two months in the snow

Adrinette Month Day Sixteen

Keeping today simple with the two leaving behind their superhero snow sculptures because tomorrow, I gotta dress them kids up for prom. Also, I should really finish those other drawings still on the back burner. I’ll be on the tablet tomorrow at least? Yes.

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*A few months later*

Ryleigh sipped her coffee as she checked her emails, Salim was humming quietly to himself as he cleaned off the dishes from their breakfast. She’d spent almost all of her time at his apartment in the past three months and had even begun hanging her posters and keeping her ever-growing snow glob collection there.

“Earth to Ryles.”

“What?” she blinked, realising she’d been staring at the laptop blankly while she though, and turned to look up at Salim. “Sorry, in my own world. Did you say something?”

“I said Christmas is just around the corner,” he laughed, pulling the plug out of the sink and waiting for the noise of the draining water to stop before speaking again. “I wanted to run something by you.”

“Oh?” Ryleigh put her mug down next to the laptop and spun around on her chair to face him. “I’m all ears.”

“Well I was thinking…” he took a deep breath and bent forward to lean his elbows on the counter. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home for Christmas.”

“Home?” she frowned. Weren’t they in his home?

“Home,” Salim nodded and looked down at the counter. “My mother called the other day and practically begged me to—”

“Mother?” she cut him off. “You mean ‘home’ as in your parent’s home? Where you grew up?” 

“Yeh,” he glanced up at her nervously. “Home as in my parent’s place in Windenburg. It’s been a few years since I’ve been home and and Mother practically begged me to show up for Christmas.”

“You,” she pointed out. “You. Not us, just you.”

“No, us,” Salim laughed. “I told Mother all about you, she’s very excited to meet you.”

Weekend Update.

I had meant to post something about this movie yesterday, but time got away from me. Literally. We went to bed early with daylight savings time on our minds.

Anyhoo, I’ve seen several of the nominees for this year’s Best Picture, including Moonlight and Hidden Figures. The evening of the Oscars I was pulling for Moonlight - it was really good. But had I seen this one before that night, I think this one would have been my favorite. What an inspiring story and so well acted and directed. Whoever the kid was who played the young Saroo was phenomenal. Still thinking about it 24 hours later - always the sign of a good movie for me.

We are finally getting some snow after almost two months with nothing more than a glancing blow of snow a few times. I took Athena out for a couple of extended walks in it and it really is just a beautiful snow - steady light to moderate with hardly any wind and a pretty mild 19 degrees. Athena tickles me because I really think she secretly wants to be a sled dog. She gets all frisky when she first gets outside, then tears off running with me barely keeping up. Damn she is strong. I am beginning to wonder if her previous owners used her for skijoring. She is just that strong and that gung-ho to pull and run.

Sure could use another day off, though. The bossman is back from his two week vacation tomorrow which guarantees unexpected hijinx and assorted mayhem. Sigh.

Some questions that I had in my mind....

•What happened to Goshi’s younger brother? Did he survive Christmas 2012?

•Who is actually able to marry into the Hīragi Clan? I mean when even the most prestigious and mightiest branch families aren’t good enough who then?

•Does Kureto or any other of the remaining children have a fiancé/e? Or was Mahiru the only one who got one?

•What year is it in the Ons world? Vampire reign started in 2020 but around the end of season two it’s snowing and after the three/four months skip…? That would also mean that the charas are now lil bit older

•Does Shinya remember his last name? Or does he even care ?

