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fruitcoops · 7 months

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Ok so this post is from a while ago but i just saw it and am wondering if you would want to write something based on it? Or just about trauma response in general?

Fic O'Ween Day 8: Shiver. Credit to @lumosinlove for the SW-verse and @noots-fic-fests for the header + prompts!

TW for trauma response to canon injury (Remus')--flashback, panic attack symptoms; and broken bone.

Call for stretcher on standby before moving out. Careful on the patch by the bench—always extra slippery. Check pulse and breath, then pupil constriction. Pen light in the shirt pocket. Players take a knee to make space. Use your body to block the camera in the right corner.

Remus knew what he was supposed to do. Of course he did. He just…couldn’t move.

“EMTs on standby!”

This was a strange feeling, not moving. It wasn’t even that—a choice. It was a complete and total absence. What was the opposite? Stillness? He didn’t feel still. He didn’t feel as if something had taken the place of motion. A gap had been scooped out of his belly, and nothing had come to fill it. It was simple emptiness where there had been adrenaline five seconds before.

“Lupin, catch up on Vance’s left!”

Had his ears always rung at that pitch? Funny. He hadn’t noticed.

“Lupin!”

Perhaps they had. Perhaps someone in the crowd had brought a whistle. There were an awful lot of people crowding the rink.

“Hey—” Weight and pressure collided with the back of his neck. Remus felt something in him go dim, powered off. “Kid, let’s fucking go! Are you asleep out here?”

James’ feet were flexing in his skates. Restriction of the tibialis anterior from the pain. Vastus medialis, following. His knee bent and bowed inward. If he kept the writhing up, there would be strain on the gastrocnemius and soleus. Remus blinked hard. James’ legs tended to ache after practice. The man got calf cramps like nobody he’d ever seen.

“Jesus Christ,” the hand on his neck muttered. It moved away. Pressure released.

“Rapid breathing, strain in the calf,” Remus blurted. His eye twitched. Blinking took incredible effort. “He’s going to try and stand up. Stop, James, stop it—”

Careful on the patch by the bench. He sidestepped without a second thought. In two strides, he was looking at James’ flushed and sweaty face. “Holy fuck, my fuckin’ arm, on fucking fire—”

“Pots.” His neck was burning up under Remus’ two fingers. Ten seconds, 25 thumps. “150 bpm,” Remus informed the nearest trainer. The pen light was ice-cold in his fingers. “James, give me a big deep breath.”

“Loops—”

“I’ll count to four while you breathe in, and then we’re gonna let it out for four.” His own voice reverberated back to him from a thousand miles away. Ice dampened the knees of his khakis. James gritted his teeth; his nostrils flared. “One, two, three, four. Good job. And four, three, two, one. Nice, buddy. Pupil activity normal, breathing unimpaired. You said it was your arm, right? Up or down?”

“All of it,” James panted. “All—fuck me, Loops, don’t talk to me right now—”

“Almost done, J. Wiggle your fingers.” A faint roaring had started up in the back of his mind. It crept into his eardrums and down his back. Something trickled down his spine and tiptoed through the marrow of each rib. James’ fingers twitched. “Great work. Alright, they’re going to slide you onto the stretcher now. Keep taking those big breaths for me.”

Black, Dumais, and Walker were all hovering in the corner of his eye like crimson-and-black bloodstains. They blurred together as the roaring grew louder. Remus staggered to his feet. His pen light wobbled in his fingers, and he shoved it clumsily into his back pocket. Black stepped forward, quiet as a ghost on his skates. “Is he okay?”

“Um—I don’t—” The left edge of his vision blurred into grey. “I don’t diagnose. Possible elbow dislocation. Or radial or ulnar break. Likely not the humerus.”

“But is he okay?” Black pressed. The stretcher was so yellow against the ice it hurt to look at.

Remus’ throat squeezed. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Probably out for a couple games. ‘Scuse me.”

Christ on a crutch, he was going to throw up if he didn’t get out of here right fucking now.

Black wasn’t looking at him anymore. Walker was talking to James as they loaded him up and began rolling him off the ice. Dumais…

Dumais was staring at him dead-on. Remus swallowed hard, and saw him lean over to whisper at Moody.

Would he—could they fire him for this? He thought he did okay. Pulse, pupils, penlight, ice patch. Four for four. He had been slow getting off the bench, but that was an abnormality. Nothing they needed to be concerned about for the future. There wouldn’t be a repeat performance. There wouldn’t, there wouldn’t.

He couldn’t feel his knees.

Moody was walking toward him.

Remus just barely managed to stumble back onto solid ground in the wake of the stretcher before Moody caught up. Barely. The flex of his hands was starting to hurt. Sweat and chemicals and terror washed his nose with acid.

“Lupin?”

He could feel plasticky foam on his cheek. It itched. Stung.

“Hey, kid, you with me?”

In the distance, his mouth coughed out a mumble. Fingers snapped under his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to flinch. If he flinched, the hands on his body were going to wrench his life out through his shoulder.

“Walk with me.”

Pressure on his upper back. A lurch.

Pale wood door. Heavy lock. Cold handle. Man door hand hook car door. Jules thought that was the funniest ghost story in the whole world.

“Sit.”

It was less of a sit, more of a controlled fall, and the easiest thing Remus had done in the past half hour. Something heavy fell over his shoulders.

“Hand.”

Man door hand hook car door.

Rough hands took one of his own between them. His wrist was full of gel instead of bones. Cooling gel? Ice pack. James was going to need—“Ice packs. Pots needs ice packs.”

His palm was clammy when it pressed to the base of his own throat. “We’ll have some ready when the docs are done.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “160 bpm.”

“Take some breaths.”

An inhale sounded gaspy in the underwater buzz of the rink. An exhale rushed out all at once. He felt a little push to the back of his hand, and his fingers curled over his collarbone. The heel of his palm was solid against his sternum. The hollow of his throat gave slightly under his thumb. “130 bpm.”

“Keep going.”

“My neck.”

Extensive damage. Rhomboid. Deltoid. Trapezius. All the way into the splenius, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the hit or the dislocation or being pinned. A seat of salt poured into his mouth. He could taste it, the inside of a glove and the chemicals they used to clean the locker room mats. His head throbbed, pounded, he couldn’t see.

“145 bpm.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

“Strain potential whiplash impact.” Words tripped over each other to explain with complexity the situation did not need.

The hand over his own vanished, leaving cool air. Fingertips pushed gently against the sides of his neck. “Keep breathing, Lupin.”

A thumb ran along the outside of his spine and the floor came into focus. Prodding, palpating. Gentle despite the rasp of calluses at his nape. Steady, not gripping. He could pull away if he wanted to.

“I don’t feel damage.” A push beneath his ear. “Just some tension. Rate?”

Remus exhaled. “110.”

“Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You interns and your manners,” Moody muttered. A few blinks brought his face back, all scrutiny and scowls. Remus had learned not to take it personally. “Relax, Lupin. Hand stays there until you’re under a hundred, you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

He was so lucky. He was so lucky. They were so kind to him here. He would try to deserve it.

“I’m sorry.”

Moody stood and pumped some sanitizer into his palm. The sharp tang chased out the bitter chemicals lingering in Remus’ memory. He sat back in his rolling chair, half-watching the game on the corner TV while his glass eye remained focused just over Remus’ shoulder. “Why?”

“Froze up.”

Moody set his bad leg up on a footstool with a grunt. “Rate?”

“90.”

“Where’d you go out there?”

A locker room, two years and a thousand miles away. “College.”

“Bad hit?”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Moody nodded. “Gonna be a problem?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Tell me if it is.” On the screen, Kasey made a beautiful save. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” Sweat was beginning to freeze on his skin; he shivered. He took his palm off his neck and tucked it under his thighs, but missed the pressure above his heart almost instantly. The light blanket over his back wasn’t much more than a thin comfort. “I just—I don��t know. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You’re young. You learn.”

“James was down.”

“It was five seconds, Lupin.” Moody’s voice wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel, either. “You did your job. Now you know.”

The back of his throat prickled. He managed a nod.

“You know, Heather is a resource for all Lions staff.”

It’s not that simple, he wanted to say. But—it could be. Maybe. Not right now, when he was teetering on the tightrope between two worlds, but soon. He could do that for Moody and James and Arthur and maybe, just a little, for himself.

#remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #angst with hopeful ending #hurt/ comfort #thomas walker #injury

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

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Flufftober '23 | Masterlist

Hi! Welcome to the Masterlist of my participation in Flufftober 2023, hosted by @flufftober! 🖤

On this Masterlist you'll find the prompts I've filled along the way, which will combine angst, fluff, and smut. Each one shot will have their own appropriate warnings when necessary. All stories will be 'x Fem!Reader' unless specified otherwise.

If you want to check out all my other works, you can find them on my Main Masterlist. For now I hope you will have fun with all the fanfics I'm creating during my first time participating in Flufftober! 🧡

I chose not to work with a tag list. If you want to be updated when I post new fanfics, you can follow @nicoline1998enilocin-library 🖤

Divider made by @cafekitsune | Header & 18+ banner made by yours truly

I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 because I could not have finished this challenge without your amazing help! From providing the most amazing and drool-worthy GIFs to coming up with the sweetest ideas and the best titles, you have helped me more than I can ever show you. I love you so much, and again, I can not thank you enough for all the work you did for my Flufftober Challenge! ❤️

🥀 = Angst | 🧡 = Fluff | 🔥 = Smut

Day 1 | It'll be okay | 🥀 🧡 | Chris Evans Prompt: ''I've got you'' After nearly a decade of being together, you're going through an intense breakup, so you're at a loss about what to do with yourself. Luckily for you, your best friend Chris knows exactly what to do to make you feel better, and you're very thankful to have him in your life.

Day 2 | I do! Again! | 🧡 🔥 | Robert Downey Jr. Prompt: Family, friends, loved ones Your 10th wedding anniversary with Robert is coming up, and he is planning a special vacation for you and your little family, though it'll have a twist you will know about once you arrive. He ensures every last detail is perfect, and it will become a vacation you'll never forget.

Day 3 | Together, forever | 🥀 🧡 🔥 | Iron Man!Tony Stark Prompt: ''Wait, you love me?'' - ''I've always loved you'' You and Tony have been head over heels in love with one another for as long as you can remember. It isn't until someone is injured and nearly loses their life that your feelings come out, and both of you wish you would have shared your feelings sooner, especially after seeing how fragile human life is.

Day 4 | Perfect coincidence | 🧡 | Bucky Barnes Prompt: Have your characters share the last table at a café You find yourself in a rainstorm and seek refuge in a warm-looking coffee shop. When there's only one table left, you share it with a handsome stranger who introduces himself as Bucky Barnes and his fluffy white cat, Alpine. What started as one of the worst days quickly became one of the best.

Day 7 | Swinging together | 🧡 | Tony Stark Prompt: Porch swing You have always dreamt of having a porch swing on your porch, and now that you and Tony are moving into your new house, this is the perfect opportunity. He will do anything to build it before your baby boy arrives and complete your little family.

Day 8 | Dancing in the rain | 🧡 | Loki Laufeyson Prompt: Rainy day Both you and Loki decide to make the best of a rainy day. He starts the day with breakfast in bed, and you decide to bake him a pumpkin pie in the afternoon. When you suddenly want to dance in the rain with him, something shifts between you, and you can't keep your hands off one another.

Day 10 |Mile High Club | 🧡 🔥 | Iron Man!Tony Stark Prompt: Love of my life You and Tony have been in a secret relationship for the past seven months, and you're being sent on the first mission for just the two of you since you've become an Avenger. Seeing how the two of you will have nothing but time during the long flight to the other side of the world, he wants nothing more than to make you a part of the Mile High Club.

Day 11 | Chocolate lovers | 🥀 🧡 🔥 | Young!Tony Stark Prompt: Sweet tooth + Hot chocolate Your daughter, Orion, has been wanting hot chocolate as a treat for a while now, and you and Tony are finally giving her just that. Though Tony's sweet tooth craves something much sweeter, he can't help but make it even more delicious by adding some sweet chocolate syrup.

Day 12 | Spin The Bottle | 🧡 🔥 | Robert Downey Jr. Prompt: ''Oh no, you're a morning person!'' Robert has been your best friend for a few years, and the sexual tension between both of you has only grown stronger. When, after an innocent game of Spin The Bottle, the small, flickering fire officially bursts out into a sea of flames, you experience the most satisfying, gentle, and perfect first time together you could have wished for.

Day 14 | My favorite piece of art | 🧡 | Bucky Barnes Prompt: ''I hate it'' - ''No you don't'' You've been trying to get Bucky to model for you for the longest time. When he finally agrees, you decide to go all out and make a beautiful painting of him to highlight everything you love about him. When he sees the end result, he can't help but joke about it, but deep inside, he's very moved and touched that you did this for him.

Day 16 | Lullaby | 🧡 | Andy Barber Prompt: Singing one another to sleep After a long, stressful day at work, there's nothing you enjoy more than sitting next to your husband, Andy, when he's playing the piano and singing to you. These moments work like a charm to get you to fall asleep, and you two lovingly call them your own lullaby.

Day 17 | A new start | 🧡 | Ari Levinson Prompt: Encouraging s.o. to reach a goal You've always dreamt of turning your career around, starting in a new field. When you mention this idea to your husband, Ari, he is very supportive in the best way he knows how to be.

Day 19 | We'll always protect you | 🥀 🧡 | Steve Rogers Prompt: Keeping someone safe Steve's dream has always been to become a Dad, and suddenly, that opportunity seems closer than he could ever have envisioned. When a little girl is abandoned in front of the Avengers Compound, he can't help but take an immediate liking to her, and he feels the urge to keep her safe no matter what.

Day 20 | Spooky celebration | 🧡 | Sebastian Stan Prompt: Pumpkin You moved to the U.S. not too long ago, and this year will be your first Halloween celebration there. When your friend Sebastian finds out you’ve never celebrated it, he's taking out all the stops to make your first Halloween a spooky celebration to never forget.

Day 22 | Apple picking | 🧡 | Young!Tony Stark Prompt: Picking You've grown up with the tradition of going apple picking each fall, and now that you and Tony have your own little family, you want to keep this tradition going. As you, Tony, Orion, and Hudson go to a local apple farm during an apple-picking event, you're soaking up every second and enjoying every moment.

Day 23 | A beautiful collection | 🧡 🔥 | Ari Levinson Prompt: Trinket Whenever you and Ari visit a new place together during a vacation, you two search for the silliest magnets to add to your ever-growing collection. Usually, you're the one who brings them home, but this time, Ari has found a rather special one that you want to keep forever.

Day 25 | Reading nook | 🧡 | Steve Rogers Prompt: Nook You recently moved into a new house that'll accommodate you and your growing family, but your one wish in the new house has yet to come true. You've wanted a reading nook for a long time, and when you're away on business, Steve decided to surprise you by making the reading nook of your dreams.

Day 26 | Love by the fire | 🧡 | Iron Man!Tony Stark Prompt: Fireplace Tony has taken you for a weekend away to a small cabin in the woods where it'll just be the two of you, and no one around for miles to interrupt. The weather outside is cold, but the atmosphere inside the cabin is almost reaching it's boiling point as you two can't keep your hands off each other.

Day 29 | I'll always be by your side | 🥀 🧡 | Iron Man!Tony Stark Prompt: ''Hey! Wake up!'' What was supposed to be a comfortable, easy Sunday turned into one of the worst as you're caught off guard by your period and in horrible pain. Luckily, your boyfriend, Tony, is by your side to make you feel better and spoil you absolutely rotten.

Day 31 | Spiked candy | 🧡 | Iron Man!Tony Stark Prompt: Dreams do come true You've had a crush on Tony for as long as you can remember, but you didn't know he also has one on you. During his annual Halloween party, he makes a move using a project he's been working on for a long time, and they have precisely the desired effect because you couldn't be happier the morning after. Your dream of being his might finally come true after all.

#flufftober #flufftober 2023 #masterlist

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asktheheirofslytherin · 5 months

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[OOC: omg hi you're unofficially back?! How are you doing? Hope everything is going well]

[[OOC: Thank you! I am indeed back on a semi-official basis.

My gameplan over the next week or so:

Establish a low-stakes queue (once a day, maybe twice)

Delete the vast majority of what's in the inbox (there are over SIX HUNDRED asks in there.) I'll keep the ones that have come in in the past couple days, and I'l probably throw some hidden/buried gems in the queue, but I need a clean slate.

