#award medals near me

[xpertawards]

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[awardcrafters]

The Top Questions to Ask When Buying Custom Awards

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Since 1964 Award Crafters has been designing, manufacturing, and distributing Awards and Recognition Items to Local, State, and Federal Government Agencies. With more than 400 current supplier partnerships, (some dating back to the 1960s) you can be confident that if we don't make it in-house, we can get it.

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[bossybigeyes]

new James Fitzjames display thing in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich - at least I’d say it’s new because I’ve been several times and never seen it before and it makes reference to his remains having been recently identified!

OBJECT IN FOCUS

An act of 'gallant heroism'

On 1 February 1835 ship's mate James Fitzjames saved the life of James Dickinson, who had fallen into the River Mersey near Liverpool. Fitzjames was on board the ship George Canning when customs officer Dickinson, who was helping to load supplies from a steamer, slipped into the river. In a letter to his uncle, Fitzjames described how he spotted Dickinson - who was unable to swim - 'floundering away like a porpoise'.

Without hesitation, he jumped fully clothed into the fast-moving and freezing cold Mersey.

He managed to keep Dickinson's head above the water until they were picked up by a small boat a considerable distance downriver. Much to Fitzjames's embarrassment, his story made the national newspapers and he received several awards in recognition of his bravery.

Presentation cup

E. Terry & Co., 1830-31

The Corporation of Liverpool presented this silver cup to seaman James Fitzjames at a celebratory dinner in February 1835 after he saved the life of James Dickinson. He later took it back to his ship, where it was filled with mulled port and the whole crew drank to his health. Fitzjames was also granted Freedom of the City of Liverpool, while the Royal Humane Society and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) awarded him silver lifesaving medals (the RNLI medal is also in the National Maritime Museum's collection).

MY CHOICE

'I chose this cup because the person it was awarded to deserves more recognition. James Fitzjames is a true maritime hero who I think history has neglected. After the act of bravery for which he was given the cup, Fitzjames went on to have a distinguished naval career, before losing his life during Sir John Franklin's ill-fated Arctic expedition (1845-48). Using DNA analysis, researchers finally identified his remains, recovered from King William Island, Canada, in September 2024. It was this moment that inspired me to suggest this object for display!

Suzy Jenvey, Visitor and Sales Assistant

[mochiroreo]

Oh goodie! Prologue [breaking in]

Summary: being a latchkey child, you are used to being alone. So when your parents announced that your whole family is moving to Hawkins, you paid them no mind and just packed up your bags. What you are not expecting was that the house that your family just bought comes with two neighbours that are in dire need to have you in any way.

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns. [mentions of god in this chapter] DUBCON. NONCON. 100% FILTH. Smut. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Hidden relationships. Age gap. Cream pie. Size kink. Degradation. Corruption. Choking/slapping (in a pleasurable way). Pet names (no use of y/n). Fingering. Squirting. Overstimulation. Public sex. Recording. Dark!Steve Harrington & Dark!Eddie Munson

Author’s note: thank you for your support on the teaser! I did not expect that

૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა this is my first time writing and posting my fics publicly so I hope you like them! This part does not contain much but I will still post it for the sake of world building for this fic 💞

P.s. not beta’d. So.. there might be grammar mistakes..

Thank you to @kayaedits and @kitsunecafe for the dividers!

“It wouldn’t be that bad,sweetheart. I swear. Me and your dad promises that the house is really pretty! Plus,you get the spacious room that you have always dreamed off!”

Your mom tried to pacify you,telling you all the things you will like about the new house that they bought at Hawkins, Indiana. A place you did not know even exists when they mentioned that they were planning to sell the house where you currently live and move to the said place. Eyes a bit puffy and red while your lips tremble and jutted out in a pout. Hugging your soft stuffed teddy bear,you were feeling overwhelmed. With their decision already made, you cannot help but look around your room.

The soft pinks and pastel blues are adorning every corner, the trinkets that you collected along the way throughout high school were neatly piled and arranged. The medals, awards, trophies, and books that are lined up on the shelves that pretty sure had indents on them for how long the pile has been there. She looks at you with pity,before sighing and pulling you in a hug. They know that you’re not crying because of how you’ll miss you best friend. Or how you’ll miss the town. No, they know you don’t really care much about those.

You hate big changes. Knowing how shy and timid you are, you always prefer staying home or discovering new spots where you can just relax and let your mind drift away while reading a book or jotting down notes on things you find interesting. And your parents know that. Being painfully aware of the times their jobs affected your upbringing,they try to make it up to you every single time. With you being on their minds when they bought the house,they chose the biggest that they can find which is full of greenery in a quiet neighbourhood.

“But.. its—“ you tried to reason out your frustration,tears slowly filling up your eyes again. “I know honey,I know. I’m so sorry. Me and your father just wants what’s best for you,you do know that.. right? Its not just for work but we can just see that house as our permanent house. No more moving after this.” Your mum apologised in a gentle manner, still patient while hugging you and rubbing your back. You just groaned under her hug,sniffling as you continue to bury yourself on your mom’s arms. “Besides, there are public and private colleges around. You can also get a summer job there too while you are still deciding on what to study. I’ve heard that there’s a book shop and a record store near our house,too. Maybe they’re hiring? Oh,we even have lovely neighbours! Too nice,actually! Me and your dad happened to meet them while we were inspecting the house..” you listened to your mum telling you all about the new place, fiddling with your fingers while it slowly sinks on you that you really don’t have any choice. “Its a really beautiful place,honey. I promise. We promise.” Your mum ended softly, giving you a forehead kiss.

“And—“ your dad’s voice popped the bubble you and your mum had,slightly jumping at his voice. “Maybe you can find a decent boyfriend out there. You know, better than— what was his name again? Frank?” He asked,his nose scrunched in disgust. You laughed at how he tried to remember you ex’s name. Giving your mum a tight hug before standing up to give the same to your dad as well,you answered him while copying his expression. “Yes,dad. Frank. What an ugly name,huh?” Your whole family giggled,slandering your ex while talking about what you and your mum should cook for dinner, the anxiety slowly easing in the background.

“Hey mom, where do you want these?!” You shouted after your mother who is already carrying a box of kitchen utensils with a laugh out of excitement.

After a grueling 6 hour car ride, the first thing you did was immediately jump out of your family car and stretch your limbs. The air was sticky and humid,feeling the spring season already ending. You definitely did not expect the temperature on the way here despite it still being early morning. With the heat making your shirt stick to your skin,you slumped your shoulders,already tired at the thought of moving. Putting your sunglasses up your head, you made your way to the car’s boot, quickly grabbing some of your boxes that you won’t clumsily drop.

Hawkins is definitely an eye catcher. Sure, a small town. But there is something mysterious about it that you cannot help but be curious about the said town. You like how snug and tight the community is. People smiling at your parents here and there, striking up a conversation with them too. It eases your nerves that it looks like your parents chose the right place to settle after all. It looks like you will be spending the upcoming summer exploring the never-ending variety of stores your whole family drove by.

The day ended when the last piece of furniture is inside and assembled. “I’m dead..” you muttered under your breath when you plopped face-down on your bed. The house is beautiful— Pretty is not even enough to describe it. The outside definitely shows the history and age of the place. Vintage,painted with neutral colors, while hints of greens,moss, and crawling plants adorn the vast spaces near the windows. It is definitely different from the two houses on both sides of your house. Your mind is already racing on how you are going to decorate your bedroom, already allocating the empty corner for some massive book shelves and a shrine of trinkets and random journals that you collect for fun. You just finished taking a much needed bath,giggling to the comforters when you became too excited on buying new stuff for your bedroom, not noticing your mom’s footsteps as she make her way upstairs.

