#bird flight diverter

[chillyfeetsteak]

I first became fascinated with it a few years ago when I noticed it out an airplane window on a flight from Texas to Southern California. In an expanse of endless desert, suddenly, a vast body of water. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on a map. The Salton Sea.

It’s the largest landlocked body of water in California. It sits right on top of the San Andreas Fault at over 200 feet below sea level. It is more than twice as salty as the Pacific Ocean. It is completely toxic. And I had never heard of it before then.

(photo essay under the cut)

In the early 1900s the Colorado River was diverted through a series of irrigation canals in order to provide water for the farmlands of Imperial Valley. One of the head-gates broke during a flood, and the desert basin filled with water for 2 years before it was fixed. The unexpected lake soon became a popular vacation destination; it was stocked with fish, and resorts and hotels popped up along its shores. It became known as a great place for sport fishing, waterskiing, and yacht parties. Big name celebrities visited. At one point, it had more annual visitors than Yosemite.

Salton Sea has no outlet, and is only filled via agricultural runoff. As the water evaporated in the hot desert sun, the lake became more and more saline. Chemicals began to build up from the run off causing toxic algae blooms, and mass die-offs of fish and birds started in the 80s. By the 90s, the beaches were littered with fish gills and bird bones and the resorts were abandoned. The lake began to dry up as irrigation run-off was diverted away. The exposed lake bed is also toxic, and the high desert winds kick up the dust, making the air poisonous. 

Despite the unpleasant odor, the noxious air and the summer temperatures regularly reaching 120°, a renaissance of sorts began in the early 2010s. Artist and nomad colonies began to spring up around Salton Sea. Bombay Beach, once a popular resort destination, is now mostly a ghost town, but the folks who remain have turned the ruins on the shores into an outdoor art installation gallery where the found-art sculptures are cyclically destroyed by the elements and then replaced with new ones. Many of the houses and RVs in town are themselves art pieces.

In nearby Slab City, a settlement of off-the-grid lifestylers, you can find even more folk art. Salvation Mountain is a manmade hill painted with bright colors and bible verses and maintained by a community of volunteers. East Jesus is a sculpture garden and art installation. 

This past weekend my partner and I finally made the pilgrimage to the Sea. California has the benefit of being home to a huge array of biomes. In just a couple of hours you can travel from snowy mountain peaks to lush oases to endless sand dunes. Driving the hour or so south from Palm Springs towards Salton Sea is like driving towards the end of the world.

Bombay Beach especially enamored me. The beach is crusted with salt and millions of tiny shells and bones. It smells awful, like sewage and chemicals and low-tide and rotting fish. You drive out onto the beach and park anywhere amongst the sculptures and deteriorating resort ruins. The art feels raw in a way I haven’t experienced before. It reminds me of seeing paleolithic cave art. Humans made this, with no motivation other than to create something intriguing or beautiful or sad. Not much can live out here, but what you find fills me with a great adoration for humanity. Despite the asphyxiation of the natural world, the human spirit persists.

#im sure most people know about this place but i didnt so!! #i hated writing essays in school but now in my 30s i do it for fun apparently #photos are all mine except the first one #salton sea #bombay beach #slab city #salvation mountain

[aurorangen]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for tagging me @matchalovertrait @mdshh @duusheen (and anyone else I might have missed, I'm so late to answer!) I'm doing it for Vincent, he's just interesting to talk about! It's a long one:

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Vincent has a fear of crowded places, how people could be watching or spying on him. What do they want? Why are they doing this? Who is behind it? Anyone could be doing it, but he knows it's from his past (unless something new has developed). Remember he has been spied on before, by someone from Strangerville. Now he doesn't know and we don't know if his Dad's disappearance and Strangerville are all linked, but you can probably guess. Also a fear of going into the operating room and surgery.

Do they have any pet peeves? When people are late. He hates it.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? His briefcase, his favourite cologne, iPad

What do they notice first in a person? Facial expressions, eye contact and body language: how they compose themselves.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? He has high pain tolerance physically/emotionally so 8.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? In the past, it would be flight. But now that he is older it's always fight. In court, he can be under a lot of pressure, but he is always prepared to fight and win!

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? From his mum's side, he has a big extended family, from Evergreen Harbour and Henford on Bagley! Growing up he has always wanted siblings. He loves having Isaac as a brother and they spend so much time together now! But his childhood was so lonely at home, while his mum was working and his dad always MIA before his disappearance. Vincent always went over to Billy's house to hang out with Charlie! Billy and Josh have always been his father figures, unlike his own. Now with kids, he'll do the best he can to provide a childhood full of love!

What animal represents them best? Vincent is obviously a lion and Isaac is an eagle. You know in an ecosystem there are food chains where predators catch prey. Well, they are Kingsleys, so they're the top of the "hierarchy". Think of it like they're going into enemy territory (investigating their dad or other cases) and they are bringing them down. But their dad is also a Kingsley...

What is a smell that they dislike? Any sort of science experiment chemical idk...I'm not saying anymore

Have they broken any bones? Nope

How would a stranger likely describe them? Secretive first. But that goes away to easy-going, amicable, reliable

Are they a night owl or a morning bird? Both actually

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Hmm Vincent is a bit of a foodie and appreciates good food, he likes a lot of stuff really. Something he hates? Mint ice cream lol

Do they have any hobbies? Cooking (I've not explored it though)

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? He's all good with surprise birthday parties! Vincent would be full of gratitude to the people who took the time and effort to arrange it. He'll make sure everyone enjoys their time and divert himself from being the centre of attention haha

Do they like to wear jewelry? Ooh he likes fancy watches

Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Surprisingly quite messy. He likes typing stuff lmao

What are two emotions they feel the most? Pride, determination

Do they have a favorite fabric? As long as it's comfortable

What kind of accent do they have? British accent duh

#i should be doing it for renee smh but vincent is practically my heir. the story ive created for him is FAR MORE interesting 😌 #like renee is a side character #ive already showed her background #i cant change that story and can only develop on her (character) now #there are more possibilities by making vincents story this gens focus #im not resuming postcard legacy yet sry #postcard extra #tag game #oc facts

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Thorpe Abbott

Gale Cleven x Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: When their plane is diverted to Thorpe Abbott airfield Hope and Ruth’s lives change forever. These two brave nurses must face the trials and tribulations of war, as well as suffering the heartache that war inevitable brings with it.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the C47 as it soared over the English countryside. The patients had finally settled, the morphine taking effect and bringing them some sense of relief. Hope slumped back into her seat with a sigh, smiling over at Ruth who looked as exhausted as she was.

“You looked tired,” Hope smiled at her friend who just sighed.

“It’s been a long day. I can’t wait to get back to base,” Ruth pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, sighing again.

Hope nodded in agreement, peeling her sweaty green overalls away from her neck. “Hey Frank, how much longer have we got?” Hope called to one of the pilots.

“We’ve had to make a detour, Love. We’re heading to Thorpe Abbot airfield and we’ll evacuate the wounded to Thorpe St Andrews hospital. It’s not far now.”

Hope felt her heart flutter, her throat going dry as she slouched back against her seat.

“Hey Hope, what’s wrong?” Ruth leant forward, gripping Hope’s hand and squeezing it, her large blue eyes watching her curiously.

“It’s Hugh,” Hope muttered, her eyes a little teary but a smile on her lips. “My brother is stationed at Thorpe Abbott with the 100th Bomb Group. I haven’t seen him in so long.”

Ruth grinned at her, “so I’m finally going to meet this Hugh I’ve heard so much about.”

Hope laughed, patting her friend on the back, “you will but don’t get any ideas.”

The aircraft soared towards its destination, the occasional jolting and shaking on the metal bird bringing no fear to the flight nurses anymore. Once the ratting metal coffin struck the fear of God into them but now this was a peaceful ride.

Hope watched out the window as the lush, green countryside grew closer and closer.

“Hey Frank! Stop hugging the hedgerows for crying out loud. Don’t let the girl down before we’ve reached the field,” Hope called, grimacing as the trees seemed to grow ever closer.

“Who’s flying this bird, Armstrong? You or me?” Frank retorted, not looking away from the cockpit.

“Well maybe you could use some lessons in keeping the old girl airborne then. We’ll beat up the airfield at this rate.”

Ruth laughed, watching Hope argue with the pilot once more, “You know Hope, maybe you should have got your wings. Then you could be flying us instead of Frank.”

“You’ve got a good point there Ruth. Ya hear that Frank, Ruth wants me flying instead of you.” Frank’s reply was a muffled curse and both girls found themselves giggling in response. The plane tooled along for a while longer until it began to descend, rattling as it lost altitude and shaking its victims vigorously. The wheels touching down on the tarmac filled everyone with great relief.

“Well that was one ropey landing Frank, maybe I could give ya a few lessons?” Hope asked politely, battering her eyelashes at the pilot who just huffed.

“Shove off, Hope. Now get to it, your blood wagons are waiting.”

Hope cringed at the nickname the ambulances had been given, they were lifesaving vehicles transporting sick men, why make it sound so ominous?