Update the pinned post/about section/header image

Enjoy the steady stream of creative inspiration and nonsense you all never fail to provide me <3

As for how I'm doing...past 8 months: major personal and familial tragedy, major surgery, graduated with honors from my masters program, promoted at work, finally get back into running, run my best mile time in years (10 minutes, lol I never claimed to be fast but I've historically been a 11 - 12 min miler), injure Achilles tendon, finished writing a novel. I don't even know how to condense all that in one word/sentence. I usually say "fine, I guess," when anyone asks how i am nowadays but i think you guys deserve some semblance of an answer so there it is. 🙃 ]

#ooc #whatrambles #life update #state of the voldeblog 2023 #the plan #i can't believe there are 600+ asks in there #im going to find some WILD stuff

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slimsnevershady · 10 days

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Intro ☆

BMI/KG/AGE

20.6/54.6/16

GW IN KG

45.5

HEALTH/BODY GOALS

Eat healthier and maintain my IBS and binging / Have visible hips & ribs again, and slim arms

⭐️

ABOUT ME

📍🇬🇧 South-West England

Female, Unlabelled

Names - Slim, Faye/Fifi

Studying photography, media and psychology

COMFORT MOVIES - The Lost Boys - Footloose - 8 Mile - Baby Driver - Fast & Furious (only pre Shaw) - Girl Interrupted - Mean Girls - Cinnamoroll The Movie -

COMFORT SERIES - Skins - Everything Now - Baby - Shameless (UK/US) - Move To Heaven - Extracurricular - Girl from Nowhere - Top Boy - Ackley Bridge - Molang - Bear in the Big Blue House -

INTERESTS - Collage - Photography - Fashion - Social Sciences - Baking - Walking - Gaming, esp. Fortnite - Playstation - Handheld gaming devices - Sudoku - Jim Henson media -

⭐️

OTHER/ACCOUNT RELATED

I have SAD, ADHD, I'm quite forgetful & don't always get social cues. I'd be glad to interact/be moots but please keep in mind these may affect our interactions! I never mean any harm. If you need tonetags just ask!x

This is a self-indulgent account, I don't take requests. However, if you're looking for a certain style of -spo, message me and I'll try find some for you!

My account theme is loosely bassd off of Eminem (my name + title) and Chiffon from Cinnamoroll (pfp + header).

2nd account is @slimshadesherself, might post meal$po over there eventually.

This account is for -spo as to motivate me on my health and body goals. I don't promote 4n4 but will interact with 4n4 posts. I fully support and encourage recovery.

DNI if you post fat$po, ur grim x

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saintsofwarding · 1 year

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WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by @keltii-tea

Chapter 8: An Ascent, A Descent

Rose woke with a start. For a moment, in the hazy darkness, she was lost.

Where am I? Who am I?

Then she saw the reading-light across the helicopter, then the pale glow of Donna's face above it, her single eye fixed on the pages of her book.

Rose shifted upright, using her sword as leverage. The massive scrap-metal blade was angled alongside her; she'd been sleeping with it under her arm. While it had stayed in her room during her time at the BSAA facility in England, out here, she didn't want to let go of it. For protection, she claimed, but the scrap wasn't just any old metal she'd unearthed from a junkyard. This had once been Heisenberg's hammer, and, shaped by his ferrokinesis as the weapon was, she figured it was as good a luck charm as anything.

Donna's dark eye flickered toward her.

"Sweet dreams?" Angie said, with a sinister little giggle.

Rose shook her head. "No dreams at all," she said.

"Probably for the best," Chris called from the cockpit.

Squinting blearily out the helicopter windows, Rose could make out only swirling snow beneath them, glimpses of trees and rock, afternoon turning to night. According to Chris they'd be staying low to the ground, out of the worst of the powerful blizzards that hammered this region. "Where are we?"

"Not there yet."

They had taken off from a small airfield outside Cluj-Napoca before dawn that morning, heading north, deeper into the snowy wilderness of Transylvania, toward the great, forested slopes of the Carpathian Mountains. Rose had seen them through the small, round windows, mountaintops looming above the clouds like great fortresses in the sky, dark rock seamed with snow.

Even through miles of empty space and the frost that hazed the windows, they were magnificent. Eerie. The sight was an axe split in her mind; for an instant she'd seen them as if from above, a single crow's flight over inhospitable nothingness. The valleys, the crags. The emptiness, stripped and ringing.

The darkness between the mountains, the buried secrets deep within.

This land was once a place of great battles, and great mysteries, too. Such that folk had flocked here, once, dreaming of monsters and saints, of hidden knowledge waiting to be found. To be awakened.

Rose shivered. Donna still watched her.

"You wigging out?" Angie said.

Rose shook her head. "No," she said. "Thinking...thinking about...well, hoping Heisenberg is okay."

She looked at Donna.

"When you were crystallized," she started, "did it...was it..." She began again, driving back images of death and broken crystal. "What was it like?"

Donna's pale hands clenched on her book.

"Chris said it might be like falling asleep," Rose prompted.

"No," Donna whispered.

She shut her book, slowly, smoothing her hand over its surface. "To fall asleep," she breathed. "Nothingness. We know we have slept when we wake, but we do not know we are sleeping as we do. It is like...death, I think. To slip away without knowing. Peaceful."

She lowered her head.

"When your father killed us," she said, "I knew it. The terror consumed me. The bitter realization that I had this coming for a long time, since I was small. Hunting me through the dark. And inside Angie...locked inside another cage..."

Her lips trembled.

"It was a dream," she said. "Like a memory, half-forgotten. I thought my parents were there. My sister. But I could not find them. And all that time...they were almost-there, not-quite, never. And then, you."

She looked at Rose.

"Maybe that was peace," she said, her voice slipping down into a bare rasp of itself, barely audible above the chop of the rotors, the keen of the wind beyond the helicopter's hull. "To never have my hopes fulfilled. And to never be proven wrong."

Rose hooked her arm over the sawblade crossguard of her sword, leaning her cheek against the handle. "You never found peace in the village? Even amongst your siblings?"

Donna gave a small shake of her head, turning to stare out the window at the misty darkness beyond, and switching off her reading light with a decisive click.

Angie took over.

"Miranda didn't like that," she said. "So Donna never got close."

"Not even with Heisenberg?"

"Don't say that name," Angie snapped. "He was just a little stray Miranda pinned the Great House's name on. Some cousin of a cousin of a cousin. No proper Lord at all."

"With his powers? Seems like a proper Lord to me."

"Hmph." Angie stuck her nose in the air as best she could, given her head joint's limited articulation.

"He said he loved Claudia."

"He betrayed Claudia. And us too."

"Because Miranda sent him to spy on you? To see if Claudia would be a good candidate for the Cadou?"

"That's right!"

"But he was ordered to," Rose said. "Just like you were ordered to stop my dad. And..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "And he loved Claudia anyway. That love was stronger than even Miranda's will. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Angie said nothing. Her head bent, her eyes pointed at the metal floor of the chopper. Donna closed her eye, and did not speak again.

Eventually, Rose slipped up to the cockpit, slinging her sheathed sword over her shoulder as she went. She settled into the empty copilot's seat, next to Chris. Wordless, he handed her a headset. The mist feathered across the windscreen, the sunset visible as a slash of red and orange against the horizon, visceral as a slit throat and fading by the minute.

"You get some rest?" Chris asked, his voice hissing through the headset and into her ear.

"Much as I could. We still going the right way?"

"As far as I can tell." He gave the navigational array a tap; the screen fizzed out for a moment. "Damn blizzard's messing with the nav system."

Rose lifted her sword, taking a look at the tiny brass compass welded into its handle. Years it had hung around Heisenberg's neck; while making her sword from the scrap of his hammer, she'd wanted to hang onto it so she could keep it safe and give it back to him when she saw him again. Now, the needle whizzed around in a circle, as if pulled by a strong magnet, directionless and lost.

"Must be something about this region," she muttered.

"Yeah," Chris said, with a dark laugh. "Must be. It's one of the reasons the BSAA declared this area a Black Site."

"A what now...?"

"A site of complete non-interference. When a biohazard event of sufficient magnitude occurs and is subdued, such that it doesn't provide an active threat outside its borders but is still dangerous within, BSAA declares it a Black Site. Big Keep Out sign, basically. We monitor the borders, ensure it won't spread, but it's too dangerous to send operatives in to clean up. Hence all the negotiating with the higher-ups."