January. It was all things. And it was one thing, like a solid door. Its cold sealed the city in a gray capsule. January rained the moments down, and froze them in her memory: the woman she saw peering anxiously by the light of a match at the names in a dark doorway, the man who scribbled a message and handed it to his friend before they parted on the sidewalk, the man who ran a block for a bus and caught it. Every human action seemed to yield a magic. January was a two-faced month, jangling like jester’s bells, crackling like snow crust, pure as any beginning, grim as an old man, mysteriously familiar yet unknown, like a word one can almost but not quite define.
—  The Price of Salt, Patricia Highsmith.
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On this day in music history: February 29, 1980 - Buddy Holly’s signature horn rimmed glasses are found in the archives of the Gordo County Sheriffs office in Mason City, IA. Thought to have been lost in the plane crash in February 1959 that claimed Holly’s life, they are discovered in a sealed manila envelope in the Sheriffs office in Mason City, IA. The prescription glasses were originally found on April 7, 1959, two months after the crash buried in a snow drift. Holly originally purchased the glasses from his optometrist Dr. J. Davis Armistead in 1957 for $20, who in turn acquired the Faiosa plastic frames while on vacation in Mexico City. They are returned to Holly’s widow Maria Elena, who keeps them until October 1998. The glasses are purchased from her for $80,000 by the non-profit cultural organization Civic Lubbock in Holly’s hometown of Lubbock, TX, and are on permanent display at the Buddy Holly Center along with numerous other artifacts that were owned by the rock & roll icon.

