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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years ago

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The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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charmandhex · 4 years ago

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“So if we take this knowledge from cycle 17 on the storage of souls in robotic forms, and we-“

“Wow. Nerd alert all over this room.” Barry looks up from the papers covering every square centimeter of the lab bench to Lup’s sparkling, equally startled eyes before both of them look over at Taako. He’s standing in the doorway of the lab, leaning into the doorframe, one hand shoved into the pocket of his IPRE jacket and the other holding a tall cup bearing the logo of what this plane calls Fantasy Starbucks. And he’s still wearing his pink sunglasses over his eyes, despite the fact that, you know, they’re indoors. “Nerd containment breach all over the place.”

Across the bench from him, Lup leans back, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out at her twin. Barry’s stomach does a little flip. “Takes one to know one, you know.”

“Oh, good one, Lulu.” Taako takes a long, obnoxious sip from the straw in his iced coffee, eventually sucking up more air than coffee as ice cubes rattle around an otherwise empty cup. “But I seem to remember that you were the first one to call nerd alert on dear Barold here.” Taako leaves his cup in the hallway, no doubt to be tripped over by Merle later, before strolling into the lab. He claps a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Now why would that be? Could it be that you are the true nerd twin?”

Lup gives an exaggerated eye roll at her brother’s teasing before looking to Barry, giving a conspiratorial wink. “You’re the one who put a pocket dimension in your jacket pocket. And filled it with pudding. And published a paper on it.” Too late, Barry realizes he should have winked back.

But now it’s Taako’s turn to stick his tongue out at his sister, even as he casually (too casually, entirely too casually- Taako’s charisma modifier isn’t fooling anyone) looks over the diagrams they’ve been working on. “That symbol is wrong.” Taako points at one of the transmutation bits.

“Who asked you?”

“Oh thanks, bud.” Barry leans over, scratching out the offending symbol with a pen to rewrite it.

“Don’t mention it. I’m just sorry you have to hang out with the uncool twin right now.”

“I’m cool. I’m hella cool. I’m so cool that it’s hot.”

“Right. So cool that it’s hot. Is that why something’s burning in the oven right now?”

Lup’s eyes go wide in horror the like of which Barry scarcely sees more than once per cycle. “The banana bread!” She takes off at a run. Taako laughs.

“What kind of brother does she take me for, Barry?” He throws a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “If my sister were actually burning banana bread, do you think I would leave it in the oven?”

“Uh, maybe? Taako, you know-“ Taako taps his sunglasses before Barry can finish his plea for lab safety, transmuting them to safety glasses. Pink safety glasses, that is.

“Barry, you’re cute, but listen: there are some lines you do not cross. And burnt banana bread is one of them.” Taako clicks his tongue absentmindedly as he skims through more of their notes, noting his own and Lucretia’s mixed in. “The real question is: what, exactly, distracted Lup so much that she lost track of time enough that she didn’t realize that the banana bread has at least another ten minutes left to bake? Hm? Have any thoughts, Barry?”

“Oh, uh, me? No, uh, we were just... we got involved in this research on transfer and storage of souls, and Lup... Taako, she had the most amazing idea about it and how they did managed to make it so stable especially in comparison to something like a-“

“Oh.” Taako says, staring hard at Barry. And interrupting him.

“Oh?” Barry responds, nonplussed.

“Oh. Huh.”

“Taako, bud, if you want me to know what you’re talking about, you’ve gotta give me something more than that.”

“Oh, uh, nothing, nothing.” Taako’s face is spreading into a wide grin. “I’ve just gotta talk to Lup, uh, twin to twin, later.”

“That still doesn’t sound all that reassuring.”

“Really, don’t worry about it, Barry, I’ll just-“

“Taako, that bread won’t be done for another TEN MINUTES!”

“I’ll just be going now!”

Taako dashes through the door. Moments later, still breathing a little more heavily than usual from her sprint to the kitchen, Lup reenters. “All right. Where were we? I’ve got ten minutes until banana bread time.”

She’s beautiful. And Barry is so very, very in love. Without quite planning to, he reaches out, offering a hand to Lup. “Then let’s make them count.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s.” Her hand is warm in his.