Hope hopped down from the plane, instructing the stretcher bearers on which soldiers were in the worst condition. Between them, Hope and Ruth helped carry three wounded men to the ambulances when an obnoxiously loud voice called, “Well I’ll be damned!”

Hope spun round, her boots scuffing at the earth.

“HUGH!” Her brother laughed jovially, jogging over to them.

“Christ, I’ve missed you, Little Bird,” Hugh threw his arms around Hope’s shoulders, nestling his head into her neck as he always did. Hope couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She was finally in her brother's arms, finally reunited with him after so long. She gripped tightly onto the back of his uniform, burying her face in his chest. He smelt of smoke and engine oil just like he always did.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured, just loud enough for Hugh to hear and he tightened his grip on her further. She could feel Ruth hovering awkwardly behind her and she turned to greet her friend, pulling out of her brother's arms.

“Ruth, this is my brother, Hugh. Hugh, this is my friend, Ruth.”

Ruth smiled sweetly, sticking out her hand to shake Hugh’s but instead he pulled her into a bear hug.

“Any friend of Hope’s is a friend of mine,” he assured Ruth and she smiled, her cheeks turning a deep red at the embarrassment of the situation.

“Hugh, put her down. Look you're making the poor girl blush,” Hope laughed, which only caused Ruth to blush harder.

“My apologies Ruthie, where are my manners,” he bowed down, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Ruth stumbled over her words, quickly excusing herself and hurrying back towards their plane.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Hope groaned, shoving her brother playfully in the ribs.

“I don’t know, I’ve always considered myself to be rather charming,” Hugh protested, puffing out his chest in pride. “Come on I’ve got some friends I’d like you to meet.”

Hope nodded, spinning around to call Ruth to join. The blonde soon was walking back toward the group, clad in her fleece aviation jacket, and to her relief, without a rosy dusting on her cheeks.

“I still can’t believe all the airfields in England, you managed to land at this one,” Hugh laughed, throwing an arm around both girls' shoulders. “You two are in for a real treat.”

As they walked through the base, Hugh pointed out the various hard stands.

“See, right there,” he pointed at a few heavies. “That’s ‘Just-a-Snappin’, ‘Our Baby’, and ‘the M’lle Zig Zig’.”

“Where do you guys get these names, Hugh?” Hope laughed, her eyes trailing over each one’s elaborate nose art, along with some very proud-looking engineers and artists who had clearly put so much love into the bombers.

Shrugging his shoulders, Hugh sighed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t tell ya. What’s your plane’s name?”

“Just ‘The Angel of Death’,” Hope chirped.

Hugh stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Always with the dark humor, aren’t you, Hope.”

After hearing so much about the man from Hope, Ruth felt as if she’d known Hugh for years when in reality she’d only known him for a few minutes. She knew the stories of how the siblings played in the woods of Columbia, Missouri, exploring the famous rock bridge that brought hikers and tourists into the town. She knew of his love for the St. Louis Cardinals, and how he wore his battered and dirty Dizzy Dean jersey for a week straight after they won the World Series in ‘31 and ‘34. Maybe he’d heard so much about Ruth from Hope that he felt the same way.

Before they knew it, the trio reached their destination: his officer Nissen hut. They were long semi-circular metal huts, not known for their warmth or comfortability, but they were a soft place to land at the end of the day…which is a lot more than most young men of the time could say.

“Welcome to my humble abode, ladies,” he announced as they neared the building, holding out his arms in a ‘ta-da’ motion. “She’s not much, but she’s home.”

He began to open the door for them, but a voice in the distance stopped him.

“Charlie! No girls in the huts,” the voice called. “I told you that a few weeks ago.”

Turning toward the voice, Hope did a double take when she saw who its owner was. Approaching them was a tall, tanned blond, who wore a bomber jacket with his hair messily combed to the side. He walked with a swagger that instantly put a bad taste in Hope’s mouth.

She sighed to herself, thinking, ‘Why do all the cute ones have to be cocky?’

Hugh groaned, pointing at Hope. “Buck, come on, this is my-”

The man finally reached them, and Hope stopped herself from being captivated by his blue-green eyes.

“I don’t care who she is. You know the rules,” he interrupted, turning to the girls. “Sorry girls, but I think it’s time for you to go.”

Ruth cringed and side-eyed Hope, already expecting a snarky response to his comment.

“Well,” she paused, checking her watch for effect. “Seeing as we have patients in the infirmary, it actually isn’t time for us to go.”

It was then that he looked down at her upper arm, taking in the bright red and white medic band that adorned her uniform. Ruth could see the slightest show of remorse in his expression as his eyes rose back up to Hope’s.

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t know-”

Hope didn’t let him finish, cutting him off. “Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, Buck.”

“Hope!” Ruth hissed, trying to placate her friend, but the woman ignored her.

“See, other than my brother, this is why I can’t stand airmen. They’re cocky-”

Realizing the flaw in Hope’s argument, Ruth ran a hand down her face, secondhand embarrassment filling her. Just when she was about to interject, Buck beat her to it.

“Now hold on. Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, sweetheart.”

Hope’s mind ran rampant with frustration, and she stared up at him with contempt as he smiled cheekily at her. His eyes were locked on hers as they had a stare-down, neither wanting to be the first to give in.

“So,” Hugh cleared his throat in an attempt to break their silent battle. “Let me introduce you guys. Ladies, this is my squadron commander, Major Buck Cleven.”

Buck tilted his head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Hope. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied dryly.

Ruth shook her head and sighed, amazed at her fellow nurse’s childlike stubbornness.

“And Buck, this is my sister, Hope, and her friend Ruth. They’re flight nurses with the 806th MAETS.”

Ruth raised a hand and waved with a quiet, “Hello,” and Hope felt a little satisfaction when the man’s eyes widened at the word sister.

Buck’s eyes left Hope for a moment to acknowledge Ruth, who stood beside her, with a nod and a smile. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You, too, Major,” she responded with a small grin. He then turned back to Hope.

“So, you’re the infamous little sister we’ve all heard about?” Buck chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

The woman glanced over at Hugh, who wore a guilty expression. “All good things, I hope.”

“For the most part,” Buck chimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know about your little escapade to Kansas City, and how–”

Hope’s eyes widened in disbelief that her brother had divulged her most embarrassing moment. “Hugh!!” she cried, smacking his chest. “You lying piece of crap! You promised!”

“It’s not like I thought you’d ever meet anyone here, Hope!”

Composing herself, she took a deep breath and sent Buck a tight-lipped smile. “It looks like you know a lot more about me than I do about you, Major.”

“It would seem so, Nurse Armstrong.”

Hope trying to change the subject to avoid further embarrassment pointed towards the line of B17s. “Which plane is yours then, Buck?” She raised her eyebrow as if she was trying to challenge him but Buck just seemed amused by the situation and laughed.

“That beauty on the end, Our Baby,” he smiled fondly at it and Hope wrinkled her nose at the ridiculous name. How could grown men go to war in a plane called ‘Our Baby’.

“Well that's stupid,” she blurted out before her brain could catch up with her mouth and she slapped her hand over it with a gasp. She could feel Ruth begging for the ground to open up so she could disappear from the situation, and on the other side of her Hugh just groaned. Buck, on the other hand, just shook his head with a smile.

“Suit yourself. She's a good girl. Never caused any trouble yet.” Hope just wanted the conversation to be over, she and her big mouth had often caused a lot of trouble and just like in Kansas City, she didn't know when to stop.

“Well, I think I'll stick to ‘The Angel of Death’ thank you very much.”

Buck snorted loudly, finding the whole situation rather humorous, including the look on Hope’s face.

“You're C47 is called ‘The Angel of Death’ and yet ‘Our Baby’ is funny,” he cocked his eyebrow, looking at her as though she was a small child who had just told him something unbelievable.

“Yes, she is actually. What's so funny about that?” Hope crossed her arms, glaring at him defensively. This cocky pilot wasn't about to insult their plane and get away with it.

Trying to contain his laughter Buck continued, “Well it's not like you're raining death down on the enemy from that thing, are you? At most, it's a troop carrier.”

Hope opened her mouth in horror, stepping forward, ready to defend their plane's honour at all costs. Buck stepped forward to meet her, their chests almost touching and he leant forward, his breath fanning over her face as he spoke. Hope wasn't sure if her heart rate had increased because of her anger or Buck’s proximity. Hope went to open her mouth again but Buck placed a finger to her lips, silencing her in an instant. His finger remained on her lip for a few more seconds before he remembered himself and stepped back, straining his jacket.

“All I'm saying is your plane isn't exactly an instrument of war. I can't imagine going up without weapons onboard. We’ve got thirteen 50-cal brownings and sometimes I feel that's not enough.”

This time Hope didn't feel the need to comment, still somewhat stunned by Buck’s previous action and why her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Well Buck, congratulations. You're the first man to render my sister speechless,” Hugh laughed, groaning as soon as Hope’s elbow connected with his stomach.

“And my face will be the last one you see if you don't shut up, Hugh,” Hope threatened her brother before smiling sweetly at Buck, who just grinned back at her, enjoying the sibling comradery.

“I could happily live without this idiot but Ruth on the other hand keeps me sane when we're in the air,” Hope ignored her brother's protest and gently elbowed her friend who was unusually quiet behind her.