Your mom stood in front of you,a big smile on her face. Your giggling stopped when you noticed her presence— and how she is holding two pies that are meticulously packed with a bow on top of each boxes. God knows when she had the chance to bake a pie amidst the chaos of never-ending boxes and assembling furnitures together. You went quiet,noticing how your energy is not matching hers as you press your lips in a line while hoping whatever she plans on asking you for is not the one that you are currently thinking. “Sweetheart can you give—“ she started sickeningly sweet before you immediately answered “no. Nope. No,no,no. Goodnight!” You tried to evade her favor, quickly hiding under you fluffy blanket and closing your eyes. Your mom,expecting the behaviour, had quickly put down the pies on top of your study desk and snatched the blanket from your body. “You will!” She exclaimed before laughing loudly as you fight her back for your blanket. “No! Why am I always the one handing it to the neighbours?! I’m always the sone doing it!” You whined,already losing from your so called “battle” against your mother. “Because! Me and your dad are still busy!” She tried to reason out when you know she’s just planning to make you go out and hopefully make new friends or just meet new people. Your mom tugged a bit too hard that made you sit down. You continued whining and whinging,knowing that you already lost and you have no other choice.

You changed from your tank top and sleeping shorts to a cropped cream sweater and a plain pink skirt before brushing your hair and swiping some cherry lip gloss on your lips to at least make yourself looks presentable. With a last look to the mirror,you have put on your glasses and sneakers,before turning around to your mom. You find your mom holding the boxes once again with a cheshire-like grin before handing it to you. “Yeah,you trickster” you mumbled and your mom knows that you are only joking as her loud laughter and giggles together with yours echoed throughout the house.

The air cooled down quite a bit when you stepped out of your house,the gate creaking as you try to push it close using your foot. Trying to ease your nerves, you looked around and drank in your surroundings. How the cul-de-sac is surrounded by trees that makes the place a bit eerie but also dreamy when the sun had set today. How the clouds are soft and plush,orange and yellows slowly disappearing while the moon and the stars slowly peek out. Slowing your steps as much as you can, you focused on the feeling of the gravel underneath your feet and just avoiding the dread of meeting new people. On your way,were slowly starting to hate the whole thing and how you wish the houses are far more apart.

Finally,you made it towards your neighbours gate,seeing that its slightly ajar which made you hesitate before deciding that you just want it to be over with and stepped inside. “Screw it” you say to yourself while walking towards a black stained oak door. Trying to balance the other pie on top of another to fix your glasses from being crooked and your hair from being destroyed slightly because of the wind, you lifted one of your fist and is already thinking of how to escape the social interaction if they end up being too talkative.

“Well fuck that.” You heard a deep,husky voice as he talk to someone that you cannot hear clearly. You dropped your fist beside you,anxiety slowly creeping in while your mind runs hundred miles per minute if you should just come back later than to interrupt their conversation. “They keep on trying to sell their god to me for how many fucking years already!” The man clearly exclaimed before another man let out a roaring laugh. “If god is fucking real he will present me or you with someone that can fucking blow my balls off and suck my dick so deep that I will be convulsing at the end of the night and he— whoever the fuck he is— will tell me how its his gift for me,like— someone fucking made for me and you—“

It was the last thing you heard before the huge wooden door opened,the man’s rambling abruptly stopped and two of the most breathtaking men entered your view. One with long,curly hair that looks like it’ll be soft under your fingertips. While the other one has thick,luscious hair that is not as long as the other but is styled to perfection.

“Hi..?” with your face red as a beet,that was the only word you can whisper.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 48: Back Home

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You made your way slowly through the kitchen, feeling the weight of the past few days in every step, while Chuck lingered in the mudroom, handling your luggage with care.

He popped his head out, offering a warm smile. “Go get some rest. I’ll finish up with the bags and then get dinner started.”

“Alright,” you replied, a touch of relief in your voice. “I’ll be in my office.” With that, you headed down the familiar hallway.

After the verdict was read yesterday afternoon, Max had caught a late flight back to California, but you and Chuck decided to leave the following morning, giving yourselves a moment to decompress before the journey home.

You sank into your chair, letting out a weary sigh as your gaze drifted to the left. The wedding photo of you and Jake caught your eye—both of you beaming with joy, his smile especially bright. Your fingers brushed the frame gently, and a pang of longing washed over you. You missed him deeply, more than you could put into words.

As you gazed at the photo, memories of happier times with Jake surfaced, mingling with a profound sense of gratitude. You had made it through this ordeal, and even though Jake couldn’t be here physically, his presence was still felt, providing a sense of comfort and strength.

Sighing again, you leaned back in the chair, trying to piece together those four years without him. It felt surreal now, as if you’d put parts of your life on hold just to get by. You’d buried yourself in work, poured every ounce of energy into your career, and somehow managed to convince yourself that was enough. But now, after everything you’d faced, you could see how much you’d set aside—how much you missed him and all the little things that made your life with him complete.

You glanced around the office, taking in the familiar details. The wedding photo hung proudly behind you, a constant reminder of that joyous day. His awards and medals adorned the wall near his desk, symbols of dedication and hard work. Although your marriage had been on the back burner for the past four years, the past six and a half months had rekindled so much, making up for lost time in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

A lump formed in your throat as your eyes filled with tears, just as the baby gave a gentle kick. You placed a hand over your stomach, soothingly rubbing the spot. "I know," you murmured softly, voice barely a whisper. "I miss him too." The tears traced slowly down your cheeks, each one carrying a bit of the ache in your heart.

There was a gentle knock on the office door and you quickly wiped away the tears. You looked to see Chuck at the door.

"You okay, Doc?" he asked, concerned.

You nodded your head. "Yeah. I think it's these damn hormones."

Chuck smiled. "I'll be out in the barn checking things real quick and be right back."

You nodded. "Okay."

After Chuck left, you turned back to your computer, scanning through the emails that had come in. Just as you started to type a response, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was the number from the Kentucky Equine Hospital. You answered it.

“Y/N Hart?” a female voice asked.

“This is she,” you replied carefully. You hadn't heard your maiden name in years.

“Y/N, it’s me—Sarah.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Sarah had been your closest friend back in college, the one by your side through every late-night study session and all-nighter while you worked on your bachelor’s degree.

"Oh my gosh! Sarah! How are you?"

"Good. Doing good. You?"

"The same. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was calling to ask a favor."

"Sure, what's that?"

"I have a horse here who I need some help with and you were the first person I thought of when I saw him."

"Sure. What seems to be the problem?"

"He’s a rescue, and he's had some tough breaks. He’s got a bit of a temperament—stubborn, strong-willed, but there's something in his eyes that tells me he's not a lost cause," Sarah explained. "I could really use your expertise to evaluate him, maybe help create a training plan to get him on track."

You felt a spark of excitement. "That sounds like a great challenge. I’d be happy to take a look at his info and see what we can work out."

"Good. Would you be able to fly out here in the next couple of days?"

You sighed. "Unfortunately I can't do that. I'm due in the next couple of months and my doctor wants me to stay close."

"Oh my! Congrats! Wait. Does this mean you settled down? Miss Will-Never-Have-A-Man-In-My-Life?"

"i did. I got married five years ago when I went to Austin for some classes."

"Wow! He must've been one heck of a guy."

"He is. He's a fighter pilot in the Navy."

"What? Wow. That's got to be hard. Him gone all the time."

You nodded. "It is, but we make it work. What about you?"

"Me? Nah. My life is currently at this Equine Hospital. You'll have to come and see it after the baby."

You smiled. "Definitely. Until then, I'll give you my email and you can send me all the details and videos of this horse."

"That would be great! So, what's your name now?"

"It's Seresin."

"Wait. Not the Seresin who just got taken by an associate in Wyoming?"

"The one and the same."

"Y/N. I am so sorry. I didn't know. The schools sent out a mass email about it. Everyone is really getting screened now. I'm glad you're okay."

"I am. Thank you." You paused. "Let me get you that information and I'll look at that horse for you."

"Great."

After giving Sarah your updated contact information, there was a brief silence on the line, both of you reflecting on the recent events. Her voice softened. “I really am glad you’re okay, Y/N. If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”

"Thanks, Sarah. Your support means a lot," you replied warmly. “And I’ll take a look at that horse’s info as soon as I can. Send over everything, and I’ll get back to you with a plan.”