#taz #taz balance #blupjeans #taz fic #taz fanfic #lup #barry bluejeans #taako #the stolen century #charm works #i’ve been spending so much time on fic planning and logistics i needed to write something short and fluffy

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anne-lister-adventures · 4 years ago

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Sunday, 12 April 1840

6 10/’’

10 5/’’

Ground covered with snow – But Reaumur 10º on the table close to my sofa bed at 6 1/4 – All ready and breakfast at 7 20/’’ to 8 – Did not sleep – Stomach very cold – Got up – Relighted candle – Took a teaspoonful of brandy about before one and afterwards slept till 6 having wrapt China crepe shall and shalloon cloak round my stomach –

1/2 hour’s pother in paying our Persian Maître de Poste – At last counted all out separately in Silver – Pragoni i.e. pay for the horses, for the borrowed wheel one S.[Silver] R.[Ruble] and for greasing 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] till even the Courier said it was too much and the man then returned the 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] and took 25 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] as paid before – He then saw that, as I had told him, he lost 46 1/2 Kopek cuivre by his pother and making me pay in Silver – Both George and the Courier laughed and the man himself laughed and asked for a pour boire – No! said I – But you will know me better another time and I will give you something then – Not now – I am glad you have paid for all this pother – Then gave an additional 10 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] to the soldier of the house making 60 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] instead of the 50 I should otherwise have given – This seemed to give great satisfaction as turning the laugh doubly against our Persian – The about 1 good English gill of milk we had last night gone sourish this morning = 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] – Ccarce and dear here –

Off from Dushet (pronounced Dōōshĭt) at 8 50/’’ – Clouds hanging over the mountains – But fine back view upon the largeish good looking Town and its large squary castle-like fortress, and the portico of its long earth covered flat roofed Gastinoi Dvor, and little white Gurien church and old ruined square Tower at some little distance on the hill side above – The brick church not quite finished but that will be handsome is Armenian – And close to the church are some goodish houses building à la Russe – One finished with gallery round au 1er[premier] looks neat and comfortable –

A street or 2 in progress – And the underground curious old Gurien cottages will a few years hence be replaced by neat Russian cottages and houses – Went into one last night – Descended into the sunk porch (inclined plain no steps) then a sort of kitchen – Then a middle room to put things away in, then the 3d.[3rd] and sleeping room – 3 breadths of carpet on the floor and a fire place – Thick gravelled road over all these cottages that carts go over – One could not imagine houses beneath – No light but from the sunk porch, and from one little round hole in the top of the sleeping room opposite the porch –

In the kitchen was the oven at the end on the right (on entering) like an English 40 gallon iron brewing pan sunk up to its brim – They make wood a fire in this and cover it over – Then take out the fire when the sides are red hot – Put in the cakes ant they are baked in 10 minutes – But inquire more about this at Tiflis –

Smoking Semovars in the Gastinoi Dvor and soldiers drinking hot mead looking tea without milk in the shops (Gastinoi Dvor) much natural rock salt in large pieces of greyish spar-like rock – Eggs – Mutton fat (Tallow) much small bacon – Persian dried large prunes and cherries and salts and the bean (small kidney, reddish) one has seen everywhere from Astracan here – Onion tops, and rice (not real rice said George groom here) – Cotton printed handkerchiefs and narrow white cloths linen or cotton – But the most striking are the wine shops – The bullock hides, en outre, apparently hair left on inside full of red wine sold at -/20 Kopek en cuivre per about an English pint – One shop quite Élégante had a bottle of Donskoi champagne-wise and ditto ditto Tiflis wine at 1/40 the bottle assignats or 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] or 2 Georgian abash –

Off from Duchet at 8 50/’’ – The handsome square fort, a round tower at corner, at a little distance left as we ascended the down-like hill – The handsome looking white monastery at a considerable on the hill behind us to the right – Duchet stands well and picturesquely on the side of the hill in the largeish fine open valley – The Town on one side the valley the fortress on the other –

The castle at Dusheti, which is probably what Anne calls a “castle”.

Our road a sort of field-road up and over the hill top a high plateau of good land between wooded hills near left – Considerable distance right – descend (but keep high up along the right side) into nice high valley and at 9 40/’’ – Picturesque old round Tower and 2d.[2nd] village and reed thatched village (probably there are under ground cottages not seen?) and stream with rather broadish bouldery bed – Capital land on the high plateau and all along – They might grow anything but barley the chief corn at Duchet and all round about – Saw some in winnowing last night it looked pretty fair – Tolerably plump grained and very clean – Thrown up in a shovel, and the wind winnowed it in falling –

At 9 40/’’ our 2d.[2nd] village on knoll at head of this charming little valley – The 1st poor or less was at the verge of the high plateau – 1st vines at this our 2d.[2nd] village in the bottom – High sticks or rice props and some transomed supports as at Astracan –

But soon after here the bottom full of wood – Pollard oaks or willows or what and brush and tangle and bouldery stream – Soon after 2d.[2nd] village gather yellow St. John’s wort like flowers (5 petals and many stamina) and little pink hepaticas and smell less violets and cowslips – And at 10 Descend into main valley the fine valley of our Aragna (which we had left after Ananoor, and see again now 1st time) –

On each side beautifully sillonné rounded wooded hill – Broad bouldery streamy river – Wind along with the river close left on its high perpendicular conglomerate gravel bank and at 10 35/’’ make an elbow to the right into the now still wider valley of our Aragna – A fine broad bouldery streamy river occasionally in one good stream –

At 10 40/’’ pass a little rather Russian like wood cottage or farm right, and at 11 7/’’ little village of huts in basin-like opening out of valley and neat white plastered little Government Station House – Little drizzling rain now and for the last 1/2 hour – 2 feet deep of capital warp soil shewn over the high conglomerate bank of river – All the trees all along our valleys lopped higher or lower – Our great valley (Val d’Aragna) a mile broad?