“What?” The blonde asked, looking over at her like a deer in headlights.

“I said that we would go insane without each other up there.”

“Oh,” she sighed with a small smile. “You would probably kill Frank if I weren’t there.”

The group broke out in laughter and Hope was left wishing that Buck didn’t think she was so violent but he didn't seem phased by the comment.

“No, I can understand that. You need someone you trust when you're up there. That's how I feel about my co-pilot Bucky,” Buck gestured to the sky, a solemn look crossing his face for a moment before it was broken by Hope’s laugh.

“So you're Buck and he's Bucky. Wow you guys really are original,” Hope snorted, normally she would have been embarrassed by the noise leaving her mouth but when Buck joined in laughing, it only caused Hope to laugh harder.

“Don't you start. I get that enough from everyone else,” Buck scolded but the smile on his lips told her he wasn't really upset. Suddenly, Hope noticed the tall dark-haired man had appeared next to Buck, how long he had been lingering there she wasn't sure and it seemed that Buck hadn't noticed him either.

“Speak of the devil. When did you sneak up on me?” Buck questioned, patting the other pilot on the back.

The dark-haired man smiled, his moustache twitching at the corners, “Oh, I've been here the whole time.”

Buck seemed content with his answer and turned back to the group, “Everyone meet John Egan or as he is more commonly known, Bucky.” Hope smiled at him, trying to make a better first impression with this pilot than the previous one.

“Hope Armstrong, it's nice to meet you,” Johnny took her hand and shook it slowly, seemingly preoccupied by something over Hope’s shoulder.

“The pleasure is mine,” Johnny replied, releasing Hope’s hand. Hope thought she noticed Buck tense a little at the interaction but that could have just been wishful thinking.

Hope turned to look over at Ruth. She took in her friend’s shy smile and blush, then followed her gaze to the airman across the circle. Realizing what was happening, she nudged Ruth lightly, a teasing eyebrow raised.

“What?” Ruth grumbled under her breath, leaning closer to her friend’s ear as the guys carried on the group’s conversation.

“You like him.”

The blonde’s smile fell and heat rushed up her neck. “Who?”

Hope tilted her head incredulously, rolling her eyes. “You know who.”

“No, I don’t,” she defended,

“He’s staring,” Hope grinned, nodding his direction subtly and Ruth’s eyes rose to look at him again. Hope watched as the pair made eye contact and Johnny smiled at Ruth, causing a deep red hue to spread across her pale cheeks.

“Uh, I need to go check on the patients,” Ruth sputtered, pointing her fingers in the direction of the infirmary and quickly excusing herself from the group, hurrying towards the infirmary, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. A few seconds later, she spun to face the group and called, “But it was…uh…nice to meet y’all.”

Hugh didn’t miss a beat and hollered back his reply. “You, too, Ruthie!” He then paused until she was out of earshot. “She alright?”

“She’s fine,” Hope sighed, used to her friend’s more timid personality. She had hoped that over time, her extroversion would rub off on the nurse, but so far, she had no such luck. Ruth was more of a one-on-one person, not one for groups of people unless she knew them pretty well. It seemed the smaller the group got, the more Ruth seemed to come alive. It was like pulling teeth to get Ruth to agree to go out with the other girls of the unit, but when she did, she usually had a decent time filled with friends, fellas, and amazing big band music.

Ruth’s admirer joined the conversation, and Hope smirked, watching his eyes follow her friend. “And how far away is your base?”

“We’re in Berkshire, so by car, it’s about three hours, but by plane, probably 45 minutes.”

“So not too far,” he chimed, raising his eyebrows and nodding to himself. Before anyone else could comment, he spoke again.

“I’ll see you boys later,” he said absentmindedly, clapping Buck’s shoulder before disappearing in the direction Ruth had gone. Three confused faces watched as he retreated around the corner. Hope pursed her lips at the new development, unsure of the man following Ruth. “Should I be worried?”

“Yep,” Hugh confirmed with a curt nod.

Buck hit him on the chest, chuckling under his breath. “No, Johnny’s as responsible as they come, darlin’.”

Hugh suppressed a snort, thinking of the commander’s wild habits.

“Anyways, back wh-”

And just like that, the conversation continued, and Hope had a strange feeling of contentment being on base. Finally being with family again.

The conversation flowed easily and it felt as though she and Hugh had known Buck their whole lives. She was about to tell Buck the story of how Hugh had gotten on the wrong train and ended up heading to California when a loud shout came from behind them.

A dark-haired pilot, also sporting a moustache, was waving at them, “COME ON CHARLIE!” He hollered, waving at Hugh.

“Jeez, sorry Hope, I've got to run, I promised Curt I'd help him with something. Buck will look after you though, won’t ya, Buck?”

Hope glared harshly at her brother. He knew better than anyone that she didn't need some man looking after her. She was about to protest when Buck spoke up.

“Absolutely. I’ll give her the grand tour, treat her like royalty,” Buck grinned at her, clearly turning on the charm now and Hope sighed.

“Excellent,” Hugh bundled Hope into a quick hug, “It was good to see you again Little Bird. Keep out of trouble okay?”

Hope hugged him back and nodded but stayed silent. It had been so long since they'd been together and now their reunion was so brief. She watched as her brother rushed away towards his fellow pilot, joining instantly in whatever conversation they were having.

“He’s a good man, your brother,” Buck interrupted Hope’s thoughts and this time she couldn't think of a witty reply.

“Yes, he is,” Hope smiled thoughtfully before turning back to Buck, “Did he just call that man Rosie?”

Buck quickly placed his arm around her shoulder, leading her quickly towards a parked jeep, “Again that is a story for another time.”

Hope had to try and control her breathing as the warmth from Buck’s side seeped into her. She hadn't noticed how cold she had gotten standing still and tried to suppress the silver that ran down her spine. Buck looked down at her worriedly, quickly shrugging off his jacket and wrapping her tightly in it, this time his hand coming to rest on her hip, “There we go, can't have you getting sick now can we, Nurse Armstrong.”

As they drove around the base and Buck pointed out all the highlights, Hope decided that there was definitely something appealing about the cocky blond pilot. Despite his apparent big-headedness at first, he was genuinely very sweet. Hope found herself drawn in by his stories of home and his adventures in England, and she found herself wishing that the drive would never end, that maybe they could even drive off the base and escape together. Alas, she knew they couldn't leave their duty and took comfort in knowing that he was only a three-hour drive away, only forty minutes if they flew. She’d have to let Frank divert more often.

Buck pulled into a layby beneath a few trees that lined the road, cutting out the engine of the jeep. Hope looked at him curiously, waiting as though he was going to say something profound.

“Well, what do you think?” He grinned at her, a crooked grin that didn’t show all his teeth but instantly made you smile back.

“Of the base or of you?” Hope retorted and Buck laughed once more.

“You are quite the character, Miss Armstrong, you know that?”

“It may have been mentioned once or twice.”

Buck nodded, clearly enjoying her no-nonsense attitude that often sent men running for the hills.

“Both? Or neither?”

“Are you asking me to hurt your feelings?” Hope laughed, watching as Buck’s eyebrows creased for a second before his face became expressionless once more.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“HOPE! There you are, I've been looking everywhere. Franks fueled up the plane. We have to go,” Ruth huffed, clearly out of breath from running but her flushed cheeks Hope thought told a different story.

“Okay, I'll be over in five minutes,” Hope promised but Ruth didn't look convinced.

“Your five minutes or an actual five minutes,” the glare Hope sent her way had Ruth turning around and heading back in the direction she’d come. “Okay, but I'll be timing you.”

“I guess this is goodbye,” Buck smiled sadly but Hope just shook her head.

“It doesn't have to be goodbye.” Buck raised his eyebrows, unsure if she was joking or being serious.

“I don't want it to be goodbye,” she added, giving him the most genuine smile he'd ever seen. “Our base isn't too far away and if you want you can write to me. Hugh has my address.” She added curtly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Alright, I will.”

Seemingly pleased by this response, Hope leaned forward and placed her lips against his cheek. Despite the slight layer of stubble, his skin was soft and it had Hope wondering what his lips felt like.

“Goodbye, for now then, Major Cleven.” Hope hopped out of the truck, saluting the pilot.

“Goodbye, for now, Nurse Armstrong.”

Buck watched as Hope hurried across the field after her friend, her hips swaying as she walked, and although Buck appreciated the view he didn't like watching her walk away from him, but he supposed if she never walked away, he’d never see her walking back towards him.

Tags: @georgieluz @malarkgirlypop @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @kmc1989

#on a wing and a prayer #a pair of silver wings #masters of the air #gale cleven #Gale Cleven x oc #hope armstrong

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

To complete a nonstop 4,000-mile flight, Wilson’s phalarope needs fuel.

The tiny inland shorebird famed for its reversed gender roles often finds that food in the Great Salt Lake. Upwards of 250,000 of the birds, a third of the species’ total population, will find their way to the country’s largest saline lake in the coming months to fill up on an almost endless supply of alkali flies, brine flies and brine shrimp. During that period, Wilson’s phalaropes will double their size and molt their feathers for a new coat, preparing them to travel south to Argentina for the winter. 