After hanging up, you took a deep breath, a sense of gratitude washing over you. Gently rubbing your belly, you felt a comforting sense of connection, as if sharing this moment with someone who had meant so much was exactly what you needed.

“We’ve got this, little one,” you murmured softly.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @devil-angel-winchester @alwayshave-faith

[latin5mamii]

'Loss' - Carlos Alcaraz

|WARNINGS: angst to fluff |SUMMARY: Forever by his side... |AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by today's events...my poor carlitos..

Carlos sat on the bench, head bowed, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He had fought fiercely, giving his all, but had come up short. The gold medal slipped from his grasp, and the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders.

As he trudged off the court, his eyes met yours in the stands. You had been there for every match, every point, every moment of his journey. Your heart ached seeing the pain etched on his face.

Carlos stood near the sidelines, talking to a reporter. His voice trembled as he tried to articulate his feelings.

"I gave everything," He said through his tears.

“It’s painful to lose the way I lost this match," he added. "I had my chances to probably be up in the match. I couldn’t take it. Novak was playing great. He deserves this. In the tough moments he increased his level.

"He played unbelievable shots... an unbelievable game. I’m a bit disappointed but honestly I’ll leave the court with my head really really high. Fighting for Spain was everything to me. I’m proud with the way I played today.” He could barely talk and you knew that he was blaming himself, even if he did everything he could to win that match.In the past few days he had been under a lot of pressure: playing doubles, singles and having just a day to rest.You waited for him to come up the stands.

When he finally reached you, the weight of his emotions became too much to bear. Carlos looked at you, eyes red and glistening, his lips trembling. Without a word, he fell into your arms, his body shaking with silent sobs. You held him tightly, your fingers gently running through his hair, providing a comforting presence.

"Está bien, Carlos" "It’s okay, Carlos,” you whispered, your voice tender and soothing.

“Hiciste todo lo que pudiste. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti"

“You did everything you could. I'm so proud of you”

He clung to you, his tears soaking your shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” "Lo siento mucho," choked out between sobs. “Quería esto tanto… para nosotros, para España, ¿sabes?” "I wanted this so much… for us, for Spain., you know?”

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. "Odio verte así, amor" "I hate seeing you like this,love" You hold him tighter, feeling his heartbeat sync with yours. "Te amo mucho," he whispers, his voice barely audible yet filled with raw emotion.

"Te amo mucho," you repeat,He looks at you, his eyes searching yours . Slowly, he moves away from your embrace, though his hand lingers in yours for a moment longer.Carlos turns to his team and family, who have been watching from a distance with pride and concern etched on their faces. As he approaches, they open their arms, enveloping him in a warm, collective embrace.They're always so proud of him, and that really fills your heart.

Today he will have a silver medal anyway, so he starts going down the stands to go towards the awards ceremony. Before letting him go you look at him with pride and a comfort smile. He may not have won the gold medal today, but you are so proud of him that you don't care. You will face this 'loss' together, as always and forever.

[leveloneandup]

denisewhite_eag This is much larger than an award on a stage. I have watched Christen Press fight this fight of gender equality and equal pay for almost as long as I have been working for her , which is near a decade. I have watched the countless hours , the fight , the long days , hard conversations , all while playing at a level that brought her two National Championships and a Bronze Medal at the Olympics ..The unwillingness to never give up in something she believes in . You all got to witness Christen Press and her teammates be awarded the honor of the Arthur Ashe Courage Award at the ESPYs but that moment was much bigger of a moment to me . A culmination of so much more .A moment rightfully deserved but the hard work to get there is what I'm most proud of her for . I'm beyond proud. This is why I love my job . The impact she has made on the history of women's sports is game changing ! Congrats to my ⭐️. Only you know just how proud I am .

[motionpicturedemise]

Zero's medal, New Mecca's origins, and near-fatal head trauma

Spoilers for all of Katana ZERO ahead. if you haven't played it already, do that now, I'm dead serious when I say it's one of the greatest games of all time.

When I first decided I'd post meta about this game, honestly, this isn't the one I expected to start with. Hey, sometimes inspiration hits, and...

I'm joking. That's a different rant entirely. (yoshiP voice) please look forward to it. I think the best place to start with this one is New Mecca itself, and what that name entails. It's no secret that KZ takes large inspiration from both Judaism and Islam, the latter of which is more relevant today.

The implications of a literal new Mecca are both fascinating and out of my wheelhouse. I encourage any Muslims, who certainly know more about it than me, to elaborate. As it stands, I'm going to leave it at these few screenshots.

The Psychiatrist:

Leon von Alvensleben:

And of course, Headhunter:

This really isn't the main point of this rant, but it's related enough that I feel justified in mentioning it. Now, let's see Zero's service medal.

Thanks to the nature of KZ as a pixel-art game, we don't have much to work with here. It's gold with a purple ribbon, that's the most we're gonna get.

During the scene at the bar, we have an NPC put a name to it, and this name is what kickstarted the entire post.

A Distinguished Service Crescent. This, to my knowledge, is not a real medal in any country. That makes sense, considering, to my knowledge... New Mecca isn't real. (If it was, we'd have bigger problems on our hands.) This name did remind me of the real-life medal known as the Distinguished Service Cross, which has three meanings and appearances between countries.

To the left, the USA's medal, which is the second highest military decoration just behind their Medal of Honor. The center, Australia's medal, the highest of their Distinguished Service awards. The right, the United Kingdom's medal, which is only awarded for service at sea.

But none of these look like Zero's medal, do they? Let's take a look at Distinguished Service Medals instead, same order as above.

No dice. At this point what I'm about to say is going to surprise absolutely nobody, but the only real-life lookalike I can think of is the USA's Purple Heart.

Now, this sounds absolutely nothing like the Distinguished Service Crescent the NPC mentions, but let's account for 1. artistic liberty, 2. multiple inspirations, and 3. the fact that he might've been wrong. (It's not as if KZ has the most reliable narrators in the first place.)

Part of the reason it might be named as such in game is to draw the direct comparison to our real world medals, named after the cross. Why has it been replaced with a crescent, though? Recall the name of New Mecca, and how the crescent has long been a symbol of of Islam.

Most Americans know what a Purple Heart is given for: being wounded or killed by an enemy combatant in the line of duty. Given that Zero is still alive to receive it, only the former is important. Things are starting to come together.

During the final scene with the Psychiatrist, he entirely ignores you if you ask if the medal is real. At first, I assumed this could be Zero coming to doubt everything he's been told, which is reasonable. Then, once I realized the medal is based off of a Purple Heart, I thought it was real after all.

Finally, I realized just how much the Psychiatrist had Zero's life under control. Zero knows what this medal means, what it implies, and the whole course of the game is discovering how much of what he believed to be innate is caused by his medicine.

Chronos, the drug that he's been forbidden from learning about at every turn, that he's been given non-answers about this whole time, that gives him the power of a god. It's not so unreasonable to assume the medal was used to attribute Zero's memory loss to a head injury, as opposed to the truth of it being yet another side effect.

It's worth noting which parts of the screenshots provided are rendered in purple, and the fact that NULL itself is written in the same color. More on the color usage of KZ later.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading the deranged ramblings of a madman. Lord knows I'm not done talking about this game.

Thanks to @chemicalbrew for encouraging my madness, Muffins (no tumblr) for cooking this up with me, @dynal for listening, and everyone in The Apartment, Nepenthe, and Paradox of Lucidity for cheering me on.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Talking Dog For Sale.

A guy is driving around the backwoods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house: 'Talking Dog For Sale.'

He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.

The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador Retriever sitting there.

"You talk?" he asks.

"Yep" the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says, "So, what's your story?"

The Lab looks up and says, "Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA. In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping, I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running... but the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired."

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

"Ten dollars" the guy says.

"Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on Earth are you selling him so cheap?"

