#national mud pack day
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murderousink23 · 3 months ago
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09/30/2024 is Orange Shirt Day 🇨🇦, Martyr's Day 🇨🇳, Blasphemy Day 🇺🇸, International Day of Podcasts 🇺🇸, National Chewing Gum Day 🇺🇸, National Hot Mulled Cider Day 🇺🇸, National Mud Pack Day 🇺🇸, International Translation Day 🇺🇳
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subby-sab · 3 months ago
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Today is 30th of September.
Today is International Podcast Day, International Translation Day, National Chewing Gum Day, National Mud Pack Day.
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lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago
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nation of two // oscar piastri
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summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated
pairing: oscar piastri x female reader
warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.
authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are
the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.
"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.
oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.
"don't be such a baby!"
"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"
"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."
she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"
she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.
she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)
"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.
the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.
they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?
it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.
and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.
"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.
"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"
"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"
the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.
one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.
well, everybody except y/n.
"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"
not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."
"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.
lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"
"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."
y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."
"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.
see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.
the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.
"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."
oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.
"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.
"i'm fine!"
when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.
"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"
"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."
"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.
it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.
they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.
it's okay. you can do this.
"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.
"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.
the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.
"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."
she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."
"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''
she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."
oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.
the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.
"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."
the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.
and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.
outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.
and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,
"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.
"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.
outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.
"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."
"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.
"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."
TAGS
@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri
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major-mads · 7 months ago
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Chapter 12: A New Normal
John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)
Series Masterlist
A/N: interrogation time boissss!!!
Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd
Word Count: 6k
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October 13, 1943: Dulag Luft: Frankfurt, Germany:
As John Egan slouched into the leather chair in his interrogator’s office, everything ached. His eyes, his head, his ribs, his back…everything. On top of all this, the Lieutenant before him was offering him a drink like he was an old friend, not a prisoner of war who’d already faced unimaginable horrors in the last few days alone. 
Not a man who lost everything he had to live for. 
John raised his glass, unflinching as his sore muscles cried in protest. “Here’s, uh, mud in your eye.”
The fact that Haussmann didn’t know the phrase brought him a sense of satisfaction. The most he could have in his situation.
“So, where shall we begin?”
Putting down his glass, Bucky’s eyes stared at the cup as he spoke bitterly. “How about I was in a town and someone shot four of the guys with me.”
“Oh my...What town?” he asked quickly, almost too quickly.
‘It’s all a tactic. Every single word,’ John reminded himself. ‘Don’t give him anything.’
“‘Russheim, something. I don’t know-”
Haussmann cut him off, a false look of concern painting his face. “Rüsselsheim. That’s tragic. I will add it to the report.”
‘All lies.’
“Your colleagues,” he continued, grabbing a pen and paper. “The ones who were killed, if you could give me their names and rank, I can pass it on to-”
It was John’s turn to interrupt, the flashes of the men’s lifeless bodies making his chest burn in anger. “I don’t know their names. We just happened to be put together. Look, I appreciate the drink and would really appreciate a thicker blanket, but as far as what you’re gonna get from me, it’s gonna be name, rank, and serial-”
“And serial number. Yours is O-399510…Yes, I already know that,” the interrogator grinned in a way that made the Major’s skin crawl. 
“I also know that you were born in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Married?”
John’s gaze fell back to his drink, Ruth’s smiling face appearing in his mind, her infectious laugh ringing in his ears. 
‘In a perfect world, we would be.’
An unsettling grin reappeared on the Nazi’s face as he flipped through John’s folder. “From what I hear, there’s not a wife, but there is a woman. A recent development, hmm? What is her name?”
For the first time since the Major sat down across from the Lieutenant, his words got a response. Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet his, anger flaming in them for a moment before he concealed his emotions once again. He bit his tongue to keep from opening his mouth. This man had no right to even utter her name after she was ripped from him by this scum’s people.
“Ah, yes, I found it. Ruth Morgan. Nurse, or should I say, former nurse, with the…,” he checked the file. “806th Medical Air Evacuation and Transport Squadron.”
Former Nurse…With those two words, the emotions he’d tried to get control of the past few weeks threatened to consume him, and his heart sank to the depths of his gut.
 ‘It’s a tactic. He’s trying to break you down,’ John repeated. ‘Don’t listen to him.’
John shifted in his seat with barely furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, reminding himself to breathe as the pressure in his chest mounted at the fact that this man knew so much about Ruth. 
Did Hope or Frank somehow survive? 
Did they go through here?
Is she alive?
These questions ran rampant in his mind in the small office, the sickening portrait of Adolph Hitler looming over him. 
“Squadron, 418th. Group,  the 100th Bomber Group. H for heavy, headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts.”
Refusing to give a single ounce of information, Bucky stared at him blankly as the Lieutenant closed the file, a despicable smirk still plastered on his face. 
“Are you a baseball fan, Major?”
No response.
“Certainly that’s not a national secret,” he suggested, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer and offering one to John, who stared at it for a moment before taking one silently.
Haussmann stood and lit his cigarette. “Sorry, they are not as good as your American brands. Lucky Strike is my personal preference.”
Bucky took a drag of the cigarette and let out a sigh, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even know if he could roll his eyes with the constant pain that surged through his right eye. Double vision had been plaguing him since he first got knocked in the face that night in the town…Rüsselsheim, as he now knew, and only worsened after his head took a few blows.
“Baseball is still a bit of a mystery to me with all the sticks and bases, running in circles. There was the big championship last week, wasn’t there?”
Tapping his cigarette ashes into the small tray on the desk, John finally broke his silence. “Yeah, World Series.”
“Ah yes, the World Series. The New York Yankees versus the St. Louis Cardinals. A rematch, yes?”
“We were up two games to one when I went down,” the Major nodded slightly.
John thought Ruth would’ve gotten a kick out of Hugh’s behavior toward him after the Cardinals beat the Yankees in game two of the series. He could see her teasing grin and hear her lighthearted giggle that never failed to make his heart jump. Her memory touched every part of his mind, and it was impossible to go through a day, an hour, a minute without thinking of her. 
“So you are a Yankees fan. Would you like to know the outcome of the World Series?”
‘I’d much rather get outta here,’ Johnny thought, but he stayed quiet, staring at the desk. 
“Was Buck Cleven a Yankees fan?”
His gaze lifted to meet the icy eyes of the Luftwaffe Lieutenant, and he had to take a steadying breath to fight against the rage coursing through him.
“No? Yes?” he smirked. “I know Ruth Morgan was not.”
The mounting pressure in Bucky’s chest became too much, threatening to explode if he didn’t release it. “And how do you know that?” he all but growled at the man.
One side of Haussman’s mouth curled into another cruel grin and he ignored John’s question, leaning over the desk to grab a newspaper, revealing a New York Times paper from the Bremen raid. “I hear Cleven was quite the flyer. I read of his exploits in the Regensburg attack.”
Everything he did was choreographed…no word or action was wasted.
“He was your friend wasn’t he? It seems we are shooting down all the good pilots…and apparently nurses, as well.”
“I wouldn’t be bragging about killing medics,” John scoffed roughly, his nostrils flaring as his voice hardened. “Pretty sure that’s a war crime.”
“You and I both know C-47s are not marked with a red cross, Major Egan.”
Silence.
“Did you know that on your Münster attack, only one of your planes returned?” Haussman held up a finger. “One.”
Although he didn’t show it, Bucky’s mind was in shambles. ‘He’s got to be lying,’ he thought. ‘There’s no way only one plane survived…but has he said anything untrue this whole time? Has he lied at all?’
“But back to you, Major Egan,” he began, inspecting his file once more. “I regret to inform you that you are, as you say, in a bit of a pickle. We know you were originally apprehended near Ostbevern…but we don’t have you on any record as a crew member on any planes from the Münster attack.”
Lies. 
“The Gestapo would say that makes you a spy.”
Johnny’s eyes rose to meet the man’s gaze as he spoke up, keeping his voice even amid the rage bubbling within him. “They would be mistaken.”
“One thing I can tell you, Major, the Gestapo is never mistaken.”
Haussmann’s bright blue eyes bored into John’s softer, greyish irises as he stared at him before taking a deep breath. “So I need verification of your group, your squadron, and your plane so that I can confirm to them that you are indeed what you say you are.”
‘What else can they take from me?’
Bucky took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze falling back to the desk as he spoke, the smoke filling the air around him. “John Egan,” he raised his brows before tapping his ashes again. “Major. O-399510.”
“Major,” the Nazi said quietly, almost sympathetically. “May I say that you’re not doing yourself any favors? The Gestapo, they are different than me. Me, I’m like you: a flier…a man of honor. And I can understand things in a way that perhaps my colleagues from the highly indoctrinated security forces might not…I’d like to talk about Buck Cleven and Ruth Morgan, John.“
The anger within the Major simmered away, leaving only sadness in its wake…all-encompassing grief that he’d been pushing down for almost a month, reverting to his old drinking habits to numb the pain. 