"But there are people who live here. Whole towns of people who have to deal with...biohazard events every day of their lives. Doesn't the BSAA care about protecting them?"

Crows' feet creased at the corners of his eyes. "They had to make a call," he muttered. "A tough one, but they made it."

"And if it was up to you?"

He didn't answer.

The wind howled beyond the helicopter; Rose could hear the blades juddering against its onslaught. She glanced upward, chewing her lip.

"Don't worry," Chris said.

"Seriously?"

"Sorry. Go ahead and worry. Just not about the weather."

Yeah, Rose thought, settling back in the chair with an exhale. You got that right. Breaking her neck in a helicopter crash was the best death she could hope for from here on out.

***

The flight from England, the landing in Romania, the day of preparation in a dank BSAA safehouse in Cluj-Napoca, Rose getting as much sleep as she could before the journey north- all had passed in a daze. Rose had looked after Donna, tried to get her to eat something, sleep a bit, too, but she was clearly uncomfortable, sending little needle glances at Chris, curling into a deeper hunch each time he entered the room.

There hadn't been a moment of time Rose could get her alone, and after so many solitary years, she figured alone was the state of being Donna Beneviento was most comfortable in.

She wore a black patch over her eye growth, had tied her hair back in a low bun, had dressed in the clothes Chris had provided for her, a plain black coat and high-necked jumper. She'd stayed silent all the way across Europe, had clutched Angie tight to her chest during the drive through Cluj-Napoca, sat on the bed in the corner while Rose tossed and turned and, when sleep eluded her, flicked on the TV to see if there was anything decent on Romanian television.

Donna hadn't watched. Not even the reality TV.

Maybe she, like Rose, had only really come alive once they'd crossed the city borders and plunged into the wilderness beyond.

They were alone in the chopper- just her, Chris, Donna, and Angie. Chris had ordered his Hound Wolf Squad to keep an eye on them, stay on guard in case he called them in, but this wasn't a mission for big entrances and guns blazing. They'd keep their numbers small and evade Ouroboros'- and the lycans'- notice.

That was the idea, anyway. Rose got the impression Chris would feel more comfortable with more firepower.

"We'll have more firepower," Rose had assured him.

"If we're not dead by sunrise."

"C'mon. Trust me. I already got Donna on our side."

"Barely."

"Still counts. Look, Chris, we've traveled across half of Europe together. Don't you think if she was gonna do something she would have already done it?"

He'd glanced toward the other room of the tiny safehouse, toward Donna sitting like a specter on the cramped little bed.

"She's a manipulator," he'd said, lowering his voice. "A puppeteer. Keep your guard up, Winters, that's all I'm saying."

"Sure," Rose told him. "Fine. Whatever you say."

He'd jabbed a finger at her. "And stop trying to show her television. I don't want her getting any ideas."

"Oh, come on, not even House Hunters European Edition?"

"She could sure use it," Chris had muttered. "Maybe get a nice cottage or something. Anything besides that spooky old house of hers."

***

Now, he stared out at the mist like she was staring, his face harshly underlit by the instrument panel.

"I know," Rose said.

"Hm?"

"Going back," she said. "Are you all right?"

He nodded.

"Soon as I sink a bullet in a lycan, I will be," he said. He checked the map. "Okay. Hold on. This could get bumpy."

The helicopter began its descent, carving a juddering path down through the blizzard. It settled to earth, creaking, ice pinging against its hull like countless tapping fingernails. Rose shouldered her sword again, fixing its strap over her body, while Chris suited up in the helicopter's belly. He yanked a rack of weapons from a recess in the wall, his brow furrowed as he examined the museum of gunmetal within.

Rose went to Donna. "Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head.

They left the helicopter together, Chris sweeping the darkness with his automatic, Rose following after, Donna by her side. Angie was loaded into a backpack Rose usually associated with small dog owners, a plexiglass dome providing a window for the doll to peer out of.

Donna's eye fluttered shut as they stepped from the helicopter doors and into deep, blue-cast snow.

The cold hit Rose first, a wall of ice that numbed her face instantly, made her shrink even in her thermal layers. Dark conifers led away and away on all sides of the small clearing, the snow between them pristine, undisturbed. The helicopter was perched on a shelf of rock jutting from the snow; beyond, it sloped down into the mountainside, the forest too thick and the mist too dense to see more than a couple dozen yards off.

Rose glanced up; the sky was streaked with sunset colors. Soon, those would be gone altogether, leaving them in darkness.

Donna's eye was still closed, her lips parted. Rose glanced up at her as Chris began dragging fallen branches over the helicopter, hiding it from above.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Smells like home," Angie said, from the backpack.

And it did. Again, that lurch of nostalgia. The strange, longing realization that, out of all the places she'd lived over the years, all the cozy boltholes and dingy apartments, hotel rooms and motel bathrooms and, one time, the back of a garage Heisenberg had broken into so he and Rose could shelter overnight from the rain, this place felt the most like home. A poem, at last rhyming. A bump in her chest that said yes. This is where you are meant to be.

A phrase that could be said with contentment, or with grief. For Donna, Rose thought she knew which applied.

She reached out, as if to touch Donna's arm, then at the last moment pulled back.

"Rose," Chris called. He was done, the helicopter expertly camouflaged. "Let's move."

Rose nodded. She glanced at the dark forest and began after Chris.

They'd timed this journey so they would arrive where they were headed before the last light left the sky. Still, she couldn't help but fear there were eyes between the trees already watching them, already waiting.

***

For all Chris Redfield's warmth and kindliness when he wasn't directly on a mission, on the job he turned into as much of an alpha wolf as his callsign. He moved through the trees like a shadow, leaving a single line of nearly unbroken footprints in the snow.

Rose, by contrast, sloshed through it despite the crash-course of training Chris had given her over the last couple months.

Give me a break, she thought, sourly, already sweaty under her coat. The most I did before this were Heisenberg's punching-in-alleyway sessions and gym class.

Donna moved alongside her, silent, picking her way through Chris's footprints and managing to leave none of her own. She'd pulled up her jacket hood, and Rose could see nothing of her face save her mouth and chin.

"Does this place feel familiar to you?" Rose asked, keeping her voice low.

Donna shook her head.

"We hadn't left the house since Claudia died," Angie supplied. "Except for meetings."

"Meetings?"

"In the church-in-the-cave. With our brothers and sister." She gave a theatrical eye-roll. "And Mother Miranda, of course."

Rose nodded. "Nice," she said. "Like a family dinner."

"No," Angie said. "Nothing like that, you little gadfly."

"Sorry, whatever," Rose muttered.

She glanced around again, watching the trees. Despite everything, she smiled.

"Heisenberg once carried me through the woods around here," she said. "I was...uh, well, long story..."

She trailed off, but as she did, she noted that Donna had angled her head toward her, just a little, as if listening.

"I guess we have time," Rose said.

She told Donna the story of the events after the village. Their escape, the first lycan attack that had forced Heisenberg to find shelter. The ascent up the mountain after Rose's mutations proved too much, searching for a holy herb that would calm the Black God's curse to a blessing.

She remembered far too little- she'd been small, and addled with pain, fear, and exhaustion- and the details that kept coming to her were flickers of memory, small snips and images that had endured through time.

Her small fingers hooked into a dirty trench coat pocket. The view of a town from above, lights glowing through the snow. A pool of blue tiles, perfectly round, aglow in a column of weak sunlight. A scarred hand stroking her cheek, her hair, comforting her even as the monsters around them scratched and howled to get in.

"That does not sound like my brother."

Donna's voice. Rose cut off mid-sentence and looked up, her eyebrows raised.

"Well," she said. "It was."

"He was..." She went silent once more, for so long that Rose thought she was done talking. "So cruel," she went on. "I did not think he could...hm."

She seemed to have run out of words.

Angie took over.

"We didn't think he could get better after getting so much worse," she said, flippantly, with a flick of her jointed porcelain hand.

"Believe me," Rose said, "he's still an asshole."

"What?" Donna burst out, aghast. It was the loudest Rose had ever heard her speak.

"A...dickhead."

"A- excuse me?"

Rose wracked her brain for a phrase that might make sense. "...A nasty boy?"

"Oh!" Donna said.

"...Did you not catch on from all the times Heisenberg said that word what it meant in that context?" Rose asked.

"No," Donna said, as if in wonderment.

