#international overdose awareness day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

veronicaphoenix · 5 months ago

Text

zutto — chapter one | wc: 4.9k | series masterpost

chapter summary: lia refuses to stay in the hospital one more day and convinces noah to go back to los angeles.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, mentions of an overdose, brief descriptions of it, ptsd, angst/comfort, vomiting, mentions of nightmares, breakdowns.

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“No,” Noah said.

“But—”

“I said no.”

His reply was stern, hard. If Lia didn’t know him like the back of her hand, she would have been terrified by the way his features hardened as he repeated the word, resisting her plea to leave the hospital just a day after waking up. His gaze on her was severe, his eyes —usually warm and inviting— were cold and piercing as they bore into hers, as if trying to drill the seriousness of the situation into her. His jaw was clenched tightly, and a muscle ticked in his temple.

His October eyes were filled with all the fear and pain of the past few days, and more than that: they also the carried the dread of what might come, of the dangers Lia could face if she left the hospital that day.

Lia, who was the reason for all his fears.

Lia, who was aware of it all.

It didn’t matter if he ever forgave her: she would never forgive herself.

Swallowing hard, Lia pressed her hands to the mattress to straighten herself a bit more, ignoring the crack of her back bones, if only to give Noah the same sense of seriousness she felt about leaving that place.

“I just want to go home, Noah,” she murmured, her eyes pleading. “I need to go home.”

She waited for his reaction, but Noah remained still. He stood in the middle of the room, still, lips pursed, hands nearly clenched at his sides. The only sign of his agitation was his increasingly rapid breathing.

“Staying here will only make me sicker,” she continued. “I want to go home. Please.” At her pleading word, her voice diminished to a whisper, allowing the sounds of professionals and other patients outside the room to seep in, reminding her and Noah that they were not in a bubble where it was just the two of them.

Not yet.

Tears welled up in her eyes again. She wasn’t lying—she felt sick, sicker than the day before. Two diseases resided within her, and she could distinguish them with painful clarity. One was the result of her overdose, leaving her weak, perpetually sleepy, struggling to retain information, and nauseous at the mere thought of food. The other was born from the hospital’s sterile smell, the constant reminder of why she was there, amplified by the pitying glances from doctors and nurses whenever they came in to check her vitals.

She didn’t want to be there anymore. She wanted to go home and recover in the safety of her apartment’s walls. She needed to leave before she truly got worse.

Noah was waging his own internal battle; battling against the powerful hold she had on him. He wasn’t sure he could ever deny her anything, especially not when she was so vulnerable, so in need of his care. He just wanted her to get better, and he would do anything to make that happen, even if it meant going against all reason and logic.

He dropped his head, letting out a heavy, defeated sight. He wanted to hit something, in all honesty. He hated how easily she disarmed him, how effortlessly she did so.

He had watched her sleep most of the night, still trying to comprehend how she hadn’t complained about much despite her condition. It was as if she had accepted all the suffering she was enduring, as though she deserved it. Certainly, she was in pain. Dr. Dayal had mentioned that her body was slowly recovering but reminded them of many issues that still needed healing. She hadn’t mentioned feeling weak or having a headache. Nothing. Not until she told Noah she wanted to leave the hospital. He couldn’t decide whether to admire her strength, even after hitting rock bottom hours earlier, or to feel devastated at how he knew she was punishing herself internally.

“Noah—”

“All right,” he cut her off, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll ask Jolly to book the earliest flights and grab our things from the hotel,” he then redirected his gaze back to her. “But I’m going to ask the doctor to run another round of tests before they discharge you, and you’re going to let them, understood?”

Lia nodded, knowing that if she fought him on this, it would only take Dr. dayal’s insistence on her staying a few more days to change Noah’s mind.

Once it was settled, Noah slumped back into the armchair where he had spent his last three days. He was exhausted. Lia would have reached out to touch his hair if the space between the bed and his seat hadn’t been so vast. It wasn’t just her that needed to go home—he needed it just as much.

The tour had just finished, and he was stuck in a hospital room in another state, far from home. He hadn’t had the time to rest or sleep. He hadn’t even showered since they’d been there. So, when Lia suggested he use the ensuite bathroom and wash up, Noah diligently complied, aware that he indeed needed a shower, and he might feel a bit better afterward. After all, Lia was awake, and she was okay; awake. She was back with him, and this time, he wouldn’t let her stray any farther than the steps that separated the bed and the shower.

Despite Noah’s futile efforts to stay in Illinois for a few more days to ensure Lia’s recovery, stubborn as she was even in her condition, they left the hospital and found themselves at the airport not even twenty-four hours after her discharge and merely two hours after she had met the boys.

Th moment the Nicks and Jolly entered the hospital room, Noah had been forced to leave, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of the scenario unfolding.

Jolly held Lia against his chest as she cried, clutching his jacket and repeating the same words over and over: “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jolly cradled her, and so did Nicholas after. When Noah stepped outside, a heavy feeling crushing his chest, he found Folio pacing around, biting his nails. He was still scared, still consumed by nightmares, haunted by the sigh of Lia lying on the hotel room floor, white foam at her mouth.

Noah and Nick acknowledged each other silently. Noah gestured towards the room with a nod, and nick, gathering his courage, entered.

Lia raised her head from Nicholas’ shoulder, and immediately let go of one Nick to crash into the arms of the other one, though it wasn’t clear who was holding whom. Lia and Nick cried together. From outside, Noah could hear their sobs, Nick’s voice telling her that she had no right to put them through this, to hurt them like this, while Lia apologized again and again, sobbing harder than the day Noah had brought her home from Mitch’s apartment.

But as angry and hurt as Nick was, he didn’t let go, and held onto her because she had always been one of his dearest friends, the closest thing he had ever had to a sister.

As the hours passed, the consequences of her actions sank deeper into Lia’s consciousness. She had not only plunged herself into darkness but had also dragged every person who loved her along. Even though she was safe for now, she knew you couldn’t just offer yourself to Death and then pull your hand away, expecting to play the game by your own rules.

Once alone with Noah in the room again, Lia steadied herself by leaning against the bed, her gaze lost on the white tiles of the floor. She was still wearing the hospital gown and plain black underwear underneath. Her head was spinning slightly, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle the airport hustle and the trip back home. She only knew she didn’t want to spend another minute in the hospital, surrounded by reminders of mortality. It didn’t matter that Noah was looking at her with eyes that begged her to reason, to stay for a couple more days and let the professionals ensure she was truly okay.

Lia simply didn’t want to be there.

“Do you need to lie down again?” Noah’s arm was already extended toward her as he saw her lose balance. Lia’s eyes met his, and she shook her head.

“I just need to get home,” she whispered.