“But I’d like you to talk to me as well,” Haussman continued. “The number of replacement B-17s expected at Thorpe Abbotts next week, for example.”
And Bucky’s gaze drifted back up to his interrogator, he didn’t even blink. Despite his inner turmoil, he refused to let this man get anything from him. “John Egan. Major. O-399510.”
“I see,” he nodded, raising his voice to the men outside. “Wachen. Wir sind am Ende.”
A few seconds later, two guards appeared and hauled John to his feet. He withheld a groan as his bruised body was jostled toward the threshold. Just before he passed into the dark hallway, the Lieutenant called out to him one last time.
“Oh, Major Egan, about the World Series,” the Nazi began, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “The Yankees always end on top.”
The Yankees always end on top…
John’s eyes widened, and he felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs as the familiar words hung in the air. His own hand had written them in his final letter to Ruth just days before she went down. His mind reeled as he was thrown into his cold, dark, and flea-infested cell.
Sitting on the small stool at the foot of his wooden cot, hope surged within him. If they’d read the letter, it meant she’d been here…
“She’s alive,” Bucky whispered, a shaky grin tugging at his lips as tears burned his eyes. “Ruth’s alive.”
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October 14th, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 04:00: 4 AM
Two weeks had passed since Hope, Ruth, and Frank arrived at Stalag Luft III. To Hope, those two weeks in that hell hole felt like two years, and sleep didn’t come easy for her. She spent the first few nights on high alert, her eyes watching every movement outside the hut. She was convinced they’d be moved again, and after losing her friends in Dulag Luft, she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again. Ruth tried to reassure her that they weren’t going to be split up again, but even she was unsure of what was planned for them. She tried to stay up with hope for several nights, but sleep eventually overtook her each time and she slipped into a dreamless slumber.
After several nights without sleep, Hope grew irritated, snapping at any minor inconvenience, but she’d been forced to bite her tongue when the guards barked orders during their morning and night appells. The stern glare Frank sent her told her now was not the time to put up a fight. 
She hadn’t meant to be so short-tempered but as she’d watched Ruth and Frank sleep, she’d resented them for resting easy. Her mind spun twenty-four hours of the day, constantly on alert, continually in overdrive. Frank had joined Ruth in staying up with Hope, taking it in shifts to try and distract her from her constant worry. 
“Do you know what happened to her in Dulag Luft?” Ruth whispered to Frank one night while Hope paced up and down the hallway. 
Frank shook his head with a yawn, “She won’t tell me what happened. When I found her, Ruth, I…” Frank shook his head, “Well, she wasn’t the same Hope I used to know.” 
After Hope rejoined them, her pacing finally ceased and she sunk onto her cot, her eyes finally growing heavy. The guard's patrols seemed less frequent that night, and Ruth watched as Hope’s eyes gradually slipped closed, her body slouched against the end of their cot. Leaning against the wooden beam wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Ruth and Frank were just thankful she’d finally fallen asleep. Once her breaths evened out and she was sleeping soundly, the pair slipped into their beds. Frank fell asleep the second his head hit his straw pillows, but Ruth lay awake, staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above her.
It was no secret that Ruth Morgan was a worrier, but Hope? She was the strong one who was always there when Ruth needed her to be. But seeing her best friend so debilitated by her fears and anxieties scared her to death. It had only been two weeks and the camp was already taking a serious toll on the Americans.
With a quiet sigh, Ruth closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, willing herself to drift off to sleep. But just as she felt herself succumb to sleep’s embrace, a sudden noise jolted her awake and she sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize that the noise was coming from Hope’s bunk.
Ruth’s heart ached as she watched Hope toss and turn in her sleep, her brow furrowed in distress. Her chest heaved beneath the thin blankets, and her movements grew more frantic with each passing moment. 
“Hope?” Ruth whispered, reaching a tentative hand through the gap between their beds to shake her foot. When she whimpered in response, Ruth’s concern deepened, and she moved from her bed to crouch in front of Hope. “Hey, wake up,” she said a little louder, rubbing her shoulder.
No response.
Ruth shook her friend’s shoulder roughly, her worry-stricken voice filling the room. “Hope!” 
Hope’s eyes opened suddenly and she lurched forward off the end of her bunk, nearly knocking herself out on the bunk above her. 
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Hope stared back at her, her dark eyes wide and full of tears as sweat trickled down her forehead, her chest heaving against her overalls. It took her a moment to realize what was going on as Frank’s worried face appeared beside the blonde’s. Ruth reached forward, trying to brush away the hair that had fallen across Hope’s forehead, but Hope caught her wrist, squeezing it painfully. 
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pushing herself quickly off the cot and marching towards the door of the hut, not once looking back at her friends.
Ruth’s heart sank as Hope’s words stung like a slap across her face. She watched helplessly as her friend retreated to the door. For a moment, she was frozen in shock, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.
“Hope, wait,” she called out.
But Hope didn’t stop. She disappeared through the doorway without a backward glance, leaving Ruth and Frank standing in stunned silence.
Frank glanced at Ruth, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”
Ruth blinked back tears, her throat tight. She shook her head slowly, unable to find the words to express how she felt as Frank pulled her into a hug. “She didn’t mean it.”
Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing between them. She had always leaned on Hope for support, finding solace in her unwavering presence, but when she tried to extend the same comfort, she was met with rejection. Their friendship was built on openness and their ability to share everything, and now that foundation was cracking beneath the pressure of life in the camp.
Stepping back, Frank cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket from the table. “I’ve gotta go after her. Stay here.”
Ruth nodded, her gaze fixed on the door through which Hope had disappeared moments before. A knot of worry tightened in her stomach as she watched Frank leave, his footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway in the quiet of the night. Alone in the dark room, she sank back onto her bunk.
How had things changed so quickly? Just days before they had been a united front, promising to get through their time in the camp together. But now, it felt like there was a growing chasm between them, widening with each passing moment.
She ran a hand through her hair, hurt, worry, and frustration simmering within her. She longed for the comfort of her friend’s presence, for the reassurance that everything would be alright. In that moment on her bed, Ruth decided she could no longer rely on others to do that for her, to reassure her, to get her through her anxiety. If Hope crumbled and their roles were reversed, would she be able to step up into that role? She didn’t know. But she did know that she’d do everything in her power to get her friend back.
Ruth sighed heavily and lay on her back, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of her thoughts. She turned toward the wall, her eyes finding a small photograph propped up on the small shelf against the wall of her bunk. Oh, how she longed to go back to when things were so much simpler, to when she and Hope were happy, to when she could smile and laugh with the man she loved, to when she still had her freedom.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered the words she longed to say to him even though he couldn’t hear her. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper in the silence of the room.
Frank walked back into the room with a sigh, tossing his jacket back onto the table. “I can’t see anything, soI’ll go back out in a little bit. I don’t think she wants to be found right now, anyways.”
“Did I do something wrong?” she inquired quietly, turning to face him. 
He ran a tired hand down his face and scratched his growing stubble. “No. I-I just don’t know what to do. I’ll wait up for her, alright? You go to sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Now go on. I know you’re exhausted.”
Bidding him goodnight with a quiet murmur, Ruth reached out and picked up her photograph, holding it closer to her chest as she gazed at the image of her and John. Their smiles were frozen in time and the sweet memory was immortalized forever. Despite her worry for her friend, Ruth finally succumbed to exhaustion, her grip on the photo never faltering as she drifted off to sleep.
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Five AM came in the blink of an eye, and Ruth begrudgingly sat up, wrapping her blanket around her body when the morning chill bit at her skin. She looked over at Hope’s bunk, expecting her to be staring up at the underside of Frank’s bunk like her nightmare never happened, but all she saw was crumpled sheets. Frank was always the first awake, sitting at the table with a cup of lukewarm ersatz coffee he got from the kriegie kitchen next door to their block. Ruth stood and found Frank’s empty bunk looked the same as Hope’s.
Bright sunlight filtered through the room’s one window, lighting up the space. Frank was surely out searching for Hope, and Ruth doubted that he got even a wink of sleep waiting up for her. With a sigh, she got herself ready and sat out on the steps of her block, watching as the camp came alive with prisoners, each starving for their breakfast. The warm days had turned into cooler ones as September faded into October and Summer faded to Fall. Soon, she feared, winter would be upon them and they would have no way to stay warm. They heard from the compound old-timers of the harsh German winters, and they sounded anything but pleasant, especially as a prisoner of war.
A man walked by her with a cup of coffee and her stomach rumbled as hunger pains shot through her abdomen. Although it had only been three weeks since they began eating less-than-nutritious meals, Ruth noticed her already large clothes nearly falling off her slimming frame. They all tried to eat anytime they could, but it still wasn’t enough, even with the Red Cross packages the received once a week. In truth, the packages were the only thing really keeping the kriegies from starving.