But the pit stop needed to complete that journey is on the verge of collapse. For decades, the lake has received too little fresh water from the three rivers that feed it, largely due to agricultural operations diverting too much of their flow. That’s resulted in half of the lake’s surface area drying up, while the actual volume of water has dropped by around 70 percent. Less fresh water entering the lake means the salinity levels are rising, threatening the reproductivity of the invertebrates that feed Wilson’s phalarope and the millions of birds that come to the lake. Already, some sections of the lake are functionally dead after being cut off from the main body of water.

As part of an effort to save the lake and all that depends on it, a coalition of environmentalists and scientists filed a petition with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service last month to have Wilson’s phalarope listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act. It’s a move that kicks off a years-long process that could force federal intervention to save the bird. Or it could force Utah and its neighboring states to devise their own conservation plan for the lake and Wilson’s phalarope to avoid federal involvement to protect the species.

“Our point is not to get a species on a list,” said Patrick Donnelly, the Great Basin director for the Center for Biological Diversity, which led the push for the petition. “Our point is to prevent extinction.”

#Great Salt Lake #Wilson’s phalarope #Endangered Species Act

[a-gal-with-taste]

The Riders (Oneshot)

Summary: Now, Zaun is surrounded by magic. Surrounded by it, breathing it in along with the smog... and Zaunites aren’t the only ones who’ve found home in such a world.

There’s the dragons, too.

Gift for the lovely and talented @sherwood-forests, and author of one of my all-time favorites, Here Be Dragons.

Piltover knows nothing of monsters, beasts; the Topsiders think it to be their greatest shield. Ignorance. Like the greatest of armor, they wield it against all unknown and the mysterious, and live thinking themselves safe. 

Nonsense.

They already shy away from magic itself, the blood of Runeterra itself. Foolishly, they chose to willingly remain blind and arrogant to the very source of life that flows through the earth of the planet itself, scandalized by the notion of magic, and all its wonders. Content to busy themselves with the self-made nature of new sciences, championing it as the better, and as the only, true form of magic the new-age of this world has to offer.

One can imagine it’s why Piltover loathes it’s sister-city so. Zaun, within the very earth that hosts the world's magic, can feel it teeming in the very walls, rock and metal that makes up the Undercity. Another foolish decision by Piltover, to direct their mining operations so deeply into the earth...

For now Zaun is surrounded by magic. Surrounded by it, breathing it in along with the smog... and Zaunites aren’t the only ones who’ve found home in such a world.

There’s the dragons, too.

You ponder if that’s why Topsiders are bitter, more than they are revolted by the idea - the discovery of hatchlings residing far, far into the depths of the mines within the Sumps had been reduced to a footnote in their history-books, pretty quickly. Once they realized the beasts could only fly in the airs clogged with the Underground Grey, Pilites had rather swiftly diverted their attention from the natural creatures of flight, to crafting the world’s first airships for Piltover air-travel.

They could’ve made it a little less obvious, or tried a little harder. 

Centuries had passed since such a discovery, and after a hasty split between the two cities along the river Pilt, the City of Progress had done their utmost to detach themselves from the subject of dragons, and nevermind the idea of taming such creatures. Now dubbed monsters, and beasts, whatever jealousy the Topsiders retained at their inability to possess such creatures for themselves, had transformed into detestation and abhorrence, over the centuries. 

One could almost pity them, flying in slow balloons across the open-sky, while chosen-Zaunites soared through the earth-itself.

But you had no thoughts on pitying stupid Topsiders - your mind is only on the brilliant thrill that is being on the back of a dragon.

Perched, as if it were a bird on a twig, and not wind-hovering in the air, completely frozen save for the quiver in their scales, and the blood flowing hot and wild in their veins, and in yours.

As high as they dared, heartbeats pass as you inhale a long, deep breath that coils deep into the bottom of your lungs - filling them with the crisp, almost sweet clean air that exists high above the earth.

It settles deep within you, a rare breath of even rarer air, and you allow a second to enjoy it, eyes closed and hair not pinned or tucked back, whipped about your face.

And then the wind stops.

And you drop.

Tucking close to the back of your great beast, you can't stop the high-pitched, thrilling childlike shriek that erupts from your throat as you plunge down, rocketing towards the earth with the speed akin to a fallen star.

With the joy you feel at the bursting adrenaline erupting in your mind, you might as well be a piece of starlight, shining through the sky during a rapid-descent to the earth. 

More mystical and glorious than anything reality has to offer. A dream, perhaps - and even if it was to be your last, the dream of flying with dragons is one you wish to never awaken from.

The Lanes - open scours cut through the earth like claw marks, perhaps from a dragon more giant than a city itself - leave more than enough room for your dragon to dive from the skies above the Alcoves, back into the true-Underground, its home and your own.

Spiked-wings tuck close around you - protective, as well as productive in your shared-journey - sharpening the flight into a dive as you cross the threshold from sky into earth, the air immediately growing thick, and warm, as you are both swallowed back into the earth. A gleeful purr grows beneath you, and you smile knowingly around the air-mask wrapped across your mouth, sharing in the familiar delight of your dragon.

Home at last.

Though the Lanes had been their home for many, many years before it had been yours, the evidence of coexistence is present in every aspect of the Underground. Those Chosen walk along their scaled companions, both in life and in reality, as so many are hatchlings, still able to perch along shoulders or stride beside their riders on four, elongated-clawed feet.

Perhaps one day, they’ll be large enough for their present-riders to actually, well, ride, but most have grown content with their smaller companions of scales and fangs.

There’s plenty of envy, in the eyes of civilians as you soar past them, streaking down as seamlessly as a droplet of water from the heavens themselves. Those Unchosen, or impatient eyes of youth with a desire to ride their own beasts.

You remember being both, once upon a time, and empathy cuts through the joy.

Once, you had been Unchosen - alone in both soul and body, as orphanhood had not been an uncommon fact of line, and you were one of many to have such a footnote in your personal history. 

Another footnote came in the form of a cold-night growing warm, and an empty feeling around you being surrounded by scales and a slow, hesitant growl. Like any child, you had unconsciously reached out, desperate for companionship, and the yearning, the need of fire, dominating over any other need, even of the piercing hunger and horrible exhaustion...

Even in sleep, you had found it. 

You found the fire you desired, the fire you needed, in the form of scales coiling around you, and an already young-grown tucking you close beneath its wing.

Being Chosen had been a gift on its own, but the flight you had taken the next morning after the shock had worn off, had been the greatest-reward the cruel world had ever granted you. Squeezing your hands slightly on the catch-holds you grip onto, you give a thought to those who would wait years for their hatchlings or juveniles to be big enough to fly - but only one thought.

The rest, you give to the sweet fact that you could fly.

Your beast catches a draft, riding down at a slower, casual air-glide through the vast dark Underground, lit only by neon lights or pits of eternal dragon-flame to light the walkways and the rest of the world below. Other winged creatures soar near this level - Central-Lanes are popular with both man and monsters, with walkways and caverns cut along rock and metal large enough to house such grand creatures for rest. 

No directions are needed - the rider of a dragon is usually just a passenger, and with so few obligations in life, you’re content to cling to the back and allow the wind to take you.

“Someone’s restless,” You note, after letting your mask drop, dangling below your chin as you breathe in the calmer-air around you, completely opposite from the risk of choking at winds racing past at breakneck-speeds you had faced not moments earlier. Letting one hand stray, it brushes with fingers spreading, pressing in a caring touch as you tease, “Wheeze in some fumes from the coffee-shop, did you?”

The language of dragons is lost to humanity, as is the idea of translating mortal-tongue to dragon. Still, you could swear your creature hears the jest, and is good-naturedly displeased by it. A rough jostle as the wings shake-out mid-flight in irritation - you would go flying if it were any rougher, if the intention was to buck you off for the rudeness, but you only laugh, and return to gripping the rougher scales along the back of the beast with a small smile on your face. One you could almost imagine was shared in the flash of fangs, and a rumbling growl from below you. Almost in a shared chuckle.

Letting the Dragon take you wherever you go, you allow your eyes to wander and drift, lips pursing almost on reflex to whistle out a simple, four-note tune.

I’m here, I'm here.

The sole-surviving piece of dragonlore, predating the conquest, mining operations of Piltover and begrudgingly-granted independence of Zaun, to still exist. 

The only evidence of riders long-past, beyond all living memory, that seems to come as instinctively as blinking to you and other lazy Riders in this part of the Underground, and a chorus of whistles, near and far-distant, come with your traditional call:

We’re here. We’re here.

Perhaps, eons prior, it was a call of kin and community. Way to unite rider to rider, from dragon to dragon - now, it acts more like a forewarning to avoid mid-air collision. Not entirely what dragon-riders of the past had in mind, but...

All but flouting, your beast tucks in their wings, going from a casual glide, to a dive downward. Not quite the nose-dive that had been performed to rocket back down from the skies to earth, but a slow grin creeps across your face as you hear a rumbling-growl from beneath your palms, body, and somewhere deep inside, in your very soul.

“You spoil me.”

