#Baker River Trail

[orendarling]

Baker River Trail

Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, Washington

North Cascades

November, 2023

[i8seattle]

Baker River, North Cascades

The Baker River drains the west side of the North Cascades range, merging with the Skagit River near Concrete. There are two dams on the river, creating Baker Lake and Lake Shannon. The Baker Lake Road extends 25 miles North from Highway 20 ending in a parking area along side Baker River. There are trails along the Baker River and around the lake. I’ve been visiting Baker River for 20 years,…

[autotrails]

American Auto Trail-Oregon Trail (Union to Baker City OR)

American Auto Trail-Oregon Trail (Union to Baker City OR) https://youtu.be/bNjfnQss7-0 This American auto trail explores the old route of U.S. Highway 30 from Union to North Powder, Oregon. At North Powder, the route follows U.S. 30 into Baker City.

[waywardangel-wilds]

Inspired by this post by @littlemarianah and this post by @mellarked-katnisseverdeen :

Katniss propped up her father’s frameless shaving mirror, watching herself in the setting sunlight as she anxiously rearranged her hair. She brushed her fingers down the front of her dress. It was ironed, clean, and never before mended. It was the nicest piece of clothing she owned. Was it alright? She turned herself to profile in the mirror. Would he like it?

“Birdie, what are you puttering around in there for?” Her father hobbled towards the bathrooms doorway. His bad leg usually gave him a harder time on rainy evenings, like the one they were having. “My,” he paused to smile, “aren’t you a pretty picture?”

She smiled. “Oh daddy, don’t tell me you forgot already.” She reached over to put the mirror away. “You promised you’d be on your best behaviour.”

“For what?” He asked, but his slight smile gave him away. Katniss rolled her eyes while she straightened the collar of his shirt. “I’m just joking, ‘course I didn’t forget. What are you messing with my shirt for? He's not coming to see me!” He laughed.

“This is important to me,” She met her father’s smiling eyes with her own nervous gaze. “I want him to like it here. I want you to like him.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled at his daughter’s stricken expression. “Don’t give me that pout! I just want to know if he’s good enough to be on your arm, is all.”

“Daddy,” Katniss shook her head. She glanced out the window at the sun. He’d be by soon. “I need to finish getting ready!”

“You’re beautiful already, birdie. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” He was laughing as she pushed him out of the bathroom. “Alright! Alright! I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Please don’t let mama say anything embarrassing!” She begged before she shut the door in his face.

“You heard that? Your daughter thinks we’ve no self control,” he snickered into the kitchen where his wife offered him an amused tweak of the brow. “You’d think the boy was the prince of Panem or something.”

“Hm, I think it’s sweet.” His wife replied, lifting the lid of the stew she’d been working on for the better part of the evening. “Young love, remember it?”

“You’re calling me old?” He pulled her into the circle of his arms. “These Everdeen women sure are difficult to impress.”

“Spruce,” she shook her head. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me with this food, huh? Your daughter put a lot of work into tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He walked over to their makeshift ice box. “I promise to keep the commentary to a minimum.”

“Mama! If Katniss marries the baker do we get free cakes forever?” Prim little head stuck into the house from where she sat on the front steps. “Cause that’d be really neat!”

“Primrose Everdeen!” She said around a laugh. “Don’t you have to get dressed for dinner?”

“He’s not marrying me,” the girl replied sullenly as she shuffled towards the bedroom.

“No one’s marrying anyone!” Spruce called out. “In fact, what does anyone need boys for?”

“You’re a boy daddy,” Prim replied.

“Now that’s an entirely different thing,” he replied. “I’m your father. That makes me better than the rest.”

“Mmhm,” his wife replied sarcastically. “Taste this?” She placed the spoon before his lips.

“Sour,” he coughed. “What have you been doing over there?”

“Well you could fix it if you know so much,” she handed him the spoon. “I could use a rest, you know. It takes a lot to look like this.” She fluffed her hair.

“Yes, I noticed. You look lovely, dear.” She smacked his shoulder. “I mean it!”

“Uh huh,” she replied.

“Mama! Could I borrow your lipstick?” Katniss’s voice came from the bathroom still. “Is it in your room?”

“Yes, darling.” His wife replied, shooting him an amused look. “In the drawer!”

They didn't hear anything else before they saw her zoom by to the bedroom, her hair trailing behind her like a river of molasses.

“Don’t sprain something now!” He called after her. “This kid better be the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t remember you putting this much work into making me happy.”

“Hush,” his wife tried to peek into the bedroom before the door shut behind their daughter’s back. “She’s nervous enough as it is.”

A thudding noise from beyond the closed door caught their attention. “Hey!” Prim yelled.

“Oh no, now they’re fighting.” She patted his arm. “I’m going in there.”

“You have my thoughts and prayers,” he replied sarcastically. She didn’t spare that a response, but she smiled, so that was a win.

He set about fixing the stew, adding some extra water to try and counteract the excess vinegar. He was cutting up some wild onion when a tentative knock befell the open door.

"Ah, there he is," He glanced towards the doorway with a friendly expression. "The man of the hour."

At the threshold, a shy-looking eighteen-year-old boy peeked halfway into the house. He smiled self-consciously. "Good evening, Mr. Everdeen."

"Mr. Everdeen? That was my father. You’ll call me Spruce. Come in! What are you doing hanging out in the rain?" He waved him over. "Do you know much about cooking?"

"The basics, I think." He shrugged good-naturedly, taking a moment to wipe his feet on the cheerful mat his wife had laid out there ages ago. He walked in strangling some unfortunate daisies. "These are for Katniss."

"We've got a vase somewhere," He ducked to check the cupboard, his back protesting the whole time. "Here we are. One chipped jug, close enough." He smiled over his shoulder. "It's Peeta, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Peeta accepted the old milk jug and went to fill it at the sink. He quirked a brow at that. "Uh, Mr. Spruce, sorry."

"Whatever floats your boat." He accepted, "Is that for us?" He looked at the covered dish in the boy's other hand.

"Yes, of course!" He awkwardly set it down on the counter as his hands were full. Spruce was starting to feel bad for the kid, he'd never seen anyone so nervous. "Katniss loves the bakery's cheese buns so I figured it might be nice to bring some."

"That she does. Do you think she'd mind if I took one?" He asked cheekily, removing the dish's lid.

Peeta smiled. "Maybe a little."

"I think I'll risk it," He took a big bite out of a nice warm bun. He nodded in approval, "This is good."

Peeta's smile widened, "thank you, Mr. Spruce."

"You're here!" They turned towards the sound of his daughter's voice. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, looking as lovely as she'd been since the day she was born, but this time she had a light touch of lipstick on her cheeks. "You met my dad."

Peeta nodded, "I did." He started blushing. "I-uh, brought you these." He extended the flowers in her direction, which she leaped across the room to accept. "You look beautiful."

Katniss glanced over her shoulder self-consciously. Spruce averted his eyes to give her some privacy. "Thank you," she said with a voice as sweet as honey. "You look nice too."

Peeta's face took on a love-dazed look and Spruce shook his head. Oh man, that's why his mother had constantly made fun of him back in the day.

He turned his back on the kids. Might as well spare them the extra embarrassment. "We're having a big dinner tonight. Katniss caught all this game all by herself." He returned to the stew, "Right, birdie?"

"Yep," the awkwardness seemed to be a common denominator. "You brought me cheese buns?"

"Yeah, I know how much you like them," Peeta replied with an awkward little chuckle.

"Thank you, I do-- like them, I mean. Yeah." Katniss spoke haltingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Oh!” His wife finally made it out of the bedroom. “Prim, come say hello!" She called back into the bedroom. "Peeta! How are you? Did the rain give you a hard time?"