No horses at Tortiskar – Our wheel to send back and to our own 3 ‘il faut mettre des bracelets’! – Till now 12 3/4 have just written all but the 1st 3 lines of today – Coolish air and clouds darkish – Threatening rain? Great many of the queer elephantic camel-gaited cattle hereabouts they hold their heads poking forward and walk very much in the camel-style – Got out of the Kibitka to look about me – A few drops of light rain which however soon blew off – Government House – One might sleep here very well – A good room front one on each side the door for travellers – And the back rooms for the family –

Longish job of paying – 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for repairing the wheel pour mettre les bracelets 2 or 3 thin shreds of lead-like iron that were worth very little and the Maître de P.[Poste] would have 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for the loan of his wheel (which he would not sell for 20 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] tho’ it hardly lasted us to Tiflis) – Necessary – Nothing to be said –

Off at 1 31/’’ – Magnificent – (vide + and ≠ above) The opening out is another wider valley from East to West that traverses our Valley d’Aragna something like the diagram as I do it from memory now Monday 13 April 6 p.m. at Tiflis the little o meant to represent the Station House on a knoll in the neck of the transversal valley and to reach which we crossed over little wood bridge and stream just below the house and amid Georgian (Gurien) ground-huts –

How many always difficult to tell and they are so like the ground itself – Soon after leaving the basin-like opening our road a deepish cut thro’ indurated sand, and then thro’ hard sand rock – Like my Bairstow quarry sandstone and at 1 50/’’ pass under the old ruined castle Prēajnēa Krepost, (Prēēajnēēa Krēēăpost) close left, and at 1 55/’’ Georgian church (Byzantine) very pretty and picturesque near right, and walled monastery at a little distance left, and wood bridge over the broad shallow bouldery river and on high point of ridge of hill just above very picturesque old castle – Valley here little more than road and river – 200 yards broad? –

Alight at the monastery at 2 to 2 55/’’ – They call it Nānt-Shĕt – Vide p.[page] 113. Mtsketha line 9 from the bottom –

‘The fortress remains’ – The old walls are with an old remain of Tower or 2 are very picturesque from without, but as to fortress all is ruin within, as was till lately the fine old Cathedral; but now it is all under repair, the exterior finished, and the interior will be this summer – Except on close examination, and seeing the few morsels of ancient sculpture carefully spared, it is like a handsome new church in the old Byzantine style standing amid a mass of ruins –

In some of the old building within and up against the old fortress walls are several Gurien families of peasants and labourers, living in comparative darkness as usual – They were shovelling very decent brown wheat (rather long and thin in the grain) down a round hole not more than 18 to 22 in.[inches] in diameter into a granary in the ground – So near full of corn I could not judge of the depth – No entrance – No way of getting the corn out again but by the round hole – How this savours of remote antiquity! If one is perpetually reminded of ancient usages in the Pyrenees, much more is one reminded of them here – The houses, ovens sunk in their house-floors, dress (the bourka) – Cattle-skin outres of wine let out at one of the legs, boats scooped out of the trunks of large trees – Are surely sheeps fleece without and felt within, impenetrable to rain, is surely the very same one sees on ancient medals thrown over all the heroes of old who used to wear it as they do here with its opening turned from the storm be it in front at the back or on either shoulder –

Among the old sculpture of the Cathedral St. George and the Dragon – Over the Great East window a Greek eagle – A Tiger –

Eagle and tiger detail from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

And below 2 horse-heads – Several mouldings of cornices and of window frames and doors &c. of very well done tracery cruciform flowers and lilies – Angels –

More details from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

2 birds eating (something like, in the style of, the diagram? but well done – I had no time to make any sketch on the spot) –

There always among the flowers the sun flower or what we call marigold? – One large window in the East end and on each side of it a deep empty niche nearly the whole heighth[height] up to the square of the roof – The first instance I have seen of this – Effect very striking and good –

No entrance but at the West end with porch – They said the doors could not be opened – Went up to one of the 2 priests standing by – Took him by the arm – Held out my purse – The door opened –

A nave and 2 narrow aisles a curious little old stone shrine-like little place in the South aisle where the relics are kept –

The whole of the interior has been painted in fresco on the South side opposite the dome is an old Zodiac with a boat instead of the Sign Pisces – The whole of the painting is to be renewed the new to be an exact copy of the old –

The zodiac fresco, after restoration. Photo by Diego Delso, delso.photo, License CC-BY-SA. (Image Source)

Over the East end – Over the Sanctum Sanctorum is a chapel as also over the West end a small ditto a 1/2 length figure of one covers the whole East end included in the chapel which seems to take up 1/2 the whole height of the building – This gigantic painting is very striking, and the effect is good – It is the first instance of the kind I ever saw –

The gigantic fresco Anne mentions. (Image Source)

The church is dimly but sufficiently lighted principally from the dome, a 16 sided Tower? with a long lancet window in each side – Effect very good dehors – Did not sufficiently notice it within – Must go again?