"Because he's a liar. He's never been out of the yard."

(Ian Sanders)

[purplesaline]

Meet Parker

Previously known as Cloak! As this little lad will be staying with me for some training until we find him his forever home I've chosen his grown up name.

The kennel that I work with to help breed and raise these puppies is LestWeForget Collies and every one of their puppies recieves an Official paperwork name associated with the Canadian Military. Lance's name is officially Operation Lance, after a peacekeeping operation in Rwanda. His grandmother's name was Vimy, after Vimy Ridge. She was the kennel's foundation dog and she died a couple years ago. This was the first litter since she died and I thought giving this litter a theme that had to do with Vimy Ridge would be a touching tribute.

We're also very aware that the Canadian treatment of it's soldiers hasn't been equitable and members of marginalized groups often suffered despite their service and sacrifices. They were far too often overlooked for the same honours and recognition that cishet white soldiers recieved.

So the theme for this litter is Underhonoured Canadian Soldiers of Vimy Ridge.

Parker is a little bit off the beaten track as a choice. His namesake is Ellanore Parker, clearly not a soldier.

She was a nurse though, and one who was injured and permanently disabled from severe gas poisoning while treating soldiers injured during the battle for Vimy Ridge. While I believe being a nurse would be more than enough to include her on this list, Ellanore was included for a different reason. She was queer.

Ellanore Parker and Murney Pugh met while serving at a hospital near Sailsbury Plains in England. The couple were inseparable throughout the war and were stationed together throughout France. Ellanore experienced severe gas poisoning while tending to soldiers at Vimy Ridge and would suffer for the rest of her life with respiratory issues. At her side through all of this was Murney, who became her caretaker and life partner after the war. They lived together for their entire lives and self-identified as partners on two separate census documents. Ellanore was an avid writer and when she passed away Murney donated her poetry to the Royal B.C. Museum. These poems beautifully detail their love, life, and experience as queer in a world that would not accept their love. The couple are buried together in Victoria, B.C.

[x]

Ellanore June Parker was born in Ireland ca. 1879. She graduated from Winnipeg General Hospital and in 1910 joined the first contingent of the Canadian Army Medical Corps as a nursing sister. As a First Lieutenant she went to France in January 1915 and served with the 2nd Canadian General Hospital near Dieppe.

At a brief interlude at the Canadian Hospital at Netherhaven on Salisbury Plain she met her lifelong friend and companion, Murney Pugh. Sister Parker served with the First Canadian Division at the Battle of Mons and also treated the first gas cases from Vimy and the Somme, inhaling some of the gas in the process. Because Sister Parker had a susceptible chest, the gas laid her low. When the war ended she was returned to Canada as a patient in a hospital ship and was not expected to pull through. Over the years she had several attacks of pneumonia as a result of the gas, each time being given up for lost by doctors. Sister Parker was awarded the British General Service Medal, the Victory Medal and the Mons Star.

Ellanore Parker and Murney Pugh went to California in 1919 and here Ellanore Parker put to use her talent as a writer. She contributed over a long period, mostly from her bed, to the editorial page of the Los Angeles Times. She also had two books of wartime experiences written as fiction, The Flower of the Land and The Land Lay Waiting, published. Murney Pugh, her nurse and amanuensis, did the copying and editing.

In 1948 they came to Victoria where they lived at 2493 Eastdowne Road. Miss Parker also was involved in inventing and she designed a water cannon which was used in London during the Blitz, and a magnetic detector which was the forerunner of radar. She was a member of the Red Chevrons Association, the Canadian Overseas Nursing Sisters' Association and the John O'London Literary Association. Ellanore Parker died on 10 October 1965 aged 86.

[x]

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Perhaps one of the most evocative images of the Titanic disaster is that of the young newsboy outside the White Star Line offices at Oceanic House in Cockspur Street, London, S.W., holding an Evening News poster announcing "Titanic Disaster Great Loss of Life."

That boy was Ned Parfett, and his short life was no less spectacular. His death just as tragic, as that of the Titanic.

Six and a half years after this poignant photograph was taken, Ned was killed during a German bombardment while serving with the British army in France, just days before the Armistice. He was 22.

According to his great-nephew Dominic Walsh, young Ned enlisted in the Royal Artillery in 1916, first serving as a dispatch rider before reassignment to reconnaissance duties.

Youth did not prevent bravery; he was mentioned in dispatches and awarded the Military Medal for his gallant conduct during a series of missions at the front.

Ned was one of four brothers from Cornwall Road, Waterloo, to enlist "For King and Country."

One brother served in the disastrous Dardanelles campaign of 1915, surviving to become part of the occupation army in defeated Germany.

Another brother served in the bloody battle of the Somme in 1916, only to be wounded and gassed at the third battle of Ypres in Belgium.

The third brother also survived. Only Ned failed to see out the war.

He died on 29 October 1918, less than two weeks before the end of the war.

Ned was killed near Valenciennes when a shell landed on the quartermaster's stores, just as he was collecting some clothes before going on leave.

After his death, the officer who recommended Ned for special recognition wrote to one of his brothers:

"On many occasions, he accompanied me during severe shelling, and I always placed the greatest confidence in him."

[petervintonjr]

"I had no role models because nobody ever publicized them, not that they didn't exist. George Washington Carver and Percy Julian and others had preceded me in science, but nobody ever publicized their accomplishments, and, therefore, many of the minority students didn't know that they had a future in science because they figured it was something that was not for them."

After a bit of time away from this project to make room for convention appearances and other shows, I now return to the subject with a look at the life and accomplishments of physicist George Robert Carruthers, on this, what would have been his 85th birthday.

Born in 1939 Cincinnati, Carruthers's father was himself a civil engineer at Wright-Patterson AFB, but the family soon moved to the more rural location of Milford, Ohio. Carruthers was described as quiet and focused --intensely interested in space travel stories and comic books (my people!), and a devourer of the science articles in Collier's magazine (even penning a fan letter to Dr. Werner Von Braun, to which he received an unexpected and encouraging personal reply). At the age of ten Carruthers built his first telescope, constructed from lenses he obtained by mail order. After George's father died in 1952, the family moved to Chicago but his fascination with spaceflight did not diminish. Encouraged by wonderfully observant teachers, he eventually graduated from the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign in 1960, then earned his MS in in nuclear engineering in 1962, and then landed his PhD in aeronautical and astronautical engineering in 1964.

While working towards his PhD, Carruthers worked as a researcher and teaching assistant, studying plasma and gases. In 1964, Carruthers took a postdoctoral appointment with the Naval Research Laboratory (NRL) in Washington, D.C., focusing on far ultraviolet astronomy. In 1969 he received a U.S. patent for inventing a form of image converter; an instrument that detects electromagnetic radiation in short wavelengths. In 1970 his invention recorded the first observation of molecular hydrogen in outer space (which he described as "a very big deal at the time.")

Far and away (literally), Dr. Carruthers's greatest contribution to science is his development and construction of an ultraviolet electronographic telescope, which became the first (and to date still the only) astronomical instrument sent to the surface of the Moon; more properly known as the Far Ultraviolet Camera/Spectrograph. The camera was brought along on the Apollo 16 mission in 1972, set up to observe the Earth's geocorona (outermost atmosphere) from a vantage point never before possible. A short time later a variation on this very same camera was brought aboard Skylab to photograph the near approach of Comet Kohoutek, the first instance of a comet being recorded in ultraviolet. A flight backup of the Apollo 16 instrument, along with the original mission film canister, stood for many years as part of the lunar lander exhibit at the National Air & Space Museum, until it was later transferred to a more protected exhibit to guard against corrosion.

Dr. Carruthers's success and notoriety from the Apollo mission led to his creation of the Science & Engineers Apprentice Program, offering disadvantaged high school students the opportunity to work with scientists at the Naval Research Laboratory. His research into ultraviolet spectroscopy continued --in 1991 one of his ultraviolet cameras was used in multiple experiments aboard the Space Shuttle Discovery (STS-39). He retired from the NRL in 2002 and in 2003, was inducted into the National Inventor Hall of Fame. In 2013 was awarded the National Medal for Technology and Innovation by President Barack Obama. Dr. Carruthers died on Christmas Day, 2020.