"No, no, not at all, I'm great" Peeta replied. "Thank you for inviting me over tonight. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Everdeen."

"Thank you, and it's no trouble at all. We've been curious about you." She walked towards the table with Prim following close behind, a curious look to her. "And please, you don't have to call me that, Lily is fine."

"Lily," Peeta repeated with a smile.

"So since you're the baker and all, do we get freebies when you marry my sister?" Prim challenged.

"Prim!" Katniss chastised. “You don’t have to answer that. We’re not even engaged Prim.”

"And I'm not the baker. I just work there." Peeta answered with an amused smile. "My dad's the baker but I can still make you anything you'd like."

"You don't have to," Katniss said.

"Great! My birthday's coming up." Prim went on shamelessly. She pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down. "Could you make it a heart-shaped cake? Oh! And cover it in pink frosting?"

Lily put a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, meanwhile, Katniss looked mortified. Spruce tsked, joining his youngest daughter at the table. “Don’t scare him off, you’ll cost us our in at the bakery!”

“Daddy,” Katniss complained. She picked up her boyfriend’s hand and tugged him towards the table. “They’re just joking. They do that a lot.”

“I really wouldn’t mind making it though,” Peeta smiled gregariously. “It’s not every day you get an order for a pink and heart-shaped cake. It sounds like fun.”

“In that case, could it be tiered too?” Prim interjected.

“That’s enough, Prim. Don’t disrespect.” Lily said. To Peeta she added, “has Katniss offered you something to drink?”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry I forgot. Do you want some water?” Katniss smiled her embarrassment.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Peeta and her seemed to have some sort of secret conversation which resulted in Katniss laughing.

“Should we eat?” Spruce stood. “I can serve the stew.”

“I’ll get the bowls,” Lily readily added. Once they were a sufficiently far away from the children she stage-whispered, “what do you think?”

“I think we’ve got ourselves a problem.”

“A problem? What do you mean? He seems perfectly nice to me.”

“No, he is. Problem is we’re gonna lose our kid.” He peaked over his shoulder. The kids were all seated at the table and having a normal conversation. “This looks permanent.”

Lily’s face grew sentimental. “We weren’t that much older when we got married.” She bit her lip. “ironic, huh?”

“How’d you mean?”

“You and me, town and seam. I chose the coal miner over the baker. Now, our daughter and her boyfriend, still town and seam, but she’s choosing the baker. It’s almost by design.”

“You’re reading too much into it,” he said. “What we should be worried about is how this affects me and the actual baker. First his girl and now his son? I can't go back there.”

“Spruce,” Lily laughed. "You and your jokes. Would it kill you to take this seriously?"

"Yes, it would." He grinned shamelessly. "But you knew that when you married me."

"You're terrible." She handed him a bowl. "Hurry up."

"So demanding," he shook his head. "This is cripple abuse."

"Cripple," Lily snorted.

"Thank you," Peeta smiled winningly as Lily deposited his bowl in front of him.

"So Peeta," Spruce interlaced his fingers. Time to look serious. "If you're not going to be the baker, what will you do? I'm assuming one of your brothers is the next baker, right?"

"Dad," Katniss complained.

"It's an important question." Spruce leaned forward slightly on his forearms. "Peeta?"

"That's right, Mr., Uh, Spruce, I'm not the next baker." Peeta managed to maintain eye contact with him. Good. "I'm apprenticing at the justice building for the rest of the year. My mother's side of the family has connections there."

"Interesting. What will you be doing?" Spruce cocked his head. "It pays?"

"Dad," Katniss groaned. "You know I'm sitting right here right?"

He put up a placating hand, "Peeta?"

"It pays," the boy nodded. "It should be enough, for um, multiple people." He blushed then.

"Please, I could probably provide enough for all of us." Katniss rolled her eyes and muttered. "Talking about me like a goat up for auction."

Spruce stared hard at them both for a long moment. Peeta looked like he was sweating. Katniss looked like she wanted him to keel over. He nodded. "Alright."

"Alright?" Katniss asked derisively.

"I'm giving you my blessing, birdie. Don't spend it all in one place." He smiled as Katniss gave in and softened. "That's my girl."

Part 2

[opticfile]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

✧ super long wait i know :( i ended up rewriting the entire think 2k words in </3 i hope its worth it i didn't expect to get 500 votes in that poll!!

—✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 // you were childhood friends with Alhaitham, but what went wrong along the way? after you having a falling out and move away, you reunite in adulthood and conflicting feelings envelop your life

—✦ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 // Alhaitham

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // use of she/her pronouns, parental issues, divorce, unrequited love, weak attempt at angst, jealousy, alcohol, alhaitham being a jerk

5.9k words

You were seven when you met Alhaitham.

You stuck out your hand to him with a wide grin, bandages over your knees and bruises littering your shins from playing a little too rough. You were bright-eyed and excited to meet a new friend. 

Alhaitham was different. 

You didn’t know what to think of him. Perhaps the word for it is reserved, but in your little seven-year-old mind you just thought he was plain weird. He tilted his head at you and analyzed you before returning the handshake, and maybe he didn't know what to think of you either. You were only befriending him because he looked lonely reading that silly-looking book of his, you were doing him a favor.

“I’m Y/n!”

“I’m Alhaitham.” He furrowed his brows, “You’re a bit loud.”

You huffed, “I’m just me.” 

He seemed to like your answer, and little eight-year-old Alhaitham smiled just the slightest bit.

“Well, then I guess that’s good.” 

“Yup! So do you wanna play?” You rocked on your feet.

“I’m busy.” He gestured to his book.

“But books are boring,” You scrunched your nose, “we can play hide and seek instead.”

“...Okay, sure.”

You were hooked. Your interest was piqued and all of a sudden this weird boy was fascinating to you, you wanted to know everything about him. You trailed behind him and giggled at the things he said when he sounded funny and asked him stacks of questions that made him sigh. You were irreversibly obsessed with the boy.

You followed him around when he was on walks and dragged him along with you when he wasn’t. Alhaitham let you, too, he tolerated your noisiness and enjoyed your silliness, and was happy with it. You were thick as thieves, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m taller than you, ya know.” You snickered, using your hand to measure your height but maybe your hand was a little unstable and made you think you were 4 inches taller than you were.

“What? No way, I’m definitely taller.” Alhaitham did his best to look down on you, or at least as far down as someone can look on a person the same height as them.

“Nuh-uh!” You said, “I bet I’m faster too!”

You raced Alhaitham and you don't remember who won. But you do remember the way you laid down in the grass and your chest heaved, and the way that sweat beaded at Alhaitham’s hairline as he grinned at you. Maybe another silly argument ensued about who won, a childish one that had no right or wrong, just the contrary nature of two kids being kids.

You remember poking around in rivers and little caves—the ones you were always too scared to go into but would shout into and listen for the echo—with him by your side. Perhaps he wasn’t the same as you, or maybe your interests didn't quite align, but that kind of thing doesn’t stop kids from being kids together. So while he read his books and pondered the biggest question a child can comprehend, you played in the mud and made bracelets out of flowers.

That year, you brought Alhaitham to your home for dinner one night. You had made this mud pie in the river and it was getting late, you asked him if he wanted to come eat at your house, and he nodded without hesitation. You ran up the path to your father who was sitting on the steps outside your house and handed him your mud pie with a smile, and he beamed down at you.

“Aren’t you quite the baker?” Your father kissed your hairline.

“Yup!”

“Who’s this little boy?” Your mother asked warmly, leaning the broom she was using against the house.

“He’s my friend! His name is Alhaitham.” You sat on the stairs by your father.