55 minutes there – Long for post horses to wait – In the cottage we went into the people dining – Some sort of greens (onion sprouts? they are sold in all the shops) and the large dried Persian cherries and some sort of bit of meat? 2 strong tree post supported the heavy beams that carried the straw spars that carried the earth covered roof and left a hole in the centre of the room over the bit of fire for the smoke to escape – A pair of large stags horns nailed to each post and on the antlers narrow boards laid across for shelves think of this at Shibden – Gamba says there are 200 houses here – Probably – It is a large Gurien city –

Off from the cathedral at 2 55/’’ – Walked down the steep pitch, along the rock-girt Kur which here at right angles pours it deeper narrower stream into the Aragna and runs in its course and drowns its name in that of Kur – ‘Tis here just above the junction that one crosses the Aragna by the long good wooden bridge that certainly shews no trace of Pompey (vide p.[page] 113) –

The remains of Pompey’s Bridge, Mtsketha. (Image Source)

Wine shop and one of the large outres lying on its back the 4 legs sticking up, and from one a glass of red wine pouring out – Then tied up again – George says the hair is left on inside and this covered with pitch or the skin would not hold – A bloated red dead cow or ox was lying in the Kur – George declared the skin would be made into an outre – Was it merely the skin lying macerating in the water by way of preparat?

On the strand of the Kur at its junction with the A-[Aragna] lay 3 of the river boats – Cut out of the trunks of immense oak trees (I think) 2 of them pitched inside and outside the other merely hollowed adzed out, and not yet pitched – I think they 4 or 5 yards long and the narrowest 2 ft.[feet] wide of hollow at the top – The largest 2ft.[feet] 6 in.[inches] or more? –

Off from the bridge at 3 – At 3 1/4 valley sand rocky and bare and 9 Troglodite houses in the sand rock right, and right bank of Kur, not far from us, and at some distance ahead (left) a sort of little alum bay (Isle of Wight) different coloured strata of sand but not quite so perpendicular -

Crowned with low building which afterwards seemed to be a low ruined square tower – Kur like Calder between Salterhebble and Elland as to breadth white greenish muddy stream close right deepish here at 3 1/4 between its highish rock banks – But soon after widens into broad bouldery stream between low banks of sand at 3 1/2 our bracelets des roues coming off –

Stopped a minute or 2 to hammer up, and tie on with rope! – As we have done before – And at 3 40/’’ at old ruined square castle and village 12 v.[versts] from Tiflis – Probably Mtsketha is about 6 v.[versts] from Tortiskar and ∴[therefore] about 21 v.[versts] from Tiflis – And Tiflis in sight at 4 35/’’ – Descend –

At 5 5/’’ shew podorojna – At 5 13/60 cross the river – Somehow our drivers take us one way and George driven him another, and before he could come to us our stupid fellows had had us all but on the ground a parcel of men in the street prevented and heaved us up again, and then tried to turn instead of backing – Broke the fore axle main bolt – That the near fore wheel under the carriage the shaft horse down and we had a terrible to do during which George came – He walked with us and the servants Kibitka followed to the Inn (came in at 5 40/’’) we took our rooms one large and 3 smaller one at 2 1/2 Silver Rubles a day, and he then went back to Nikolai – We went out in 3 or 4 minutes just as they had got our Kibitka to the door and thrown it over and broke off the door – Left with George -/70 for his driver – Would give ours nothing – They had done too much mischief sauntered about to the little fountain and peeped in at the gate of a nice large garden near the fountain – Curious – interesting – To us novel Eastern-like Town –

A view of Tiflis in the 19th century. (Image Source).