As she scanned the compound for any sign of her friends, Ruth’s eyes caught on two familiar figures and she let out a relieved breath. She stood to her feet and did her best to put on a smile as they approached. Hope sent her one in return, but it didn’t reach her eyes…none of her smiles did anymore. Linking her hand through Ruth’s, she squeezed it gently. Ruth was somewhat pleased to see even the faintest smile on Hope’s face, even if it was forced. She’d been so withdrawn since their arrival to the Stalag that Ruth worried she was slowly slipping away before her eyes.
The trio made their way over to the kitchen window, each collecting their modest breakfast of black bread, which according to a few of the old timers, was filled with sawdust. 
“I miss the breakfast back at base,” Frank groaned as he chewed through the tough, brown slice. He was thankful he had always had good teeth, otherwise he risked losing a few just at breakfast. 
The girls nodded in agreement, their mouths watering at the thought of powdered eggs, toast, maybe even some bacon and hot coffee that didn’t taste like total crap. Ruth still kept a vivid memory of the man by the gate when they arrived who was just skin and bone. Hope had seen a man similar in the infirmary where she was helping out and told Ruth that the man was still in good spirits, but that didn’t help the fear that grew inside her chest. 
Would she end up just like him?
Hope was thankful for a job in the infirmary working alongside a few of the camp's doctors. She’d been given a sense of purpose which had been taken from her, and despite the lack of sleep and the ache in her chest, she managed to pull herself out of bed each day for that purpose. Ruth was happy for her. Hope was born to be a nurse, it was her calling and seeing her helping people again gave them all a little hope. The back and forth between Hope’s moods worried her friends more than anything. 
Ruth found her own purpose in the camp by teaching some of her fellow POWs how to read. Many of them were just boys when the depression hit and were forced to drop out of school to work the fields to keep their families afloat. So every morning after breakfast and their morning appell, Frank walked her to the Kriegie school, nicknamed Kriegie University, and she taught a few classes throughout the day. One was a basic reading class, and the others were literature studies like the ones she taught back home. If there was one thing Stalag Luft III had an overabundance of, it was books. The south compound’s extensive library was a popular spot, and it gave Ruth the perfect material to use in her classroom.
Frank took up working in one of the camp’s relied-on gardens. The girls had encouraged him to take up a study he might have been interested in, but he seemed happy in the garden. 
“You girls know I’m better with my hands, that’s why I fly the plane,” he’d told them. 
He’d supplemented his time between the garden and playing baseball which seemed to bring back some of the old Frank. Watching him play reminded the girls of the fun-loving young man he was. The war had aged them all and they sometimes forgot that Frank wasn’t really that much older than them.
After breakfast and the 6 am appell, they went their separate ways, Hope strutting toward the infirmary and Frank dropping off Ruth at the school on the way to the garden. Her classroom wasn’t big by any means and was just bigger than their room, but it sent her back to the days before the war, before she joined the nurse corps…when she poured into young minds day after day.
Her first class of the day was British Literature and around ten men slowly filtered through the door and sat at the three tables spread throughout the room. The men in this class, unlike her basic reading ones, were college students when the war broke out. Some were drafted while others put their studies on hold and volunteered. The youngest was 19 and the oldest was 21. Remembering her years in college, Ruth’s heart ached for the boys and their sacrifice of a normal life to defend their country. 
All of them had their notebooks given by the Red Cross open and ready to go when Ruth handed out the day’s text, each one greeting her with a half-smile and good morning. 
“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, holding up the book she handed out. “Have any of you read Beowulf before?”
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“Don’t forget to read pages 186 through 215 before next class!”
Once the last of Ruth’s students trickled out the door, she sat down at her small desk and graded their latest assignment. Reading paper after paper, marking correct or incorrect, circling a letter at the top of the page, time sped by. Even back home, the process of grading papers, despite how pesky and time consuming it was, always gave Ruth time to think. Sitting in her small classroom, she thought of her family, her parents,  how worried they must be. It was the first thing she’d do once they were allowed to send mail again, write a letter telling her parents she was alive. Home. It was also a topic she thought of often.
Her mind then shifted to John as it often did at random moments. Ruth wondered what he was doing. Was he fully in his element, soaring through the sky in his fort, leading his men through no matter what? Sitting in their corner of the Dickleburgh pub nursing a glass of whiskey? Singing his heart out in the Officer’s Club? Whatever he was doing, she hoped he thought of her like she did of him. The devil on her shoulder whispered that he didn’t, that he’d forgotten about her the second she went down. But the angel on the other reminded her of all the times they shared, all the memories full of love and promises for the future. He wouldn’t forget about her…she wouldn’t let him. His would be the second letter she’d send.
Hope. The nightmares, the closed-off attitude, all of it. The woman she knew and loved, her best friend, was morphing into someone she didn’t recognize. What could she do if Hope wouldn’t let her in? How could anyone help if someone doesn’t let them? Soon, her brain became a jumbled mess of memories, Beowulf, worries, and everything else.
The smell of honeysuckles in early spring, Grendel, John smiling at her atop the Muggs, A+, family dinners at the local diner, 10/12: B-, Hope’s terrified eyes from that morning. 
The hours passed in a flash, and before she knew it, Ruth stared at the bare wood of her desk, the full stack of graded papers to her right. She blinked away her thoughts and glanced at her watch, cursing under her breath as 11:55 am stared back at her. 
She was almost late to meet Frank and Hope for lunch! Ruth quickly gathered her things and left the school, treading through the ever-present mud toward the mess hut. Her eyes scanned the men around her as she walked. She caught sight of one of the guards, his bright blonde hair sticking out from the sides of his cap while he stared at her, never pulling his eyes from her figure. Ruth pretended she didn’t see him. The less attention she showed, the better. Over their two weeks in the camp, the guards hadn’t messed with them at all, but they stared…they loved to stare. 
“I was about to come looking for ya!”
Frank leaned against the mess hut with a cigarette between his fingers, blowing out a puff of smoke. The unease from the guard slowly faded away at the sight of his comforting form. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them if he was near…they both knew that.
“I had a bunch of papers to grade,” she sighed, mirroring his stance against the building and readjusting her sling. “Time…it, uh, got away from me.”
He raised a brow skeptically, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Are you sure that’s it?”
“No,” Ruth whispered brokenly.
“What is it?”
“Everything, but Hope…Frank, I-I’m worried about her.”
“Something must’ve happened at Dulag Luft when we were separated. She’s been different since then. Not that we’ll ever be the same, but-”
“I know,” she interrupted. “We need to find out. If she won’t talk to me, maybe she’ll talk to you. We have to try.”
Frank ran a tired hand down his face, his eyes filled with worry. “I’ll try.”
“I don’t know what else to-”
Spotting Hope over Ruth’s shoulder, he cleared his throat and nodded her way, the pair going silent as the woman approached.
“Everything alright?” Hope asked, falling into step beside Ruth who gave her a reassuring nod. 
“Yes, I was just telling Frank about my morning, I’ve been so busy with classes that I almost missed lunch.” 
Hope was pleased to see the way Ruth’s eyes lit up as she spoke about her teaching. She would have loved to have known her before the war, before they each had a part of themselves ripped away, but seeing her now reminded Hope that they might be able to find their old selves again one day. 
Lunch consisted of thin, runny potato soup with a few vegetables from the camp garden. Frank beamed as he pointed out his effort in helping prepare the vegetables for their meal. 
“Who knew Frank was so green fingered,” Ruth chuckled, slurping the soup from her spoon.
“Well they way he used to hug those hedges back in Norfolk,” Hope jested, “It’s a wonder ‘The Angel’ never ended up in one.”
Frank rolled his eyes dramatically at the girls' antics, pleased to see they could still laugh about something. He wasn’t sure how they kept him smiling but they always managed it. He worried of course, between Hope closing herself off from them and Ruth’s endless worry he wondered how they smiled at all. There were moments when it felt like they were back in Berkshire sitting around the mess hall telling stories from their childhoods.
“Well, I always said you should have got your pilot wings, Hope. I wouldn’t have minded you as a co-pilot.” 
Hope gave him a faint smile. Thinking of perusing a different career seemed so far away from where they were.
“She’d have given you a run for your money, Frank,” Ruth giggled again, finishing up her soup. She glanced over at Hope who just sent her a small smile again. There were moments when she saw the old Hope again rather than the closed-off shell of the woman she had become. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she could only tiptoe around on eggshells for so long before someone cracked. 
“I should be getting back to my classroom,” Ruth declared, pushing back her rickety, wooden chair and stepping back. “I’ll see you both later.” 
“Be careful, Ruth. Do you want me to walk with you?” Frank asked, half pushing his chair back but she waved him away. 