“Hello.” Alhaitham smiled shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

You remember that day and perhaps it's the memory that’s most sunbathed and joy-covered and dear to your heart.

You were ten when playing in the mud turned into something else.

It’s turned into making little cups out of the wild clay you found in the rivers near your home. You were an artist, and you know how Sumeru sees artists. Your mother supported you, she enjoyed you bringing her your little sun-dried pots and plates and she thought it was the cutest thing. 

To your father, your little hobby seemed to be losing its charm. Were you really serious about this? Why were you spending your time doing something like this? Maybe he tried to hide it but maybe he also failed, because even if his words are kind, his face is not. Even if it’s past your bedtime that doesn’t always mean you’re asleep. Even if your door is closed doesn’t mean words don’t echo. 

“Why can't she be more like Alhaitham? So naturally intelligent and he barely has to study…” He sighed, “We should’ve been harder on her from the start.”

Your mother pleaded with him, that you’re just ten. But your father only retorted cruelly.

“I will not have my daughter be a failure.”

You sniffled into your little nightgown while you hid in your closet and tears rolled down your eyes and you wondered if you could be more like him, you could gain your father’s praise and love. But in your little brain, you hated Alhaitham for stealing away the love your father would extend when you were little, but such conflicting feelings of affection and resentment are hard for a child to process, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

In the morning when you woke up your eyes were puffy and dry, your stuffed animal had fallen into the crack between your bed and the wall and you wondered if your father was still home. You peeked out of your door and were greeted by a quiet house and your mother drinking tea at the dinner table. Had she always looked this tired?

You were ten and a half when you started to copy him. 

Everything he did, you imitated. Everything he said, you questioned him on. You just wanted to know and understand because you wanted to make your parents proud, what little kid wouldn't? But maybe your questions weren't as intelligent as you thought they sounded and maybe common sense and rational thinking could've answered your questions. 

But you saw the world in color and art and not numbers and letters, how do you understand a world you do not see?

Yet you tried—and Alhaitham could tell.

He wasn’t sure if he was proud of you for advancing into intellectual spaces, or if he was tired of being your guide. Sometimes you’d peek over his shoulder at his book and he wondered if you could read the pages—you could, your father taught you how—and when he realized you could he waited a little longer to turn the pages. But slowing himself down to accommodate you was unpleasant.  Alhaitham firmly believes in the pursuit of knowledge, yet he also believes in worrying about himself before he worries about others. And yet Alhaitham could not simply focus on himself when he was worrying about you.

He tried to push down the disdain because you were his friend. Three years strong, why should he let this dampen it?

(but his feelings and irritation only built and it was only a matter of time before you would notice it in the way he acted)

“Hey, ‘Haitham.” You chirped, “Can I borrow some of your books?”

“Maybe, which ones?” He looked over at you.

“I dunno, good ones. Maybe some that will make me smarter!”

He smiled, “Sure, but only if you promise you’ll take care of them.”

You tried to, really.

You had held them with care the first day you got them and turned the pages slowly so you wouldn't rip them. You made sure that no liquids would be around when you were reading so you didn’t spill anything on the pages. Your eyes traced the loops of the letters and you burned the facts into your head.

But on day two you accidentally ripped the corner of pg 54 and splashed some of your drink on pg 67. No amount of patting dry or rubbing clean would lift the stain, you only managed to lift the top layer of paper and make this uneven circle of damp, pink, peeling paper. You were afraid of the fact you broke your promise and afraid of how Alhaitham may react.

When you returned the books which now each had their own imperfections due to your clumsiness, you felt that sting in your nose that you feel when you’re about to cry. The look in Alhaithams eyes—that disappointment he didn’t know what to do with—was hurting your heart.

“It’s… It’s fine.”

You wonder if he was trying to be kind at that moment.

You were thirteen when your father smashed your dreams.

You made a vase for your mother, you painted it and put flowers in it and she put it in the dining table. But your father was a hard man, inside and out, and the vase wasn’t. The hardened clay proved to be softer than your father’s anger. Your heart wailed and you sobbed into your mother's shoulder as she soothed you, rubbing circles into your back.

“I think you should work towards academics like Alhaitham.” She whispered, “I will help you study.”

What could you do when your only talent was of no use to anyone around you? 

Perhaps not even your closest friend is able to be charmed by your talents, maybe that's why he was looking at you with such disinterest. It seemed that your childishness was no longer something he can smile at, maybe it's because he’s fourteen and he thinks he’s too cool to play hide and seek with you now, but you couldn’t help but think no, something else is going on. 

Yet every time you were with him, you noticed the way Alhaithams hair framed his face and the way his brows knit together when he was focused. You watched his hands as he flipped the pages. You brushed your pencil over your paper in the shape of his face and you tucked it away because it's your little secret and your crush will die out soon enough. 

But every time you were with him you also realized how much smarter he was than you and how much you hated it. You saw the way he had changed and you wondered if you were changing too and if this was going to be good for your friendship or bad for your feelings.

You still resented him because your father liked him more. But then you looked in his eyes and you saw why. 

Maybe you liked him more too.

You remember sneaking out of your room a few nights later, after another one of your parent’s fights, and wobbling over to Alhaitham’s. You tapped on his window relentlessly until his drapes were pulled back and he was left scowling down at you. You smiled in return.

Alhaitham opened his window, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I can’t- I can’t sleep.” You pouted, “You know how that is.”

“I might end up knowing if you keep me awake like this.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Can you come out?”

“Y/n-”

“Just for a bit, I need to tire out I guess.”

He looked at you with a severely irritated facial expression, taking a deep breath before admitting defeat. He turned from the window and threw on a shirt—you only realized he was shirtless when he stepped back, and perhaps it was more embarrassment than respect that made you turn your eyes away. Alhaitham climbed out of his bedroom window and shot you a glare, you were troubling him so and for no good reason.

Still, he entertained you. Maybe he did like you more than he thought, or at least cared about you to an extent. He thought of you as this annoying distraction, and yet he was letting you distract him in the middle of the night because he just felt kind of bad. It's unnatural, really.

“Do you think that-” You looked up—up—at him, “-we move or the sky moves?”

“What?” He looked down—down—at you, “Are you a philosopher now?”

“I’m just bored and you’re not talking.” You pouted.

“Sorry,” He looked away, “I just don't have much to say at this hour.”

Do you not have much to say at this hour? Or do you not have much to say to me?

“It’s fine.” 

And you sat in silence. And the contrast between then and just a few years before made you cringe.

You were fifteen when you and Alhaitham stopped hanging out as much. 

The decline between you and Alhaitham was a slow, painful one. It matched the decline of your and your father’s relationship, and his and your mother’s too. It seemed like every happy relationship in your life was fading into something sad and lonely.

He snapped at you for the first time, you think he was a bit harsh, really. But you only blamed yourself because he’s right, you’ve probably been clingy and annoying. You latched onto him for comfort and ignored the way he scowled at you and groaned. You didn't want to accept the fact he doesn’t like you anymore because you still really liked him, you admired him in every way.

“Y/n- Y/n, can you stop following me around like a lost puppy?”

“What? I’m just-”

“You’re just being annoying.”

“...How could you say that to me?” You frowned.

“Because you won't listen to anything else.”

The last time you saw him, you were sixteen.

Your parents separated and you moved away with your mother, you never really saw Alhaitham again after that. Maybe it was a good thing since after that day it was just awkward and uncomfortable. Part of you wonders if Alhaitham ever felt bad or thought of you. You imagined one of those classic rom-com moments. He found out you were moving away and had so much regret and guilt in his heart that he ran through the rain and mud to catch you before you left. Running up and waving his arms to get your attention before you left for good, and you would run to him and hug him and he’d apologize and-

And none of that happened. 