Noah’s shoulders dropped as a sigh escaped his lips. After a few seconds, he took two steps toward her, ready to stand in front of her, to move the hair away from her face and to hold her.

They held each other’s gaze for a while, Lia’s hands clutching the same bedsheets that had covered her weak body the previous days. Why did it suddenly feel hard to swallow with Noah standing in front of her, looking at her like that?

He was looking at her like a boy whose heart had been broken, like a boy who blamed himself for every bad thing that had happened—for every bad thing that had happened to her.

She felt a rush of tears returning.

If she didn’t make it home soon, she would just crash in his arms and be unable to pull herself together.

Before his hand could touch her face, Lia pleaded: “Please, let’s go home.”

The tremble in her voice, the brokenness, could have brought Noah to his knees.

He nodded fervently, and a moment later, Lia was in his arms, her hands clutching his t-shirt while his found their way through her tangled hair, pressing her head against his shoulder. His other arm wrapped around her middle, determined to keep her from ever straying far from him again.

The hours of waiting at the airport were worse than Lia had anticipated. Part of her knew she should have listened to Noah, that she shouldn’t have argued when he insisted on making sure she was ready for the hustle and bustle of travel less than three days after an overdose. But another part of her –the one that felt most lost and hurt— longed for the safety of her small apartment, the comfort of her bed, and the sense of isolation provided by her four walls. There, she could cry and scream without anyone noticing, without anyone appearing at the door with a medical report and administering another dose of who-knows-what to calm her down.

She missed her bed, her plants, her books, the view from her balcony, and the breeze that slipped through and rustled the curtains whenever she left the door open and a slight gust of wind swept in to caress her cheeks. Lia had blocked out the traumatic images and memories of the last few days by projecting images of her apartment and the happy moments she had lived there.

As she watched Noah lean over the counter of the airport’s only Starbucks to order drinks for everyone, she recalled one of the last times Noah had been at her apartment. They had spent a couple of hours on the couch, each with their MacBook on their lap, working on a song that now remained safely stored on Noah’s hard drive. That day, they had eaten together. They’d prepared a vegan lasagna after shopping for ingredients and following a random recipe they found online. After eating, they cleaned up together, and Noah walked around the apartment for a while with a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, commenting on how full he felt. Lia had bitten her lip from her spot still in the kitchen, imagining how wonderful it would be to see him like that every day—so relaxed and happy, so... at home. The only problem was that that wasn’t his home; it was hers, and entertaining that idea was simply dangerous. Their time of sharing a home had passed.

Yet, in a few hours, she would have her best friend back in her home, in her kitchen, in her living room.

She had almost lost herself in that hotel room where she would never set foot in again, but the worst part had been nearly losing Noah. She had come close to losing a chance with him. The chance of a life by his side.

Lia almost smiled despite the pain still gnawing at her insides and the weakness enveloping her, but as soon as Noah turned around, her attempt at a smile faded. The dark circles under Noah’s almond-shaped eyes had deepened in the last few hours, and his entire body reflected his exhaustion: his dejected expression, greasy hair, slumped shoulders, and the way he seemed to drag his feet as he moved.

“Chamomile,” he said when he returned to the row of chairs where Lia waited, along with the two Nicks and the pile of backpacks they carried with them.

With a small, gentle smile, Lia thanked him and took the hot drink from his hand. Dr. Dayal had recommended she avoid coffee and strong beverages for the next few days. Despite the doctor’s reluctance to discharge her, he had no choice but to let her leave.

“Be careful. It’s hot,” Noah warned.

As soon as his hands were free, Lia noticed how Noah put his sunglasses back on as he took a seat across from her, sinking into the uncomfortable chair.

During the taxi ride from the hospital to the airport, he had been silent, only speaking to give directions to the driver and responding to questions with monosyllables or short phrases that didn’t invite further conversation.

Jolly had taken care of collecting both Lia’s and Noah’s belongings from the hotel, though he waited for the cleaning service to go through Lia’s room first. Having grown up with a group of friends where alcohol, tobacco, and even drugs were never lacking, he never thought he would find himself in a situation like this, where one of the people closest to him would experience something so harrowing. He was not prepared to relive the image of Lia in Noah’s arms, unconscious, convulsing, losing herself and everyone who loved her.

The only comfort Jolly found in the whole situation was that the nightmare wasn’t just haunting him; it was haunting everyone.

With a long inhalation, Lia brought the Starbucks cup to her lips, holding it with both hands because she knew her strenght wasn’t back yet, and the last thing she needed at that moment was to spill a hot drink on herself. She took a small sip and savored the sensation of the liquid sliding down her throat. Around her, the bustle of the airport continued. Nicholas was talking to Matt on the phone, informing him that they would soon board and be home in a few hours. Nick had his headphones on and was trying to pretend nothing had happened while humming a song and bouncing his leg to its rhythm. Lia took a second sip, her eyes peering over the cup at Noah. He had changed clothes but was still wearing a loose hoodie and his white sneakers. With his sunglasses on, Lia couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed, if he was looking at something specific, or if he was looking straight at her.

At that moment, a wave of nausea hit her again. Despite having eaten nothing more than a plain yogurt since leaving the hospital, she knew she was about to vomit.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she bent down, struggling to place the chamomille tea on the floor, the only surface available. She barely registered Jolly calling her name or Noah’s figure urgently following her as she bolted to the nearest restroom.

Stumbling into the bathroom, she collided with a woman’s shoulder. Lia wasn’t concerned with the words she might get from her, though a few seconds later, she heard the woman’s raised voice declaring that men were not allowed in that restroom.

By the time Lia was kneeling by the airport toilet, holding her hair away from her face with one hand and gripping the seat with the other, Noah was beside her. He gently took her hair from her hand and held it back for her.

He soothed her with soft words while she retched, oblivious to the open door and the young girls looking on with a face contorted by yuck. Noah would have told them to fuck off if it weren’t because his utter attention was on Lia.

When her retching subsided, giving way to her heavy breathing and watery eyes, Noah tucked another loose strand of hair back behind her ear with gentle fingers and waited for Lia to straighten up.

She did so right after flushing the toilet. Noah tore some paper from the roll and handed it to her. Her barely audible thank you got lost amid the sound of the water flushing, taking away the bile that had come out of her and the little chamomile tea she had drank. Such a waste, she thought.

“It’s okay,” she heard Noah say beside her.

Confusion stirred within her as he suddenly grasped her wrist, and she realized he was trying to get her black hairband out. She allowed him to proceed, and a minute later, he had deftly tied her messy hair into a bun.