“It’s not far, Frank. I’ll be fine,” she smiled at Frank but nudged her head towards Hope, trying to prompt Frank to follow through on their earlier conversation. 
Frank nodded. 
“Bye Rue,” Hope’s quiet voice could barely be heard above the noises around them but Ruth did. She sent her friend a small smile. It felt like that’s all they did now…smile at each other. 
Ruth hoped, prayed Frank would get through to her, that she’d finally open up. That she’d get her friend back. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down her fears and prepared herself for her next class: reading basics.
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October 22, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 15:00 HRS: 3 PM
Ruth walked around her classroom, her boots thudding against the bare wood floors as she glanced at the test on her student’s desks. They were required to read a passage and answer a few comprehension questions afterward, but some of them were struggling. These were the boys who had little to no education, who were never taught to read or write more than basic words. Part of the 10% of draftees the government alloted could be illiterate. 
Noah Alden stared at the sheet of paper, his squinted eyes focusing on the passage, letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, but his mind couldn’t wrap around its meaning. With a defeated sigh, he dropped his pencil and lowered his face into his hands. A few classmates sent him sympathetic looks, but they soon went back to their own tests. Ruth crouched beside him, his eyes raising  to hers. 
“Whatcha stuck on?” she asked quietly.
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He stared at her for a long moment, seemingly contemplating whether to tell the truth or not. He decided to be truthful “I just can’t get it.”
“The reading part? Or the questions?”
“The reading part. See this here,” Noah started, pointing to the third sentence in the paragraph. “What does this mean?”
Before Ruth could respond, the shrill sound of a siren filled the air and the men all looked at each other excitedly, their eyes widening in anticipation. Even Noah’s downtrodden expression lifted, revealing a crooked smile on his lips.
New arrivals.
She stood to her feet. “Go on,” she grins, shooing them away with her hands. “We can finish this Monday.”
Within seconds, the six thanked her and were out the door, hooting and hollering like high school boys as they ran to the gate, hoping to glimpse a familiar face. Ruth collected the papers and deposited them inside her desk. For the first time since 1942, Ruth Morgan did what she was called to do: teach.
After going back to her room, grading some assignments, and catching up on some reading, she checked her watch. 5:30 pm. Hope and Frank were usually back by then, so she decided to search for them. Ruth checked the garden and the infirmary with no luck, but she felt as if the earth fell beneath her feet when she saw a group approaching from the gate. At the front of the group was Frank, who held a unmoving Hope in his arms. 
“Frank!”
Ruth’s mind went haywire at the sight and she ran to meet them. Was she dead? What happened? As she neared them, the other men’s faces came into focus. They were instantly recognizable as men from the 100th, but her main focus was her friend. 
“What happened? Is she alright?” Ruth sputtered, coming to a stop before him and hesitantly raising a hand to Hope’s emotionless face. Dried tear tracks streaking down her cheeks were visible from where she leaned into Frank’s embrace. 
Frank just sighed, his tired eyes falling to Hope’s  figure. “Cleven’s here.” 
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narnian-neverlander · 2 years ago
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Reaching Out [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]
Plot Summary: The Sovereign are responsible for some of the biggest tragedies in your life. But when you meet one of them that just seems different, you find yourself reevaluating your stance and reaching out to him.
Word Count: 1,6k
Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence
A/N: Haven’t written/posted sth in about… 5-6 years??? But of course Will Poulter being a literal and figurative golden boy is what gets me back to it 🤷
This was really just supposed to be a prelude to a scenario I actually wanted to write, but it kinda got away from me, so have it on it’s own
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Best friend or not, when you’d come back from a mission of your own to learn that Rocket’s kleptomaniac tendencies had put you smack dab in the middle of a crossfire with the Sovereign, you’d had half a mind to stuff and mount him to a wall. You’d spent almost your entire life hiding from that nation and now you were back on their radar. After just barely escaping Ego and the Sovereign army by the skin of your teeth, you’d immediately started packing, ready to run and hide again; they would come for you, that hadn’t been a question of if, but when. And you would not put your newfound family at risk by staying with them.
Except… they’d refused to let you leave. Every last one of them. They’d sat you down and demanded an explanation at the very least, so you’d done just that. Told them about how the Sovereign had considered your people a threat, an abomination even, due to your shapeshifting abilities. About the destruction of your planet, your people and finally finding a temporary safe haven on the little mud-ball known as earth. It’d been quiet for a long moment after that, then Gamora had shrugged and with a very blunt ‘What’s one more target on our backs?’ the discussion was over and Drax was carrying your bags back to your room before you could utter a single word of protest. You would never admit it to any of them, but you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. People you could rely on, who’d risk their lives for you - you hadn’t had that in a very long time.
The memory of that day had been fresh on your mind when your retrieval mission at Orgocorp’s headquarters had gone sideways; severely outnumbered with the Sovereign and the High Evolutionary’s lackeys on their way, you’d gladly stayed behind to give your friends a clean escape. The fact that you’d ended up in the hands of the people you’d been hiding from your whole life didn’t matter if it meant giving the others a chance to save Rocket.
You’d only arrived on Knowhere to the aftermath of the attack of the Sovereign’s newest weapon, but whatever you’d been expecting hadn’t been… him. He was different from any Sovereign you’d ever come across. The golden-skinned race of people weren’t exactly known to be particularly individualistic or open-minded, but the Warlock constantly asked questions in such innocence and naivety, it was almost endearing - and frustrating to the High Priestess to no end. The incredulous bark of laughter that had escaped you when he’d flat out told her that he did not like how hurting people made him feel had earned you a few new bruises to the face from the annoyed woman, but it’d been worth it. There was something absolutely hysterical to you about their perfect super weapon apparently having just a bit too much of a mind of his own, only further proven when he’d openly opposed his mother and had insisted on keeping the Ravager’s pet as his companion.
And then he’d saved Peter. Unprompted, a choice all his own; maybe the very first of it’s kind he’d made. As baffling as it had been, you’d seen a lot during your travels of the universe, so maybe, just maybe, a Sovereign with a kind heart wasn’t completely unthinkable. So when you leave the cantina, tears still fresh in your eyes from having said goodbye to some of the people you called family, and find him sitting hunched over on a flight of stairs, dirty, bruised and looking so incredibly lost and alone, you decide to do the unthinkable yourself: you reach out.
There’s plenty of people buzzing about, already repairing the damage the battle did to Knowhere and helping the new arrivals settle in. You grab a blanket from one of them as you pass and weave your way through the crowd. He doesn’t even realize he’s your target until you drape the blanket over his shoulders, making him flinch in the process. Wide, surprised eyes follow your movements as you settle down next to him on the stairs, but he pulls the fabric tighter around himself anyways. There’s a beat of awkward silence during which you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this approach through in it’s entirety, but there is one thing that comes to mind that you decide to ask him about. “You know, between you trying to kill us, my best friend almost dying and some lunatic almost destroying our home… I don’t think I ever actually caught your name. It can’t just be the Warlock, can it?”
“Adam. My name is Adam.” he answers and you give an acknowledging nod as you hold out your hand to him. “Alright, it’s nice to kinda officially meet you, Adam. I’m (y/n).” He stares at your offered hand with furrowed brows and it occurs to you that in all likelihood, the guy has no idea what a handshake even is. “I’m fully aware of who you are; (y/n), the shifter.” Dropping your hand back into your lap, you honestly feel like backing off and just leaving him be. But you don’t. “Right… I’m sure Ayesha told you everything about me…” He seems to brighten at the mention of his mother, but it’s gone just as quickly and replaced by the same exhaustion he’s had in his eyes since you approached him. “She did. To help me with my mission, she gave me very detailed reports on all of you. But-“
Soft music playing from the speakers above you interrupts him and a light chuckle leaves your lips as you recognize the band as one of your favorites from earth; you catch Rocket’s eye from across the square and he gives you a grin and a wink, earning a shake of your head and a laugh in return. Bringing your attention back to the golden man beside you, you find his focus on the crowd and your friends, curiosity written all over his features, accompanied by a small, albeit sad smile. He’d quite obviously never seen a celebration before, had had no victories to celebrate. Hadn’t known the sacrifices that so often went hand in hand with triumph.
“But…?” you prompt gently and he brings his golden eyes back to you. He studies you for a long moment and you’re honestly not quite sure what exactly it is he’s looking for, but he seems to find it all the same. “But… I’m starting to think she was… mistaken about some of it. The things mother told me about the Guardians, specifically about you… don’t align with what I’ve seen for myself.” Humming thoughtfully, you start tapping your foot along to the song as the crowd starts letting loose and picking up pace. “Well… forming your own opinions, your own path? Admitting that not everything that you were taught is necessarily the right thing? That’s all part of growing up. Of becoming your own person. It’s a good thing.” He vehemently shakes his head at that. “It doesn’t feel good. My stomach hurts and it’s like I can’t breathe and I feel so… so…” He struggles to find the right words, but you know exactly what he’s talking about; you’ve been there yourself. “Small? Helpless? Despite your powers?” When he nods in affirmation, you continue. “What you’re feeling is fear. You’re scared. Scared about change, about the unknown that now lies in front of you. It’s perfectly normal, everybody gets scared sometimes.”