[hmp-larkhall]

Millie Bright/Mary Earps

Millie & Mary fanfics on Ao3. Written by me, uploaded by my girlfriend :)

~Masterlist~

Love After Loss - a series (4/4)

Part 1 - All's Not Lost (Mature; words: 3,800) It was still so raw; so fresh in your memory like you’d just that minute walked off the pitch, the Spanish team still cheering behind you. You felt like a failure. You were beyond proud of your team for getting into the final. You made history. Yet there was a heavy weight pressing down on you.

“Come on, babes,” you said softly to her, gently moving out from her grasp and standing up. She took the hand that you were holding out to her and led her into the hotel room you shared. Her Golden Glove award was laying on the bed, along with her silver medal. She couldn’t look at them.

"Bed?"

Part 2 - All's Found (Mature; words: 2,976) Since understanding what love was supposed to feel like, you’d gotten to a point in your late twenties that you decided you weren’t capable of it. So many chances, hopes, maybes. But no. That part of you just didn’t exist. You learnt to be okay with it. That was, of course, until your then-friend stopped becoming just that and turned into your deepest desire.

Falling in love with her was easy. However, it was - holy crap - so painful. Sometimes you wished you went back to being the cold-hearted bitch you always thought you were.

Part 3 - All's Not Broken (Mature; words: 2,677) She’d had her heart set after the World Cup on transferring to Arsenal. Her club wouldn’t let her go.

You joked that when the time came, she should come play for Chelsea. You both laughed and she told you not a chance. You were okay with this. You enjoyed the bit of rivalry.

You weren’t worried about not spending enough time together. You lived together and played for England together.

Part 4 - All's Well (Mature; words: 3,217) She was due to be away for a week and you missed her terribly.

You’d never felt loneliness like this before and you didn’t like it. You felt silly. You could be surrounded by people but there was always such a big part of you that wanted no one but Millie. You often told yourself to stop being so pathetic. You felt like you couldn’t function properly without her. 

Your friends told you that’s what it’s like when you really love someone. And goodness, you really did love her. You adored everything about her. 

~~~

Nature's Morphine (Mature; words: 1,593) You were the only person to ever get under her skin. She’d never bothered with relationships before, always said she didn’t have time for them. Football was her one and only love. You, however, turned her world upside-down and changed everything.

~~~

Vexation Gratification (Explicit; words: 2,086) She brushed past you and went upstairs. You didn't move. You felt upset, but anger was also starting to arise in you.

She came back down after a couple of minutes. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw what she was carrying.

~~~

Near Misses & Forehead Kisses (Teen&Up; words: 5,549) The ringing in your ears became so loud that you could no longer make out what was being said as you approached the window.

You first saw her parents in there, either side of the bed. Her mother was leaning over her, kissing her on the forehead. You saw Mary as she pulled back and you couldn't breathe. The wires, the tubes, the ventilator. You fell to your knees.

~~~

Revelations (Mature; words: 11,157) It had captured everything: the intended purpose of the video, the laughing, the joy from you both, the jumping on her... the smile fading from your face. You recognised the second you felt it.

~~~

Departures and Distractions (Mature; words: 5,497) Emma had been your one constant throughout your football career.

She was there for you when things got tough. She was your mentor and your guide on and off the pitch.

She really was like a mother figure and you don't think you could ever be without her.

Now she was leaving.

Your heart was breaking.

~~~

Eighteen (Mature; words: 4,612) It was always nerve-racking joining a new team, especially when all the other players were established and comfortable there.

They all made you feel very welcome - especially the two who were also lucky enough to be picked for the under-nineteen's England team.

You got on very well with one of them in particular.

Her name was Millie Bright.

~~~

One Kiss Is All It Takes (Explicit; words: 4,195) Celebrations on the pitch at full time were as special as when you won the Euros and this time, your personal life changed quite as much as your professional career.

You screamed and cheered with a number of your teammates, not even remembering who they were as individuals; it was all a blur.

You remembered Mary, though.

~~~

Haunted (Teen&Up; words: 1,720) *triggers: self-hatred/suicide ideation You couldn’t hold it in any longer when the final whistle went. You really fucked up.

You cried on TV. God, you were so fucking pathetic. Useless. You hated yourself.

All you wanted to do was get your shit and leave.

(Set after the England v The Netherlands game 1/12/2023)

~~~

Look At You (Explicit; words: 1,782) Give me a call if you ever get desperate… xx

You regretted sending it immediately. You didn’t even have time to delete it before she could see it - those two blue ticks made your heart pound so loudly in your ears

~~~

High On You (Mature; words: 4,369) “You’re so fucking stubborn,” your girlfriend told you angrily as the medics lowered you to the floor to lay down.

You saw a tear roll down her face which she hastily wiped away.

“I think it’s broken,” you said. You felt hot and clammy. Why did you continue playing?

~~~

The Woman You Are (Teen&Up; words: 2,194) "Holy shit," Rachel breathed, "this is my favourite."

"Why?"

"Why? Jesus, Millie, those words. I feel jealous this girl isn't writing these for me."

~~~

Captain and Her Vice (Mature; words: 4,281) You had dreamed of being part of the England senior squad and there was always hope bubbling away in you that you might make captain one day.

This was it, you thought. This was your chance. 

~~~

Guide To Your Goal (Mature; words: 2,000) Mary didn’t like Sam Kerr.

You mean she *really* didn’t like her. 

~~~

Unbreakable (Mature; words: 1,921) Millie’s club could score twenty goals against you - hell, she could score twenty goals against you herself and you’d still love her.

Playing for your club and winning meant a lot to you - but she meant more.

~~~

Cruel Summer (Explicit; words: 2,797) Your time away in Australia for the World Cup was the best of your life. The tournament was going just as you’d hoped - you and your team made it to the final.

Behind the scenes of the pitch, something else had been happening in your life.

Mary.

~~~

Enrapture (Explicit; words: 14,722) She rested her head on your shoulder and you stroked her arm gently. You could feel goosebumps under your fingertips.

"Are you cold?" You asked.

"No," she replied, "not at all." ~~~ Save That Light (Explicit; words: 2,141) *triggers: past suicide attempt It frightened you sometimes - the depth of your feelings for her. You wanted to be with her all the time and when you weren’t with her you were thinking about her.

You adored everything about her. Her mental health was debilitating to the both of you at times but it was a part of her that you accepted long ago; and it was something you promised her you’d see through together.

~~~

Clean Sheets (Explicit; words: 3,053) “You know nothing turns me on more than seeing you make those saves; even better when you get a clean sheet.”

Her hands left your thighs and ran up under your shirt. The coolness of her fingers against the warm skin of your belly made your abs twitch.

“Isn’t it funny how whenever I keep a clean sheet, our bedsheets never remain that way?”

~~~

Take Me Into Your Darkest Hour (Mature; words: 5,001) *triggers (graphic description): past sexual assault/rape, unwanted pregnancy/abortion, physical assault/violence “He said I’m so shit that anyone would be better than me in goal; that he only plays me because he likes seeing my arse in my shorts.”

You swallowed hard. You covered her hand with your other and held it tightly as she went on. The anger you felt towards her manager was instantly unprecedented.