With a supportive hand on her waist, he helped her stand. Lia braced herself against the fragile wall separating the other cubicle. She spent a moment regaining her breath and composure. She wanted to lean on Noah, to let him carry her out of there and onto the plane, but the tranquility she craved wouldn’t come so easily, at least not until she was finally home.

Turning her head toward him, her eyes still watery from the ordeal of vomiting, she asked if he could retrieve her toothbrush and toothpaste from her backpack. She didn’t need to specify where it was; he knew she kept her toiletries in a denim bag adorned with Lilo & Stitch, a souvenir from a trip to Disneyland a few years back.

Sending a furious look to the girls still staring, he made sure Lia could stand on her own before leaving.

A minute later, the girls were gone and Lia was alone in the bathroom. Noah returned with her toiletry bag and a bottle of water. He watched Lia as she tried to regain a sense of normalcy. After spending a few quiet minutes looking at her reflection in the mirror, Noah said: “Just a few more hours and we’ll be home.”

She tried to send a smile his way, but all she could do was keep staring at the pain etched all over his face.

Once settled in her window seat, with Noah still standing in the aisle as he set their backpacks in the overhead compartment, her eyes landed on the buildings in the distance. No matter the buzzing sound of the plane’s engine and the chatter of the people on board, she felt distant from everyone and everything. Her eyes grew heavy, threatening to close in a matter of minutes. She knew she could never look back at this city the same way again. Her past, chasing her until the present, had put a stain to this place. She wondered if she would ever be able to come back with the boys, if Noah would ever want to perform here again, or if the memory of what had happened would forever taint the city.

As the skyline shrank into a thin line below, Lia felt herself drifting away, her eyelids heavy, her stomach still unsettled. Her mind was wandering to places. Her throat was dry, and she knew she should drink some water before sleep took over, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. As she sank deeper into her seat, her eyes fell to her lap. She watched her own hand move toward the seat next to her, where Noah was now sitting. His arm rested on the armrest, his hand hanging off the edge.

Her fingertips touched his palm first, and then, slowly, her fingers intertwined with his.

Noah’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Lia’s hand —small compared to his— wrap around his. She felt warm, and he wondered if she had a fever. He was about to ask, but when he peered away from their intertwined fingers to her, he realized she wasn’t looking at him.

Within moments, her head gently leaned onto his shoulder. A long exhale escaped him. His chest sank, lips parted, and shoulders dropped. With his thumb, he tenderly caressed the back of Lia’s hand, noticing the subtle change in her breathing. It was calmer now. She had fallen asleep.

The knot in his throat wasn’t receding, though. It might not persist for days, lingering until he could replace the memory of Lia unconscious in his arms with something brighter. He wasn’t sure what awaited them upon landing in Los Angeles. The doctor had warned of tough days ahead, possibly worsening during Lia’s withdrawal process. Noah wasn’t looking forward to anymore worsening. He’d had enough. Yet, he was willing to weather any storm if it meant bringing her back, or even a stronger, better version of Lia.

Allowing himself to envision a moment of calm and joy with Lia once they reached her apartment, he pressed his lips to her hair.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was just a touch, the gentle, soft pressure of his lips against her hair, and the relief that always washed over him when he touched her; the reassurance that she was there beside him, and that she was okay. Or at least, that she would be.

Most of her plants had died.

During her absence, Lia’s flowers had wilted. Maybe because they’d been neglected in the weeks she was away, or perhaps because they had sensed Lia drifting away, and the same sadness that now filled Noah had also filled Lia’s plants. They didn’t want to live without her, just as Noah couldn’t bear to live without his best friend, without the girl he loved. The only difference was that no one could save them now. Noah had appeared on time to save his Lia, but Lia was too late to save her plants.

Tears burst forth the moment Noah and Lia stepped into her living room, her only bag dropping to the floor.

In an instant, Noah was holding her, cradling her head against his chest as he shushed her, desperate to comfort her despite the circumstances.

But it didn’t matter that they were finally home, that they were finally alone, away from the noise, away from the people, away from the triggers. There was no way they could stay away from the pain. They carried it within.

Noah had thought it a good idea to get an Uber from the airport to her apartment. Matt had come to pick them all up, but Noah considered that driving home and having to get Lia through the inevitable hassle of reaching the house and dealing with well-meaning men hovering around wouldn’t aid her condition. So, Noah arranged the ride, finally bringing Lia back to her flat.

Her crying, however, wasn’t solely for her dead plants and the fallen, dried leaves strewn about. Her tears also fell for the empty alcohol bottles and pill blisters littering the space, remnants of the past days, of her life, of every internal wound bleeding, of the person she once was—the same person that had taken Noah to the edge.

“Hey,” Noah whispered, reaching for her face. She buried her face in his hoodie, muffling her sobs. “Hey,” he urged, tilting her chin to meet his eyes. “We’re home. We’re finally home.” Her lip trembled. She looked so small and vulnerable. She wanted to say something, but her voice failed her. Noah continued, “we’re home and we’re going to be okay, all right?”

She wanted to believe him so desperately, but she didn’t trust herself, and she didn’t want to break his heart anymore. She wanted to take care of it, to take care of himself. But she needed to heal first, and she didn’t know how long that would take.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” Noah suggested, his thumb brushing down her temple. “I’ll clean this up, and when you’re out, I’ll have a movie ready. We can order takeout and spend the rest of the day on the sofa. Sounds good?” He tried to smile, really tried. But his words didn’t seem to have any effect on Lia, so he couldn’t bring himself to cheer up, either.

Nonetheless, after a moment or two, Lia nodded and let go of the tight grip she’d had on him.

As she disappeared down the hallway, Noah turned around to face the mess. He wasn’t sure he would be able to deal with it on his own, but he had no other choice.

He moved their suitcases to Lia’s room while the shower ran in the apartment’s only bathroom. Shedding his hoodie, Noah efficiently gathered all the glass bottles, empty cans, and plastic blisters. He planned to handle the recycling tomorrow, for now stowing everything discreetly in bags where Lia wouldn’t see.

In just fifteen minutes, he completed the task—sweeping the floor and collecting scattered dry leaves. Apart from this, Lia’s apartment remained exactly as he remembered: not minimalist, but tidy and organized. It was a space he had always adored.

Memories flooded back of the day they had visited this same apartment together. Lia had brimmed with excitement about having her own place. Despite Noah’s sadness at the fact that his best friend wouldn’t live with him anymore, he had shared in her joy. Lia was blossoming into the independent, strong woman she was meant to be, and Noah cherished every moment.