If possible, his shoulders slump further and he seems to curl into himself even more. In spite of his tall stature, he seems so incredibly small in that very moment and it makes your heart clench. “Everybody gets scared… I don’t have everybody to guide me, though. I do not have anyone left...” You don’t mean to, you truly don’t, but you can’t help the inelegant snort that escapes you at that; one that erupts into full blown laughter when he gives you a look that can only be described as somewhere between scandalized and actually hurt. “Please”, you manage between wheezes, “you really think we’re gonna save your life and then leave you to fend for yourself? Nah, you can stay here with us - only if you want, of course.” He blinks at you, once, twice, before he says “But… I tried to kill you?” His deadpan delivery makes you laugh yet again, even if it is the truth. “Yeah, we’ve all tried to do that to each other at one point or another, actually.” You find Nebula, gleefully dancing with some of the kids and a grin spreads across your face. “Some on more than one occasion. But here we are, one big, happy, messed up family.”
Adam still looks as puzzled as ever; why would you willingly form a family with people who’d tried to murder you? It’s obvious he’s overwhelmed with… everything, really, so you decide to drop the big, life changing conversation topics for now as you get up and dust yourself off. “Listen, all I’m saying is, you’ve got people here who are similar to you in some ways. Maybe sticking around and learning from them could help you. Either way, I think you’d fit in just fine around here, golden boy.” Big, hopeful, golden eyes follow your movements as you offer your hand to him yet again. “Come on, let’s go find you a place to rest up, okay?” There’s no confusion or hesitation this time as he takes your outstretched hand and let’s you pull him to his feet. Despite the state he’s in, he’s warm, you note, like a bunch of tiny golden suns are burning right under his skin. And as you tug him along behind you, through small alleys and groups of dancing people, he holds on tight and you decide you like how his hand feels in yours.
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strangelittlestories · 10 months ago
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Three weeks into the latest depressive episode A magazine calls - they want me on the cover
I tell them they’ve made a mistake I tell them the only reason I picked up Was for the sticky ‘ew’ feeling Of answering a phone call In this day and age
I tell them I haven’t showered And all I’ve eaten today Is a pack of six bake-at-home cinnamon buns And I feel a bit sick
He tells me I work for ‘Not Okay’ Magazine And we don’t make mistakes
Well, okay, we do Often But most of the time they’re sexy mistakes. We both know he’s lying, But I agree out of exhaustion.
They send a photographer to my flat We agree on a series of tasteful nudes With unwashed laundry And mouldy mugs In all the right places. They ooze attitude They also ooze literal ‘ooze’ Because of the, y’know, mould.
I list my nearest and dearest So they can ask for quotes. The one they print reads: “I wouldn’t really call us friends I haven’t heard from them In years I assumed they were mad at me.”
We chat in my living room Over a single measuring jug filled With expired instant coffee The interviewer breathes in a waft Of bovril-smelling caffeine slurry  And wipes the awe from his eyes Then says:
“A few years ago No-one knew you You were medium sad The human equivalent of a drive-thru restaurant Bad, sure, but everyone knew what they were getting. You were … a C minus.
But now? You’re a landmark A national trust ruin They may as well tattoo ‘This is not a place of honour’ On the small of your back.
My doctor heard I was interviewing you And referred me for therapy  As a precaution. So let me ask the question on everyone’s lips? What’s your secret?”
“What a great question.” I say, wrestling the coffee From his hands Because I deserve it
“It takes a lot of practice. You’ve just got to make time To remap your synapses I try to fit in one life-changingly bad event a year To really forge new wide-ranging roads Through my internal atlas Away from those depots of cloying serotonin I know I don’t deserve. Y’know, something really verve-destroying.
I’ve careened across the map Wheels burning into redundancy town Double-parking at heartbreak hotel (did you know you could fail a break-up?) Getting a ticket on bereavement boulevard A hit-and-run through jury service-ville (leaving my faith in humanity behind)
And of course Pandemic City was a blessing  for all us sad-sacks But an extra spicy affair if you worked in healthcare
Finally, I crashed the metaphor into a river On the coldest night on record But it was pretty shallow And I think the cold probably helped Shock me out of it. Plus, I made it home with my trousers only partially frozen.
We are creatures of habit, Michael Can I call you Michael?”
(He quickly corrects me - Michael is not his name - “I didn’t ask you what your fucking name was I asked if I could call you Michael” He says yes)
“Like I said - creatures of habit If you *practice* If you really dig your feet in If you cut a wide furrow through the mud Some part of you will start to think Of the hole you burrowed in the dirt As home.
Your highest landmarks Are distant skyline and To visit would feel like trespassing.”
At the end of the interview I ask Michael If he’s sure I’m qualified To be a coverperson
After all There are so many people More ‘not okay’ than me Or who have more reason to be Yet remain seemingly functional.
“That’s the beauty of Not Okay magazine,” he says, with a smile like marshmallow “We don’t judge or rank. We ask for one thing: That today you are not okay.
In its own way, every sadness is interesting Even when it feels boring as the road you grew up on Tomorrow you might even be happy That’s okay too. Tomorrow is an impossibility of sunrises. Today - you are seen.”
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electrospherevaults · 8 months ago
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Victory at Vineta
[Published for Sternzeit Tänze – a Signalis Zine on April 28th] [Read on AO3] [Find other stories from the 2024 Friday Writing Challenge here]
“Do you remember the morning sky? When you could see it with both your eyes and recognize each cloud?”
She woke up from the midday slumber. Mangled bodies all around her, some hooked up to blood packs and morphine, others simply crossing words out in newspapers with faded dates. She felt an itch and tried to scratch it.
The shrapnel had landed mere metres away. Elise exploded into pink mist. It was only yesterday where they had joked about their parents waiting back home; now a part of her in the form of a locket was lodged inside the cranium, just sideways enough to avoid permanent injury. It was a miracle she was still alive, with only minor eyesight woes to contend with.
“Minor? She lost an entire fucking e–”
“Keep your volume low, Miss Seo,” the Replika nurse pleaded – an EULR; she recognized the cadence, for no one else she had met in her tour spoke like them. She turned to look at her Comrade standing next to the Replika, uniform still bloodied from all the fighting. You could see her breath crystalize in the air.
It would be the New Year soon. The New Season. Whatever this wretched place called it now.
“Alina.”
The Comrade and the Replika turned their heads. Alina smiled, a wave of relief washing over her soot and debris covered face. Scars and cuts and all did not take away the softness her gentleness offered. Not before long, she was right by her nightstand.
“You gave us a proper fright out there! Helena and Birgit were–”
“How many of us are left?”
Alina swallowed her tongue. “Not many.”
“Half?”
“With you, yes.”
She turned away. The itch returned. It burned something fierce, wanting to dig itself out of the great hole carved within her. And yet her hand was now held by bare skin instead of a thick leather glove.
“It’s a miracle you’re still alive, Lilith. I am extremely grateful for it.”
The ambush that day claimed many Eusan lives, Gestalt and Replika alike. A surprise attack from both flanks, a result of over-extended lines and prolonged fighting. Buyan artillery may rain daily, but cockroaches survive even the harshest of nuclear winters.
They had to learn how to swim as the shorelines gave way to the waves. The battles had grown shorter as the war carried on for longer – and the one fought yesterday was another classic recipe for disaster. Nobody wants to close the chapter of a book fighting, let alone begin another one doing more of the same. The superiors want their bonuses; to go back home heroes, to etch themselves in marble alongside the Great Revolutionary. To be part of the legend of the Nation’s construction of its grand revolution. No revolution comes without blood, but how it is spent and how it is spilled is always a contention.
Lilith knew all that. She had studied the great Vinetan generals back at the academy. The great wars across the solars, the Empress and her expeditions. She graduated top of her class, she was meant to lead this unit, but she had stepped back.
A momentary sign of weakness? Cowardice, maybe? A desire to stay small, stay irrelevant, to avoid heroics because those lead to death, as papa used to say?
And half of them were dead now.
“But the other half are still alive.” They shared a minced pie, torn in half, tomato sauce spilling from the crevices onto her pants. A good thing about these battle fatigues is that it made it harder to tell the blood from the mud.
“I heard the General wants to commemorate you, Lilith.”
“What for?”
She frowned, turning back to the silver linings of the skies above. “I nearly lost you! You were supposed to ship back to Rotfront – and yet, here you are. Alive, brandishing a gun, still fighting! Maybe you’re down one eye but–”
“I still got one more,” she fired back, pointing it out with a cocky smile raised. “Got to keep it on you, no?”