“He said I’m only good for one thing now.”

~~~

Truth or Dare (Mature; words: 3,721) You think you were about fifteen years old the first and last time you played truth or dare.

Now, at thirty-one years old, alcohol coursing through your system - you thought it was a great idea when Lucy suggested it.

[the-umiran-amulet]

They managed to hire a boat to take them the short distance across the channel to Pirate’s Cove. They traveled north and further inland for a while, not stopping to make camp until several hours later than they usually would. No one really talked much in the wake of the twins’ breakdown, though Emmet was dying to know what it was about. Cary, for his part, remained on high alert, wanting to make sure they weren’t still being followed by that assassin, or anyone else for that matter.

“I think you two have a bit of explaining to do,” Vitruvius said calmly as they finally made camp for the night and gathered near the fire to eat. “Your reaction to that assassin’s revelation was unexpectedly strong. Far more than I think would be warranted, for someone so used to brushes with death such as yourselves.”

Cary glanced around at their faces. Even Benny seemed curious, despite knowing more than their other two companions. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, scratching at his head. Alastar gave him a faint nudge of permission. “This doesn’t leave this camp fire,” he growled. “Got it?” They nodded solemnly. “Alastar and King Sirius were lovers.” That earned a gasp from Emmet.

“That actually explains a lot,” Benny mused. “Why you knew him so well, how you got that expensive suit…”

Cary nodded. “We met him almost nine years ago. Alastar and I just happened to be in the area when the rebels assassinated King Arthur and Queen Magdalene. It was just… second nature to jump into the fight and protect the Prince. We managed to get him out of the chaos and back to safety. He was so impressed by our skill and quick thinking that he invited us to the palace, intending to give us some award or other. We got a medal, public acknowledgement. He and Alastar hit it off surprisingly well, got to be friends pretty quickly, and then more from there. They did a really good job of hiding it, no one ever suspected a thing. People just thought he had us around so much because he knew he could trust us. Asked me countless times if I had plans to leave the army and just become his bodyguard full time. I was giving it serious consideration.”

“And then Undar happened,” Vitruvius guessed.

“Yes. He worried, of course, knowing we’d be right on the front lines, but there were few other officers he trusted to get the job done, and done well. We got letters at first, and then one day they just stopped coming. Any visits to Bricksburg we were able to make, we never got an invitation to the palace. We’d both just thought he was preoccupied with the war, but then… Then Southlake Point happened. He never came to see us in the hospital, never even wrote to check up on us while we recovered. We got no help from him whatsoever during the trials. No word while we stewed at home with nothing to do. Even brushed us off completely after the treaty incident. Refused to engage when I tried to discuss how we should handle that fallout. And then to enforce drafts, threaten his own citizens, to want us dead…”

“It’s not Sirius,” Alastar finished. “Not anymore.”

Benny reached over to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Alastar held on as if for dear life. “We’ll avenge him,” the mage promised. “Somehow.”

Emmet’s eyes went wide. “You don’t mean like—killing him, do you?!” he yelped. “We could get into so much trouble for that!”

“We already have bounties on our heads,” Vitruvius pointed out.

“If he is truly under the Undaris’ sway, then everything he’s been doing this past year and a half has been with the aim of bringing Octan to ruin. We’re all that stands between Undar and the victory they seek. No one else has the military that we do,” Cary explained. “We’re not thrilled with this course of action either, but for the continued existence of Octan, it must be done.”

Emmet didn’t seem like he was going to accept that decision just yet. “But King Sirius doesn’t have any children, or even any named heirs. Who will keep things running if we—you know…”

Benny nodded, also curious to know. “We won’t have the remaining nobility making a mad dash and fighting for the throne, will we?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Cary sighed. “Someone from among the nobility will end up getting picked eventually, but in the meantime… Velma’s been his administrative assistant since he was crowned king, and Richard’s been a pretty good advisor. They’re not a permanent solution, but between the two of them, they’ll be able to keep this country afloat until we can find a new king. That’s a problem we can tackle after we get our wealthy benefactor on board, though.”

“Do you have a plan for getting into the palace to get to him?” Vitruvius asked.

“I’ve only just started trying to figure one out,” Cary admitted. “But we’ve got time yet. I’m sure I’ll have something ready by the time we get back to Bricksburg.”

They stopped in a town to load up on supplies the next morning. Most of the residents of Pirate’s Cove preferred to live along its coastline, so there would be no settlements to restock in until they reached Gotham. “There are only two trade routes in Pirate’s Cove,” Alastar told them. “One to Gotham, and one to Bludhaven. We probably won’t come anywhere close to those. There are also a number of smugglers’ routes though, and they change all the time, so there is a chance we might run into one of those. If we do, just mind your own business. There’ll be far more of them than there are of us, so we don’t want to be picking fights.”

“They won’t be smuggling… you know, people, will they?” Emmet asked.

“If you mean slaves, no,” Alastar answered. Emmet let out a sigh of relief. “Refugees, on the other hand… maybe. Usually they’re running illicit substances. Drugs, certain types of alcohol, stolen goods. Things like that. Ultimately, they’re not much of a concern.”

“That’s an interesting take, for one such as yourself,” Vitruvius teased. Alastar laughed.

“We’re soldiers, not cops. Our job is to protect our people from outside threats, like Undar. Not worry if the rum someone chooses to indulge in was sold through legal venues or under the table.”

“Oh, I… guess that makes sense, when you put it that way,” Emmet murmured.

“I hope you’re all ready for a long, hard hike through nothing but untamed wilderness. Gotham’s border takes nearly two weeks to reach on foot, from here.”

“Have you been there before?” Benny asked.

“Not us, no. But we’ve studied maps, and… listened to Sirius talk about trade routes, sometimes…” He cleared his throat. “Merchants are always complaining about shipping and import costs versus speed of delivery, I guess.”

“What do we trade with them?” Emmet genuinely seemed curious to know.

“They send us raw materials, mostly. Ores, gemstones, things like that. They’ve got the Radech mountain range along their east border, which have provided centuries of excellent mining. And in return we send them textiles, medicines and medical equipment, spices and other foods that don’t grow in their climate,” Alastar explained.

“They don’t have their own medicines??” Emmet seemed horrified by the concept.

“Octan and Cape Space are pretty ahead of the curve when it comes to the development of such things,” Benny supplied. “They do have their own medicines, but they might not always have enough to handle a nasty outbreak, or what they do have isn’t really working very well. Gotham has a pretty cold climate too, and Gotham City is packed with people. Circumstances like those tend to make infectious illnesses worse than they would normally be.”

“So what would be just a nasty bout of flu for us could have devastating results for them?” Emmet guessed.

“Exactly,” Cary confirmed. “So Octan sends aid to help keep things like flu season from having those devastating results.” Emmet hummed to himself as he mulled that over. “We’ve also sent some people up there to help them set up to start manufacturing their own equipment, but they’ll still be dependent on us for some medicines. There are a number of more potent medicinal plants that just won’t grow in their climate, even with the aid of conservatories.”

“It sounds like a pretty harsh place to live,” Emmet decided. “What made them decide to settle there?”

“The mining, mostly,” Benny said. “Though I’ve heard there’s some really good fishing in the waters around Gotham, too. A lot of people say there’s just no comparison for Gotham lobsters.” Emmet laughed. “But really, humans will settle just about anywhere there’s some space and enough natural resources to get by on.”

“I wonder how they feel, living that close to the Outlands…”

“You think all the ghost stories about the Outlands actually have some substance to them?” Cary questioned. He had never been one to believe them. They were just tales to scare little kids with—or to lure underprepared thrill seekers out to the middle of a hostile no man’s land—as far as he was concerned.

“Ghost stories usually do have some grain of truth to them,” Vitruvius cheerfully pointed out. “Oftentimes the stories we know are nothing like the original facts, but they had their start in reality somewhere. It’s true that most people looking to explore and map the Outlands never get very far, for any variety of reasons, but the ruins of Bath-El are there all the same.”

That got Emmet’s attention, and he was eager to hear more. “What do you know about them?”

“Bath-El was said to be the holiest of sites, where the Gods ruled from when they still dwelled on the mortal plane. A great temple city was built there, and even after the Four left to reside in the heavens instead, people from all over the world would make the pilgrimage to worship there, and to study. It was the greatest center of learning in the world, once. And then one day, it was just… gone. The people vanished, and the buildings aged and decayed as if more than a thousand years had passed, all in one night.”