Came in at 6 20/’’ – Tea at 7 25/’’ to 8 50/’’ – Had Domna – All the skin will come off her face in consequence of passing the mountains to Kaishaur (Kāsh-ă-ŏŏr), and her head is rather swollen, and she complains of much headache – Sat reading Dubois till 9 3/4 –

Finish day for the drizzling rain did not last long and the few drops at 4 p.m. blew off – Whistling wind tonight, and oddish smell of damp? in our large cold, 6 windowed (single windows very far from air-tight) room – Something with the stove flue – Could not have a fire till tomorrow – Reaumur 7 1/2º on my table where I sat writing at 9 3/4 p.m. ∴[therefore] did not venture to undress, but taking of gown and shoes thick over stockings slept flannel jacket and in my Chelat as usual when we cannot regularly undress, and as we have done from Astracan to Kislar[Kizlyar] and from K-[Kizlyar] to Vladicavkas and from V-[Vladicavkas] to here – still cold enough –

[symbols in the margin of the page:] + ≠ +

[in the margin of the page:] Dushet

[in the margin of the page:] Cottage

[in the margin of the page:] oven

[in the margin of the page:] Mead, i.e., hot water and honey

[in the margin of the page:] 1 Abash = 20 Silver Kopek

[in the margin of the page:] Mtsketha

[in the margin of the page:] vide p.[page] 113.

[in the margin of the page:] Mtsketha cathedral

[in the margin of the page:] Granary

[in the margin of the page:] All savours of antiquity

[in the margin of the page:] Bourka

[in the margin of the page:] Gigantic painting of Xst[Christ]

[in the margin of the page:] 16 sided dome?

[in the margin of the page:] Shelves on the antlers of stag’s horns for Shibden

[in the margin of the page:] vide p.[page] 113

[in the margin of the page:] Outre

[in the margin of the page:] Boats

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0082 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0083 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0084

#anne lister code breaker #anne lister #ann walker #moscow to baku 1840

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shekarsld · 4 years ago

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awesomeshekarmunna · 4 years ago

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mytinyhouseplans · 5 years ago

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New 12'x20' Tiny Cabin

While scroll through Tumblr the other day, I saw a floor plan for a renovated miners cabin. I went and made my own alterations and ideas for this cabin. My first thought was to keep it as passive and off grid as possible, updating old with modern tech. Second was to keep the period look, so custom/retrofitted everything. Let's take a look!

So here you see a mostly open floor plan with exception for a pantry and bathroom. A tiny nook in the back for your bed, which will hinge up for storage underneath. The bathroom itself is a wet bath, so the entire enclosure is water tight and serves as a shower. The software I'm using has no image for a woodstove, which will be located where you see the fireplace. The pantry will consist of a cabinet for dry storage and an old style ice chest, retrofitted with modern passive cooling tech. Finally a dresser in the living room, hey it's had to go somewhere.

So for passive temperature regulation I envisioned using an earth tube and solar chimney. How this works is an air intake tube is buried at a depth where the temperature is constant year round. Air enters the tube and a heat exchange takes place before exiting inside the house. To keep the flow passive and going, the house is fitted with a solar chimney. The sun warms the air in the chimney and simple physics takes over. The rising heat exits the house causing cooler air to be pulled in from the earth tube. See diagram below.

For the pantry I want a separate earth tube at a much lower, cooler depth. 50° - 40° ideally. This tube will be key to keeping the ice chest cool enough for perishable goods.

For the cooler months and for cooking, I'm picturing old school wood fire oven and stove. Antique if I could get one. Cooking, heating and fitted with a water block, will provide the house with hot water. While not suitable for the warmer months, an outdoor kitchen will be required. With that thought, a solar water heater will also need to be rigged up as well.

For the final touches, no off grid house would be complete without some form of power. Solar panels and battery system will cover lights, water pump, t.v .and a laptop/tablet/phone. Large farm sink in the kitchen can help do laundry, by hand, in the colder months. If the world ever suffers a stone age reset, this house could keep you living comfortably.

As for one final optional configuration, you could add a loft space for an office or more sleeping space for families. With a retractable attic ladder access, here's one possible layout for a loft.

Thanks for reading, please enjoy and share!

#Mytinyhouseplans #TinyHouse #tinyhousenation #Hgtv #Diy #Fyi #Tinycabin #Cabin #Passivehouse

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cecilspeaks · 6 years ago

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131 - Brought to You by Kellogg’s

Today as all days, As every day of your life, Has been brought to you by Kellogg’s. Are you worthy? Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners. Well, we’ve been having some real budget troubles here at the station, so it does seem that today’s entire broadcast will be a sponsorship message from Kellogg’s. I know that feels like a lot, but it was the only way to keep the station up and running.

Station Management consumes three tons of soil from Paris each month! And it has been massively expensive digging it up and shipping it here. Not to mention all the bribes needed for government officials. All to say that Kellogg’s has agreed to pay for um, uh, let me check, OK. One month of soil shipments in exchange for us exclusively talking about them for the next three years.

Uh. OK. Well that doesn’t sound like the best bargain, but I’ll consult the station’s legal advisor and see if we can get out of that.

Oh, our legal advisor is Laura, who is a server down at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Between shifts, she likes to read Wikipedia pages about, mm, law stuff, so we often go to her for her expert opinion. In the meantime, probably best for me to just do what the contract says. This explanation brought to you, of course – by Kellogg’s.