She loved making her laugh. She loved holding her hand. She often recalled the memory of her soft skin when she rested atop that hospital bed and the respite it offered, so much more potent and necessary than the morphine and the blood packs. She channelled that memory as the flash photography blinded her vision, and the smoke of cigars and the aroma of brandy saturated the air.
These ceremonies were something Papa used to listen to ardently on the radio. Lilith would wonder if he was listening now still, wherever he had ended up. The soldiers shuffled – men and women, giving their lives for their planet, for their nation, for their Great Revolutionary. All that was asked of them was a very simple question.
“Do you bleed, Soldat?”
“I bleed profusely. Every drop spilled has been for our glorious revolution. None in vain.”
The General smiled, patting her shoulder and her freshly adorned new rank. “An exceptional Soldat. You have turned these imperial hounds into puppies, running away with their tails in-between their legs!”
The General then turned towards the cameras and smiled widely. Lilith followed in his steps, offering a gentle but assured smile she would grow to resent. He turned again to face her, an envelope on hand. The cacophony intensified. It itched fiercely.
“You will redeploy soon. I want you to bleed them out. Make them regret they were born.”
“Get on with it, Soldat.”
It was on a beachhead they last saw each other again. Their last comrade in the photo laid slain. The incense burned in the air, mixing with the seafoam and the ocean waves.
For once, the sky was blue.
“Do you remember the morning sky? When you could see it with both your eyes and recognize each cloud?”
She asked her in a sea of golden rays; no silver linings to grasp for this time, no fire to cuddle under, no silver and steel and lead to brandish for protection. The sky was blue, and it was falling. Victory was achieved. Her itch tore her heart open. This itch killed her long before the bullet that would meet her.
All she could do was turn one last time to face her.
“Kiss me, Alina. Take my pain away.”
[ > COMPARTMENTALIZING TRAUMA < ]
She woke up from the midday slumber. The tape had run out long ago. Ali- no, not her. It was her by her side. The Gestalt Officer. Her name was Ariane. She was still in her work pants, top undone as she would at the end of each cycle. She slept so peacefully.
She turned her gaze back towards the static of the TV. What a droning sound, all that static. Squint your eyes and lull your ears, and you can still hear the faint screams of agony from the battlefields of Vineta in the distance. The war that claimed her prior life was ten years ago. As far as she knew, it never ended.
New life was born out of each miserably lodged bullet that had to be dug out of her old Gestalt body from back then. And this new Replika life stared in a future that was made full of stars, with Ariane shining the brightest among them.
She planted a kiss on her lover’s forehead, and checked in with her internal clock. Their shifts were meant to start two hours ago. They had been getting sloppy.
Get on with it, Soldat.
She smiled – nearly chuckled – shaking her head. She instead laid down besides the woman she loved, dreaming together of morning skies, calm seas and clouds they could recognize with their own two eyes.
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cedarboughs · 4 months ago
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Hiking Journal: The West Coast Trail
Day III: Matter Over Mind
August 30
Camper Bay to Walbran Creek
Writing in my folded journal days later, I didn’t seem to want to think about this day too much. Writing this post half a month later (it’s been busy, guys) I have to reconstruct.
My main memory is mud. Deep mud, bridged, and I use that word very loosely, by random scatterings of discarded boards that sink to the unseen bottom as often as not.
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At least I saw this little stream grotto with a nice mushroom.
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People talk up the ladders of the West Coast Trail as the hard part, and I don’t know why. Ladders are fine. Ladders stay where you step on them!
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We got relief from the mud down steep ladders to Sandstone Creek, which is a beautiful spot where water cascades down under the bridge and off a final drop into a sediment-scarlet plunge cauldron.
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Then more ladders (the longest ladders on the trail) to Cullite Creek, a spot that could have and maybe should have been our camp, but was only lunch.
Logan Creek has no ladders. The new suspension bridge that replaced the down-and-up in 2021 seems out of place. In the sense that it’s not falling apart. Good thing, too— the 100 metre sturdy steel span is an uncanny reminder that civilization is out there somewhere. The Golden Skybridge of similar construction claims to be the highest bridge of that sort in the country, but the Logan Creek bridge seems higher than that tourist trap to me.
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After the bridge, mud again— not just mud, but bog! Bottomless bog! When Dad slipped off a particularly round and slippery log crossing, he landed knee-deep, and in spots our probing poles went even deeper. Most of this bog is crossed with boardwalks— most, thus the logs, bridging one of a dozen or more spots where the boardwalk has entirely dissolved.
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Stunted cedars grow here among dead grey spars of their forebear killed by the encroaching acidic slurry.
Past the bog— more mud! More roots! More deadly obstacle courses, step after gastrocnemius-burning, high, meticulously planned step, kilometre after painstakingly slow kilometre. I moved beyond doubt into certainty that I wouldn't make it. After all, we weren't even particularly close yet to kilometre fifty out of seventy-five. How could I possible do the last three days again, twice, and still have further to go?
Trekking the West Coast Trail is a matter of matter over mind. One must accept, mentally, that the achievement of completion is impossible, that one absolutely can't, by any rational means or measure, take another step. Accepting this conviction frees up the precious energy that one might use up in fighting it. Then, while the mental battle resolves in surrender to stepping no more, simply find, stretch for, and take another step.
Somehow— writing by hand on the evening of Day VI I didn't remember how, nor has it come back to me by the time I type this out— we stumbled into Walbran Creek Camp as early sunset began to colour the sky over the distant mountains of the Olympic Peninsula in another nation far across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Theoretical Cascadian interdependence notwithstanding.
As I watched the surf break, an alien black triangle emerged from the near water. Grey whales, rolling in the shallows to dig up a feast of sand-dwelling critters. They kept at it all night, huge fins rising out of the wave troughs with fluked tails flipping behind.
The campsite was busy as we made dinner, tents all packed in among the driftwood, barely a spare metre between them.. The whales played all night, but I needed sleep. I didn't know how I could continue, but I would continue. They did say at orientation that we should celebrate at Walbran, because the hardest part was past. We still weren't even a third of the way, and I'd been crying out of despair on the beach.
I left my vestibule open that night, propped wide by my poles.
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Between the poles as I lay down my head, I could still see the whales turning in the surf below and the darkening twilight sky above. One star came out over the fading outline of Washington. Jupiter, maybe, the king of planets and pantheons playing evening star, or else bear-guarding red giant Arcturus beaming on a summer night.
Later on towards midnight when I woke, the sky was bright and clear. The galactic plane flowed bright into the ocean. Bright Vega and Lyra were overhead. Draco twisted among the twin bears. On the tip of the cub's tail, Polaris pointed onwards. Pointing north.
Even the great celestial hieroglypsh are bodies of dust illuminated / And if the heavens can be both sacred and dust / Well maybe so can the rest of us.
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lupinuslepidus · 6 months ago
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last couple of weeks of fieldwork happened but were filled with chaos that included a crew of interns, hiring nonsense, permitting nonsense, and extreme weather including both a record-breaking heat wave and thunderstorms. we were bouncing up and down the east side of the sierra (at one point we crossed the CA/NV border, like, six times over the span of two days because the mountains we were in were very precisely bisected by it.) the epic highs & lows of fieldwork included:
sampling in Death Valley National Park during the heat wave. this was actually less bad than when we were sampling across the way from Death Valley, because 8000 feet vs. 5000 feet of elevation is a very noticeable difference when it's over ninety degrees out.
we had a team of interns who were remarkably good sports and helped tide us over when our crew was briefly down to just 2 people!
i later found out that the interns had been, uh, maybe misled about how much work they'd be doing, which went a long way to explaining why they had a chronically exhausted air about them. that's academia for you i guess
got to see the ancient bristlecone pine forest on our days off!
ditched some gear in the field at one point bc i didn't feel like carrying a long metal thingy through an Active Thunderstorm while we were a couple hundred feet off a mountain peak
ditched our camp overnight bc didn't feel like taking the car back up a muddy road following an Active Thunderstorm, since the tires had real bad traction on mud
got told by a motel manager the night that we ditched camp that i? smell like pine? which. was not the worst thing. and makes sense given my constant layer of pine sap residue. but sure was an interaction that happened
got to swim in alpine lakes on our days off!
stopped taking my lunch breaks because it was the only way to even slightly keep up once our crew was back up to 4 people
and by 'keep up' i mean i was still consistently finishing 30 minutes behind the other
i don't. recommend this
a couple nights in various spots, we heard coyote packs yipping somewhere around our camp, which is a haunting and unexpectedly lovely experience. genuinely highly recommend waking up to the sound of coyotes at three a.m.