A growl, far more pleasant, of agreement from beneath you as you quickly fix the breathalyzer across your mouth once more, before the creature flicks its tail and you begin to turn in time with a new dive.

Twirling, like a spiral digging straight down into the earth. Thanking whatever Gods that exist, you’re glad to be one without the affliction of motion-sickness... though, the rapidly twisting and speeding-past of the lights in the Lanes does give your eyes some strain, leading you to close your eyes and press your face into the heated-ridges along your beast’s back. 

The earth swirled around you - it almost felt like it was closing in, by the dragon’s design. Sinking down, down, down into a spiral purging from the populated Lanes, the bustling and full Undercity, transformed from a getting-by metropolis, into a true underground.

You were thankful for your mask, as you passed through a cloud of the Gray as the lights and sound of the city-true became an echo, and then a memory from above and behind you. Like any Zaunite, breathing in the toxic air was as natural as a blinking, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make one’s head-spin when catching it on the downward drift, from Zaun-proper, into the deepest part of the Sumps.

Slowing the spin, your dragon drilled through the air in a flight that was far more at-ease in speed, allowing you to catch a breath, and catch sights of the world around you. Iron and glass had bled away, leaving rock and stone behind. Walls full of empty scours, deep caverns blacker than the night-sky above the Alcoves, tunnels made of draconian, human hands, and picks...

The mining level. 

Had you been born only centuries prior, you would’ve seen the poorest of the poor, wretches of the wretched, toiling down here on a daily basis, all on the order of the progressive and oppressive might of Piltover’s finest.

You also would’ve seen the first dragons, and the first joining of rider to beast in centuries.

One could be forgiven for being envious of having missed such an occasion, but after swooping past an entrance, blocked by a no-doubt neverending collection of fallen stones, envy melts into shivers. Trying not to think how many bones must mingle with the rocks inside.

History-tour? You muse mentally, thinking the slight, impatient shake from beneath you was mere coincidence at your teasing thought. Adjusting your grip before settling against the scales, the remainder of your ride plunges further and further down... deep, deep into the earth of Runeterra.

It is dark, and it is hot.

Are you being flown down into the center of the earth? It surely feels like it, as you turn to wipe off a brow full of gathering-sweat on your sleeve, feeling the first flutter of nerves in the pit of your stomach, when you realize all that lies before you, is shaded in pure darkness.

Black. Completely, and utterly, you are in a land where the sun has never touched, and only darkness reigns.

If you actually knew where you were and where you were going, you would be impressed and fascinated. But all you are is questioning, but before you can think to ask, or try to even remove your mask to speak, the silent threshold is crossed, and you are entombed in pitch blackness.

Not even your hands, or the scales they grip to with a suddenly shaky grip, is visible before your vision. And despite the warmth in the air, cloying and claustrophobic, you feel a chill racing up your spine. 

Because there’s something in the darkness. 

It’s not felt, or sensed.

But heard, in the form of a four-note whistle, dark and low like whatever unseen, untouched cavern you have unwittingly gone into. One that, ever since you’ve taken to the skies, ever since your life had been fatefully intertwined with the life of the beast, you have known that whistle in your very-heart, mind, body and soul. Not because it was taught, but because it was as connected to you, as you are connected to this unbreakable bond with your dragon.

It’s an instinctive act, an instinctive understanding.

And as instinctive as the whistle is, so is the hairs rising all over your body - every goosebumps and every shiver rocketing through your very being, at the sound of the low, four-note whistle you hear in the darkest world to have ever existed:

I’m here. I’m here.

And it’s simply instinctive that you whistle back, even though your tone is hesitant, partially from the darkness and partly from the fact that you aren’t alone in this space, a void seemingly detached from all other forms of life, beast or human, mortal or immortal:

I’m here. I’m here.

The world around you doesn’t just go dark.

It goes silent.

So silent, you wonder if you are in the land of the dead itself. The Underworld in truth and not just location.

And then your dragon lands, and the universe becomes alive once more. It is a colorful existence, and it is a bright one as well - so bright your eyes screw shut on instinct, pressing your forehead down between the ridges of the back of your dragon. Even behind the safety of your lids, the world seems intent to pierce through and strike harshly at your sensitive retinas - first by darkness, now by light.

However, your beast has no use, and no patience for such dramatics.

The low growl is the only warning you get, before a rough jostle nearly sends you flying without-wings, like a flea shaken off from fur. You manage to cling on by stubbornness and habit, but flash open your eyes to blink into the... not-darkness before you.

Or rather, around you.

Below the dragons claws, jagged pieces of stone shine under the contact. Those left untouched remain dull and dark as the neverending shadows around you, but the ones below you shine  brilliantly, like a thousand shades of stars. Oranges and blues, greens and purples - absolutely stunning reds that take your breath away. Glowing and rough, sharper than the edge of any-knife and not one twin to another, they fill the ground beneath in an unorganized, yet fascinating pile beneath the feet of your beast and you imagine it would take eons to put even two of these oddities together.

And, by Janna, is this place an oddity.

“Why here?” You ask, breathless from your racing heart, and the cloying warmth still hovering around you. “Why fly here?” You don’t even know where you are, let alone why your beast has chosen to lead you here.

Your dragon, ever helpful, shakes their proud-head almost nonchalantly, and entirely ignores your question. 

Only briefly hesitating, you’re soon to release your iron-clad grip on the ridged-scales on your beast’s back, and slide down onto the surface below, grateful that the jagged-stones don’t slice though your boots. In fact, they don’t even break, only shuffle as you step out further from the comfort of your companion, turning in a small-circle as you gaze around. Eyes flutter in surprise as you look down, taking note of your steps now summoning light from the stones beneath your feet and your eyes widen in some deep, hidden childish delight as the rainbow of lights flash beneath your steps.

Neat as this mystery was, this place was still unknown. Untouched by humanity, and only found by the secret will of a dragon.

And, for a moment, you can almost believe that you and your beast are the only living creatures in this hidden world.

But then comes a growl.

Not from mere feet behind you, from your own dragon.

From above.

CONTINUE READING ON AO3

Taglist: @sweatandwoe  @mazikomo  @ironandglass  @bb-8  @syx-00  @lackofhonor  @soullessbody  @ellhd-imagination  @wanna-plan-world-domination  @bloodmoon-bites  @sengawolf  @thereading-nook  @zillahvathek  @my-awakened-ghost  @agoutighost  @shuttlelauncher81  @stabmemaybe  @rosmariner  @intpthinkinginquiet  @atalldrinkofcaprisun  @ladykatakuri  @littledollll  @betasuppe  @dropssofjupitter  @gooseberries88  @yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy  @aboveasphodel  @marina-and-the-memes  @masterjedilenaaa  @foppishish  @dad-dumpster  @nyx2021  @beef-bakery  @jennithejester  @the-lake-is-calling  @ariaud

#silco x reader #silco arcane #silco league of legends #silco x you #silco fanfic #read on ao3 #dragons #dragon au #fantasy #writing #birthday fic

[sparatus]

📚📚

send me 📓 for a fic plot i haven't written yet

oh you want two, cool i got two :)

been bouncing around a couple ideas for some sparkyteia + quentilea couples' vacations, let the old men get off the station and have fun with their feral wives a bit. also because "the alleged mistress is actually just quentius" is a hell of a take i think it would be funny to seed into the fandom.

first one is a tropical vacation on quentius's home planet of parnithas. ierian's been stressed out and getting grouchier by the minute, so teia and tibero scheme to get the poor old man to agree to a vacation. ierian's stubborn though, so "persuade" eventually becomes "strong-arm;" teia books the tickets and packs, tippi offers a room at his beach house for better privacy and security, nautilea goes on ahead to get the place ready. but ierian doesn't want a vacation, he's got shit to do and people to call and spectres to handle – except he also has an assistant happy to tell people the big boss lawyer boy is on vacation, and the spectres love chaos and agree to divert to valern and tevos (and the dead parents club aka saren nihlus and avitus do bird rock-paper-scissors to see who gets bodyguard duty for the free tropical vacation, of course), and it's all taken care of, ierian, relax, come along our flight's in an hour

ierian's omni-tool is confiscated on arrival on parnithas. mandatory relaxation it's for your health eri. cue about a day or two's worth of sulking and complaining and trying to be wily and get his tool back before finally succumbing to the allure of a nice sunset on the beach with his good friends, some nice rum, fishing, and a bonfire under the stars. his wife being happy and relaxed and so very pretty topless and wearing fluttery skirts also helps.

idea #2 might be this year's new year's fic, the power couple couple skip out on the annual stuffy new year's gala to go have fun somewhere tevos and udina can't spoil it for them. they scuttle off to bird vegas, once again against ierian's will - he did agree to the vacation this time, the council is on recess anyway, but he wanted somewhere quiet and relaxing, he just got outvoted by his feral friends and wife. shenanigans ensue. nobody's really keeping track of who's had how much to drink, even ierian has a little too much, but that's what they have blackwatch for, innit?

when they wake up the next morning, they find they accidentally got married to the wrong ones. ierian and tibero, teia and nautilea. oopsie!! luckily, since they're all verifiably already married, it's easy enough to get an annulment, but not without a good day's worth of ribbing each other and goofing around with it, for funsies. they also obviously never let each other live it down, and calling each other their exes becomes a running in-joke.