Rose grinned. "You're funny," she said.

"Funny," Donna echoed. She lifted one hand to, gently, touch her own chin. "Ah."

"Like I said, still a...nasty boy. But..." Rose paused. "Anyone is capable of anything, given the right circumstances."

She fell silent. Donna didn't speak again. But Rose thought, maybe, a hint of a smile lingered on her lips, not fading for a long time.

Up ahead, Chris stopped.

"Is something-" Rose began.

"Quiet." He lifted his hand.

Rose stopped, too; so did Donna. The silence fell around them. It was absolute. Absolute. Rose, used to the constant bustle of cities, of movement, of engines and electricity and Heisenberg's running commentary of muttering and swear words and stream-of-consciousness monologues mangled out around a cigar while he worked on his latest project, felt a coil of chill strike her to the core. She glanced around herself, but the woods were still, the mist empty.

"Movement on the rock ahead." Chris nodded toward the jagged boulder that lay in their path. "Road should be just beyond it."

"Let's hurry up," Rose said, trying not to sound scared.

He was right. On the far side of a boulder, down a short embankment clear of trees, was a road, a lonely, pitted track carved from the forest, its surface warped and sliding away in places. A road sign up ahead creaked at its moorings, its surface so worn down Rose could no longer read the name of the town on it.

Did the town have a name? She didn't know. Did the village? Whatever it was, it didn't matter. For now, 'the' village was the only village.

Chris swept the surroundings, his eyes glowing deep blue in the fading light. "C'mon," he muttered. "I don't like this."

"Too many glimpses of monsters?"

"Yeah. Glimpses. What the hell are they waiting for?" Chris said. "I never liked an enemy that wouldn't show its face."

"They always wait for night," Donna whispered, and Rose at last touched her arm, gripping it for a moment, steadying them both.

They headed uproad. It wound and curled back on itself, following the shape of the mountainside, avoiding boulders and rock ridges in its way. Rose glimpsed statues built atop some of these, and recognized them: the wolf-headed saints of her memory.

"The warding saints," she whispered.

Chris barely gave them a glance. "Look like lycans to me."

"Tomato, tomahto."

"Never knew a saint who'd bite your face off." He whirled without warning. Rose gasped, but scrambled behind him, Donna at her side. She reached for her sword, drawing a hand's width of blade, her other hand clenched at her side. Black veins twined through her skin.

"What was it?" she whispered.

"We need to pick up the pace."

They did. Through the trees Rose glimpsed the fall of the mountainside into the valley- not the one which held the village, but the one that held the town to which they'd fled. Her pulse sped up in anticipation, imagining the relief of electric lights after all that snow and darkness, but when they crested the cliff that plunged down into the valley itself, there was nothing.

The valley below was a sea of trees and shadow, of mist and falling snow. Chris's frown deepened.

"There's supposed to be a town here," he said.

"There is," Rose insisted. "There...there was..." She glanced up at him. "Maybe no one's at home?"

"The whole town?"

"I dunno. They have weird holidays out here. They're all at...mass?"

No church bells rang as they descended down the broken remnants of the old road, into the valley itself. More saints of warding loomed from the roadsides, broken and listing, their stacked-stone plinths crumbling away.

The remains of old altars lingered at their feet- melted candles, stacks of lei, ancient bottles of spirits or honey or preserves- but all had a rime of snow over it, offerings frozen to the stone.

Snow scattered, raining from a higher rock shelf.

In the distance-

A howl lit the twilight.

"Here they come," Chris muttered.

They must have been following them, biding their time. Because when the first lycan hit, it did so like lightning.

The growl echoed from next to one of the warding saints. Chris whirled, sending a burst of lead to ten o' clock. Blood burst, thick and dark; something yelped. Rose searched the embankments, shoving Donna behind her, between her and Chris.

"Keep your head down," she said. "Just-"

She cut off as eyes glimmered through the dusk. Green flickers and flashes, reflecting the last gasp of the sunset before the clouds closed over the light and it was gone altogether, the world a maze of blue mist and opaque shadow.

Chris flicked his barrel-mounted flashlight on, carving a circle of light around them as he turned from one too-close snarl to another.

"Rose! Six!" he barked, whipping the rifle over her head.

The muzzle flash burst off the gaping sawtooth jaws of the huge, leaping lycan. It flung itself toward them; the gunfire chewed a hole from its ribcage but it didn't stop as it hit the ground and lunged for Donna, whose head was down, her hands pressed over her face.

Rose didn't stop to think. She threw herself forward; rusty metal screeched, and the sword was out before the lycan could complete its leap.

A slash of steel; a sound like a cleaver in a fresh steak.

The lycan fell apart, bisected down the middle, halves crashing to the snow and spilling fragments of crystallized flesh.

"Nice!" Chris yelled, spraying cover fire in an arc around them. Rose slashed out again, again, her sword biting mutant flesh, keeping the lycans back as best she could. They snarled, clawing at the air. Her heart hammered as she took in their surroundings. A dozen, she guessed, though judging from the rustling and snapping in the woods there were more of them out there.

And these ones were big. The dead one she'd given the Ghost Ship treatment to had towered nearly seven feet, a hulking monstrosity covered in growths of matted gray hair. One snapped, teeth clashing, and she lashed out with her sword, keeping it away more than anything. Its teeth jutted from misshapen, elongated jaws, halfway between lycan and varcolac, shoulders rising in a knotted mass above its head, short tentacles writhing in clusters from each knob of its spine.

Mutant mutants, Rose thought. Great.

"This way!" Chris ordered.

He'd carved an opening in the lycan pack. Rose grabbed Donna by the wrist and hauled her into it; Chris sent a burst of cover fire behind them before followed suit.

"Didn't fucking miss this," he growled as they broke into a flat-out run. "Town can't be far. We'll shelter there-"

"Shelter where?" Rose gasped.

They'd burst through a rusted gate and into-

Into-

It should have been the town. It should have been. This was the right valley, the right place. As the three of them scrambled to a panting, wide-eyed halt, the darkness spread before them, filled with the crumbling ruins of houses. They rose from blankets of snow, falling apart, beams exposed from ragged holes in walls, fences crushed under the weight of icicles, broken windows staring dead-eyed and empty.

Snow swirled through Chris's flashlight beam as he played it across one ruin, another. Against the sky, barely visible against the low clouds, Rose made out the church steeple, its point simply broken off as if by the hand of some cruel god.

Fifteen years ago, she and Heisenberg had left this place smashed and smoking, reeling, yes, under Lady Dimitrescu's draconic onslaught, but intact. Healing.

What the hell had happened?

A howl rose from the darkness: warped and weird, lupine and all too human, all at once. "Shit," Chris whispered. He jerked his rifle barrel toward a nearby building. "Get in-"

The claw ripped from the mist before he could finish his sentence, massive and twisted with crystalline growths, each of its six fingers ending in a hooked black talon. It lashed out and grabbed Chris by the ankle, jerking him off his feet.

"Chris!" Rose lunged for him. The massive creature behind him snarled and snapped at her as she made a wild grab for Chris's hand; her fingers latched around his wrist, and he gripped her forearm, grabbing for his pistol with his other hand. The huge lycan hanging onto his ankle didn't release him, not even as he sent a trio of shots into its skull, not even as other lycans began to gather, creeping in at the edges as if waiting for their share of the spoils.

"Hang on!" Rose screamed.

"I- am-"

The massive lycan wrenched at Chris; he let out a yell of pain, and Rose heard bone crackle in his leg. Mold-tentacles burst from the ground, twining around Rose and Chris, their strength adding to hers, but the beast wasn't letting its prey go so easily. With a bellow, it fastened its teeth into Chris's calf, worrying at his flesh like a dog with a chew-toy.

"Fucking- fuck-" he fired again and again, one-handed, each bullet blasting a chunk of flesh from the huge lycan. Rose gave a mammoth pull; pain seared through her shoulders. Chris's hand began to slip from hers, her mold disintegrating under the pressure.

"Let me go," Chris yelled.

"No way-" Rose grit her teeth- she could do this, dammit, she wasn't gonna lose anyone else. "No- fucking- way-"

A shot rang through the night.