So you tried to focus on yourself and your life and doing what you wanted to do with it. You pretended to be over him and never even mentioned his name out loud, and after a year or two you found new friends and people to hang out with. People who were like you, who enjoyed you, and who you matured with.

But your forever-teenage heart was still broken, and your sniffles echoed through the house to your mother, and she had to come into your room gently and hold you in her arms. Your mother ran her fingers through your hair, comforting you in the only way she knew how.

“I know that I shouldn’t be hung up on him-” You hiccupped, “-he was a complete dick to me but I just… I still love him, Mom, it hurts.”

She let you stain her shirt with your tears and snot. 

“It’s okay, I know…” She hushed you, “It’s normal to feel this way, it’ll get better though, I promise.”

“But what if it doesn't? What if it doesn’t go away?”

“It’ll be okay. Just trust me.”

You hated having to move away from her, she was your rock and she stabilized you. But you left and ended up in Sumeru City, and that’s when you met Kaveh.

You giggled at his jokes and you enjoyed long talks with him, ones that didn't turn into arguments. The two of you would go out to lunch occasionally—and you paid since he was a bit… lacking in that area—with him. You learned about his job as an architect and you told him about your little pottery hobbies. Kaveh was the one to encourage you to pursue it as a career, you could sell your work or- or maybe teach it to others even! You were moved by his enthusiasm, maybe you would get into it.

You had invited Kaveh to your home a few times that year, but you had never been to his. Maybe it was a good thing, anyway, he always said he had a roommate that he argued with quite a bit. If this roommate disagreed with Kaveh, they’d also probably disagree with you. And you weren’t fond of intellectual arguments, just discussions. Arguments made you want to cry, really. 

You often popped open a bottle of wine with Kaveh when he came over after a long day. You poured two glasses—and many refills—and sat at your countertop with him.

“You know,” Kaveh was tipsy already, “Tomorrow you ought to come over to my place.”

“Are you sure? You keep telling me about that roommate of yours.”

“He should be busy,” Kaveh smiled, “We’d have the place to ourselves.”

“Maybe then, why the sudden change of heart?” You tilted your head, Kaveh usually voted against you coming over.

“Maybe its the wine,” He groaned, “Maybe I just feel bad that I’m always coming over and eating your food and drinking your wine.”

“Oh, no, it's fine.” You reassured him, “You’ve done so much for me already, without you I would’ve never started teaching classes. I don’t mind you drinking my wine, I poured it after all.”

“I insist!”

The man who opened the door was not Kaveh, it was not even a stranger.

“...Y/n?” Alhaitham furrowed his brows at you, “What are you doing here?”

“Alhaitham-!” You said, startled, “I um-”

“I’m sorry but right now I don’t really feel like talking.”

“No, Alhaitham, I’m-”

“I’m sorry to disappoint after you’ve come all this way but-”

“I’m not here for you.” You glared. Come all this way? You walked for maybe ten minutes! Did he really think he was worth coming all the way to Sumeru city if you didn’t live here? The nerve of him…

“She’s here for me.” Kaveh grumbled behind him, “And you’re not supposed to be.”

“Kaveh, hey!” You smiled past Alhaitham.

“Sorry, Y/n, I tried to send a message that my roommate was still home but I suppose it didn’t make it in time…”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.”

“Come in, come in!”

Alhaitham simply stood in his place at the door staring at you, and there was this look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. You pushed past him gently and hugged Kaveh in greeting. How does it feel now, Alhaitham?

✧ A SCHOLAR’S MONOLOGUE

Alhaitham was twenty-five when he ran into you again.

He didn’t know what to think at first. You show up on his door—how you got his address he’s unsure—and look just as shocked as he does. The last time you two spoke must have been when he was sixteen, no, seventeen? An eight-year gap left much of your life unknown. Just looking at you now you were far more intriguing. Though perhaps you were always cute to him in a way, if only you were as cute once you opened your mouth.

But when you did open your mouth and he heard your voice his ears tingled at this familiarly unfamiliar sound, and then you said you were there for Kaveh and it clicked for him. Kaveh always did remind Alhaitham of you, that might be why he found himself so irritated by him. You pushed past Alhaitham and headed into Kaveh’s arms and that left Alhaitham wondering the extent of your relationship with him. It’s odd, really, his thought process right now. 

Then he listened in on your conversation with Kaveh and as each question he had was answered he came up with three more. When did you start giving lectures? When did you move to Sumeru City? When did you meet Kaveh?

“My classes went so well today, I really can’t thank you enough for encouraging me to start.” You chirped at Kaveh with this smile that was so much softer than your goofy grin when you were kids. 

(maybe you were only mentioning this because you want Alhaitham to hear how good you're doing)

“You always had it in you, I don’t deserve that much credit!”

So Kaveh is the one who encouraged you to start. Encouraging you is something Alhaitham rarely did now that he thinks about it. Maybe Kaveh’s friendship is a much better fit for you, then. But why does he long to get to know you as if he hasn’t known you from the age of eight?

You were so far from the sixteen-year-old neighbor he once had. You were mature, physically and mentally, you spoke with grace and confidence and your conversations with Kaveh were undeniably intellectual. This is different from the person who asked him “How come you’re taller than me?” at the age of eleven. He was captivated, enamored even, despite not wanting to admit it to himself. 

So he kept eavesdropping, he kept learning about your life indirectly. Suddenly this memory of you—the one tainted by irritation and annoyance of having you follow him around for eight years—was replaced by this new longing to get to know you as if you were a stranger.

It’s odd, he thinks, this feeling.

✧ END OF A SCHOLAR’S MONOLOGUE

It’s really awkward to hang out with your new friend in front of your childhood ex-friend. 

You were laughing at inside jokes with Kaveh and talking about your lives with Alhaitham just across the room holding a book in his lap. You knew he was listening, you noticed. You would glance at him, then away, but your eyes always wondered over again in curiosity.

Alhaitham was so different, yet exactly the same. He was taller, you noticed that when you walked in. His face was mature with this feeling that he’s been through a thousand challenges and overcome every one. He seemed just as intelligent as ever, obviously, and just as bland.

(that was just you being mean, though, you didn't really think of him like that)

Every time you looked over Kaveh noticed, and there was this knowing smile lingering on his lips. Maybe he thought you found Alhaitham cute, or maybe he had overheard everything that Alhaitham said and he was being nosey about your past.

Either way, he asked.

“So, are you going to explain what’s going on here?” Kaveh whispered a certain glint in his eyes.

“Kaveh! He’s right there,” You whispered through clenched teeth, “It’s not even that big of a deal.”

“Let’s take a walk then,” Kaveh announces aloud, Alhaithams head tilting towards the sound. “Come, Y/n.”

You stood with Kaveh, shooting him this playfully irritated glance and took his outstretched hand in yours. 

“See you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh bid farewell.

“Bye.” Alhaitham spoke without looking back at you this time.

You only were allowed fifteen minutes of peace before Kaveh jumped on you again.

“How do you know him? Did you guys date?”

“What? No, archons no, we were neighbors as kids.” You scrunched your face.

(but your heart sped up and those feeling you buried were scratching at the lid of their coffin)

“Oh? Then why did you look at him like that? You almost started drooling~.” Kaveh teased, nudging you.

“Oh quit it.” You nudged him back, “I haven’t seen him in almost a decade. That’s all.”

“It sounds like you ended on bad terms,” He mused, “Ahem ‘I don't feel like talking right now’ and all.”

You giggled at his imitation, “Well, he called me annoying and told me to leave him alone before I moved away. I’d say those terms are pretty bad.”