#press conference #ierian sparatus #tibero quentius #aediteia epirian #nautilea victrilianus

[wordsmatter09]

On January 15, 2009, US Airways Flight 1549, an Airbus A320 on a flight from New York City's LaGuardia Airport to Charlotte struck a flock of birds shortly after take-off, losing all engine power. Unable to reach any airport for an emergency landing due to their low altitude, pilots Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger and Jeffrey Skiles glided the plane to a ditching in the Hudson River off Midtown Manhattan.[1] All 155 people on board were rescued by nearby boats, with only a few serious injuries.

This water landing of a powerless jetliner with no deaths became known as the Miracle on the Hudson,[2] and a National Transportation Safety Board official described it as "the most successful ditching in aviation history".[3] The Board rejected the notion that the ditching could have been avoided by returning to LaGuardia or diverting to nearby Teterboro Airport.

#Hudson River airplane landing #miracle on the hudson river #Capt. Scully #sullenberger

[spookyshipperfics]

Darkened Skies

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Explicit

Tagging @today-in-fic

What is it About? Scully and Mulder help out Skinner when bird attacks derail his vacation to a seaside cottage. Everything changes after they are forced to take cover in a phone booth.

Read a Sample:

It is 8:07 on a Monday morning. Mulder wants to tell Scully she looks beautiful, but instead, he tells her about the birds. Flapping, deranged clusters of them flood the skies in a nearby town. Typically, eye rolls and projector slides would follow, but this time the intel comes from Skinner himself.

It is not a case; it’s a request from Skinner’s personal phone. The assistant director’s rare vacation to a seaside cottage had been derailed by unruly birds. The FBI’s basement freaks the only two people willing to entertain him, despite his insistence that it is not an X-File.

“I guess he really missed us,” Mulder quips, earning him a small smile.

By 10:00, they are in the car. Scully sits in the passenger’s seat, rifling through the overnight bag she keeps on hand for such occasions. Manicured fingers parse through silk pajamas, underwear, bras—lacey, pretty things glimpsed only from the corner of his eye. The softer side of her she tries to conceal from him.

His thoughts are dirty, distracting, but they keep him busy. They reach their destination just after noon.

*

A children’s birthday party is the unlucky target of avian violence. An overturned cake litters the ground with icing. Balloons are tangled in trees. A lone party hat blows across the lawn like a bizarre tumbleweed. Mulder has barely left Skinner’s side since they arrived. Local law enforcement fills them in on witness testimony. The reports are all the same.

They came out of nowhere.

They attacked unprovoked.

You could barely see through the swarm.

A nearby farmer turns up next. Drawn to the scene by the commotion and glow of police sirens. He explains his chickens haven’t been eating. That something seems strange about the latest batch of feed.

Skinner’s off to collect a sample, his cell phone glued to his ear. Mulder stays behind, watching Scully tend to the children awaiting medical attention. Most of the injuries are minor. Pecks and scratches that bleed more than they hurt.

One little girl cries as Scully holds a washcloth to her cheek. For the second time that day, Mulder sees the softer side of his partner. A side that makes silly faces and tells stories with animated exuberance.

Soon giggles replace tears. When Scully removes the washcloth, the little girl peers back with glistening eyes. At that moment, Mulder knows that he and this child have one thing in common—they are both in awe of Dana Scully.

*

They park in the town center. Storefronts and the sparkling sign of a movie theater are a welcome change of scenery after torn party streamers and crying children. Mulder spots the police station next to the towering steeple of a church.

They are halfway across the street when he notices the crows. Perched in trees and crowded on telephone lines. He hurries Scully along, his hand on her lower back. Dozens of cold, black marble eyes watch their every move.

The church bell tolls.

The birds’ feathers rustle in a frightening orchestra. When the bell rings again, the birds take flight.

Mulder and Scully run, arms swinging wildly as the birds surge around them. He grabs Scully’s hand, diverting to a phone booth and slamming the door shut.

The phone booth is tight and cramped. He is so close to Scully that he can smell her. Swirls of floral perfume. Even in the face of danger, he wonders if she did it for him. Outside perils come secondary to the inner workings of her mind, her feelings, her well-being. The crows swarm around them, dark and menacing. They blot out the sky like a feathery storm.

The sound is the worst part. Fluttering. Flapping. Caws and squawks that are both threatening and panicked. One slams into the glass with a sickening crunch. Scully moves for her weapon, but he steadies her arm before she can reach her holster.

Together, they wait. They watch. Another crow collides with the phone booth. The glass cracks. Scully stumbles backward, and his arm moves around her middle on instinct.

“It will hold,” he assures her.

It’s not until the swarm clears that he realizes his groin is against her curves, her back almost flush against his chest. At some point, her fingers had found a vice grip on the arm encircling her waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The hold on his arm relaxes as she gives him the standard “I’m fine, Mulder” response. She doesn’t move, though. Neither of them does. The excuse of adrenaline is enough to keep them frozen in place. The fear that one of them could have been hurt allows them to stay like that for longer than they should.

*

Blue skies have been replaced by the purple coolness of dusk. The cottage Skinner had whisked Arlene to for a romantic getaway has two extra guests. Mulder helps Skinner board the windows before sitting down to dinner.

Scully’s blue eyes travel across Mulder’s face, lingering on his lips. Her gaze is like a lightning strike, fierce and bright. He wonders if Skinner can feel the crackle of electricity from across the table. If the assistant director does, he gives nothing away. Small talk and the clanking of silverware fill the silence.

When Skinner and Arlene depart for bed, Skinner shows Scully upstairs to the guest room. Mulder is left downstairs, banished to the couch the same way he was banished to the basement.

Somewhere in the twilight of sleep, creaking on the stairs alerts him. For a moment, the shuffling of feet mimics the flapping of wings. His eyelids flutter open only to find Scully standing above him.

“Mulder.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

They must have started swarming again. Why else had she appeared in front of him? He knows Scully better than that, though. He knows her voice, her infliction. This isn’t an exclamation; it’s a question. An inquiry about what had started five years ago when they first locked eyes. A flash of destiny. A hint of love. He knows his next words count, so he keeps them simple.

He takes his chance. “Come here.”

Read the Rest: a03

#the x files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #msr fanfic #scully and mulder #horror movie inspired

[stormy-seasons]

Loyalty of the Wind, Chapter 30. Chapter 30. I can’t believe I finished it. Here, have the happy wedding proposal and the wedding night.

Part 30: the union of earth and wind

Note: the part about marriage and contracts and Zhongli’s possible approach being amending their existing contract is inspired by heavensblessing. For a more indepth look at what a ZhongXiao wedding might look like, complete with Zhongli as bridezilla, please go read their gorgeous wedding fic!

Also has dragon/bird form. And Zhongli grabbing hold of the narrator voice and refusing to let go. At all.

They dance eagerly through the air, flying with and around each other. Zhongli does his best to mirror Xiao’s dance, lacking corresponding sky-borne dances of his own to respond with – Xiao calls out joyfully and performs more and more aerial acrobatics around him – almost as though this was the correct response. A wonder and a delight, to have Xiao openly express his love and desire – publicly! So publicly! – Zhongli must return the sentiment in kind, and with interest. He croons his request through the air to Xiao, who sings ebulliently in response. Yes, yes, that would be possible. Almost, Zhongli swoops near enough to twine with Xiao in mid-air – but he restrains himself. There will be time for that. For now... for now, there is proper honour that must be done for Xiao.

When, at last, they finally heed their physical weariness and land, there is a crowd. The adepti and yakshas have gathered, as well as some of the bolder humans who had cooperated with Xiao before, or who worked in Morax’s administration of Liyue. All are smiling, cheering even. Azhdaha is there as well, an enormous smile spread across his face, standing right in front of the crowd with Bosacius, Indarias, Menogias and Bonanus beside him. A little further off in deference to their dislike of crowds – the adepti guardians of Jueyun Karst, Zhongli’s students, are there too. Azhdaha strides forward to welcome the both of them back, grinning as he says, “Had a good flight?”

Zhongli refuses to blush. “A very excellent flight, yes, thank you.”

“And, perhaps, you and your lovely Xiao have an announcement or two?” Azhdaha presses onward teasingly as Zhongli turns to look at Xiao, who nods shyly. He turns back to Azhdaha, “A happy announcement... yes. We will be... adding a specific addendum to our mutual contract.”

Azhdaha nudges him, amused, “What addendum?”

Zhongli raises an eyebrow. “An addendum of marriage, naturally.” 

He turns to the crowd, and addresses those he requires within it. “Ping, please calculate and provide me with a selection of suitable dates. And I wish to meet the representatives of the craft associations within.... Hm, within the next three hours. And the member of the administration who is responsible for preparations for festivities, as well. Azhdaha, my friend, it would give me great pleasure if you are also present as witness and master of ceremonies.”

A wild cheer goes up around them, and the crowd sweeps them into the palace in a wild, ebullient throng of overjoyed people.