Succumbing to a wave of sorrow, Noah sank onto the sofa, elbows on knees, hands covering his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, eventually resting on a frame hanging in the hallway. It contained a drawing they had created as children, during one of those endless summer days spent together in his grandparents’ house. In the picture, Lia had depicted Noah with long stick legs and a wide grin, while Noah had drawn Lia as a diminutive figure with a flower crown on her head. It seemed they had both unknowingly known the tall man he would become, and the thought stirred a yearning within him, making him wonder about all the small details that had escaped them while they grew up, every single thing that Grandma knew about them and that they had laughed off. He would make sure to ask her once he was in Japan. He wanted answers. He needed them.

For now, he would remain in Lia’s apartment, enveloping himself in the familiar embrace of her walls and taking comfort in artifacts that not only chronicled her life, but the one they had built together; the life they had built together as kids and then as young adults; a life they’d been building since they were mere six and seven-year-olds, two kids oblivious to the obstacles ahead, of every moment of ecstasy and misery, of love and pain.

The sound of running water ceased. Noah’s eyes were fixated on the hallway leading to Lia’s room. There was a churned mix of frustration, temptation, and longing inside of him. He wanted to get up and rush to her, drag her out of the shower, press her against a wall, and kiss her until the fervor might somehow mend the wounds within her.

But he couldn’t.

Minutes stretched agonizingly, the bouncing of his right left joining the ticking of the clock on the wall.

When Lia appeared a while later, she halted in her tracks upon seeing Noah on the sofa, looking as if he was going to be sick, eyes rimmed red, watery, and a pulse throbbing visibly on his neck.

She swallowed hard.

“Noah?” She asked softly, tentatively.

His eyes had been fixated on her since she stepped into the living room, the sweet scent of vanilla trailing in her wake. She wore cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt, her damp hair cascading over her chest. She looked thinner than he remembered, and perhaps it was that realization which struck him hard, pushing him to the brink as he began to shake his head.

“Don’t ever do this to me again,” he said, voice quivering, barely audible, cracking, breaking. “I beg you. Don’t this to me again, Lia. Ever again. Please. Please, I beg you.”

And just like that, the tears and sobs surged fort, uncontrollably.

The intensity that his own words overwhelmed him. He buried his face in his hands, unable to contain the anguish, every cry and sob echoing through him as his chest heaved.

Only nine feet away, Lia turned pale, frozen momentarily, processing the image of Noah breaking down in front of her like never before. Then, she hurried to him. She knelt between his legs, her hands prying his from his face as tears streamed down her own cheeks, as she asked for forgiveness, for mercy. She pressed her face against his lap, clutching his torso tightly as Noah leaned into her, holding her close in any way he could. Their cries mingled together, filling the apartment with their shared pain, the only sound that mattered in that moment.

— prev. chapter | chapter two

I cannot express my gratitude at each of you that has been patient with me and with lia and noah's story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you didn't cry too much (I did every single time I reread it to revise). We're back to regular updates, be it every week or every couple of weeks, but I promise to deliver the rest of this story during the coming months x

#noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #zutto #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #i'm still crying

84 notes · View notes

wicked-futures · 2 years ago

Text

Project Minx [One]

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word-Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Misogynist creeps, Drug use

Summary: You are sent on a solo mission to track a rouge scientist to his supposed home base where he distributes drugs.

Notes: Since this is the first chapter, there is no Ghost yet... Sorry babes.

Read on AO3

People lined the street waiting to get into the club, most in varying states of intoxication. You felt out of place, not having been to a place like this in many years. The so-called ‘dress’ you were wearing did nothing to help. It was just a small piece of black fabric that left very little to the imagination. It made you feel incredibly exposed, even with the years of training you had stashed under your belt.

Somehow, you still had a pistol and a knife strapped onto your body. A chill breeze suddenly hit you, causing goosebumps to spread. A New York club in the dead of winter was not your forte, and you wanted to get this mission done as soon as possible.

The outside of “The Den” seemed like any other stereotypical dance club in the area. A basic black brick building, accompanied by blacked-out windows. Loud bass could be heard from the outside, which made you cringe internally. The constant loud background noise would make it hard for you to focus at points, especially when trying to listen to intel from your team.

Anything to get your paycheck and leave, maybe finally to take a vacation. After years of being under different contracts with different agencies, you were exhausted from the work. Yet you felt guilty for wanting to take that break since there was always another problem to be fixed. Always someone fucking up the world for the rest of everyone.

This time, it was a rouge Russian scientist. Dmitri Volkov, also known as “Wolf” had specialized in pharmaceutical sciences with their military. His career was spent researching different ways to make pain medications work faster for those on the field, and ways to help with shock. A year prior, he completely dropped off the radar.

Many ruled it suicide, but a body was never found. Authorities searched his labs, he was gone without a trace. Even odder, so was all of his working gear. Shortly after, people in the party scene in Russia started mass ODing. The drug was never found in people's systems, yet clear signs of overdosing were shown on their bodies.

Different groups sent in decoys to find the drug, or find any information on it. The off-white powder was sold in small baggies, with a wolf emblem etched onto them. Not many were aware of the ties of the ‘dead’ scientist and the drug, but that was where you fit in. It was your job to scope out the aptly named party club, “The Den.” As a partygoer, it was your job to weasel your way into the underground system. You needed to be trusted by the higher-ups and get to Volkov.

“Minx, do you copy?” The hidden earpiece spoke, jolting you from the surprise. The familiar voice of your partner helped with the nerves. Jessica Salvatore had been one of the only females in your basic training, and you stook together ever since. Even when you took the solo route when she found out you were involved with a mission, so was she.

Friends were rare to come by with your lifestyle, so you never took Jessica for granted. She knew you liked working alone but somehow weaseled her way into your ‘team’ and your life.

“Affirmative, waiting for the club to open up. I’m freezing my tits out here Jess,” You heard a chuckle coming from the other side of the comms, making you roll your eyes. She wasn’t the one in stilettos outside a club, dressed sluttier than you ever had been in your life. Even during your party days, the outfits had never been this extreme.

“I can see you, by the way, don’t forget I also have a job to do,” She mentioned, and you could practically hear the sarcastic grin in her voice. By her words, you could bet the security cam system of the club was well into your team's possession by now.

If there is one thing Jessica “Cybernaut” Salvatore was known for was her expertise in computer systems and hacking. She spent most of her teenage years behind a screen, cracking codes and creating her own. She took interest in using her skills for military use instead of becoming an IT or whatnot. You thought that was blasphemous, as Jessica could be well off by now.

But that wasn’t her lifestyle, and neither was it yours. You were never that phenomenally interested in anything during high school, drifting from club to club. Granted you weren’t terrible at them either, but nothing ever stuck. All you know is you wanted to help people, and you were also extremely competitive. An existential crisis hit halfway through senior year, and you ended up joining the military.