“Wow, what a dick move.” Kaveh laughed lightly, “And you’re still looking at him with hearts in your eyes?”

“I am not, and you know it!”

“Aww, are you embarrassed?” Kaveh grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “Hmm, perhaps you should look at me like that instead next time.”

You rolled your eyes.

You saw Alhaitham everywhere after that. 

You learned from Kaveh that Alhaitham was the current Acting Grand Sage—a fact that blew your mind completely because wow, he’s really made it far hasn't he? You could almost imagine your father comparing you to him again, it made you laugh a little bit. Maybe that’s why you kept seeing him around, in the streets, in the corner of your eye when you were at the tavern, and (obviously) in Kaveh’s home.

It was like you were strangers who knew too much about each other to be comfortable in the same room. If Kaveh excused himself for a single moment you and Alhaitham would just sit in silence, glancing at one another and away when you get caught. For months, not a single word was shared between the two of you, and if it weren’t so awkward you might have enjoyed the silence.

The silence was broken on a cold morning when you were meeting Kaveh at his place to go out to lunch. Once again, it was not Kaveh who opened the door, it was Alhaitham.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” You mustered a smile, “Is Kaveh ready?”

From afar, you heard Kaveh shout, “I’ll be ready soon!”

Alhaitham stood in the doorway and you stood outside of it. Your arms were getting goosebumps from the unusually cold air and Alhaitham took notice.

“Come in while you wait.” Alhaitham stepped to the side and closed the door behind you when you entered.

You awkwardly thanked him and sat down on the couch, him sitting on the one across from you.

…

…

…

“So…” You murmured. 

“Hm?” Alhaitham glanced up.

“How has the position of Acting Grand Sage been treating you?”

“I intend to resign as soon as possible.” He stated.

“Oh! Um…” You didn’t know what to say, such an odd response that you probably would never get from anyone but Alhaitham.

(it hurt to remember that you really do know this man, and at the same time you know nothing about him anymore either)

“I heard you’re teaching art classes now,” Alhaitham said, “How has that been?”

“It’s great! I love my students, really, they’re all so creative. They’re like little sponges, too, they soak up anything I tell them.” You giggled, and Alhaitham's lips twitched up.

“Y/n, I-”

“I’m ready now!” Kaveh chirped, walking out of his room, “Aplogies, I had some hair troubles.”

“Ah, no problem!” You stood from your spot, “Let’s head out then.”

You glanced at Alhaitham, and he met your eyes for a moment.

“Um, see you, Alhaitham.”

“See you.”

✧ TWO ROOMMATES DISPUTE

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.” Kaveh sighed.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Alhaitham flipped the page in his book.

“Don’t give me that.” Kaveh glared at Alhaitham, “You know very well what I mean. I know we have our disagreements but ever since Y/n has been around more you’ve been-”

Alhaitham abruptly closed his book with a loud clap.

“I am not concerned with Y/n.” 

“Oh really? Because you seem to be.”

“What of it.” Alhaitham glared.

“You act as if it's wrong for me to be friends with her just because you used to be friends,” Kaveh spoke irritatedly, “Like it or not me and Y/n are close friends.”

“What would you know about our friendship?” Alhaitham crossed his arms.

“I know what she tells me, that’s what.” Kaveh huffed, “Just because you ruined your own relationship with her does not mean that I have to end mine because you’re jealous.”

Alhaitham was silent.

“You have made no attempt to reconcile or get to know her and that is not my fault. I cannot argue with you over something so stupid!” Kaveh was nearly yelling about this.

He was sick of Alhaitham being cold to him after he hung out with you or when you were around, Kaveh could see the jealousy brewing in Alhaitham’s eyes and he was not going to stand for being glared at over it. Alhaitham’s inability to fix things with you was not Kaveh’s problem. Just because now you were more appealing of a person doesn't mean he gets to act like some overprotective, jealous boyfriend.

For Alhaitham, he was torn. His emotions toward you were all over the place, did he like you? Did he find you irritating? Did he more-than-like you? How does he get these feelings in order, and then how does he get his attitude toward Kaveh in order too? Alhaitham isn’t oblivious to the fact he’s been colder than usual to his roommate, or even outright passive-aggressive, but facing the reason behind it is harder than it seems.

Maybe Kaveh is right. He has to talk to you.

✧ END OF TWO ROOMMATES DISPUTE

You stared blankly at Kaveh.

“What?”

“Alhaitham and I got in a fight about you…” Kaveh explained.

“About me?” You frowned, “What? Why would you two ever do such a thing?”

“Other than the fact he’s a complete jerk,” Kaveh sighed, “I think he has some issues regarding you.”

“Oh, so he just hates me so much that he can’t stand me being around then?” You roll your eyes, “We’re adults now, why can’t he just get over it?”

(but your heart ached at the thought that he truly cant stand you, even now)

“I don't think its hatred, Y/n.” Kaveh sighed, “I think it’s rather the opposite, and I don’t think he knows how to handle it.”

“So, what, he likes me? And that’s why he’s being a dick every time I’m around?” You snorted, “Classy.”

“Yeah,” Kaved rubbed the bridge of his nose, “You know what, forget about Alhaitham. I’d like you to come over for my birthday celebration.”

A warm smile wiggled up your face.

“Of course.”

You were twenty-five when you attended Kaveh’s birthday party.

You brought him a gift all wrapped up—and a bottle of wine, as if there wasn’t going to be enough alcohol already—and hugged him tightly at the door. You were positively beaming, smile stretched from ear to ear. 

“Happy birthday!” You cheered.

“Thank you, thank you.” Kaveh laughed, pulling you in and pressing a friendly kiss to your temple, “I’m so happy to have you here.”

“I’m honored to be here.”

You cracked into the alcohol with a jolly smile on your face and downed glass after glass until you were just tipsy enough to not have a filter but not drunk enough to fall over. This is where you’d stop for the night, where you were content staying and giggly. You celebrated Kaveh with all of the other attendees.

But the air was becoming suffocating and there were a few too many people near you right now, maybe you needed some fresh air or maybe you needed to go home but you were only willing to do one of those (and it was not the latter). You stepped out of the party quietly.

And Alhaitham was there.

You were there, and Alhaitham was there, and the night sky above you was the same as it was when you were thirteen and sneaking out of your room to see him.

“Alhaitham…” Perhaps there was a bit of bittersweet longing in your voice, perhaps it was just the waver of the alcohol. 

“Y/n.” But the emotion in Alhaitham’s voice could not be mistaken for anything but what it was: emotion.

“How are you?” You asked quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” You let a smile play at your lips, and one tugged at Alhaitham’s too.

“I can’t sleep.” He whispered, “You know how that is.”

(and for a moment you were thirteen again and knocking on Alhaitham’s window)

“I do.” Waves of emotion ran over you, was it grief? Longing? Love?

If there was one thing you could say confidently, it was that unrequited love lasts the longest. The crush that never gets returned and ends up lasting for years. You knew this firsthand. You felt this kind of affection for Alhaitham from the age of, what, eleven? Twelve maybe? And now at twenty-five, you felt like the lovesick teenage girl you were ten years ago because that affection never left you and you wondered if you could make it leave.

“I’ve missed you.” You wanted to slap yourself for saying that, but in your tipsy state, the words forming in your brain were coming out of your mouth faster than you could shut it.

“Oh?” Alhaitham smiled teasingly, “How much?”

You furrowed your brows, “Oh, come on, Alhaitham. You can’t act like that after everything.”

“...” Alhaitham glanced away, “You’re right.”

“I really loved you, you know. And- And the way you treated me was hurtful. I was just a kid, you were cruel.”

“I know.” Alhaitham swallowed hard, his voice coarse, “You loved me?”