Kee: Did you hear? There’s actually snow at home!
Shadow: Oh, really?
Kee: Yeah! Finally! They haven’t had snow for like two months
Shadow: Yeah, global warming sucks…
Kee: Yeah, I know right…
Warrior: Jeez! Draw yourselves some better handwriting!

~~~

I swear it’s as bad as you think it is

As everyone can tell, I have horrible handwriting. I made it slightly worse with writing Kee, but that’s basically it on a bad day where I don’t care who’s reading my writing. Shadow over there also has bad handwriting, although since I can’t replicate it I just write blind folded for his stuff. Either way, “drawing yourself some better handwriting” would be amazing if it actually worked like that

Its so nice and warm outside. Lately we have been having such a great winter. Nevada has been in drought for years and years and we have just been dumped on this year.. freezing cold rain snow for almost a month or two straight.. I just want it to stay spring weather forever 70 degree weather is so so nice.. I am not looking forward to another horrible summer of 105 degrees.. blah! Last year it wasn’t so bad because we had our own place with central ac.. and we recently had to move back home to my parents.. don’t get me wrong living with my parents is okay.. but just okay.. always hearing them fight with the paper thin walls and everything is always our fault.. or always having to do store runs for them.. just blah okay.. That rant took an unexpected turn. Time to get on my sims! :) 

Originally posted by lasvegas

This is nearly two months late, but it snowed AGAIN and I was inspired to hop on the “Companions React” bandwagon. So here is “FO4 Companions During Winter/Christmas”
—-
Cait: She hates winter. She spent years trying to keep warm during the hard months, barely scraping by. It got a little better by the time she made it to the Combat Zone, but she still loathes it. She refuses to leave shelter when it snows, and if she has to she layers her clothes more than necessary.

Codsworth: He goes through the house’s storage for the old Christmas decorations despite them falling apart. Since there are no more pine trees to be found, he is content with hanging them up around the decrepit walls. Every year until the Sole Survivor awakens, he sings old Christmas carols to himself and spends the holiday in solitude.

Curie: While she knows what snow is, she has never seen it before. During the first snowfall, she tries to catch snowflakes to see if they are truly unique only to be disappointed when they melt on her fingers. She reminds all of the companions to bundle up so they don’t get frostbite. Curie loves to make snow angels and snowmen, and makes hot cocoa once she is finished.

Danse: Snow makes it harder for him to travel and fight, especially in Power Armor. Tactically, he finds it a nuisance. Secretly however, he actually likes it. Something about it distracts him from the chaos that is the Commonwealth. The Brotherhood doesn’t take breaks for holidays or blizzards, so he enjoys it while it lasts.

Deacon: He somehow learns an old prewar tale about a man named Santa Claus who delivers presents on December 25. He steals Hancock’s frock coat and uses his pompadour wig as a makeshift beard, then treats everyone to his homemade alcoholic eggnog. All the Railroad agents get a handmade card with sarcastic one liners.

Dogmeat: The Sole Survivor dresses him in a sweater to keep him warm. If the food is safe for him to eat, he is given the scraps.

Hancock: He spends the day up in his office, and the evenings in the Third Rail. He checks up on Goodneighbor’s drifters and attends to their needs, whether it be a coat, a fix, or a meal. He has Fahrenheit and the neighborhood watch place mattresses throughout the Old State House so everyone has somewhere to sleep away from the wind and snow. They don’t necessarily celebrate Christmas the traditional way; the Goodneighbor way includes a lot more alcohol and chems rather than sentiment.

MacCready: Ever since he left the Capital Wasteland, he has sent letters with caravans to his son, Duncan. Christmas is no exception. Each year, he finds and/or repairs a toy and writes a genuine, thought out letter to Duncan. He tells him about what he’s seen in the Commonwealth (excluding all the gory details) and asks how well he is. On occasion he’ll get a reply from Duncan’s caretakers. Christmas becomes less lonely for him.

Nick Valentine: He has vague flashes of family gatherings and kisses under the mistletoe with Jenny. He finds Christmas heart warming and gives Ellie the week off to spend with her family. One or two missing person cases come through; family members on their way to spend Christmas with relatives disappear, and Nick dedicates himself to finding them so everyone can spend Christmas in peace.

Piper: She didn’t even know what Christmas was before she and Nat came to Diamond City. She took a liking to the holiday immediately. Piper buys lots of presents for Nat, and even more for her companions. Her home in the city is decorated top to bottom, and she doodles Christmas trees on each copy of Publick Occurrences.

Preston: Every winter, hundreds of people in the Commonwealth die of the cold, sickness, or hunger. He makes sure all of their settlements have a good harvest, and that provisioners get food to the ones that don’t. Medical supplies are stocked, and doctors assigned. He is helping to make coats and blankets months before the first snowfall. Preston treats passing traders to a warm meal and room, and keeps his radio tuned to Radio Freedom 24/7 in case of emergencies.

Strong: The cold doesn’t really bother him, and he has no concept of what a holiday is. He is confused when the Sole Survivor gifts him a modified sledgehammer. Strong demands they tear down the decorations, claiming they are useless as defenses. He eats all of the meat they make on Christmas.