“And how did the story of the ruins get out if all the people vanished?” Cary pointedly questioned.

“People were still in the process of making the pilgrimage, of course. When they arrived and found nothing but ruins, they left, and spread the word of what happened once they returned home.”

“Did anyone ever find out what happened?” Emmet asked.

Vitruvius shook his head. “There was no evidence left behind for them to even guess at what happened.”

“That’s so weird… and really creepy.”

“And how do you know all of this?” Cary huffed.

“Wizards get to know things most other mages and scholars don’t. The knowledge was passed to me by my mentor, and to him from his, and so on. Also, while my talents with the Second Sight mostly lie in the present and future, I have occasionally been able to catch glimpses of the past. Snippets and snatches and seconds of things that happened a long time ago. Even just that little bit usually takes a lot of meditation and focus, though, far more so than my clairvoyance or precognition.”

Emmet leaned in close, eager to hear more. “So if people used to go there all the time, why can’t anyone get there now?”

“In short, the Cataclasm. It caused the mountain ranges that now block the Outlands off from any neighboring countries, and caused all of its outer coasts to crumble and fall into the ocean, leaving sheer, unscalable cliffs behind. Not that any ships could get close enough to try anyway, they’d crash on all the rocks hidden just under the water. The bay that leads right into the heart of the Outlands is the only way to get in anymore.”

“Are there any surviving stories of what Bath-El was like in its heyday?”

Vitruvius hummed as he thought. “Let’s see, I think I do remember one story…”

Cary held back a sigh. Emmet was caught, hook, line, and sinker. He supposed he couldn’t fault the young man’s curiosity, though. At least Vitruvius’ stories would help the next two weeks go by faster. And with Alastar listening in, maybe it would give him something other than his grief to focus on.

[pascaloverx]

As It Was

Chapter Three

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: Indeed, our protagonist has a complicated conversation with each of her love interests, reopening old wounds.

Warnings: use of violence, future adult content and inappropriate language. Minors are advised not to read or engage with this story.

Steve's house is larger than I had imagined. Every detail in it, from the cobalt blue curtains to the ivory-painted walls, seems to have come out of a magazine. He has sports medals and merit awards displayed in a space near the fireplace. To the left of this area, there are pictures of him with people. One picture shows him in his childhood, small and fragile, in the arms of a kind-looking lady. There are photos of him with a woman with dark hair, who doesn't seem much older than thirty, in a restaurant. This same woman appears in most of Rogers' photos; I suspect she's Peggy. Everything I know about her, I discovered by blackmailing Sam. It turns out Rogers and Wilson were on the same team years ago. As soon as I agreed to meet Steve, I wanted to know why the man who seemed so perfect when my father talked about him was still single. Sam told me that Rogers has always been too reserved and determined to get romantically involved with anyone. But a few years ago, around the time Bucky and I met, Rogers fell in love with his partner, Peggy Carter. They had an unbeatable partnership, from what Sam told me. But for some reason, a few months ago, Rogers and Carter ended their one-year engagement. That's probably why there are still so many photos of them in the house. I can't judge Steve because I'm still trying to move on after my divorce.

"Did you ask to come to my house to analyze my past or to deceive the agents who were following us on the way here?" Steve says, close enough that it sends shivers down my spine. I turn to face him, maintaining our proximity.

"If I tell you something deep and personal, would you be willing to tell me why you keep so many memories of your ex around your house?" Curiosity can be a very interesting bargaining chip.When I say this, I feel him ponder for a moment before nodding in agreement while looking at me.

"I love my father too, always have. He was a good father, taught me how to manipulate people so that if anyone ever tried to take advantage of me, I'd be prepared. He taught me to fish so that if I ever needed to feed myself, at least I'd know how to catch a fish. He had me take self-defense classes even before I understood what I was being prepared to defend myself against. But a few years ago, I received a letter. A letter from my mother, meant to reach me when I was old enough to understand what she was trying to tell me in the letter. In it, she revealed that weeks before what would be her passing, she had uncovered a secret about my father. Since she didn't have conclusive evidence, she chose to send me a letter, warning me that my father was not trustworthy and that if at any point I felt the need to hide something from him or anyone else, I could go to a super-secret cabin she had built, designed to be a hideout, all with me in mind. Or rather, us..." The truth is, I don't remember my mother as much as I would like to, so this letter was one of the few times I felt connected to her.

"In the letter, she said that if something happened to her and she couldn't protect me, she wanted me to know that she had intended to take me far away, to somewhere calm and sunny. But if that wasn't possible, she at least wanted to offer me a place to escape to, in case I needed it." As I finish speaking, Steve appears as serious as ever. He moves closer to me, his body just inches away from mine. I feel his hand on my face, and it's then that I realize I might be crying.

"So when my ex-husband said he suspected my father, it was like a puzzle piece falling into place in my mind. But believe me, I don't want my father to be involved in this. However, Barnes would never betray the country, so someone is framing him. Therefore, I think it's my duty to uncover the truth." As these words leave my mouth, I allow myself to understand that my goal is much larger than saving Barnes from prison or even death; I need to understand who my father truly is.

"Our first meeting, and I've already made you cry. This is starting to feel like the promising beginning of a partnership." Steve smiles slightly as I stare at him, seriousness in my eyes. Who would have thought that the politically correct hero standing in front of me would have a sense of humor?

"Now it's my turn to make you cry..." I say, wiping away the tears falling from my face and pointing at the photos near the fireplace.

"My first rule on the field was never to get too involved. When I met Peggy, I just forgot everything I thought about involvement. We had a respectful and loving relationship. But I wanted to marry her, maybe even retire and grow old together, but I found out she wanted more. I didn't want to hold her back from the life she deserved, so we set each other free. Unfortunately, we only realized we didn't want the same things weeks before the wedding. As for the photos, I still don't feel ready to say goodbye to the memories of my past relationship." He still loves her. There's no doubt about that. Maybe we're going through the same situation, both trying to survive post-breakup. I think, I'm feeling closer to Steve Rogers.

"Now that we've opened our hearts to each other, can we solidify our partnership and move forward?" I stare at him as I extend my hand forward.

"Does that mean you'll tell me where your husband is right now, and we'll communicate about how to proceed from here?"

"This means you'll help me, and I'll try to play nice with you. Now, I need to go. Walk me to the door, I think we're no longer in good company." I say as I peek through the corner of the window at the entrance of Rogers' house. He quickly joins me and hands me one of his jackets.

"It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to let a lady like you go out alone at night in the cold. You can take my coat. I'll accompany you to the car." He says with a friendly smile, offering me a gentle reassurance that somehow makes me feel safer. But I'm not foolish; I know the coat I'm wearing right now probably has a tracker. This man definitely thinks I'm a fool.

When we get close to my car, there are no signs of surveillance. I decide to make a final move to see if any agents would appear. I pull Steve against the car door, lean in close to his ear as if I'm about to share a secret, and whisper: “I know you want to track me, dear, but could you at least have called me to spend the night before trying to control my every move?”

I give him a kiss on the cheek and get into the car, still wearing his black coat, which I must admit is incredibly cozy and warm.

The path to the cabin is incredibly winding and dark. I confess I've only been to this hideout once, just to check if it was a real place. My mother really was a very smart cop because everything seems meticulously planned. There's a secret passage at the back of the cabin that leads you to a trail where you can run through; this trail takes you to a stream, very useful for hiding. I'm sure that by the time I get there, James and the others will have already found almost everything useful in the cabin. When I'm close to the location, I reach a part of the road that's too narrow for the car to pass. I'm now heading there, pondering how interesting it would be if I could somehow alert them to my arrival. However, at the moment, my phone doesn't seem like a safe means of communication. So, I'm prepared in case any of the idiots decide to attack me; I have something to defend myself with. Actually, all I have is a branch I picked up along the way .I hear footsteps approaching, and I start to run. Unfortunately, I've never been very good at running in places with so many obstacles like a forest. I'm taken by surprise when a hand grabs me, throwing me entirely