The huge lycan's skull exploded in a burst of blood and mutagen; its jaws splayed wide, and it reared back, shrieking in agony, claws sliding from Chris's ankle. Rose toppled back, Chris half-crushing her; Donna ran forward and collapsed to the snow by Rose's side, setting her hands over Chris's shoulders, her lips fluttering as she saw the massive puncture wounds in his mangled calf. Rose looked up as a second shot blew apart what remained of the monster's head. It swayed, shaggy fur streaked with gore, and collapsed in a heap, crystallized ribs jutting toward the sky.

Rose twisted toward the source of the gunshots. A silhouette stood atop a ruined house, hunting rifle still aimed downward, toward them.

She stiffened as it leaped inhumanly far, dropping to the snow without a sound. Matted gray hair sprouted from its shoulders and back, the rest of the creature clad in dark winter gear, ragged and bloodstained, torn along the seams.

Crystal glinted; its face was a calcified lycan skull, sharp-fanged and grinning, points of green burning in its eye sockets. Rose heard the hiss of its breathing as it paced toward them.

"Who are you?" she yelled. She struggled to her feet, sword in her hands. "You better back the fuck up or-"

The stranger lifted their rifle. Rose gasped. The shot cracked over her shoulder; she turned in time to see the lycan shriek its last, crumpling to the snow with a hole in its forehead.

She looked back round at the stranger, eyes big, as the rest of the lycans scattered.

"Easier prey elsewhere," the stranger said. "Smart."

They reached up to their face and- and pulled it right off. The crystal skull wasn't a face, Rose realized, it was a mask carved from the skull of a dead lycan. She blinked as the stranger shook back their hood, exposing a head full of gray curls.

She hadn't aged a day. But she'd changed, all right. All the black was gone from her hair, and crystalline veins carved channels through her olive skin, turning her face into a road map of glinting scars. She looked- haggard, that was it, half-dead, her eyes glimmering green like the lycans'.

But the rest of her was familiar enough, and the sight of her alone made relief burst in Rose's chest. She swayed on her feet.

"Holy fuck," she whispered.

"Hey, Rose," Teodora said. "You got big."

She glanced at Donna, at Chris, who'd levered himself to his feet, tucking a spent med-injector into his belt kit.

A frown deepened the lines creasing her forehead.

"Where's Heisenberg?" she said.

#re8 #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #resident evil village #resident evil #karl heisenberg #rosemary winters #resident evil village oc #Chris Redfield #Donna Beneviento #angie beneviento #saints of warding #chapter 8

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guerrerense · 11 months

Video

Steam Sunday - 425 Close Up por David Blazejewski Por Flickr: For Steam Sunday here is a close up of good old 425 during the special double header last summer. Here's the head end shot that you've probably seen before as there were easily 500 other photographers up here lining the hillside capturing their own version of this scene! flic.kr/p/2nQrWNt That's because the biggest show in steam last summer was the reincarnation of the 'Reading Rambles' led by Reading and Northern 4-8-4 2102 which returned to service this year after a more than three decade slumber. Built in the Reading Company's own shops in 1945 the stout T-1 was doubled headed for one trip only with long time steam star 425. Almost two decades older, the high-drivered 4-6-2 light Pacific was built by Baldwin in 1928 for the Gulf, Mobile & Northern. The steam duo is leading 19 cars with a sold out train of nearly 800 passengers headed to the scenic tourist town of Jim Thorpe from North Reading. Having debarked all their riders at Jim Thorpe the train was pulled out around the wye over the CNJ bridge by a pair of SD50s and is now steaming south at MP 120.9 on the RBMN's Lehigh Division Mainline crossing the new bridge (opened Feb. 2020) that connects two former CNJ lines that historically never connected like this from north to the west. To read more about the bridge project check out this link: www.railwayage.com/mw/rn-opens-new-bridge/ They are approaching the interlocking known as Jim Thorpe Jct. that connects with the three mile long Jim Thorpe branch in foreground which extends to an NS connection at Packerton Jct. and about to pass the division post indicating the start of RBMN's Reading Division. To learn more about these locomotives check out the RBMN's pages on them here: www.rbmnrr-passenger.com/2102-updates www.rbmnrr-passenger.com/425 Nesquehoning, Pennsylvania Saturday August 13, 2022

#flickr

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viovio · 2 years

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🍉🌾🌾🪴🌿🪨 mobile about til i finally get the motivation to make a carrd 🪨🌿🪴🌾🌾🍉

hi i'm Vio / Iza / Miles ^__^ nice to meet you

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ he/him & she/her + bi transmasc bigender (tme+dyadic)

Ꮚ˘ ꈊ ˘ Ꮚ 🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭💥 Filipino

╰( ･ ᗜ ･ )➝ 18 (12/12)

💥 pfp art's by @.jihadmilk & header art's by shura @.machinegirldemo 💥

→standard dni applies (no terfs transmeds proship racists anything like that, this is a safespace for transfems)

+ FUCK OFF IF YOURE DSMP/POST OR DEFEND AOT I WILL NOT SAY THIS AGAIN DIE

+ don't follow if you're under 16 also filter minors dni

+ cishet/cis, whites ask to follow (won't have to if i follow first)

🌿🌿🍉 INTERESTS

Dinoverse games, Faith the unholy trinity, Castlevania games (don't talk to me about the netflix series ok just don't), Outlast, DBD, Signalis, JJBA (6 and 8) and lots of others!

YOOPEE that's it like if you read this

#mobile about.com #about #oh man rly gotta update by desktop page huh #oh well #speak iza #linked #colored text

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focsle · 2 years

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A bad day for Captain Boodry. He set off this entry with a black border around it.

Monday May 18th 1857 Comes in with light gales from East ship in a pond hole [some open water in an ice strewn sea] boiling with the Roman [another whaleship] thick and plenty of snow and verry heavy swell at 1/2 past 7 came to the N side of the pond hole it lighted some saw the wreck of a vessel about 2 miles in the Ice dismasted and the ship Brutus lying by her the swell being to heavy dare not venture through the Ice as the Brutus was there to render all assistence in saveng life poor fellows I pitty them God only knows whose turn it will be next this is a dangerous way of getting an honest living at 8 saw a large light set supposed to be on board of the wreck I wonder what poor fellow it is Middle and latter part blowing spoke Capt Henry of the Brutus haveing Capt Sherman and crew of Bark Newton on board there vessel being stove in the Ice he belongs in Rochester town and has lost his wife since he sailed and now has lost his vessel take my vessel but save me my Little Mary [second page, with header ‘Othotsk’] with my affairs the 2nd mate told me he did not care a damn for me or the Owners interest at all I wanted some of the spares of the Newton Capt Henry told me he would give them to me to fit myself with there was no whales in sight and I was willing to give my time to it I went on bord the Brutus and sent the third mate to the wreck to get some riging for jib eyes and as there was said to be some 30 or 40 cases of liquor in her and the wreck men were fishing for cloths with boat hooks I told him if they got eny spirits to fetch it to Capt Henry but instead he got some and brought it on board of my ship and never came for me as I ordered I got Capt Allen of the Charles to bring me on board as soon as we got within hail I found that spirits had been handled pretty freely but said nothing I was hailed by how are you old fellow and a bottle was in the second mates hand he was trying to get someone to drink with him and finely [finally] drinked alone with a tost to me of all the hair of[f] of your head I said nothing that night but the next day I undertook to straight affairs and he told me to go to Hell you damn drunken fool I told him I would let him have a boat to leave the ship he left but took the 3rd and 4th mates with him.

#awhalin #2nd mate ben #with a promotion

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your-krazy-uncle-bob · 2 years

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The RP-4, the fastest piston-powered plane that never flew, built in 2005 by David Rose

Intended to compete in the Unlimited Class at the Reno Air Races, work began on the David Rose RP-4 project in 2005. Designed by Mr. Rose and built primarily be Eric Hereth, both of San Diego, at slightly over 4,600 pounds, 100 more than the minimum allowable, it is estimated that the racer would tour the course at upwards of 600 miles per hour (mph), at least 100 mph faster than the current record holder.

Power is provided by two 600 cubic inch displacement V-8 engines designed originally for drag racing and, in that configuration, each is capable of producing as much as 2,500 horsepower (hp).Detuned to approximately 1200 hp. each, the engines were expected to withstand the rigors of running at full throttle for eight minutes, the time required to complete each heat at Stead Field in Reno.