X6-88: In the Institute, everyday is a work day. Only the Coursers see the Commonwealth on a regular basis. X6 doesn’t mind the snow and the chilly winds; he is equipped with the right garments before every mission. The major downside is that most of the synths he is tasked with retrieving are killed by the harsh weathers. He would never admit it, but he feels pity for them.

January. It was all things. And it was one thing, like a solid door. Its cold sealed the city in a gray capsule. January was moments, and January was a year. January rained the moments down, and froze them in her memory: […]Every human action seemed to yield a magic. January was a two-faced month, jangling like jester’s bells, crackling like snow crust, pure as any beginning, grim as an old man, mysteriously familiar yet unknown, like a word one can almost but not quite define.
—  The Price of Salt, Patrica Highsmith
Virginia Weather

From a Facebook conversation with an old friend -

Virginia has this weird three-season cycle. There’s a definite Spring, which is lovely (unless you have pollen allergies and then it’s PREPARE TO BE HOSED IN THE FACE WITH TREE SPOOGE YOU STUPID PRIMATE.)

Then it’s HOLY BALLS HI THERE SIX MONTHS OF SUMMER LET’S COOK AN ENTIRE RAFT OF EGGS ON THE SIDEWALK.

And then sometime in late December, there’s Oh Right We Need Some Winter TO HELL WITH AUTUMN HERE HAVE ALL THE WINTER IN TWO MONTHS BECAUSE YOU FUCKERS DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH SNOW HAHA SUCK IT.

I make a yearly autumn pilgrimage to Pennsylvania just to escape the madness.

      (rural ionia, canon universe)

      it was absolutely frigid. subzero. the snow that breached the coils of her winter garments paled and numbed her skin. the wind driving it pulled at her in one moment, whipping long hair around her face, and pushed the very next, driving the flecks of ice into her eyes. while she was prepared, the weather still drove her from her usual arboreal route to ground travel.
      the pursuit of a mark did not often pose such an environmental challenge for the fist of shadow, but in this mountainous region the villages and homes were small and isolated, and the weather swept down the mountainside unforgivingly. she persisted through the blizzard conditions until she could no longer feel her fingertips before resigning to find a place to rest.
      it was unremarkable, butted up against the side of a rise that had become a snowdrift. icy, reddened fingertips brushed against the doorframe noiselessly, sliding toward the sliver of a crack between the door and frame. she pushed it open just enough to peer one eye inside. it was still. remnants of a fire, but no warmer than outside; only, it would bring a stop to the onslaught of snow and wind. cautiously, so carefully, so silent she could’ve been absolutely nothing, akali slinked into the one-room hut and closed the door behind her.
      the hut was more spacious than expected; being half-buried in an embankment of snow did it no favors; but perhaps that was it’s past resident’s desire. she’d assumed too much, however. just as she crouched in the center of the room to hover one hand over the ashes of the firepit, the sound of crunching snow sent her palms to her weapons and propelled her behind a chair stacked with furs. she hooked the back of her blade on her scarf and pushed it over her mouth to diffuse the puffs of hot hair making small clouds of steam in front of her and sat crouched in potential ambush.

@the-solitaires-puppets(udyr)

If there ever were a day for breakfast/second-breakfast/elevensies, it’s the day you’re snowed in alone with two 16-month-olds. #eatingmyfeelings #thankssnowbama

This was our first stop after the Darcha checkpoint. This area was covered in snow two storeys deep just a few months before. You can see the marks in the road made by the graders and bulldozers that are used to clear the snow.

Check out the 2016 itineraries here

Halloween month is my favorite month but I’m okay with Halloween Two and Snow Halloween and New Halloween is pretty nice as well. I think Lover’s Halloween is after that. And then Irish Halloween

Nitwit

A/N: I really enjoy writing these little Jily drabbles so I thought I would post this! I think I’m going to write one for every subsequent year following this one because this was fun. Feel free to send me any suggestions for following years :)

“February is a suitable month for dying. Everything around is dead, the trees black and frozen so that the appearance of green shoots two months hence seems preposterous, the ground hard and cold, the snow dirty, the winter hateful, hanging on too long.”
- Anna Quindlen, One True Thing

Fourteen year old James Potter was a nitwit.

So, as one may expect, James Potter was spending February 14th 1973 being a nitwit in Professor Slughorn’s exceedingly boring Potions class. Leaning back on the legs of his chair, ever in danger of toppling over, James Potter was throwing bits of parchment at the back of Peter Pettigrew’s head and then resuming a deadly neutral expression every time his friend turned to see what had hit him. Sirius Black (who was sometimes called Padfoot by his closest of cohorts)was watching this exchange from the other side of the room with amusement.

James ripped another corner of his notes when appropriate time had passed (obviously he had to wait before throwing another to lull Peter into a false sense of security) and balled it up before taking aim and launching it directly at Peter’s neck, which Peter then slapped as if a bug had just bitten him. Sirius let out a bark of a laugh causing a few of the people around him to turn.