You quickly found out what you had been missing all those years. Learning how to fight and use weapons filled some holes you had been missing in your life. With that newfound knowledge, you pushed yourself year after year. After thousands of hours of practice, your combat skills improved tremendously. You became a lethal weapon, paired with a pretty face.

After a while, you got bored of it all. You needed a change in scenery, a different job perhaps. Multiple groups took interest in you, but you decided to be a lone contractor by yourself. This meant you picked what missions you went on, who to help, and when. It was stressful, especially with the high risks.

Most days you didn’t know if you were going to make it home alive.

The name “Minx” was slapped onto you during one of your first missions. The name seemed stupid to you at first, even sexist. Yet, you learned to love it once you realized how you could use your beauty as a weapon. Deciding to not let it get to you, you knew the name had a double meaning. It was just a part of you, alluring yet dangerous.

You noticed the line starting to move, which made your nerves inch up a little bit. A lot was riding on your shoulders tonight, and you wanted to prove yourself.

The height of your heel seemed lethal enough, you were surprised you could even walk in them. After most of your life spent in combat boots, tall stilettos were a massive change. Your feet hurt a little, but the cold numbed them slightly which you were thankful for.

With the line moving, you could finally see the door to the club in front of you. You mentally went through all of the goals in your brain, making sure everything was sorted. You focused on what you needed to do, turning off the rest of your brain. The coldness and nervousness drifted away as you were put into a focused headspace.

The bouncer scanned your ID, making sure everything matched. There was no way he was going to know it was a fake, especially since it was made by some form of government. You didn’t care who you were working with, a job was a job. As long as you worked for the ‘good’ guys, all was well. You shot him an excited smile, hoping to play the part of a partygoer well. The bouncer glanced at your body before giving the ID back, shooting a creepy smile in your direction.

“Don’t have too much fun,” He winked, a flirty tone to his voice. You tried not to cringe at the man, instead nodding at him. A quick thanks was muttered from you, and then you were off. The club was already packed when you entered, people crowded in every nook and cranny. You thanked whatever god there was that you were trained for this type of situation, and knew what to do in case hell broke loose.

You took a spot at the bar and instantly looked around the club. The whole thing was very cliche, and looked like any other bar in New York. Ordering some random cocktail off of the menu, you did your best to blend in with the crowd. While mentally taking note of every possible exit, you noticed what looked like a regular partygoer come out of an unmarked door. It might have been innocent, but it piqued your interest anyway.

“Pick up the pace Minx, we haven't got all night.” A voice spoke into your earpiece. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, you couldn’t get the whole mission done in five minutes.

Finishing your drink, you decided to join the crowd on the dance floor. You needed to see this drug in action, and what its users looked like. The dance floor met you with people who were visibly intoxicated by either drugs or alcohol. A woman in front of you was dancing by herself, filling the air with giggles. The flashing lights and loud music obscured her appearance from you, but when you caught a glimpse of her it was hard to not stare.

She noticed you watching her after a moment, turning to face you as she smiled. The woman looked like a corpse who had wandered onto the dance floor. Her ghastly pale skin seemed as though it was going to flake off any moment, and her eyes were incredibly sunken in. Even with the state of her appearance, the woman looked like she was having the time of her life.

Her eyes seemed lively yet so incredibly dead at the same time, the stark contrast threatening shivers down your spine. She was a living zombie, as were many others around her. You looked away for a moment, noticing many others that looked exactly like her. A piece of your brain clicked, remembering the symptoms of those on the drug.

Whatever was in this drug was killing people from the inside out.

“You’re really pretty, what's your name?” The corpse woman slurred, her uncomforting stare meeting yours. You smiled in return, giving her your fake name for the night. She told you her name was Becca, and she invited you to dance for a while.

“Are you bored?” She asked, her drugged gaze freezing you in your place. You nodded in response, hoping this was the lead you needed. Becca took your hand into her cold and clammy one, yanking you off of the dance floor. The earpiece you wore crackled to life again as you were whisked around the club.

“Do what she says, we’ll get you out of there if need be,” Jessica spoke, the farewell message leaving a sour note on your tongue. You decided to ignore it and noticed the woman brought you to the unmarked door you saw earlier. She turned around and opened the door, ushering you in.

The pitch-black stairway was lined with rainbow LEDs, switching between different colors. You thanked the lights for being there as you tottered down the stairs, being led by Becca. For a moment, you let your mind wander. You wondered what the young girl's life was like, especially before she got hooked on the drug. Did she have a family? A significant other? Did she abandon it all for her addiction? The thought gave you goosebumps, and you immediately went back on track

“So what have you done before?” Becca asked when you entered the basement. The whole thing was massive, looking like a whole separate club. The landscape was different, giving off a much darker vibe. The people in the basement also looked different from the rest of the clubgoers, many of them visibly rich.

“Not much, I did coke once if that counts,” You responded, trying to seem interested in the whole ordeal. It was hard to focus on the girl in front of you when there was a whole black market happening in front of you, the dangerous drugs being passed around like candy.

“This is gonna be so much better,” Becca smiled at you, and chills ran down your back. Her uneasy stare, her lifeless eyes, she looked soulless. Becca held out her hand to you before waving a man over, expecting you to pay. You pulled a twenty out of your bra and gave it to her as she grinned, visibly excited for her next hit.

She exchanged with the man, giving you the small tablet. The size of the drug was concerning, it was minuscule. It was shocking to you how small it was, and how much damage that tiny thing could do. Remembering what Jessica said, you hesitantly took the drug. You knew there were about five minutes before it started setting in, so you had to get out as soon as possible.

The last thing you remembered of that night was feeling incredibly nauseous and dizzy.

“Good morning,” A voice called from a few feet away as you finally came too. You felt as if you got hit by a semi-truck, maybe a few of them. A migraine ravaged your head, and the rest of your body felt like sludge.

“They did some tests on your blood, there's some scary shit in that drug Minx.” Flickering your eyes to the voice, you noticed Jess was sitting next to you while typing on a computer. She had a bunch of her gear and overall looked exhausted. You reckoned that you probably looked worse, having been drugged.

You didn’t ask questions about how you got out of the club, but you also didn’t care since you made it out safely. There were other objectives to worry about, like Volkov himself. He was never shown inside the club, even though that was tipped off as his headquarters. The scientist was smart, he could’ve been anywhere.

You were disappointed in yourself for not finding out more information other than securing the drug itself. It felt as if there was more you could’ve done, more contributions you could’ve added. Sitting silent in the bed for a moment, you contemplated what was going to happen next.

With security cam footage and audio recordings to back you up, you could prove how big of an issue the drug was becoming. After the testing, it was clear what was in the drug itself and how it was so addictive and dangerous. Jessica typed on her computer for a little while longer, leaving the room in silence. You assumed she was finishing the review on the mission, letting the higher-ups know you were alive and well. She sighed as she heard her phone buzzing, excusing herself into the hallway for a second.