“Yeah like it wasn’t obvious?” You snorted, “Of course I did, you were my childhood best friend, the neighbor boy, I looked up to you.”

…

“Well say something.” You frowned.

“What do you want me to say?” He turned to you.

“I want you to be honest.” 

Say sorry, say you loved me too, say something.

“I did not love you.”

You cringed, heartbreak trickling over your skin like acid rain- no, stinging you like a thousand needles. 

“I didn’t.”

You felt your entire inner body cave in on itself as your heart cried because yes, Al Haitham has always been matter of fact as long as you have known him, but damn if it didn't hurt. You knew there was little chance of him returning those feelings, the unrequited ones you’d held onto for so long. Still, hearing him reject you over and over was like the final nail in the coffin, the coffin you laid in alive and well and clawed at to get out of.

“You were irritating, a bit airheaded, and you always distracted me no matter what I was doing.” Al Haitham continued, “So I didn't love you, I hardly tolerated you.”

You felt your face betray you, twisting into something hurt and honest as warm tears slid down your cheeks and your chest shook with rapid sniffles.

“But now… You’re brilliant, you’re witty and kind, and despite everything you’re here. So no, I did not love you, but now I do.”

“You’re such a dick.” You sobbed.

“I just told you I love you, that’s not exactly the best way to respond.” Alhaitham spoke as if he was amused, but the way his hand found your back and rubbed circles into it told you he doesn't want you to cry.

“But you said all that mean stuff,” You wiped your tears, “That was cruel.”

“Well that’s how I used to feel, you wanted to know how I used to feel, didn’t you?” He wiped your hair from your face and tucked it behind your ears.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham muttered, turning you to face him. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re a jerk.” You frowned, and he laughed airily and it sounded like music to your ears.

“Y/n, I love you. I mean it.” He rubbed your cheek gently, “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to get to know you much better than I’ve ever known you before.”

“Maybe.” You whispered, staring into his eyes. 

“I promise you I’ll never hurt you again.” He murmured, placing a kiss on your hairline.

(and maybe it was a coincidence, but he wiped the spot that Kaveh kissed and you giggled at the thought that he was jealous)

✧ navigation.

[niibaataa]

Nishnaabe Nagamonan

Disclaimer: Some works deal with historical wrongs, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, colonialism, and residential/boarding schools. Exercise caution.

Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm is a member of Saugeen Ojibway First Nation. Akiwenzie-Damm has served as Poet Laureate for Owen Sound and North Grey. In 1993, she established Kegedonce Press, a publishing house devoted to Indigenous writers. She has also authored Without Reservation: Indigenous Erotica.

Works: (Re)Generation, My Heart is a Stray Bullet.

Marie Annharte Baker is a member of Little Saskatchewan First Nation. Annharte's work concentrates on women, urban, Indigenous, disability, and related topics. She critiques life from Western Canada. After graduating with an English degree in the 1970s, she became involved in Native activism and was one of the first people in North America to teach a class entirely on Native women.

Works: Indigena Awry, Miskwagoode, Exercises in Lip Pointing.

Lesley Belleau is a member of Garden River First Nation. She is noted for her 2017 collection Indianland. She has an MA in English literature from the University of Windsor and is working on a PhD in Indigenous Studies from Trent University.

Works: Indianland.

Kimberly M. Blaeser is an enrolled member of the White Earth Reservation. Blaeser served as Wisconsin's Poet Laureate from 2015-2016. She is a professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Miluwakee. A contemporary of Vizenor, she is the first critic to publish a book-length study on his fiction. She has been writing poetry since 1993.

Works: Apprenticed to Justice, Trailing You, Absentee Indians and Other Poems.

Diane Burns was a member of the Lac Courte Oreilles band. Burns was Anishinaabe through her mother and Chemehuevi through her father. Burns attended the Institute of American Indian Arts and Barnard College (within Columbia University). She was also an accomplished visual artist. She is considered an important figure within the Native American contemporary arts movement.

Works: Riding the One-Eyed Ford (available online).

Aja Couchois Duncan is a Bay Area educator, writer, and coach. Duncan is of Ojibwe, French, and Scottish descent. Her debut collection won the California Book Award. She holds an MFA in creative writing from San Francisco State University.

Works: Restless Continent, Vestigal.

Heid E. Erdrich is a member of the Turtle Mountain band. Erdrich is a granddaughter of Patrick Gourneau, who fought against Indian termination during his time as tribal chairman from 1953-1959. Erdrich holds a PhD in Native American Literature and Writing. Erdrich used to teach, but has since stepped back from doing it full-time. She directs Wiigwaas Press, an Ojibwe language publisher.

Works: Cell Traffic, The Mother's Tongue, Curator of Ephemera at the New Museum for Archaic Media.

Louise Erdrich is a member of the Turtle Mountain band. Erdrich is a granddaughter of Patrick Gourneau, who fought against Indian termination during his time as tribal chairman from 1953-1959. She is widely acclaimed as one of the most significant writers of the Native American Renaissance. Owner of Birchbark Books, an independent bookstore that focuses on Native Literature.

Works: Jacklight, Original Fire, Baptism of Desire.

David Groulx was raised in Elliott Lake, Ontario. Groulx is Ojibwe and French Canadian. He received his BA in Literature from Lakehead University and later studied creative writing at the En'owkin Centre in British Columbia. He has also studied creative writing at the University of Victoria.

Works: From Turtle Island to Gaza, Rising With a Distant Dawn, Imagine Mercy.

Gordon Henry Jr is an enrolled member of the White Earth Reservation. Gordon Henry Jr holds a PhD in Literature from the University of North Dakota and is currently a professor of English at Michigan State University. He has authored several novels and poetry collections and is a celebrated writer in Michigan.

Works: Spirit Matters, The Failure of Certain Charms.

Jane Johnston Schoolcraft was Born in Sault Ste. Marie on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Schoolcraft was given the name of Bamewawagezhikaquay ('Woman of the Sound that the stars make Rushing Through the Sky') in Ojibwe. Her mother was Ozhaguscodaywayquay, the daughter of the Ojibwe war chief Waubojeeg. Her father was fur-trader John Johnston. Johnston is regarded as the first major Native American female writer. She wrote letters and poems in both English and Ojibwe.

Writeup containing works.

Denise Lajimodiere is a citizen of the Turtle Mountain band. Lajimodiere is considered an expert on Native American boarding schools following her work Stringing Rosaries, published in 2019. She is a poet, professor, scholar, and the current Poet Laureate of North Dakota.

Works: His Feathers Were Chains, Thunderbird: Poems, Dragonfly Dance.

Linda Legarde Grover is a member of the Bois Forte Band. She is a columnist for the Duluth Tribune and Professor Emeritus of American Indian Studies at University of Minnesota (Duluth). She has written poetry, short stories, and essays.

Works: The Sky Watched, Onigamiising.

Sara Littlecrow-Russel is of Ojibwe and Han-Naxi Métis descent. Russell is a lawyer and professional mediator as well as a poet. She has worked at the Center for Education and Policy Advocacy at the University of Massachusetts and for Community Partnerships for Social Change at Hampshire College.

Works: The Secret Powers of Naming.

Jim Northrup was a member of the Fond du Lac Reservation in Minnesota. Northrup lived a traditional lifestyle in his early years. As a child, he attended an Indian boarding school where he suffered physical abuse. Later in life, he served in the Vietnam war and experienced PTSD. Much of his poetry comes from these hardships.

Works: Walking the Rez Road, Rez Salute: The Real Healer Dealer, Anishinaabe Syndicated.