Fifteen more minutes of this found James hiding his head in his arms on the desk in front of him, attempting to stifle his giggles. In the seat directly in front of him Lily Evans turned and gave him a scathing glare that was clearly intended to mean shut the hell up. To James however, being the nitwit that he is, this very clearly meant bother me instead. He rolled the ball of parchment originally meant for Peter and took aim directly at the back of her head and launched it forward. James Potter was, as he would be apt to tell anyone who would listen, a very good Quidditch player due in large part to his commendable aim. So, it hit its mark, bounced right off the top of her head. What a beautiful sight.

The reaction was all he could hope for and more, as was usually the case with Lily Evans.

Fourteen year old James Potter had recently decided Evans was his new favorite target; She was intelligent and quick witted and completely unable to restrain herself from positively exploding at him. It was hilarious and he loved it. All he had to do is say hello to her and smirk and she would get all red and stick her nose in the air. They might even exchange some scathing words that could end up in an all-out row, an outcome of which James could never pass up.

February 14th, 1972 was no exception. She turned around fully in her chair with a look of purest dislike etched upon her pretty features. Her nose scrunched a little, a crease had formed between her eyebrows and her bright green eyes flashed. It was all James could do not to point a finger into her red face and let out a loud “HA!” He settled on grinning hugely and leaning back farther in his chair.

She picked up the little ball of parchment that had lodged itself in her long red locks and lobbed it back at the perpetrator and it bounced off his forehead. James’ grin slipped off his face and he looked dumbly back at her before coming to his senses and ripping up twelve more little pieces of parchment for ammunition which he then threw each in secession at her head and each bounced off in different directions before she turned around to glare at him once more. Three more hit her directly on the forehead.

“Stop it, Potter.” she hissed.

He threw the last one at her which bounced off of her nose and on to the stone floor beneath her stool. She looked livid; her green eyes gleamed in a menacing way that might have made wiser men quiver with fear.

So, Lily Evans, in all her rage for the boy that seemed incapable of restraining himself from picking on her despite any punishment that may come his way, did something that she would always look back on and wince at the mere memory. She turned back towards her desk and the array of ingredients before her and scooped up a handful of sticky green toad’s spawn and flung it directly at Potter’s stupid face.

It splattered on to his glasses causing him to momentarily see nothing but green, it stuck to his hair, dripped down his robes and into his lap. So stunned was he by this reaction James lost his balance on the back legs of his stool entirely and toppled over to the floor, covered in muck. The Hufflepuff boy who sat to his right, Robbie Sawyer, made a noise of disgust and outrage as some green sludge got on to his robes as well, a casualty of war if you will. The whole class turned to look at the pair; Lily’s face went, if possible, a deeper shade of red and her hands flew up to cover her mouth at what she had just done. James wore a very dumb and wide eyed expression for only a moment before he recovered and took off his glasses to wipe them with his sleeve, scrambling up from the floor. Sirius, who had stuffed his fist in his mouth, was shaking he was giggling so madly, tears in his eyes from poorly withheld mirth. James would hear the retelling of this story by his best mate no less than three times per day for the next week. The whole class was now watching them intently, but for James there was only one person in the room.

Lily Evans was staring at his green smattered face with huge, apologetic eyes, looking entirely mortified; James had been suddenly and violently hit with a realization.

She was so beautiful. How had he never seen it before? How had he never noticed? She was all bright green eyes and pretty, creamy skin and fiery hair… how come no one had ever told him? His heartstrings absolutely broke at the sight of her half defiant, half painfully embarrassed bright, red face. She was… perfect.

From then on out, in James’ mind, Lily Evans was going to be his and that was all there was to be said about the matter.

So when Slughorn kicked them out with all appropriate outrage, James had all but forgotten that there was still toad’s spawn dripping from his face. Walking down the corridor towards McGonagall’s office, parallel to Lily who was keeping her eyes firmly ahead of her, he felt nothing short of renewed and elated. An easy grin graced his face and he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his school slacks and turned to her.

“Damn, Evans.” He appraised in his most dashing voice, or perhaps as dashing a voice as any fourteen year old boy who’s covered in toad’s spawn can manage (to James at least it was dashing).

The effect was certainly lessened by the tinge of green sludge still splattered on his face and robes, a fact with which he properly ignored.

Positively horrified, Lily Evans walked faster, as if to put as much space between herself and the boy as possible and James Potter, entirely miffed by this reaction, quickened his pace to keep up with her.

McGonagall berated her two students (and rightly so) for the ridiculous show of theatrics and handed each a detention to be served that very night.

James Potter and Lily Evans spent February 14th 1973 together, something that quickly became a common trend for all subsequent Valentine’s Days to come.