Let’s get to the news. John Peters – you know, the farmer – said that some folks came to his farm. They said they were from Kellogg’s. Said they heard that he grew the finest imaginary corn in the state. Said they were thinking of getting into imaginary Corn Flakes, and that they wanted to buy up his entire crop. He told them that he already had a deal with Flakey-O’s, a good local cereal company, and that he couldn’t go back on his word. One of the folks from Kellogg’s squinted up at the sun, then spit on the ground through tight lips. “Oh,” that person said. “Iii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

To be honest, listeners, I’m now worried about Flakey-O’s.

And now the Community Calendar. This evening is the monthly school board meeting. Topics covered will include updating text books to contain words, rather than runes and diagrams of ritual dances. Hiring a new vice principal after that whole endless cave of suffering mess a few weeks ago, and replacing all food in the cafeteria with cereal. Scientists from the Kellogg’s Institute say that most food has no nutritional value at all. Oh, wow. I did not know that. And that only cereal contains all the protein, vitamins and corn that a body needs to live. Yeah, that seems right.

Thursday, the Boy Scouts are holding their summer bake sale. They will have bowls of cereal and nothing else. The cereal is not available to you. You are available to the cereal.

Friday is now called Kellogg’s day. Mentioning the outdated name for Kellogg’s Day will result in severe fines and disappearances.

OK, I’m actually getting some sort of urgent text from Carlos. Hm. He says that something I’ve said recently is not scientifically accurate, but you know, I don’t have to check what. Kellogg’s isn’t paying me to text. Or maybe they are. You know, it’s not clear what Kellogg’s wants from us.

Saturday morning is the summer softball league’s weekly game, pitting Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyeenas against Susan Willman’s Garbage Dump Team. That’s not the actual name of the team, but it should be. Ugh, Susan Willman! Kellogg’s will be sponsoring the game by replacing the softballs with fistfuls of Apple Jacks and sending employees to hurl boxes of cereal at players.

Sunday afternoon in Grove Park, Sarah Sultan will be offering free meditation classes. Sarah is, of course, a fist-sized river rock, and so is extraordinarily good at staying still and silent. And she wants to pass these skills onto you. Kellogg’s will place a six-inch deep layer of Special K over the entire park, for reasons that are their own.

The Night Vale Metereological Society has issued an extreme heat watch for Monday, saying, “Hey, it’s a desert. In August. It’s probably going to be hot as heck on Monday, and all other days.” Kellogg’s suggests using the sun to cook up some Rice Krispie treats by building a simple solar energy panel and using that to power an electric oven.

And please, set aside all of Tuesday, as Kellogg’s has indicated that they have use for us, all of us, on Tuesday. And then Kellogg’s made this hollow dry laugh that sounded like it came from a long dormant stone well.

This has been the Community Calendar.

In other news, Flakey-O’s executives announced that they are going to stand strong against this current Kellogg’s encroachment. “We are citizens of Night Vale,” said Flakey-O’s chief executive, Leopold Tuesdale. “We’ve been through a lot of terrifying stuff. It’s a real weird town. We’re not afraid of a competing cereal company.” Then he yelped, as the closet in his office opened and the folks from Kellogg’s came out. One of them squinted up at the sun, then spit on the office floor through lips. “I wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s,” the person said. And then the Kellogg’s group left the office while Leopold sputtered about how they got in, and why anybody would ever spit on another person’s floor.

Next up, we have traff- oh, oop, nope, OK. Um, [clears throat] I’m being told that traffic has been replaced today by our new segment.

Listeners, I’m… pleased to bring you Common Kellogg’s Questions, in which you ask questions and I answer them, with off the cuff answers that are not written down for me on these carefully scripted cards.

Question number one: How much is too much cereal? My off-hand answer: How much is too much life? How much is too much love? Would you deny yourself blood in your veins? Would you deny yourself dreams in your evenings? There is not too much. There is only ever the deposit and the longing.

OK, question number two: Sometimes it seems my cereal boxes are watching me. I don’t know how else to describe, they-they don’t have eyes or anything, and they’re just sitting there, but it feels like they’re watching me. Just improvising here, but: Certain measures are taken for your own good. Don’t worry about it. it’s fine.

And question number three: Is this coupon for Frosted Mini Wheats still usable? I’ve had it since, like, 2007 but it doesn’t have a date on it. Is it still good? In answer to your questions and for your extemporaneous listening pleasure: Here are ten seconds of a person eating cereal, recorded really really close to their mouth. [crunching noises]

This has been Common Kellogg’s Questions.

Hey, let’s just keep this going. [clears throat] Health tips. Did you know that Corn Flakes cure most cancers? The reason you didn’t know that is that it isn’t true. But we have made a person on the radio say it to you, and now you will remember that he said it and forget that he said it wasn’t true. Because our minds are fallible and easily manipulated. Okey, this is just insulting. Do I really have to… [whispering] Station Management is not happy about my endangering their soil shipment, so let’s just keep moving.