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feedingtheflockministry · 2 years ago
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Stop Trying to Change the Dogs
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“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.” Matthew 7:6
“Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me; they pierce my hands and my feet.” Psalms 22:16
“Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.” Revelation 22:15
“Watch out for those dogs, those evildoers, those mutilators of the flesh.” Philippians 3:2
“Come, all you beasts of the field, come and devour, all you beasts of the forest! Israel’s watchmen are blind, they all lack knowledge; they are all mute dogs, they cannot bark; they lie around and dream, they love to sleep. They are dogs with mighty appetites; they never have enough. They are shepherds who lack understanding; they all turn to their own way, they seek their own gain. “Come,” each one cries, “let me get wine! Let us drink our fill of beer! And tomorrow will be like today, or even far better.” Isaiah 56:9-12
“They return at evening, snarling like dogs, and prowl about the city.” Psalms 59:6
“Of them the proverbs are true: “A dog returns to its vomit,” and, “A sow that is washed returns to her wallowing in the mud.” 2 Peter 2:22
The Message:
There is something worth noting about scripture when it comes to the term “dog”, and that is when this term is used in reference to people it is never good. As we can see from the scriptures dogs are; violent, villains, murderers, those who practice magic arts, witchcraft, and new age practices, they are sexually immoral, worship man made idols, as well as other people, they love and teach / practice falsehoods, drunks, lazy, lack understanding and find no value in righteous living, they are lovers of self above all others.
Why does this matter? It matters because we as followers of Christ try day after day online and offline to change the behavior of these “dogs” through telling them they are evil and sinful people. We often get upset when they retaliate through comments, verbal abuse, or physical violence. For we were told not to give what is sacred and holy to “dogs” or “swine”. For they love their evil and selfish deeds.
We need to be making new disciples for Christ, not raging against the world. For Jesus said this about judgement day, “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’” In Matthew 25:31-46 He gives even more detail about those that make it to Heaven and those that do not. Good deeds combined with one’s faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior is what gets you into Heaven. Even reading through John 3:16-21. Don’t just read verse 16 and stop.
Lastly, we must follow the steps Jesus gave us about how to make new disciples in the great commission. He said this, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” We must first baptize someone into the faith, THEN teach them the what is righteous and true. It is much easier to teach someone who wants to learn than someone who does not. For it is easier to lead a lamb than a stubborn goat that plants their feet in the dirt and will not come with you no matter how much you push and pull on them.
So moving forward in your ministry efforts, do not fight with “dogs”, “swine”, or “goats”. Rather block them online without a response. They only want to argue with you in order to make their case before you and those who will see it. They seek to slander you and discredit you in your words. They want you to act as they do so they can call you a hypocrite. Do not give into this temptation from the children of darkness.
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brookston · 1 year ago
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Holidays 9.30
Holidays
Agricultural Reform Day (Sao Tome and Principe)
Arizona Monsoon Season ends
Army Incompetence Day
Birth of Morelos (Mexico)
Botswana Day (Botswana)
Boy’s Day (Poland)
Chewing Gum Day
Day of Hungarian Folktales (Hungary)
Do Something Wacky With A Grandparent Day
E-mail Debt Forgiveness Day
Frisbee Day
International Blasphemy Rights Day (a.k.a. Blasphemy Day)
International Podcast Day
International Recovery Day
International Thunderbirds Day
International Translation Day (UN)
Jananeta Irawat Birth Day (Manipur, India)
Kokkeisetsu (Japan)
Liberation Day (Abkhazia)
Limb Girdle Muscular Dystrophy Awareness Day
Monkey Bars Day
National Black Funding Day
National Chewing Gum Day
National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools
National Kratom Day
National Love People Day
National Microcephaly Awareness Day
National Mud Pack Day
National Nonspeaking / Nonverbal Awareness Day (UK)
National Pet Tricks Day (UK)
National PrepareAthon! Day [also 4.30]
National Puppy Mill Survivor Day
National Sporting Heritage Day (UK)
National Teach Spanish Day
Neonatal Intensive Care Awareness Day
Orange Shirt Day (Canada)
Parsnip Day (French Republic Day)
Peon Day (Warcraft)
Pink Out Day
Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]
Recovery Day (Canada)
Rumi Day
Secretary Day (Venezuela)
Thunderbirds Day
Time For Yoga Day
Truth and Reconciliation Day (Canada)
World Pole Dance Day
Food & Drink Celebrations
Austrian Beer Day (Austria)
Extra Virgin Olive Oil Day
Hot Mulled Cider Day
National Hot Mulled Cider Day
National Soufflé Potato Day
World Stroopwafel Day (Netherlands)
5th & Last Saturday in September
Centzon-Totochtin Drunken Rabbit Day [Last Saturday]
Everybody's Day Festival [Last Saturday]
Family Health and Fitness Day USA (Last Saturday]
International Lace Day [Last Saturday]
National Alpaca Farm Days begin [Last Saturday]
National Ghost Hunting Day [Last Saturday]
Nickelodeon’s Worldwide Day of Play [Last Saturday]
Save Your Photos Day [Last Saturday]
World Cyanotype Day [Last Saturday]
World Day of Leukodystrophies [Last Saturday]
Independence Days
Botswana (from UK, 1966)
Republic of Abkhazia (from Georgia, 1983) [unrecognized]
Tinakula (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]
Feast Days
Aequinoctium Autumnale II (Pagan)
Anthony Green (Artology)
Blue-Feathered Swallowing Swallow (Muppetism)
Feast of Soma (God of Ambrosia & Immortality; India)
Festival of Drunkenness (Ancient Egypt)
Festival of Tereteth (Goddess of the Coconut Toddy; Yap Island, Micronesia)
Gregory the Illuminator (Christian; Saint)
Honorius of Canterbury (Christian; Saint)
Jerome (Christian; Saint)
John Waters Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)
Medetrinalia (Fruits Offered to Goddess of Medicine; Ancient Rome)
Molière (Positivist; Saint)
Plan for the 31st if September Day (Pastafarian)
Ridiculous Excuses Day (Pastafarian)
Lucky & Unlucky Days
Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]
Uncyclopedia Bad to Be Born Today (because Green Day fans will never leave you alone.)
Premieres
Adjustment Team, by Philip K. Dick (Short Story; 1954)
Alias (TV Series; 2001)
The Ascent Of Rum Doodle, by W.E. Bowman (Novel; 1956)
The Big Chill (Film; 1983)
Bird (Film; 1988)
Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey (Children’s Book; 1948)
The Boy Friend (Broadway Musical; 1954)
Car Talk (Radio Series; 1977)
Cheers (TV Series; 1982)
The Clock Store (Disney Cartoon; 1931)
Con Man (Web Series; 2015)
Dad, Can I Borrow the Car? (Disney Short Film; 1970)
Death Valley Days (Radio Series; 1930)
Entergalactic (Animated Film; 2022)
The Family of Pascual Duarte, by Camilo José Cela (Novel; 1942)
Fantasy, by Mariah Carey (Song; 1995)
50/50 (Film; 2011)
The Flintstones (Animated TV Series; 1960)
Go Away Stowaway (WB MM Cartoon; 1967)
Grand Ole Opry (TV Series; 1950)
The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman (Novel; 2008)
The Greatest Game Ever Played (Film; 2005)
Into the Blue (Film; 2005)
Little Women (Novel; 1868)
Louis Armstrong Plays King Oliver, recorded by Louis Armstrong (Album; 1957) [1st stereo album]
Love for Sale, by Tony Bennett (Album; 2021)
Luke Cage (TV Series; 2016)
The Magic Flute, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Opera; 1791)
Marvel Rising: Secret Warriors (Animated Film; 2018)
Methuselah's Children, by Robert A. Heinlein (Novel; 1958)
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (Film; 2016)
Murder, She Wrote (TV Series; 1984)
Nebraska, by Bruce Springsteen (Album; 1982)
Porgy and Bess, by George Gershwin (Opera; 1935)
The Queen (Film; 2006)
The Rifleman (TV Series; 1958)
The Robe, by Lloyd C. Douglas (Novel; 1942)
The Saint in Europe, by Leslie Charteris (Short Stories 1953) [Saint #30]
Scooby-Doo! And the Monster of Mexico (WB Animated Film; 2003)
A Separate Peace, by John Knowles (Novel; 1959)
Serenity (Film; 2005)
Shine On, by Jet (Album; 2006)
The Steeple-Chase (Disney Cartoon; 1933)
Theme From Shaft, by Isaac Hayes (Song; 1971)
To the Manor Born (UK TV Series; 1979)
You, Me and the Apocalypse (UK TV Series; 2015)
Today’s Name Days
Hieronymus, Urs, Victor (Austria)
Felicija, Grgur, Jerko, Jeronim (Croatia)
Jeroným (Czech Republic)
Hieronymus (Denmark)
Kaur, Kauri, Tauri (Estonia)
Sirja, Siru, Sorja (Finland)
Jérôme (France)
Hieronymus , Urs, Viktor (Germany)
Stratonikos (Greece)
Jeromos (Hungary)
Gerolamo (Italy)
Abgara, Elma, Lamekins (Latvia)
Bytautė, Jeronimas, Sofija, Žymantas (Lithuania)
Hege, Helga, Helge (Norway)
Grzegorz, Hieronim, Honoriusz, Imisław, Leopard, Sofia, Wera, Wiera, Wiktor, Wiktoriusz, Zofia (Poland)
Grigorie (Romania)
Lubov, Nadezhda, Vera (Russia)
Jarolím (Slovakia)
Jerónimo, Sofía, Sonia (Spain)
Helge (Sweden)
Jerome, Jeronima, Gerome, Geromino (USA)
Today is Also…
Day of Year: Day 273 of 2024; 92 days remaining in the year
ISO: Day 6 of week 39 of 2023
Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 26 of 28]
Chinese: Month 8 (Xin-You), Day 16 (Xin-Mao)
Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)
Hebrew: 15 Tishri 5784
Islamic: 15 Rabi I 1445
J Cal: 3 Shù; Threesday [3 of 30]
Julian: 17 September 2023
Moon: 98%: Waning Gibbous
Positivist: 21 Shakespeare (10th Month) [Molière]
Runic Half Month: Gyfu (Gift) [Day 4 of 15]
Season: Autumn (Day 7 of 89)
Zodiac: Libra (Day 7 of 30)
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murderousink23 · 1 year ago
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09/30/2023 is Orange Shirt Day 🇨🇦, Martyr's Day 🇨🇳, Blasphemy Day 🇺🇲, International Day of Podcasts 🇺🇲, National Chewing Gum Day 🇺🇲, National Hot Mulled Cider Day 🇺🇲, National Mud Pack Day 🇺🇲, National Family Health and Fitness Day 🇺🇲, International Translation Day 🇺🇳
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techflye284 · 19 days ago
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Embracing the enchanting caves of Vietnam a journey into nature's wonder
Vietnam is home to some of the most incredible caves in the world. With its amazing landscapes and limestone formations the country is a paradise for nature lovers like you. From underground chambers to mystical rivers flowing through caves Vietnam offers unique experiences to travelers. In this guide you can learn everything about the famous caves in Vietnam.