The engines are mounted in tandem, each with its own independent systems, and each driving its own propeller. The engines are pressure-fed by two Pro-Charger F3-R centrifugal type superchargers with refrigerated intercoolers. The induction system is custom made from the 6” diameter throttle plate, to the attachment at the cylinder heads. The fuel is delivered by an electronic fuel injection system, also custom made for this application. Two-inch diameter stainless steel headers converge into collectors at the bottom of the fuselage exiting rearward and providing additional thrust in the process.

Somewhat odd appearing contra-rotating propellers are reflective of those used in a ducted-fan experiment in the 1960s. Very efficient, but noisy, they split the job of delivering thrust and also cancel the negative torque reactions resulting from the P-factor, making such a high power aircraft of small dimensions much more easily controlled.

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atlantichurricanes · 2 years

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Atlantic Tropical Weather Outlook issued by the National Hurricane Center in Miami, FL, USA

2022-06-01 08:00 -0400

Near the Yucatan Peninsula and Southeastern Gulf of Mexico: A large area of disorganized showers and thunderstorms located over the northwestern Caribbean Sea and Yucatan Peninsula is associated with a broad area of low pressure. Environmental conditions appear conducive for gradual development, and this system is likely to become a tropical depression while it moves northeastward over the northwestern Caribbean Sea and southeastern Gulf of Mexico during the next couple of days. Regardless of development, locally heavy rainfall is likely across portions of southeastern Mexico, the Yucatan Peninsula, and Belize during the next day or so, spreading across western Cuba, South Florida, and the Florida Keys on Friday and Saturday. Interests in the Yucatan Peninsula, western Cuba, the Florida Keys, and the Florida Peninsula should monitor the progress of this system.

* Formation chance through 48 hours...high...70 percent.

* Formation chance through 5 days...high...80 percent.

Southwestern Atlantic northeast of the Bahamas: A weak surface trough located around 200 miles northeast of the central Bahamas is producing disorganized shower activity as it interacts with an upper-level trough. Surface pressures are currently high across the area, and significant development of this system appears unlikely as it moves generally east-northeastward over the next several days away from the southeastern United States.

* Formation chance through 48 hours...low...10 percent.

* Formation chance through 5 days...low...10 percent.

Today marks the first day of the Atlantic hurricane season, which will run until November 30. Long-term averages for the number of named storms, hurricanes, and major hurricanes are 14, 7, and 3, respectively.

The list of names for 2022 is as follows:

Name Pronunciation Name Pronunciation ------------------------------------------------------------- Alex AL-leks Lisa LEE-suh Bonnie BAH-nee Martin MAR-tin Colin KAH-lihn Nicole nih-KOHL Danielle dan-YELL Owen OH-uhn Earl URR-ull Paula PAHL-luh Fiona fee-OH-nuh Richard RIH-churd Gaston ga-STAWN Shary SHAHR-ee Hermine her-MEEN Tobias toh-BEE-uss Ian EE-an Virginie vir-JIN-ee Julia JOO-lee-uh Walter WALL-tur Karl KAR-ull

This product, the Tropical Weather Outlook, briefly describes significant areas of disturbed weather and their potential for tropical cyclone formation during the next five days. The issuance times of this product are 2 AM, 8 AM, 2 PM, and 8 PM EDT. After the change to standard time in November, the issuance times are 1 AM, 7 AM, 1 PM, and 7 PM EST.

A Special Tropical Weather Outlook will be issued to provide updates, as necessary, in between the regularly scheduled issuances of the Tropical Weather Outlook. Special Tropical Weather Outlooks will be issued under the same WMO and AWIPS headers as the regular Tropical Weather Outlooks.

A standard package of products, consisting of the tropical cyclone public advisory, the forecast/advisory, the cyclone discussion, and a wind speed probability product, is issued every six hours for all ongoing tropical cyclones. In addition, a special advisory package may be issued at any time to advise of significant unexpected changes or to modify watches or warnings.

The Tropical Cyclone Update is a brief statement to inform of significant changes in a tropical cyclone or to post or cancel watches or warnings. It is used in lieu of or to precede the issuance of a special advisory package. Tropical Cyclone Updates, which can be issued at any time, can be found under WMO header WTNT61-65 KNHC, and under AWIPS header MIATCUAT1-5.

All National Hurricane Center text and graphical products are available on the web at https://www.hurricanes.gov. More information on NHC text products can be found at https://www.hurricanes.gov/aboutnhcprod.shtml, while more information about NHC graphical products can be found at https://www.hurricanes.gov/aboutnhcgraphics.shtml.

You can also interact with NHC on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/NWSNHC. Notifications are available via Twitter when select National Hurricane Center products are issued. Information about our Atlantic Twitter feed (@NHC_Atlantic) is available at https://www.hurricanes.gov/twitter.php.

$$ Forecaster Brown/Bucci

#bot post #weather #tropical weather #tropical storm #tropical depression #hurricane #atlantic #atlantic ocean #caribbean #gulf of mexico #noaa #national oceanic and atmospheric administration #nhc #national hurricane center

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psychotic4ghost · 5 months

Text

Blood Under The Bridge A Story By Psychotic4Ghost

Chapter 7 - The Heartbeat Of A Ghost

TW: Strong Language ♡ Fluff ♡ Gross man ♡ ♡ Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ♡ WC: 2.1k ♡ A/N: Listen, before we judge my way of writing about Arizona in the last chapter; I am an Arizonan. I can talk shit lmaooo. We sat in the 90s for most of November :| This one is definitely much cuter and starting the progression of Simon and Mykie. Hope you enjoy! (I'm also like, really proud of this chapters header image, feels very 90s/00s punk <;3)

╰┈➤

After about an hour in the bathroom, Mykie had completed a full face of delicate makeup, she wore a long, black dress covered in fine sequins, giving the dress a mesmerizing shimmer. Her hair was pulled into a clean bun with some stray pieces sticking near her ears. The slick black heels she wore clicked along the concrete floors of the base as she entered their shared dorm.

Soap let out a sharp whistle as she entered the room. She did a small twirl for the boys before taking her seat on the bottom bunk that Ghost claimed. Ghost was nowhere to be seen yet.

“Simon, you’ll be fine. Have you really never tied a tie before?” Price asked as he looped the tie through itself.

“Never needed to. Price this is a lot. I’m not CIA, why do I need this stupid suit?” Ghost complained as he tugged at the collar, loosening it up a touch.

“Stop that, you’ll fuck up the tie. You’ll be fine Simon. It’s only for a few hours and it’s not like I’m sending you in alone. Here.” Price handed Ghost a plain black surgical mask. Ghost eyed it cautiously. The mask felt like a tube top, it was so revealing. He took the mask from Price and stripped the black and white skull plated balaclava from his face. Price had seen Simon’s face many times before, but he still tried not to stare, giving Ghost some more privacy.

“You’ll go by Simon for this mission. No one knows who you are anyway.” Price said, now facing Ghost who had the surgical mask on.

“What about Mykie?”

“You’ll call her Rose. It was her code name before she joined the 141.” Price informed. Ghost nodded his head as the two men left the small bathroom that was attached to the dorm.

Ghost shifted uncomfortably as he made eye contact with Mykie. She was absolutely stunning. Keeping his emotions regulated was so much harder with so little of his face covered.

Soap let out the same flirtatious whistle to his superior. “Not bad, LT! The suit looks good.”

Ghost gave Soap an unintentional death glare, but this time it came across much stronger than it usually does with the rest of his face coverings.

“Don’t think I’ve seen Ghost with this much skin showing, feels scandalous.” Gaz added with a chuckle.

Ghost opened his mouth to yell at them, his body moved forward but stopped when he felt a small hand press against his chest. “Oookay, let’s not rile him up, kay? I need him sane for the night.” Mykie giggled as she stepped back from Ghost after he relaxed a little.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The team arrived at their first destination, a small apartment building across the way from the mansion, giving the team a good line of sight on the party.

“Alright, your names are Simon and Rose Poe. You’ll be acting as a married couple. Your name has been snuck onto the list already. Act as natural as you can. Ghost, I know you haven’t been in this setting in a long time so follow Mykie’s lead. She’s been briefed on what to do in case things go wrong.” Price informed the pretend couple before sending them on their way.

The apartment base was about a mile down the road, meaning the two would have to drive. But the car was a 2020 Dodge viper and was a low seated car, it felt like sitting on the ground itself when you were in it.

Mykie fit just fine; Ghost held her hand as she lowered herself into the vehicle, keeping the appearance strong. He made sure her sleek black dress was fully inside the car before closing the door for her.