Duke Redbird was born in Saugeen First Nation. He became a ward of Children's Aid at nine months old when his mother died in a house fire. He began writing to give words to his experiences as an Indigenous man raised by white foster families. He is recognized as a key figure in the development of First Nations literature.

His poetry is available on his site.

Denise Sweet is a member of the White Earth Reservation in Minnesota. Sweet served as Wisconsin's Poet Laureate from 2004-2008. She has taught creative writing, literature, and mythology at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.

Works: Songs for Discharming, Palominos Near Tuba City.

Mark Turcotte is a member of the Turtle Mountain Band. Turcotte is a visiting assistant professor of English at DePaul University. He has published two books of poetry. His chapbook, Road Noise, was translated into French.

Works: The Feathered Heart, Exploding Chippewas.

E. Donald Two-Rivers was raised in Emo Township, Ontario. He moved to Chicago at age 16 and became involved with the Urban Native community there. A playwright, spoken-word performer, and a poet, Two-Rivers had been an activist for Native rights since the 1970s. He was the founding director of the Chicago-based Red Path Theater Company.

Works: Powwows, Fat Cats, and Other Indian Tales, A Dozen Cold Ones by Two-Rivers.

Gerald Vizenor is an enrolled member of the White Earth Reservation. Vizenor has published over 30 books. He taught at the University of California for many years and is currently at the University of New Mexico. He has a long history of political activism and he is considered one of the most prolific Indigenous ironists writing today.

Works: Favor of Crows, Cranes Arise, Empty Swings.

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

Stranded and The Sonomancer tied. These are the 10 stories that were closest to making it through and so have been given a second chance

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Stranded

Synopsis

The TARDIS is gone. Stranded in one time and place, the Doctor, Liv and Helen seek refuge in Baker Street. But the house has changed: they now have neighbours – not all of them welcoming. And someone has a dire warning for the future.

The Doctor and friends face their greatest challenge yet: living one day after another, in 2020 London.

Propaganda

The Doctor stranded on earth done right! First time I cried about a Big Finish story. Stellar Cast! Liv and Tania, Lovestory for the ages!   (anonymous)

The Sonomancer

Synopsis

On the other side of the galaxy a mining company is exploiting the already unstable planet of Syra for every precious mineral it contains. River Song is attempting to save the native people. She needs the Doctor's help, but she also knows he mustn't yet discover her true identity. The final confrontation sees the Doctor once again face his enemy the Eleven in an attempt to prevent the destruction of Syra and the genocide of its inhabitants.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Inside Every Warrior

Synopsis

The Great Detective, Madame Vastra, aided by her resourceful spouse, Jenny Flint, and loyal valet, Strax, is looking into a series of mysterious break-ins.

An eccentric scientist and his put-upon assistant are the latest victims. Evidence mounts, with animal footprints and a trail of destruction.

Propaganda

The first audio adventure for the Paternoster Gang that involves SO, SO much lesbian flirting??? And werewolves! First of all Jenny makes Vastra fluster at least twice in this thing, they fight werewolves together after Strax got kidnapped and try to get him back. A maid struggles with her rich employer's abusive behaviour and seeks revenge, and she wrongly assumes Jenny must be in a similar situation. In the final showdown, Vastra uses what she fears to be her last breaths on telling Jenny that she loves her. Also, Vastra actually gets to kill in this audio! Always fun! Overall jumps between the inherent humour that comes with Jenny, Vastra, and Strax, so much fluffy gay flirting, and intense, emotional action-packed scenes. 10000% recommend, I swear to god. (@jennyandvastraflint )

Blood of the Daleks

Synopsis

"People of Red Rocket Rising, my fellow citizens. Our long night is over. I've been contacted by a benevolent people. They too have known great trials, but they have overcome them and made it their mission to help others do the same. They have offered us refuge, and passage to the nearest human worlds. They have the resources, and the patience and compassion, to evacuate every one of us. My fellow citizens, my friends, rescue is at hand!"

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Side of the Angels

Synopsis

Cardinal Ollistra has plans for New York, plans which involve the Deputy Mayor and her sponsor, one 'Reverend Mortimer' – better known to the Doctor as the Meddling Monk. The Eleven arrives to stamp out the resistance, but that isn't the only danger the Doctor finds lurking in the shadows – for New York is a city of Weeping Angels.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Phobos

Synopsis

The TARDIS lands on Phobos, moon of Mars — where extreme sports nuts of the future indulge their passion for gravity-boarding and wormhole-jumping. But there's something lurking in the shadows, something infinitely old and infinitely dangerous. It's not for nothing that "Phobos" is the ancient word for "fear"...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Love Vampires

Synopsis

Regret can follow people everywhere - even out into deep space, in the shadow of a dying star.

When the Doctor, Liv and Helen meet the terrified crew of a space station, all are haunted by faces from the past. But these lost loves are more than mere memories - and they want to feed...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Widow’s Assassin

Synopsis

Once, long ago, in a land of monsters and corridors, a fair maiden was captured, and placed in a deep sleep.

She was used to being captured, and she had a hero who rescued her on just such occasions. But this time the hero never came.

And the fair maiden slept on.

Eventually, a King rescued the maiden, and made her his bride, which many wise old women might tell you is just another way of capturing fair maidens.

And still the fair maiden slept on.

Then, the hero had another stab at rescuing the maiden from her prison, but he was too late. And, more importantly, he had forgotten the rules of fairy tales.

He didn't slay the dragon.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Companion Piece

Synopsis

When the evil Time Lord known as the Nine comes across a rare and valuable item floating in the space-time vortex, his acquisitive nature means he can't resist the urge to complete the set.

Soon a wicked scheme is underway. Only the Doctor's friends – past, present and future – will be able to stop him.

But without the Doctor around will even the combined skills of Liv, Helen, River Song, Bliss and Charley be enough to save the day?

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Doomsday Chronometer

Synopsis

While River Song takes Helen on an archaeological expedition like no other, the Doctor finds himself enlisted by an alien Queen to save her people.

Trapped and alone, Liv stares death in the face as she meets the enemy who's been dogging the TARDIS travellers' footsteps throughout Earth's history.

The Doomsday Chronometer has been protected for five centuries: secret cults and societies jealously guarding its mystery. But what is their real purpose? The Doctor is about to discover the truth...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

[forgottenlivesobverse]

If you haven't ordered Forgotten Lives 3 yet, this is the last day it will be possible. Come on, you'll kick yourself if you don't.

In the meantime, here's the revised (still somewhat speculative) timeline of the Morbius Doctors, incorporating the new stories.

Barry

The Island of Aeons

The Knocking in the Mineshaft

The Seven Scholars and the Storyteller

Retrogenesis Part 1

The Hand of Night and Shadow

Banks Stewart

House of Images

The Hounds of War

Retrogenesis Part 2

The Rosewell Incident

The Country of the Young

Baker

Scientific Advisor

The Cross of Venus

The First Englishmen

Retrogenesis Part 3

Swan Song

Hinchcliffe

Gauntlet of Absolution

The Demons of Dog Street

Retrogenesis Part 4

The Hive Minders Part 1

The Swan and the Flame

Camfield

Past Lives

Leverage

Retrogenesis Part 5

[Cold Fusion flashbacks]

Hope Springs

Trail of a Time Lord

Harper

Valhalla Must Fall!

In the Land Beyond the River

Retrogenesis Part 6

Scene to Uncover

Admission to the Unknown

Holmes

The Other Side

Who Needs Enemies

The Hive Minders Part 2

Retrogenesis Part 7

Borrowed Time

Gallaccio

Doctor Crocus and the Pages of Fear

The Lungs of the Birastrop

Doctor Crocus and the Factory of the Future

Retrogenesis Part 8

[The Other Side]

The Queen of Bohemia and the Laughing TARDIS

[the-draconic-summit]

•Greetings! The draconic summit is happy to announce its first ever physical meetup being held in the Pacific Northwest! There will be an entire weekend for dragons to eat at restaurants together, hike nature trails, enjoy the fresh mountain air, and connect with one another! Regardless of whether you identify as draconic or not, come and join us dragons in the Pacific Northwest for a wonderful weekend!