Hospitals were nothing new to you, a painful memory of a life before. Nights spent sobbing next to a bed, praying to whatever god would listen. When your mother died, a piece of you died with her. You just hoped she was proud of what you made of yourself.

“I’ve got news for you,” Jessica re-entered the room with a grim expression on her face. You expected something extremely bad or unfortunate based on the last 24 hours.

“Higher-ups think this Volkov shit is getting way too out of hand, thinks we can’t finish it alone. They’re gonna do some more digging themselves, but in the meantime they want us to team up with a task force.” The news wasn’t all that terrible to you, more of a nuisance than anything. It had been so long since you worked with others that weren’t directly associated with you, so the idea of meeting a new group excited you.

“They’re gonna send us some info on the group ASAP, you’ll probably be up and ready to go by then. If we want to continue working on this case, we can’t do it alone.” The short timeline wasn’t anything new to you. You were used to a fast-paced lifestyle, never staying in one place long. You raised yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the protest of your limbs.

“Well, let's get started then.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw22 #john soap mactavish #task force 141 #john price #alejandro vargas #kyle gaz garrick #no use of y/n #eventual smut

219 notes · View notes

philhoffman · 1 year ago

Text

Remembering Phil on this International Overdose Awareness Day. His death isn’t anywhere near the full story of his life but it is part of it. It’s a ferocious, blinding pain that only hurts so much because we love him so much.

It’s more complicated than many people may realize, even those who know about his struggles with addiction. A lot happened and most of it is too painful to say or not mine to share. There are levels and layers I’ve only recently begun to understand and answers we won’t ever get. I’ve been exploring this active grief for a long time now but it’s just as fresh and more painful than ever.

Phil died of a drug overdose. It’s been a journey to be able to say those words. But there’s power in being able to say that without shame, and I’m not ashamed of him. I think being able to talk about what happened to Phil honestly, responsibly, with love and respect, is one of the few ways I can still protect him and his memory. He died of a drug overdose, like over 100,000 other people every year now—an entirely preventable death, the result of stigma and a failed system that cruelly looks down on people who use drugs.

Phil died but he saved lives. I can’t count how many people I’ve heard from who said his struggle and death inspired them to enter recovery. Addiction doesn’t have to be a death sentence, overdoses don’t have to be fatal. Carry Narcan, fight for evidence-backed drug policies and harm reduction initiatives, never use alone, support overdose prevention sites, be there for your loved ones and your community.

Addiction was a piece of his story, but just one piece. Phil is so much more than that, he was a beautiful person and it brings me more joy than anything to share him and his big laugh and generous gifts with anyone who wants to know him, with the people who already love him. From the sweet, lanky, freckle-faced kid he was to the strong, kind, courageous man he became who fought for his life every day—I am so proud of him and anyone should be so lucky to know him, to love him.

I love you, Phil. Celebrating and missing your beautiful light today and always 💜

#thank you phee I miss you #it’s really hitting me hard this year #beautiful boy

31 notes · View notes

readingrecap · 1 year ago

Text

🎗️ International Overdose Awareness Day at 6PM

Reading Police and Reading Coalition for Prevention and Support Invite Community to Join Observation of International Overdose Awareness Day. Police Chief David Clark and Director Erica McNamara would like to invite the community to join the Reading Police Department, the Reading Coalition for Prevention & Support and the Mystic Valley Public Health Coalition as they recognize International…

View On WordPress

#International Overdose Awareness Day #Reading Coalition

0 notes

rezcowgirl · 3 months ago

Text

International Overdose Awareness Day is coming up on August 31st.

There will be events all over the world, many of which will include free naloxone training if you wanted an opportunity to get that training. Training is almost always free.

https://www.overdoseday.com/events-2024/

#kits are free in canada

4 notes · View notes

brookston · 1 year ago

Text

Holidays 8.31

Holidays

Baloch-Pakhtun Unity Day

Cow Chip Tossing Day

Crop Dusting Day

Day of Solidarity and Freedom (Poland)

Festal Day (Order of the Eastern Star)

Flag Day (India)

Hari Kebangsaan (Malaysia)

International Blog Day (a.k.a. International Day of Blogs and Bloggers)

International Day for People of African Descent (UN)

International Overdose Awareness Day

Limba Noastra (Day of Our Language; Moldova)

Love Litigating Lawyers Day

Merdeka Day (Malaysia)

National Box Car Day

National Dan Day

National Diatomaceous Earth Day

National HalfCut Day (Australia)

National Leslie Day

National Matchmaker Day

National South Carolina Day

North Borneo Self-Government Day

National Zoo Awareness Day (UK)

Opioid Misuse Prevention Day

Overdose Awareness Day

Princess Diana Memorial Day

Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]

Romanian Language Day (Romania)

Sărbătoarea (a.k.a. Limba noastră; Language Day; Moldova)

Take a Seat Day

Tank Day (Lešany, Czech Republic)

Walnut Day (French Republic)

We Love Memoirs Day

White Rose Day (Australia)

Withdrawal of the Last American Soldier Anniversary Day (Afghanistan)

World Distance Learning Day

World Sanskrit Day

World Solidarity Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Bacon Day [also 12.30]

Eat Outside Day

Grape Blessing Day (Armenia)

Invent A New Sandwich Day

National Trail Mix Day

Vegetable Day (Japan)

5th & Last Thursday in August

National Banana Pudding Day [Last Thursday]

National Cabernet Sauvignon Day [Last Thursday]

Thoughtful Thursday [Thursday of Be Kind to Humankind Week]

Independence Days

Befshire (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Kyrgyzstan (from USSR, 1991)

Malaysia (from UK, 1957)

Trinidad and Tobago (from UK, 1962)

Feast Days

Aidan of Lindisfarne (Christian; Saint)

Alter Ego Day (Pastafarian)

Aristides of Athens (Christian; Saint)

Cuthburh (Christian; Saint)

Dominguito del Val (Christian; Saint)

Fourth Onam (Rice Harvest Festival, Day 4; Kerala, India)

Frey’s Blot (Pagan)

Gai Jatra (Cow Festival, in remembrance of people who died the previous year; Kathmandu Valley, Nepal)

Henry (Muppetism)

Isabel (Christian; Saint)

Joseph of Arimathea (Christian; Saint)

Jouffroy (Positivist; Saint)

Nicodemus (Christian; Saint)

Paulinus of Trier (Christian; Saint)

Paul Reubens Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Raymond Nonnatus (Christian; Saint)

Roger Dean (Artology)

Wala of Corbie (Christian; Saint)

Waltheof, Earl of Northumbria (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [48 of 71]