Ghost, on the other hand, couldn't fit his broad shoulders past the frame and his legs were too long for the space between the seat and the pedals. "This won't work. I don't fit." Ghost sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"We don't have much of a choice. It had to be a luxury vehicle for this op to work." Mykie tried to reason with him, hoping that maybe he could wedge himself in.

"Why couldn't it be a luxury truck ‘r some shit." Ghost complained as he forced his body into the driver's seat. He pushed the seat as far back as it would go, though he still couldn't even reach the seat belt behind his shoulder, he didn't have enough room to turn. "This is bullshit."

"Hold still, let me." Mykie unbuckled herself and crawled onto her knees. She leaned over his chest to grab the seat belt. Ghost looked up at the ceiling as her breasts pushed against his chest. She smelt like strawberries and the color pink, driving Ghost mad as he unintentionally inhaled the scent. She grabbed the seat belt and pulled it across his chest as she sat back down in her seat.

"Guess being tiny has its advantages." Mykie smirked as she held the buckle for him to take.

Ghost let out a grumble before taking the seat belt. He raised the steering wheel as high as it would go so it would clear his knees before pushing the start button. The drive was rather short, Ghost’s mind raced as he thought about having to exit the car in front of the valet.

Fortunately for the ‘couple’, it wasn’t as hard for Ghost to get out as it was to get in. They handed off the keys to one of the valet boys before making their way to the entrance. Mykie naturally slung her hand around Ghost’s bicep, catching him off guard. He played along though, hiding his shock the best he could.

“Don’t tense, makes you look constipated.” Mykie said as she nudged his side with her elbow.

“Ow.” Ghost said as he winced, it didn’t hurt and they both knew that as Mykie rolled her eyes. “I thought you’ve done this before.” Mykie whispered as they waited in line to enter.

“I have, just not…playing a couple.” Ghost hissed down to his copart.

“Have you never had a girlfriend? Relax you damn muscles Simon- It’s just another event, nothing we aren’t used to hun-” Mykie quickly changed her tempo as she saw a guard walking past them. “We need to quit talking about this. Act natural.” Mykie muttered before they finally made it to the front of the line.

“Name?” The very unamused man at the door asked, he tapped his clipboard impatiently as he waited for Ghost to answer.

“Poe, Simon and Rose Poe.” Mykie quickly answered as she noticed Ghost freezing on the spot. The man eyed them then the sheet on his clipboard before he pulled the red rope open for them, not speaking another word.

“Get it together.” Mykie hissed as they passed the line. Mykie pulled the two of them to a small bathroom she spotted off the way. “Hello?” Mykie asked out softly, waiting for a response before locking the door. “Seriously Simon, have you never had a girlfriend? Why are you acting so stiff, you’re gonna give us away.” Mykie threw her hands up in frustration.

“No.” Ghost said with no emotion, or at least with hidden emotions. There was definitely something there, Mykie just couldn’t pick it out.

“Really? You’ve never had a girlfriend? Are you a virgin?” Mykie asked, letting the more childish side seep out.

“No, I’m not a fucking virgin, My-Rose. And no, I’ve never had a girlfriend. Get over it. Don’t act like Soap.” Ghost crossed his arm in a boyish way, he refused to make eye contact with her. Mykie’s features softened as she took in the scene. “Oh…well, would have been nice to know beforehand, um. Okay, just, don’t be afraid to touch me. Hand around my waist, across my shoulders. Hold my hand sometimes and when you do, rub your thumb over my knuckles, it makes the action look more natural. And if we don’t talk it’ll have people looking. We don’t have to kiss or whatever, not a lot of couples do that in public anyway.” Mykie rambled as she paced the bathroom floor. She was thinking of every little thing she could to make them look like a couple.

“Mykie, please. Stop. I think I get it but you’re rambling.” Simon placed his hand on her shoulder as if to calm her.

“S-sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble. Um, you think you got this?” Mykie asked as she made eye contact with the large man who was feet from her, the bathroom was actually quite small and she hadn’t noticed till just now.

“I got this. Just, is there anything you aren’t okay with?” Ghost asked as he removed his hand and backed up as much as he could.

“Um, no, not really. Anything to make us look more like a couple. We can’t afford to blow this.” Mykie added, not really thinking of what she could be signing herself up for.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said in a low tone. Mykie blinked a few times before shutting her eyes, thinking he had to fix his mask or something in the mirror. Instead a soft pair of lips gently brushed hers, the pressure growing as the seconds ticked. He was kissing her, her Lieutenant’s lips were on hers. It was over before it even really started. His mask was back over his nose and he was unlocking the door, pushing her out before she could even register the events.

“D-did you just?” Mykie stuttered as Ghost placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out to the main hall. Mykie shook her head, trying to clear any and all thoughts of what just happened. They made their way to a luxurious bar, fancy bottles lined the walls behind the bartender.

“Best bourbon you got, two glasses please.” Ghost said as he pulled out a 50 US dollar from the chest of his pocket. The bartender took it and began pouring the bourbons. “Keep the change.” Ghost said as he took the two drinks and nudged mykie towards an empty table.

“Drink, calm your nerves.” Ghost said as he set the glass down in front of Mykie who he had to force to sit down.

“What was that even for?” Mykie finally asked as she brought the glass to her pink painted lips.

“Gotta play the part.” Ghost said bluntly.

“No one was even there to see it!” Mykie hissed.

Ghost shrugged his shoulders as he turned his attention to the guest around them. His eyes followed anyone he thought to be of importance, ignoring Mykie’s still flabbergasted look.

The night played on, nothing of interest happened as the hours ticked by. They had been in the mansion for about an hour now, sipping bourbon and watching. “We should dance.” Mykie suggested as she pulled her gaze from her glass.

“What?” Ghost asked abruptly. “Dance, we should dance. Other couples are.” Mykie added, her chin was resting on her hand as her elbow dug into the table.

“Fine. Let’s go, you’re right.” Ghost took a stand and extended a hand out for her. She took it happily as he led her out to the floor. They stayed away from the center, not wanting to pique anyone's interest.

Unfortunately for the two of them, an older gentleman approached the two. “And who are you, my girasol?” He asked, extending a hand for Mykie to shake.

“My name is Rose, this is Simon.” She said as she took his hand. He pulled her closer, placing a delicate kiss to the back of her hand as he slipped a small folded piece of paper in her hand. His thin handlebar mustache tickled her hand as he pulled away. “Pleasure to meet you, Rose.” He took off without another word looking back and making eye contact with Ghost, who wore an irritated look in his eyes. The hispanic gentleman simply grinned at his victory to rile Ghost up.

“Simon, wipe that look off your face.” Mykie said as she pressed her body against his side, placing her hand on his chest.

“Something about him was off.” Ghost grumbled as he took Mykie’s hand and moved to a dancing position, led by Mykie.

“He’s probably just being friendly, things are different here. Why do you look so jealous?” Mykie asked, not thinking about her words as usual.

“Jealous? I’m not jealous. Why would I be?” Ghost stuttered in a frustration he didn’t know he had. Why was he jealous? It’s not she was his to even be jealous about. Is this what jealousy felt like? This was the same angry bubble that formed in his chest during pool a few weeks ago. Jealousy, a sinful emotion. One Ghost didn’t think he was capable of and for a woman that wasn’t even his to claim.

“If only I had a mirror to show you your own face right now.” Mykie sighed. A few more songs played as the two swayed together, no words being shared to save Ghost the embarrassment. Mykie had laid her head against his chest as they moved together, listening to his heart beat change pattern as a new thought arose in his mind. It beat faster, then slower, sometimes it would stop all together as if he was taking aim with his sniper. Then it would speed up quickly, his feet matching his heart beat as he skipped a few beats to the slower song.

“Your heart's racing again. What are you thinking about?” Mykie asked, looking up into his eyes.

“Nothing.” he lied.

“I know it’s not nothing, I’ve been listening to her heartbeat for the last 20 minutes. When you think of something that I assume makes you upset, your heartbeat picks up and your footing is off.” Mykie made accusations, causing Ghost to stare at her in shock.

“It’s…it’s a lot. Don’t worry about it. My mind is just always active.” Ghost tried his best to shrug off the conversation. While Mykie nodded, she kept thinking about it, kept measuring his heartbeat, letting it calm her when he was calm.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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