from our bodies.”

Was this guy messing with us?

Suddenly our happy family rafting trip had turned into The River Wild, Anaconda and Deliverance all rolled into one. I could almost hear the strains of banjo music wafting through the breeze.

“The river can kill you in a thousand ways.”

“You seem a little nervous, Pam,” Patrick said cinching my life jacket. I nodded vigorously, unable to contain my mounting fear. “Did the profuse sweating, dilated pupils, and dry heaving tip you off?” I asked. Patrick merely smiled and reassured me we’d be okay.

Having no other option, I hoisted myself back into the raft, grabbed ahold of the panic strap, and put on a brave face. “Okay, let’s do this thing!” I barked.

As we shoved off the embankment, Patrick threw out one last warning. “Whatever happens — stay away from the jagged lava rocks, they’ll shred our raft.”

I threw up in my mouth. Just a little.

Oars poised we headed downriver and into the gaping maw of the rapids. Our group navigated the first two sets of rapids with precision, dodging and weaving through the heavy water. The last of the Class III Rapids lay before us. Every muscle in my body was clenched and ready for the drops and turns we were about to face.

We took the first drop and found ourselves heading directly into a solid wall of water. The wave crashed over us, drenching us and sending our boat directly toward the jagged rocks. The jagged rocks Patrick had just warned would “shred our raft.”

There was a moment of quiet panic as, collectively, we realized we were about to get deeply screwed. In a split second, Patrick was yelling commands. “Back, back, row back! NOW!”

Without an oar, I felt helpless and having nothing else constructive to do I repeated Patrick’s directives. “Back! Back! Back!” I shrieked. Sporty Spice sprang into action, rowing backward with the strength of ten Amazons, plus two!

Thanks to teamwork we narrowly avoided the jagged rocks. Once out of harm’s way we could relax and enjoy the rest of our tour. We bounced through the final group of Class II Rapids and pulled ashore where our bus awaited us. The trip was over. We’d made it.

Once ashore Sporty Spice asked me how I liked my first white water rafting experience. I had to be honest, as phobic as I am, it was unforgettable. And now that I was safely on dry land I could admit that it had been thrilling.

That day on the Deschutes I came face to face with my worst fear. I had no way out, no way back and no choice but to forge ahead. Fear is part of being human, but sacrifice is part of being a mom. In the end, my desire to create an unforgettable memory for my boys outweighed my chicken heart. I’m not saying I managed it with any amount of dignity or aplomb. But at least I DID it.

Now that they’ve had a taste, my boys can’t wait to go white water rafting again. They’re busy planning next year’s trip; a half day excursion down Class IV Rapids. Will I go? Of course! What else would a fun mom do?