Premieres

All Or Nothing At All, recorded by Frank Sinatra (Song; 1939)

American Idiot, by Green Day (Song; 2004)

Andor (TV Series; 2022)

Bad, by Michael Jackson (Album; 1987)

The Big Sleep (Film; 1946)

Bolero (Film; 1984)

Bugsy and Mugsy (WB LT Cartoon; 1957)

The Commuter, by Philip K. Dick (Short Story; 1953)

The Constant Gardener (Film; 2005)

Document, by R.E.M. (Album; 1987)

Fly, by Dixie Chicks (Album; 1999)

Foundation and Earth, by Isaac Asimov (Novel; 1986) [Foundation #5]

Get Rich Quick (Disney Cartoon; 1951)

Goat’s Head Soup, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1973)

The Great Gildersleeve (Radio Series; 1941)

Jack Ryan (TV Series; 2018)

Only Murders in the Building (TV Series; 2021)

Orient Express, by Graham Greene (a.k.a. Stamboul Train; Novel; 1932)

Pluto’s Judgement Day (Disney Cartoon; 1935)

The Psychology of Intelligence, by Jean Piaget (Science Book; 1947)

Raising Demons, by Shirley Jackson (Memoir; 1957)

The Threepenny Opera, by Bertolt Brecht (Play with Music; 1928)

Wildest Dreams, by Taylor Swift (Song; 2015)

The World According to Garp, by John Irving (Novel; 1978)

Today’s Name Days

Paulinus, Raimubd (Austria)

Josip, Nikodem, Optat, Paulina (Croatia)

Pavlína (Czech Republic)

Bertha (Denmark)

Arved, Arvi, Arvid (Estonia)

Arvi (Finland)

Aristide (France)

Aidan, Anja, Paulinus, Raimund (Germany)

Bella, Erika (Hungary)

Aristide (Italy)

Aigars, Aira, Labite, Vilma (Latvia)

Raimunda, Raimundas, Vilmantas, Vilmantė (Lithuania)

Berta, Berte (Norway)

Bohdan, Paulina, Rajmund, Rajmunda, Świętosław (Poland)

Nora (Slovakia)

Ramón (Spain)

Arvid, Vidar (Sweden)

Aden, Aidan, Aiden, Ayden, Edan, Edana, Eden, Edina, Egan, Egon (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 243 of 2024; 122 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 35 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 24 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Geng-Shen), Day 16 (Xin-You)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 14 Elul 5783

Islamic: 14 Safar 1445

J Cal: 3 Aki; Threesday [3 of 30]

Julian: 18 August 2023

Moon: 99%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 19 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Jouffroy]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 4 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 71 of 94)

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 10 of 32)

#calendar #Holidays

2 notes · View notes

versatileer · 1 month ago

Text

FYI: International Overdose Awareness Day – 2024 + Treatment Resources http://dlvr.it/TF22Vy

0 notes

brookstonalmanac · 3 months ago

Text

Holidays 8.31

Holidays

African Traditional Medicine Day

Anniversary of the Withdrawal of the Last American Soldier (Afghanistan)

Baloch-Pakhtun Unity Day (Balochistan, Pakistan)

Cow Chip Tossing Day

Crop Dusting Day

Day of Solidarity and Freedom (Poland)

831 Day

Festal Day (Order of the Eastern Star)

Flag Day (India)

Franchise Appreciation Day

Hari Kebangsaan (Malaysia)

International Blog Day (a.k.a. International Day of Blogs and Bloggers)

International Day for People of African Descent (UN)

International Day of Obstetrics & Pregnancy

International Lawn Day

International Overdose Awareness Day

Jack the Ripper Day [Killed 1st Victim: Mary Ann Nichols; 1888]

Limba Noastra (Day of Our Language; Moldova)

Long-Haul Truck Driver (Russia)

Love Litigating Lawyers Day

Memorial Day for the Victims of Repression (Uzbekistan)

Merdeka Day (Malaysia)

National Asiatic Cheetah Day (Iran)

National Box Car Day

National Cinema Day (UK)

National Cowgirl Day

National Dan Day

National Day (Vietnam)

National Diatomaceous Earth Day

National HalfCut Day (Australia)

National Language Day (Moldova)

National Leslie Day

National Matchmaker Day

National South Carolina Day

National Zoo Awareness Day (UK)

Nature Day (Finland)

North Borneo Self-Government Day

Opioid Misuse Prevention Day

Overdose Awareness Day

Princess Diana Memorial Day

Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]

Romanian Language Day (Romania)

Sărbătoarea (a.k.a. Limba noastră; Language Day; Moldova)

Take a Seat Day

Tank Day (Lešany, Czech Republic)

Teacher’s Day (Singapore)

Walnut Day (French Republic)

We Love Memoirs Day

White Rose Day (Australia)

Withdrawal of the Last American Soldier Anniversary Day (Afghanistan)

World Distance Learning Day

World Sanskrit Day

World Solidarity Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Eat Outside Day

Grape Blessing Day (Armenia)

International Bacon Day [also 12.30]

Invent A New Sandwich Day

National Chourico Day

National Trail Mix Day

Vegetable Day (Japan)

Independence & Related Days

Befshire (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Kyrgyzstan (from USSR, 1991)

Malaysia (from UK, 1957)

North Borneo (Self-Government Day; Sabah, Malaysia)

Surigao City Charter Day (Philippines)

Trinidad and Tobago (from UK, 1962)

5th & Last Saturday in August

International Bacon Day [Saturday before 1st Monday in September]

International Bat Night [Last Saturday]

International Cosplay Day [Last Saturday]

International Play Music on the Porch [Last Saturday]

Iroquois Indian Festival (Albany, NY) [Begins on Last Saturday]

Pony Express Day [Last Saturday]

Sandwich Saturday [Every Saturday]

Schemitzun begins (Green Corn Pow Wow; Mashantucket Pequot, Connecticut) [Last Saturday]

Six For Saturday [Every Saturday]

Spaghetti Saturday [Every Saturday]

Speak Kind Words Saturday [Saturday of Be Kind to Humankind Week]

World Day for the End of Speciesism [Last Saturday]

Weekly Holidays beginning August 31 (4th Full Week of August)

National Buffalo Chicken Wings Days (Buffalo, New York) [thru 9.1]

Festivals Beginning August 31, 2024

Amish Country Cheese Festival (Arthur, Illinois) [thru 9.3]

Apple Harvest Celebration (Willcox, Arizona) [thru 9.8]

BBQ & Craft Beer Festival (Monmouth Park, Oceanport, New Jersey) [thru 9.2]

Bloemencorso Eelde (Eelde, Netherlands) [thru 9.1]