Hours later, in the study, Zhongli meets those whose aid he will likely require. The textile guild representative, still smiling from ear to ear, takes the initiative to ask, “What do you need or desire, my lord? Are we to prepare wedding garments? Is there a particular colour or pattern that adepti consider appropriate –”

Zhongli clears his throat. The guild representative checks herself, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Kindly, he speaks to divert attention from her, “Your enthusiasm is most appreciated, but I have... prerequisites.”

“Anything that my lord desires, we will certainly do our best to fulfil.”

“Provide suitable examples of skill from all of your guild, and from others who would desire to contribute. Ah. Those with experience with... the sort of embroidery preferred for weddings, are preferred. And those with a delicate hand with the needle. And choose you well those with skill that you would desire to bring to my attention.” Zhongli reminds severely. He has several excellent tailors in mind, but it doesn’t hurt to see if there was anyone he’d missed out in his quiet walks through Liyue during times of peace. Xiao leans quietly against him, seeming to doze, and Zhongli cannot help the fond smile that spreads across his face, or the tender touch through Xiao’s hair. Ah, how fair and lovely his beloved bird is, fit to shame the moon and stars for glory and elegance... A soft clearing of the throat draws his attention away, and Zhongli turns his mind towards the minutiae of planning of ceremonies. Xiao had told him, as they flew earlier, that anything Zhongli arranged was fine – but it would hardly be a fitting ceremony if Xiao could not enjoy it. 

“No... public ceremony, my lord?” One of the humans asks very quietly, respectful of Xiao’s seeming doze. Zhongli shakes his head. “It would not be enjoyable for him, to have gawkers everywhere. But we also wish to respect Liyue’s desire to celebrate with us, and so... a public feast, and merry making, and I, at least, will make a public appearance. But the rites we will not publicise. Ah, and the celebratory foods... I will look over the menu suggestions personally – as far as is reasonable, the dishes should tend towards simple yet refined, without excessive fuss in the preparation or manner of eating. Sweet tastes are preferred, and nothing excessively rich or oily. And... Ganyu, let it be known that the appointed day will be a public holiday and day of rest for all. Now, for the next detail...”

Later, once the others have left and they are once more alone at last, Xiao kisses him shyly. “I... Zhongli, my apologies that I am not of more help in this –”

“You need not worry, my little bird.” Zhongli answers him fondly. “I have much more patience, even delight, in such details and matters than you do – I would rather not distress you by requiring that you participate closely in the planning of such events. The important part is our mutual commitment – what else would you like, beside the amendment of our contract to include our marriage? I said I would court and commit myself to you by whatever rites you desire – what is your desire, my Xiao?” 

Xiao blushes warmly under Zhongli’s gaze, and his wings shiver so cutely upon his shoulders as he fidgets, “I... you already did... part of it. The reciprocation of the courting dance. Though. If you would... would like... after the marriage contracts and rites are... are completed, I would like you to... to dance with me, again, from dawn until dusk. And then... then to... pursue me through the air.”

“And what shall I do then, after I pursue – and catch – you, my Xiao?” Zhongli asks with a purr. Xiao blushes even more brightly. “Then... have me, my lord, my... my beloved.”

Zhongli has to pause and make himself breathe calmly for a time to avoid prematurely ending their conversation. The very thought of what Xiao is asking for is... thrilling. “Then, I would like to ask that this... chase – the ending of it at least – take place in my domain. I would like the sight of your pleasure to be... utterly private.”

Xiao blushes so sweetly again. “I... I agree.”

The appointed day is clear and bright, the winds brisk and cooling amid the warm sunlight. A good omen, the people murmur. All of Liyue is buzzing with effervescent excitement, hardly able to contain themselves decorously. Their lord and god has a beloved! He has a loved one, and they are marrying! Oh, how wonderful!

Some exchange recent stories and tales passed down through generations from Liyue’s founding and before. Oh, that day, were you there? Did you see how that beautiful yaksha danced in the air for our lord and our lord alone? Their love is so true, so honest, so strong – may they share joyful eternities with each other!

My grandfather heard it from his grandfather who heard it from... anyway, it’s said that early in Liyue’s founding, there was an attack by that sea-god that now troubles Fontaine periodically – the harbour was nearly destroyed! They say that the Conqueror of Demons personally drove them away, and nearly died doing it! That... that our lord personally brought him to Jueyun Karst to be healed! Oh... do you think they were already....?

Pah, who knows? I know that they are almost never separated – whenever our lord goes out to war, so too must this yaksha go, or so goes the tales among the Millelith and exorcists!

And on, and on, and on, they share exuberant tales and stories of Morax, their Rex Lapis, their lord of rock and stone, and his consort-to-be, his beloved, the Conqueror of Demons. Some, a little more knowledgeable in the ways of certain of the adepti, whisper with blushes to their partners, That glorious sky dance the other day, the one where our lord took on dragon form to answer – that was a courting dance, maybe even a... a mating dance!

You disrespect the adepti!

It’s true! And... and our lord reciprocated it! The love and devotion they must share....

High above the joyful crowd, upon the peak of Tianheng, dressed in wedding finery, Xiao blushes to hear his title bandied about with such praise. “They praise me over much.”

Zhongli shakes his head fondly, and kisses Xiao on the crown of his head. “They praise you for the benevolent deeds you have done, which they or their ancestors have benefited from. My hawk, my lovely bird, if I thought you could bear it I would commission paens of praise of you and your deeds.”

“My lord!” Xiao protests, flushing crimson. Zhongli kisses him fondly again. “I know you would rather not. But accept the accolades you have justly earned, my love.”

Below, upon the terrace, the gong rings out loud and solemn, announcing the chosen hour, and they step gracefully down through the air, landing briefly amid the respectful crowd upon Yujing Terrace, before turning to enter the temple, for the portion of the rites and celebration which would be enacted here. 

Once that is done, they depart swiftly for Jueyun Karst, and there the adepti and Azhdaha’s people fete them, feasting joyously together with Zhongli and Xiao. 

After that, Azhdaha winks cheerily at Zhongli’s very nearly impatient face, and distracts the others before they can offer yet another round of toasts and well-wishes. Quietly, they slip away, and Zhongli takes the lead to bring them into his private domain. It opens up before them into a vista very much like the Jueyun Karst that Xiao had first come to know all those many years ago at Zhongli’s side, yet also reminiscent of Liyue as it is now. 

“Will this do?” Zhongli asks hopefully. Xiao turns to look at him, a smile on his face. “Yes. It will more than do. Is there a... a flower meadow here?”

“Several. Let me... let me bring you to one that I think will please you.”

Zhongli had hopefully shaped a few meadows among the mountains previously, and coaxed qingxin and other mountain blossoms to grow there. It is effort well worth it – Xiao sheds his wedding shoes and wades amid the flowers, gold eyes bright with delight. Slowly, ceremoniously, he lifts his arms about himself, and begins to dance amid the flowers, with only the rustling passage of the wind to accompany his dance. 

It is beautiful, Zhongli thinks, but it could be even more so – he asks the domain’s wind to blow a little more strongly, shapes the rocks and cliffs around them just so... Xiao dances on, and as he dances, as the wind curls playfully about him and whistles past the rocks and cliffs... the stone around them begins to sing, humming with the whistling song of the wind’s passage and thrumming in resonating echoes down to the deep cliffs that Zhongli had wrought. Xiao does not stop, but turns in his dance to smile joyously at Zhongli. My lord, you shape beautiful music.

It is but the bare minimum – you should have as much glorious music as you like to accompany your dance. I am no expert flautist – but to let the wind and the stone play their songs for you, that I can do.

Slowly, gradually, Xiao’s dance turns from demonstration of skill and capability, to a dance fit to evoke desire and longing. Unconsciously, Zhongli licks his lips, feels his shape slide from human to dragon. His mate, his beloved, dances to entice and call him – Zhongli will answer. He steps towards the meadow. Xiao, still dancing, looks up and smiles. Dances into a high, elegant leap, and at the apex of that jump changes form, taking to the air. Zhongli is after him in moments. 

As swift as he is in the air, Xiao is swifter and more agile still, elegantly demonstrating his mastery of air and flight, always just far enough ahead of Zhongli to whet their appetite for the chase. Zhongli lets Xiao play, for now. His is the greater stamina by far... and it was quite pleasant, indeed, to chase without any danger involved. Playfully, he tugs a cliff ahead to snarl the air currents for Xiao – Xiao simply soars through the tangle of wind as though there was nothing to it, slowing enough to playfully twirl his tail feathers at Zhongli. Ah, how delightful indeed... 

Eventually, as they both knew would happen, Zhongli’s greater stamina allows him to catch Xiao from the air. Laughing, they roll and tumble onto the ground, and Zhongli rears up, pinning his dear Xiao’s bird form beneath him. “Would you mind if I have you like this, Xiao?”

In answer, Xiao tips his head backwards, exposing his throat in silent permission. Zhongli bends his head down, and begins to explore this form of Xiao’s that he’d so seldom seen. His tongue on Xiao’s feathers is wet, but not particularly entertaining for Xiao, he notes. At certain places, though, the rasp of Zhongli’s tongue drew a most pleasing and tremulous whimper from Xiao. Lovely, how very lovely...