Flakey-O’s chief executive Leopod Tuesdale has vanished under mysterious circumstances. A white van with a Kellogg’s logo pulled up to him as he walked to his car, and a group of people hustled him into a burlap sack and the burlap sack into the van. One of the people stopped to squint up at the sun and then spit on the ground through tight lips, before jumping in and the van roaring off. So I am being ordered by our current sponsors to report that nothing is know about Leopold’s disappearance and there are no clues indicating what happened. You know, probably he just got scared about the quality of his competitors’ products and fled. Happens all the time! All the time, Kellogg’s has asked me to repeat.

Now, let’s see what kind of weather Kellogg’s has deigned to give you.

[“Standard Deviation” by Danny Schmidt]

[booming noise] In the beginning, there was nothing. There was not nonexistent or existent. There was no realm of air, no sky beyond it. What covered in and where, and what gave shelter? Was water there unfathomed, depth of water? Darkness was upon the face of the deep, death was not then, nor was there (ought) immortal.

Then, there was Kellogg’s. Nothing became something. Kellogg’s spread and formed. Kellogg’s became the planets and the stars. Kellogg’s gathered into long strands to become the arms of galaxies, an infinity of Kellogg’s. Space made tangible out of the empty. Kellogg’s became soil and water, it became trees and it became birds, and it learned to sing and it learned to speak.

The first man rose and found the first woman waiting for him, and her name was Kellogg’s, and his name was Kellogg’s, and they shouted in horror at their own mortal forms.

Later, there were cities and before that, there were communities. And it all came from Kellogg’s and was of Kellogg’s and belonged to Kellogg’s. The people knelt and they gave a joyful thanks for their own creation, but Kellogg’s could not hear. It was a heaving dumb creature and it created out of a natural impulse, like how humans bleed, like how birds bleed, like how trees bleed. It did not create out of benevolence. Kellogg’s is not benevolent. It is not evil, either. It is a stone. It is a star. It is every empty distance between the stones ad the stars. It is not capable of morality. It. Is. Kellogg’s. It is – forever.

Once, long ago, the first king looked out over the first kingdom. It was not a very big kingdom, but then, there weren’t a lot of people at that time. Great empires would come later, but at that moment, the world was very small, a stretch of grassland near water. And the person who held that grass land was the king. And the grassland became a kingdom. There were titles given and borders erected. The king felt that he had created something great here, that his name would ring out forever. No one knows his name now. Even 100 years after his death, it was forgotten. The only name that rings out forever – is Kellogg’s.

Once, there was a farmer who lived at the edge of a forest, and she worked her fields. She would look at the forest with longing, because it seemed to her that her life was built only of routines and chores, and that these were the walls that boxed her in. And that by monopolizing her days, these routines were killing her. They were killing her in the sense that they were taking her entire life away from her, and she felt that if she ever got the nerve, one Kellogg’s day evening, she would run into the forest. Maybe it would be scary in there, probably dangerous. She would be less comfortable than she was on the farm, but she would also be truly herself. It was all waiting for her in the forest. She never ran into it. Later, she died while working one of her fields. This story doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters – is Kellogg’s.

Years from now, the universe will disperse. The stars will dim, running out of the energy imbued to them when it all exploded. Planets will become cold rock and molecules will stop forming, and atoms will stop vibrating and it will be still. It will be still forever. Or at least until the next thing. And nothing from this thing will ever see the next thing. [whispers, inaudible] Kellogg’s will watch the universe (-) to (fire) and will help it lay itself to rest. [quietly] And Kellogg’s will wait in the darkness. Will wait as long as it needs to. Forever, or what a human would perceive as forever. Maybe it will wait for ten times as long as this universe ever existed, but eventually, it will stir. There will be water there, unfathomed depth of water. Darkness will be upon the face of the deep, and it will all start anew.

There is a town, and that town is called Night Vale. It exists on a plane in a desert surrounded by the Scrub Lands and the Sand Wastes. Above us are lights that flit about. When they (peer), we (peer) back, wonderingly. We are simple, and we love each other, and we conceal secrets and we hold multitudes, and in this way we are like anyone. We live lives that are rich with meaning and awe. Or we live lives that are heavy with torment and worry, or we live lives that pass by like a Wednesday afternoon and we reach the end and say, “oh my God, was that it?” And it was.

We are a community. Like the king, we have made the world smaller, and in claiming this tiny corner as our entire world, we have created a kingdom. Like the farmer, we eye the forest and contemplate what could be out there if we ever left, if we ever went. But few of us do. And like the universe, we are brought to us – by Kellogg’s. We belong to Kellogg’s, and we are made of Kellogg’s. We cannot understand Kellogg’s, and that may be because the mystery is too complex. Or, it may be because it is as simple as a monolith, and truly there is nothing to understand.