Boothbay Harbor Tuna Challenge (Boothbay Harbor, Maine)

Bremerton Blackberry Festival (Bremerton, Washington) [thru 9.2]

Bumbershoot (Seattle, Washington) [thru 9.1]

Canadian International Air Show (Toronto, Canada) [thru 9.2]

Caribbean Food And Wine Festival (West Friendship, Maryland)

Connecticut Renaissance Faire (Lebanon, Connecticut) [thru 10.14]

Corn Maze (Middlefield, Connecticut) [thru 11.3]

Eastport Salmon and Seafood Festival (Eastport, Maine) [thru 9.1]

Food Truck Festival (Waterloo, Iowa)

Garlic Town U.S.A. (Bennington, Vermont)

Girdwood Fungus Fair (Girdwood, Alaska) [thru 9.1]

Harvest Wine Fest (Albuquerque & Las Cruces, New Mexico) [thru 9.2]

Hatch Chile Festival (Hatch, New Mexico) [thru 9.1]

John Coltrane International Jazz and Blues Festival (High Point, North Carolina) [thru 9.1]

Kansas City Renaissance Festival (Bonner Springs, Kansas) [thru 10.14]

Keystone’s Oktoberfest (Keystone, Colorado)

King Richard’s Faire (Carver, Massachusetts) [thru 10.20]

Milan Melon Festival (Milan, Ohio) [thru 9.2]

National Buffalo Wing Festival (Buffalo, New York) [thru 9.1]

Ohio Renaissance Festival (Harveysburg, Ohio) [thru 10.27]

Okinawan Festival (Waikiki, Hawaii) [thru 9.1]

Renaissance Faire at Sleepy Hollow (Des Moines, Iowa) [thru 9.15]

Richmond County Fair (Staten Island, New York) [thru 9.2]

Romeo Peach Festival (Romeo, Michigan) [thru 9.2]

Seafood Festival & Craft Show (Westport, Washington)

Taste of Hamburg-er Festival (Hamburg, Pennsylvania)

Taste of Madison (Madison, Wisconsin) [thru 9.1]

Taylor Sweet Corn Festival (Taylor, Arizona)

West Cape May Tomato Festival (West Cape May, New Jersey)

West Jefferson Annual Ox Roast (West Jefferson, Ohio) [thru 9.2]

Wild Rice Day (McGregor, Minnesota)

World Championship BBQ Goat Cook-Off (Brady, Texas)

Feast Days

Aidan of Lindisfarne (Christian; Saint)

Alter Ego Day (Pastafarian)

Aristides of Athens (Christian; Saint)

Bryan Organ (Artology)

Cuthburh (Christian; Saint)

Dominguito del Val (Christian; Saint)

DuBose Heyward (Writerism)

Feast of Grapes (Ancient Minoa; Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Fourth Onam (Rice Harvest Festival, Day 4; Kerala, India)

Frey’s Blot (Pagan)

Gai Jatra (Cow Festival, in remembrance of people who died the previous year; Kathmandu Valley, Nepal)

G. Willow Wilson (Writerism)

Henry (Muppetism)

Isabel (Christian; Saint)

Joseph of Arimathea (Christian; Saint)

Jouffroy (Positivist; Saint)

Mária Balážová (Artology)

Nicodemus (Christian; Saint)

Paulinus of Trier (Christian; Saint)

Paul Reubens Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Raymond Nonnatus (Christian; Saint)

The Ritual Walk of the Eyos (Lagos; Everyday Wicca)

Roger Dean (Artology)

Wala of Corbie (Christian; Saint)

Waltheof, Earl of Northumbria (Christian; Saint)

William Saroyan (Writerism)

Yumiko Ōshima (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [48 of 71]

Premieres

All Or Nothing At All, recorded by Frank Sinatra (Song; 1939)

American Idiot, by Green Day (Song; 2004)

Andor (TV Series; 2022)

Bad, by Michael Jackson (Album; 1987)

The Big Sleep (Film; 1946)

Bolero (Film; 1984)

Bugsy and Mugsy (WB LT Cartoon; 1957)

The Commuter, by Philip K. Dick (Short Story; 1953)

The Constant Gardener (Film; 2005)

Document, by R.E.M. (Album; 1987)

Fly, by Dixie Chicks (Album; 1999)

Foundation and Earth, by Isaac Asimov (Novel; 1986) [Foundation #5]

Get Rich Quick (Disney Cartoon; 1951)

Goat’s Head Soup, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1973)

The Great Gildersleeve (Radio Series; 1941)

Jack Ryan (TV Series; 2018)

Only Murders in the Building (TV Series; 2021)

Orient Express, by Graham Greene (a.k.a. Stamboul Train; Novel; 1932)

Pluto’s Judgement Day (Disney Cartoon; 1935)

The Psychology of Intelligence, by Jean Piaget (Science Book; 1947)

Radetzky March, by Johann Strauss (March; 1848)

Raising Demons, by Shirley Jackson (Memoir; 1957)

Solid Serenade (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1946)

Soul on Ice, by Eldridge Cleaver (Memoir & Essays; 1968)

The Threepenny Opera, by Bertolt Brecht (Play with Music; 1928)

Wildest Dreams, by Taylor Swift (Song; 2015)

The World According to Garp, by John Irving (Novel; 1978)

You Gotta Be a Football Hero (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1935)

Today’s Name Days

Paulinus, Raimubd (Austria)

Josip, Nikodem, Optat, Paulina (Croatia)

Pavlína (Czech Republic)

Bertha (Denmark)

Arved, Arvi, Arvid (Estonia)

Arvi (Finland)

Aristide (France)

Aidan, Anja, Paulinus, Raimund (Germany)

Bella, Erika (Hungary)

Aristide (Italy)

Aigars, Aira, Labite, Vilma (Latvia)

Raimunda, Raimundas, Vilmantas, Vilmantė (Lithuania)

Berta, Berte (Norway)

Bohdan, Paulina, Rajmund, Rajmunda, Świętosław (Poland)

Nora (Slovakia)

Ramón (Spain)

Arvid, Vidar (Sweden)

Aden, Aidan, Aiden, Ayden, Edan, Edana, Eden, Edina, Egan, Egon (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 244 of 2024; 122 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of Week 35 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 1 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Ren-Shen), Day 28 (Ding-Mao)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 27 Av 5784

Islamic: 25 Safar 1446

J Cal: 4 Gold; Foursday [4 of 30]

Julian: 18 August 2024

Moon: 5%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 20 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Thilorier]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 73 of 94)

Week: 1st Full Week of September

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 10 of 32)

Calendar Changes

Muin (Vine) [Celtic Tree Calendar; Month 9 of 13]

#Holidays

1 note · View note