A soft, keening cry, and Xiao shudders beneath him with a whimper of pleasure, feathers ruffling – Good, he’s managed to coax a climax from him already. Xiao will need more, if they are to... carry out Zhongli’s rather heated idea. He bends his head, applying his tongue to more intimate parts. This might be easier, if Zhongli were willing to use toys and tools and constructs of stone, but ... for this moment, this unique night... Zhongli wants nothing but himself to prepare Xiao with. 

“My Xiao,” he rasps hungrily, “Tell me one more time you want me to take you like this.”

Xiao blinks at him. Whistles something that Zhongli can almost, almost understand, then blinks rapidly and tries again. His voice is... different, in this shape, higher, breathier, “I... my lord, my love, take me already!”

Zhongli obliges. Slowly, very, patiently, he lets the sexual organs of this form unsheathe. Xiao’s body is different like this, slightly larger, and Zhongli had only stimulated him once to orgasm to encourage him to relax enough – though being chased and caught was evidently enjoyable enough that Xiao is attempting to coax him to enter immediately. Zhongli takes his time anyway. This form is large, and not... easy – Azhdaha had commented fondly once that Zhongli’s dragon shape seemed to manifest some of his strong and vehement desires for his loved ones not to leave him. On more than one level. But if, if Zhongli took his time about it very carefully... it would also be very entertaining for Xiao. Very pleasurable, to go by the reactions of those few he’d trusted enough to attempt to couple in this shape. This was their night – he wanted Xiao to feel as good as possible.

The first few moments of entry are cautious, and Zhongli twines the rest of himself around Xiao in a coiling grip, caught in the furious desire to keep, to possess. And Xiao, though Zhongli knew very well that bird-adepti did not, generally speaking, share the same ... instinct to entwine, presses his own neck, his own wings and limbs around Zhongli, as though attempting to press their bodies together into one. Ah, but Xiao is so very warm, so very welcoming within, Zhongli cannot help but think, and he rocks himself deeper. Drags himself out, very slowly, delighting in the frustrated keen of pleasure from Xiao’s throat, before pushing himself in again, as deep as Xiao’s body can accommodate him. It feels so very good, and his next movements are less gentle, more certain – employing a little more force. Xiao bites him hard over the scales on his neck, beak nearly breaking through the scales to draw blood. “Stop holding... holding back and take me properly!”

He obliges gladly. Several slow, rocking thrusts later, Xiao trembles in his coils in the grip of orgasm, voice nearly cracking with his cries of pleasure as his wings and limbs thrash in spasms of pleasure. The delightful clenching of his body on Zhongli urges Zhongli’s own pleasure onwards, too, and he comes with a slow, trembling shudder of release. Delightful.  Moments later, Xiao’s body shivers with change around him, and Zhongli blinks open his eyes. What is his lovely bird doing? Xiao leans his head – his human form’s head – against Zhongli’s body, his arms wrapping tightly, his wings attempting to enfold both of them. Ah. Carefully, cautious of causing damage, Zhongli shifts his own form closer to human, too, and nuzzles his head against Xiao’s. 

This, too, was very nice, this cuddling of skin to skin and flesh to flesh. 

Eventually, Xiao murmurs in his ears, “Is my lord weary from his exertions?”

Weary? No, never, not as long as Xiao desired him – Zhongli nuzzles against him again. Xiao laughs softly, as though tickled by the motion, and whispers to him, “What we did was very enjoyable – can we do it again? Like this? Until... until daylight recalls us to the other things we have to do?”

 Of course. They can go as many times as both of them would like – they have time. At long last, they have proper time, in the peace that flows golden over the land. Xiao murmurs a sweet idea in his ears, and Zhongli agrees, taking him slowly, luxuriously, in a variety of positions and bringing Xiao to pleasure again and again, their partly-human forms twining insistently around each other. Kisses him slowly, tenderly – Xiao laughs with joy and returns his kisses with interest. They rest intertwined for long moments, desire still humming in Zhongli’s blood – in Xiao, as well, from the way his yaksha’s hands stroke Zhongli’s body, toy and fidget with his hair. 

“Perhaps...” Xiao murmurs softly, “In the open air, as well?”

“Of course.” Zhongli agrees, opening the way out of the domain. The air outside is sweet and calm, heavy with the scent of high mountain flowers – most of all the qingxin that Xiao favours. Below them, beyond them, across rolling plain, deep valley and high mountain, Liyue scrolls outwards, golden and at peace. Beautiful. Xiao sighs in his arms, breathing deeply of the wind that plays around them. “One more time, Zhongli? Before we take up our cares and duties again.”

“Liyue won’t need us forever.” Zhongli says thoughtfully. “One day, when they can stand on their own without me... without you... we too can retire and enjoy the peace in full. For now, Xiao... no one cries our names in need upon the wind. Let me share joy and solace with you, again.”

Beneath the light of the celestial atlas, with the wind singing about the mountains around them, they come together. 

In the afterglow, they exchange slow kisses as they lay back to observe the world at peace. Peace... Zhongli had not thought he would actually see it happen. Xiao sighs contentedly after a while. “Thank you, Zhongli.”

“For what?”

“For... more than I could have ever known to imagine, millenia ago, when... when you chose to spare my life, and bring me back with you.”

Zhongli rolls over to look intently at Xiao’s beloved face. “Then I, too, must thank you as well. Because you have also given me more than I could have known to imagine, when first we met.”

Xiao reaches up to him, and kisses Zhongli long and slow, even as the wind brings to them the sound of the distant celebrations of Liyue, rejoicing together with them.

#my fic #tlotw #the loyalty of the wind #zhongxiao #genshin impact fic

[usafphantom2]

Accident with Indian Navy MiG-29K on the coast of Goa

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 10/12/2022 - 12:52 in Aeronautical Accidents, Military

An Indian Navy MiG-29K fighter fell in still unknown circumstances in the Goa coast sea.

The aircraft crashed when it returned to Hansa naval base in Goa.

The Indian Navy reported on Twitter about the accident: "A 29K MiG in a routine outing over the Goa Sea developed a technical malfunction when returning to the base. The pilot ejected safely and was recovered in a rapid SAR operation. The pilot was reported in stable condition. An investigation committee was determined to investigate the cause of the accident.”

The Indian Navy is the only operator in the world of the MiG-29K fighter acquired from Russia along with Admiral Gorshkov renamed INS Vikramaditya in India.

The security history of the MiG-29Ks has not been very good. The force is now analyzing the acquisition of 25 to 26 foreign fighters for operations of the INS Vikrant aircraft carrier, recently presented by the Prime Minister in Kochi.

This was the fourth accident involving the MiG-29K since 2019.

In November 2020, a fighter pilot died after a MiG-29K accident, where one of the pilots was rescued shortly after the accident and another pilot had his body found 11 days later.

Another MiG 29K fell in the same year in February after being hit by birds. The pilots diverted the jet from a housing complex before ejecting, which attracted praise from India's Defense Minister Shripad Naik.

In November 2019, a MiG-29K jet crashed during training in a village next to the base in Goa. Both pilots ejected safely.

The MiG-29K is equipped with the Russian-made K-36D-3.5 ejector seat, one of the most sophisticated in the world. If the ejection levers are pulled, the pilot in the rear seat is ejected first, followed by the pilot in the front.

Tags: Aeronautical AccidentsMilitary AviationIndian NavyMiG-29K

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. It has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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DAILY DOSE: Pandemic Caused Worldwide Myopia Epidemic in Children; Bird Flu Outbreak Forces Massive Poultry Culling.

CAUSE OF SINGAPORE AIRLINES TURBULENCE DROP DETERMINED. A severe turbulence incident involving a Singapore Airlines flight from London to Singapore last Tuesday caused the aircraft to drop approximately 178 feet in 4.6 seconds. The flight, carrying 211 passengers and 18 crew, encountered the turbulence over Myanmar and was diverted to Bangkok, Thailand. The incident resulted in one fatality—a…

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#Africa #Asia #Australia #avian influenza #climate change #coronavirus #COVID #diet #environment #epidemiology #Europe #Featured #food #myopia #North America #physics #South America #sustainability #zoology

[petnews2day]

Jet2 plane forced to make emergency diversion after being hit by bird

New Post has been published on https://petn.ws/nkJm2

Jet2 plane forced to make emergency diversion after being hit by bird

A Jet2 plane was forced to divert this morning after a suspected bird strike. The flight from Leeds Bradford Airport to Lanzarote had to be diverted to Manchester Airport. Flight radars spotted the plane circling around the Yorkshire airport before crossing the Pennines at 4,500ft. Fire crews could be seen waiting for the flight at […]

See full article at https://petn.ws/nkJm2 #BirdNews

#Bird News

[yhwhrulz]

Flights were also diverted from Marco Polo Airport in the Italian city due to the birds' presence.

[williamchasterson]

Venice airport closed, flights diverted by flock of seagulls

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[gadgetsforusesblog]

Click to read Delhi-bound IndiGo flight from Surat diverted to Ahmedabad after bird strike

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Delhi-Bound IndiGo Flight From Surat Diverted To Ahmedabad After Bird Hit

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