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•One of our main activities will be hiking the Heliotrope Ridge Trail that leads to the summit at MT Baker! This meetup will be our first summit event hosted at an actual mountain summit! This magnificent nature trail has everything from forests and rivers to glaciers and mountains! Hiking these mountains with your fellow dragons will be the experience of a lifetime!

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•Meetup Dates-October 4th-6th 2024

•Location-Seattle, Washington

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•If you are interested in attending our first summit meetup, please join the celestial spire discord server or attend this season’s draconic summit, which will be happening new year’s weekend! The celestial spire discord server has a special channel specifically meant to discuss the specific details of the summit meetup, such as hotel locations, activity planning, making restaurant reservations, and travel arrangements. The specific details of the summit meetup will be decided as the months go on. Financial help is also available for some individuals who want to attend the summit meetup, though need extra funds to attend. Please contact @luunaathh privately if you need financial help in order to attend the summit meetup.

•https://discord.gg/ZGQmq9fuf4

[suzilight]

Verlot campground, Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest This spot was perfect. A little secluded. It had a trail down to a "private" spot next to the river. The campsite is still there, just not this site. It washed out some years ago.

Hiking. A trail in Washington.

[orendarling]

Baker River Trail

Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, Washington

North Cascades

November, 2023

[pluralzalpha]

Official unofficial speculative timeline for all three Forgotten Lives books:

Barry

• The Island of Aeons

• The Knocking in the Mineshaft

• The Seven Scholars and the Storyteller

• Retrogenesis Part 1

• The Hand of Night and Shadow

Banks Stewart

• House of Images

• The Hounds of War

• Retrogenesis Part 2

• The Rosewell Incident

• The Country of the Young

Baker

• Scientific Advisor

• The Cross of Venus

�� The First Englishmen

• Retrogenesis Part 3

• Swan Song

Hinchcliffe

• Gauntlet of Absolution

• The Demons of Dog Street

• Retrogenesis Part 4

• The Hive Minders Part 1

• The Swan and the Flame

Camfield

• Past Lives

• Leverage

• Retrogenesis Part 5

• [Cold Fusion flashbacks]

• Hope Springs

• Trail of a Time Lord

Harper

• Valhalla Must Fall!

• In the Land Beyond the River

• Retrogenesis Part 6

• Scene to Uncover

• Admission to the Unknown

Holmes

• The Other Side

• Who Needs Enemies

• The Hive Minders Part 2

• Retrogenesis Part 7

• Borrowed Time

Gallaccio

• Doctor Crocus and the Pages of Fear

• The Lungs of the Birastrop

• Doctor Crocus and the Factory of the Future

• Retrogenesis Part 8

• [The Other Side]

• The Queen of Bohemia and the Laughing TARDIS

Even more unofficially, although the main narrative of Scientific Advisor is definitely the earliest published story for the Baker Doctor, I'd place the framing story between Retrogenesis 3 and Swan Song.

https://obversebooks.co.uk/product/forgotten/

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

DEVON DEVIL

On February 8, 1855, bewildered villagers observed the devil's hoofprints in the snow around eighteen communities in Devon, England. Appearing overnight, the prints covered 100 miles, including the jump over the River Exe's two-mile-wide estuary. Shaped like miniature horseshoes, the prints ran one directly behind the other as if made by a one-legged creature or a biped with a peculiar stride. The marks were always exactly eight and a half inches apart.

In Topsham, the village baker, George Fairly, saw the tracks go up to his shop door and then turn abruptly right. For a few feet they followed alongside a high brick wall, and then they simply vanished. In Lympstone, the hoofprints were found in practically all the gardens and courtyards of the town, sometimes walking up or through walls and over or along roofs. One time they entered a shed and came out the other side through a six-inch hole. They also went through a drainpipe and a tiny hole in a thick bramble hedge. In the ice in front of a church door, the tracks appeared to have been made by something sizzling hot. Near Dawlish, the trail led into some undergrowth, which left the village dogs howling in distress and refusing to go near it.

Several thousand people saw the tracks before a change of weather erased them. The event was covered by the Times of London. For weeks afterward, people stayed in after dark.

Only once before had such tracks been seen and recorded. Similar hoofprints were discovered by a surveying party on Kerguelen Island during an 1840 expedition of the southern polar regions, led by Captain Sir James Clark Ross.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[vancouverislandtotoronto2023]

Day 3 Mon. May 29 Baker City, Oregon to Twin Falls and Idaho Falls, Idaho 700 km

What's become clear is that in order to hit my destinations, I am not going to be able to entirely avoid the Interstates. Case in point, in order to make my 700 km today, I had to take Interstate 84 to Twin Falls. At 80 kph, you don't get much local flavour, and you're certainly not stopping to take pictures. However, you can gather impressions. When I think of Idaho, now I will think of wind turbines, solar farms, transmission lines, irrigation and cattle, cattle, and cattle. I'll also think of the Oregon Trail, which stretches from Missouri to Oregon and 500 miles through Idaho. And always in the distance, scenic mountain ranges, some snow capped, and all sporting fluffy white cloud banks overhead. Without irrigation, it can get pretty brown, but with it, Idaho grows impressive amounts of potatoes, wheat, barley, hay, sugar beets, peas and lentils.

Of the two cities I visited, Twin Falls has a pop of 53,000, Elev. 3,734 ft and is known as the gateway to the Snake River. At its east end, there's Shoshone Falls and at its north Penine Coulee Falls.

Idaho Falls is a city of 66,000, Elev 4,705 ft, and is the commercial, cultural, and healthcare center for eastern Idaho, western Wyoming, and Southern Montana.

I took the scenic route between the two along US 26 and US 20, which took me past the Craters of the Moon, a 600 sq mile lava field that is still regarded as active and likely to erupt again.

I also passed through Arco, apparently the first town in the world to be lighted by atomic power (1955) by the nearby atomic reactors of the 900 square mile Idaho National Laboratory nuclear testing and storage facility. It also sits beneath a mountain covered in the numbers of its graduating classes.

[springsvacationrentals]

The Best Glacier Springs Vacation Rentals for Nature Lovers

Nestled in the breathtaking beauty of Washington's Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, Glacier Springs offers vacation rentals perfect for nature lovers. Just minutes from Mt. Baker, this quiet, forested community is a haven for those seeking an escape into nature's tranquillity, with hiking trails, crystal-clear rivers, and towering evergreens right at your doorstep. Need more information please click here "PNW Concierge"

Choose from cosy cabins, luxury lodges, or charming cottages. Many rentals boast features like wood-burning stoves, hot tubs, and spacious decks, perfect for unwinding after a day exploring nearby trails. Some properties are pet-friendly, allowing you to bring along your furry friend to enjoy the outdoors.

Adventure enthusiasts will love the easy access to activities like hiking, mountain biking, and fishing. In winter, Mt. Baker's renowned ski slopes are only a short drive away. Each season brings its beauty, from spring wildflowers and summer rivers to autumn foliage and winter snow-capped peaks, offering something for every type of adventurer.

Whether you're seeking a romantic retreat, a family getaway, or a group adventure, Glacier Springs vacation rentals provide the perfect setting to recharge in nature's splendour. Enjoy the peaceful ambience, immerse yourself in the rugged beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and make unforgettable memories in this enchanting destination.