Flakey-O’s is no more. The company has been bought out, with no management left to resist the hostile takeover. It is now a research wing of Kellogg’s, designed to test out a concept that Kellogg’s says they have just invented all on their own. Which is a line of cereal meant for night time only. The new head of this division squinted up at the sun, then spit on their own office floor through tight lips before saying, “Ii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

That’s it for our sponsored show.

Remember: today has been brought to you – by Kellogg’s. And Kellogg’s can take today away.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Keep your eye on the ball. Keep your lungs on the court. Leave your stomach in the locker room.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 131 #brought to you by kellogg's

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fumpkins · 3 years ago

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Why do nuclear bombs form mushroom clouds?

The Baker Day explosion at Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands, as recorded by an automatically operated camera on a nearby island. Notice the mushroom cloud forming immediately after the explosion. (Image credit: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images)

When a bomb goes off, energy is shot out indiscriminately in all directions. So, instead of an expanding ball of fire, why do nuclear explosions result in mushroom clouds?

Although the outburst of energy does initially form a sphere of hot air, that’s only the beginning of the story, according to Katie Lundquist, a researcher of computational engineering at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California. Because hot air rises, the larger bulk of the sphere in the middle column — where the core of an apple would be — experiences more buoyancy than the edges do.

“The way that a sphere is shaped, you have the largest column of the low-density fluid in the middle, so that rises the fastest,” like the middle of a cupcake rising in the oven, Lundquist said. (Although in vernacular English we tend to use “fluid” and “liquid” interchangeably, for scientists, the term “fluid” can refer to either a liquid or a gas; both lack a fixed shape, are able to flow and can be described by the same suite of mathematical equations, according to Lundquist.)

Related: How many atoms are in the observable universe?

Although the entire sphere rises, because this middle column elevates with greater urgency, the cooler air outside the sphere begins to “rush in below the bubble that’s rising,” Lundquist told Live Science.

This causes the rising bubble to distort into a torus, or doughnut shape. And because hot air molecules move around rapidly in their energized state, bouncing off each other at high velocities, they end up creating so much space between themselves that they form a near vacuum. There’s “this jet of material that’s being sucked into the vacuum that’s pushing up, and so that forms the mushroom cloud on the top and the flatter area within the torus on the bottom,” Lundquist said. This jet, which sucks up dirt and debris, forms the stem of the mushroom even as it feeds into the mushroom cap.

This diagram shows the direction in which fluids move following a nuclear explosion. (Image credit: Wikimedia Commons; (CC SA 1.0))

Nuclear bombs dropped during wartime and scientific experiments show that mushroom clouds can form on Earth, but what about in space? If the moon were nuked, would a mushroom cloud occur? Lundquist said the answer is “no.”

“You need an atmosphere so they can have that fluid material,” such as air, she said. “It’s not going to happen in a vacuum.” The moon’s airless environment would have no way of distorting the initial sphere into a torus, and there would be no difference in air densities to suck up that pillar of material to grow the cloud.

Just as there are different species of mushrooms, there are varieties of mushroom clouds. Depending on the explosive yield of the bomb and the height at which it goes off, the resulting mushroom cloud will have different features. Explosions like the ones that took place over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan, at the denouement of the second world war had two main parts. One part comprised the billows of white cloud above, made from the vaporized products of the bomb itself and condensing water from the surrounding air. The other part was a stem of brown material and debris stretching up from the ground. But the two didn’t quite make contact, as you can see in the below photo.

The nuclear bomb attack against Nagasaki, Japan on Aug. 8, 1945. (Image credit: Photo12/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

There’s “a very distinct white cloud, and then a brown below that,” Lundquist said. The cap and stem on these clouds did not meet, because the bombs were detonated high up, nearly 2,000 feet (610 meters) aboveground. And although they wrought devastating amounts of damage, they were quite weak compared with later-made weapons, exploding with the force of around 20 kilotons of TNT or less, according to the U.S. Department of Energy. (On the other end of the spectrum, the Soviet Union’s Tsar Bomba had a yield of 50,000 kilotons of TNT.)

Among the tested nuclear bombs that were stronger and/or exploded closer to the ground, the stem and cap merged into the classic mushroom profile, Lundquist said.

Lundquist and her lab colleagues study these effects so that, in the event of a nuclear crisis, they would be able to “know where the radiological particles are to correctly predict fallout and then provide guidance on consequence management that would protect public health.”

While the threat of nuclear doomsday is real, the combined arsenals of the world contain nearly 10,000 nuclear bombs, down from over 60,000 in the 1980s, according to the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.

Originally published on Live Science.

New post published on: https://livescience.tech/2021/07/25/why-do-nuclear-bombs-form-mushroom-clouds/

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