against the body of the person who caught me. Accidentally, I find myself extremely close to what I can now see is my ex-husband. We hadn't been this close in a very long time. I drop the branch to the ground as I move away from James, trying to catch my breath from the shock I got from Barnes.

"I should have warned you I was coming; I thought you were some lost tourist." Barnes says as he stares at me with his piercing blue eyes. Maybe I lost all logical thinking as I stared back at him. Who would have thought that just getting close to him like this would turn me into a fool?

"I would have sent a message if this was a courtesy visit, but I'm visiting a damn police wanted man; I can't leave traces." Rationality successfully found, thank you, brain, for not being controlled by my hormones.

"Are you okay? How was the date with the man of your life?" James speaks in the most cynical and sarcastic tone possible, almost as if he's jealous. To be fair, everyone who has ever heard my father talk about Steve Rogers knows that he thinks Rogers is the one for me. But as far as I know, that might have been pure manipulation.

"I can't believe that amidst everything we're going through, you want to know about this. But since you insist, it was great. Probably the best date of my life." Lying is ugly, but being annoyed was much worse.

"I don't believe you." Barnes says as he stares at me, and from a distance, I get the impression that he's almost smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" I'm indignant, or at least I'm pretending to be, after all, my date was merely a meeting to gain a new ally to save the reputation of this fool in front of me.

"Because I finally understood the meaning of 'every cloud has a silver lining.' I'm here, looking at my ex-wife for the first time since the divorce, and she looks stunning, just back from a date with some random guy, and I simply can't stop feeling like I'm the luckiest man in the world." I don't know what happens to my body; I automatically move closer to Barnes as he speaks. I want to stare at him as much as possible, trying to see if I can discern sincerity or lust in his eyes.

It's amazing how continuous eye contact makes you inclined to think about what it must be like to have the person's face even closer to yours. For a moment, I forget who I am, or rather, who he is. Barnes notices that I'm scrutinizing him, and instead of pulling away or saying anything, he holds me by the waist. It's important to note that at the end of our relationship, many things were questioned. Our love, emotional closeness, and our trust in each other. But never our sexual tension. Let's say chemistry is our favorite subject.

"I think we should keep our focus solely on our main goal. Adding sex into our complicated relationship as ex-spouses would only complicate things further..." I don't trust the words coming out of my mouth. Not for a second do I want Barnes to let go and say that it's better for us to be objective. He removes his hands from my waist and places them on my face. His hands are cold, but at this moment, it feels like it doesn't matter. I can barely feel the difference between the touch of your left hand and your right, even though Barnes' left arm is made of metal. His gaze, which was once filled with lust, now conveys a certain tenderness, perhaps melancholy.

"I thought you hated me..." Bucky says this with a certain hesitation, as if he's not sure what this so-called hatred would mean in our relationship. To be honest, I've also wondered if he hated me.

"I couldn't hate you even if I wanted to, Barnes. Sometimes it feels like I've been infected by you, and now I can't be Melisa Harrison anymore." The words almost float out of my mouth; I can't contain the urge to kiss him. The eyes that are staring at me seem to be gleaming.

"Well, literally, you are Melisa Harrison Barnes since we got married, but I think I understand what you mean." He smiles so shamelessly that it reminds me of why I married him. He could make me feel like a completely lovestruck fool with just one smile.

"Barnes, I haven't been Melisa Harrison Barnes since a year after our divorce. I know the timing is terrible to bring this up, but my father convinced me that I could only move forward if I left everything reminding me of you behind." It hurt to say that I wasn't a Barnes anymore, but the truth is, as much as I loved him back then, it was a crucial step for me to envision being someone after the divorce.

"And did you really want to leave me behind that much?" He withdraws his hands from me while glaring at me, clearly upset. It's so difficult to look someone in the eye and say that you no longer want anything to do with them.

"You must be kidding. Don't act like wanting a new relationship after everything we've been through is some great betrayal." I'm almost screaming at him out of anger. Talking about this damn separation irritates me almost as much as him pretending it's a surprise that I've gone back to using my maiden name. What did he expect from me?

"I should remind you that it was you who asked for the divorce." Now it's me laughing shamelessly. I can't take a man seriously who, instead of thanking me for trying to save his skin, decides to remind me of something I'm not ready to admit I regret.

"I asked for the divorce because we had become strangers to each other. Don't pretend like my request for separation came out of the blue. We both knew very well that the distance between us was doing no good. So, go ahead, blame me for our end, that's fine. But don't pretend you didn't see our separation coming." It's like they say, provoke a woman in the middle of a forest after midnight, and she'll want to air out all the dirty laundry of the entire relationship. It's not my fault he decided to bring up this topic.

"How could I pretend not to see it coming when our divorce was written in your eyes every time you looked at me? After the accident, you only saw me as a broken toy you couldn't fix." Ouch, that hurt. As I pause to reflect on what James is saying, it seems there's a hidden pain he was concealing from me. The truth is, I thought our relationship was broken, not him.

"Clearly, I'm to blame for our communication issues. What else is my fault? The fact that you refused to open up to me about a trauma, turning us into two ghosts inhabiting the same space?" Yes, in the midst of an argument, it's always easier to blame someone else than to admit that everyone might have contributed in some way. I can't believe it took him and me three damn years to talk about this.

"Why are we arguing about this when you've clearly moved on, and all our past is just history now?" Alright, I admit it, he's right. Why are we arguing about this?

"For the same reason I didn't back down when you showed up at my door earlier, Barnes. We both know very well what we mean to each other. We just like to pretend we've moved past it all." That was the best response I could come up with amid a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Unfortunately, getting lost in memories now would only undermine my resolve while we're arguing.

"I never..." He seems to struggle to finish his sentence when we are interrupted by a noise. I don't know for what reason, but I felt like he was about to admit something important, perhaps even crucial. But Dave seems to be running towards us.

"The lovebirds forgot we have a team meeting to figure out which villain we're going to defeat? All the Avengers are waiting at our humble headquarters." Dave looks at both of us with a funny expression, as if he caught us in an intimate moment. I glare at him, disapproving of his expression. Barnes is still looking at me.

"I guess we have a more important matter to focus our attention on now, so let's forget our differences and call a truce?" I say, turning to face James. I want to look into his eyes one last time before we pretend this conversation never happened.

"A truce doesn't mean you won't get to hear everything I have to say, Harrison." He says, winking at me, then walks towards Dave, putting his right arm around Dave's neck and guiding him forward. I decide to move on too, still replaying moments of this night in my mind.

[thezombiegeekinthehawaiianshirt]

Perhaps one of the most evocative images of the Titanic disaster is that of the young newsboy outside the White Star Line offices at Oceanic House in Cockspur Street, London, S.W., holding an Evening News poster announcing "Titanic Disaster Great Loss of Life."

That boy was Ned Parfett, and his short life was no less spectacular, and his death just as tragic, as that of the Titanic. Six and a half years after this poignant photograph was taken, Ned was killed during a German bombardment while serving with the British army in France, just days before the Armistice. He was 22.

According to his great-nephew Dominic Walsh, young Ned enlisted in the Royal Artillery in 1916, first serving as a dispatch rider before reassignment to reconnaissance duties. Youth did not prevent bravery; he was mentioned in dispatches and awarded the Military Medal for his gallant conduct during a series of missions at the front.

Ned was one of four brothers from Cornwall Road, Waterloo, to enlist "for King and country." One brother served in the disastrous Dardanelles campaign of 1915, surviving to become part of the occupation army in defeated Germany. Another brother served in the bloody battle of the Somme in 1916, only to be wounded and gassed at the third battle of Ypres in Belgium. The third brother also survived. Only Ned failed to see out the war.

He died on 29 October 1918, less than two weeks before the end of the war. Ned was killed near Valenciennes when a shell landed on the quartermaster's stores, just as he was collecting some clothes before going on leave.

After his death, the officer who recommended Ned for special recognition wrote to one of his brothers: "On many occasions, he accompanied me during severe shelling, and I always placed the greatest confidence in him."