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Why should you visit caves in your Vietnam holiday?
Vietnam caves are way more than just natural formations the other treasures of geology history and biodiversity. The caves are loaded with magnificent stagel mites and other rock formations. Several caves also offer activities like kayaking and camping. Some caves are also likely to hold historical and religious importance adding a lot of depth to your visit. Vietnam is home to some of the most record-breaking caves including the largest in the world.
Famous caves in Vietnam
Son doong cave is the largest cave in the world located in the phong nha ke bang National Park. The giant underground chambers that can even fit a skyscraper besides a jungle and river inside the cave. It's a multi-day guided tour for trekking and camping. The best time to visit is between february to august.
Paradise cave is considered as one of the most beautiful cave in the world. You can check out a massive 31 kilometer long cave system besides glittering limestones formations that resemble a fairy tale world. The guided tours are here to explore the well-lit chambers. You can go for short walks or extended tracking options. You can visit your year round though cooler months are more comfortable.
Dark cave offers a mix of adventure and fun making it a favorite for thrill seekers. You can get a muddy cave section for a unique spa experience and a zip line right to The Cave entrance. Of the best activities that you can enjoy include swimming kayaking and mud baths. The best time to visit is during the summer months when water levels are really stable.
So above all you need to know that exploring caves in Vietnam is unforgettable experience that combines natural beauty experience and cultural discovery. Whether you are tracking to the world's largest cave or just enjoying a peaceful boat ride in a water cave the caves offer something for everyone here. So just pack your bags lace up your boots and get ready to discover the hidden wonders of Vietnam caves.
For more details visit our website https://anptravel.com/
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edgessunflower · 1 month ago
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Fiji
Pairing: Athena Palmer x Fem reader
Description: You and Athena accidentally surprise each other with the same vacation to Fiji
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Athena was curious as to what this trip you mentioned that you had planned for the two of you was since she was secretly planning a trip for the two of you and was fixing to buy the tickets until you had told her that she needed to pack for later that week for the trip the two of you would be going on for three weeks out of your seven week break from being on the road. The two of you boarded the plane watching episodes of How to get away with murder while having lunch before deciding to watch Divergent together leading to the two of you falling asleep under a shared cover for the next three hours before waking up and listening to music together as the next few hours passed by before having dinner and sleeping a bit more until the plane landed leading to the two of you walking through the airport and grabbing your bags before both of you walked out and saw the sign that said "Nadi" making Athena look at you wide eyed, "Fiji?!" you smiled at her as she looked surprised only for her to pull out the card she got to surprise you with the trip to Nadi she had planned making you look at her surprised as well. The two of you went to the hotel before exploring the city of Nadi starting with the town market then visiting the Sri Siva Subramaniya Hindu temple which amazed both of you before heading to a cultural village seeing the culture of Fiji before snacking on fruits and sleeping for the next few hours as it grew dark enjoying the calm night in your hotel room, after breakfast the next morning the two of you went to the Sabeto hot springs and mud pools relaxing in the warmth for three hours before washing off and heading to Denaru island and shopping followed by a trip to the garden of the sleeping giant taking pictures and grabbing coffee from The coffee hub while heading to Nadi Bay Beach enjoying lunch together on the beach leading to the two of you going through main street and heading to the Koroyanitu national heritage park snapping pictures along the way walking back through main street as the food vendors opened trying out different street foods Lovo and Rourou to Samosas and Cassava cake before going to a curry house for dinner enjoying authentic and fresh food of the fiji culture before walking back to the hotel hand in hand after a wonderful and official first day in fiji.
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strengervinay · 2 months ago
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Dudhsagar Trekking: Where Water Falls Like Milk!
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Dudhsagar Falls trekking is a spectacular experience that draws adventurers from all over India. Named after its milky appearance, Dudhsagar or “Sea of Milk”, creates a breathtaking sight as it cascades down the rocky cliffs of the Western Ghats. The trek to Dudhsagar offers an awe-inspiring view and an exhilarating journey through lush forests, rugged trails, and the mesmerizing landscapes that line the Goa-Karnataka border. In this guide, we’ll delve into what makes the Dudhsagar Waterfall trek unforgettable, explore the adventure-packed trek packages, and provide essential tips for making the most of your Dudhsagar experience.
Dudhsagar Waterfall Trek: What Makes Dudhsagar Special?
Known for its unique and picturesque look, Dudhsagar (translated as “Sea of Milk”) is an extraordinary waterfall in Goa’s Bhagwan Mahaveer Sanctuary and Mollem National Park. Located near the Goa-Karnataka border, the Mandovi River feeds this fall, cascading down a height of over 1000 feet and giving the water a creamy, white appearance reminiscent of flowing milk.
Surrounded by thick forests and a rocky landscape, the Dudhsagar waterfall trek offers the ideal blend of nature’s wonders and trekking thrills. The journey is adventurous and scenic, as trekkers pass through dense greenery, cross bridges, and encounter the local flora and fauna. The destination is a reward, where the cascading waters create a fine mist, adding a surreal charm to the scene. It's a must-visit for nature enthusiasts and adventure seekers alike.
The Route to Dudhsagar Falls
The Dudhsagar trek usually starts from the village of Kulem in Goa. Trekkers can choose between a thrilling train trek along the railway tracks or a jungle trek for a closer experience with nature. The railway trek, a popular choice, offers breathtaking views and crosses various small waterfalls and tunnels along the way.
Both routes provide ample opportunity to witness Dudhsagar’s beauty up close, with the jungle trail offering a more immersive experience of the flora and fauna of the Western Ghats. The hike is of moderate difficulty and is suitable for both beginners and seasoned trekkers looking for a memorable experience.
Dudhsagar Falls Trek Packages
If you’re planning to visit Dudhsagar, consider a variety of trek packages designed to make your journey convenient and enjoyable. Here’s a popular Dudhsagar Falls trek option for those travelling from Bangalore:
Travel from Bangalore: 3 Nights & 4 Days Package
This package includes a full experience, from transport to Dudhsagar Falls and back to guided trekking and camping options. Ideal for weekend getaways, this 3-night, 4-day package is priced at ₹3999 per person. It includes:
Transportation from Bangalore to Kulem (starting point of the trek)
Trekking to and from Dudhsagar Falls with an experienced guide
Camping facilities near the base or at designated campsites
Opportunities to explore nearby attractions, like spice plantations and local villages
This package is perfect for groups, couples, or solo travellers looking for an organized adventure without the hassle of planning each detail.
Dudhsagar Trek Tips for a Safe and Memorable Experience
To make the most of your Dudhsagar trekking adventure, keep the following tips in mind:
1. Prepare for Rain and Mud
Dudhsagar Falls is best visited during the monsoon season, as the waterfall is at its fullest. Be prepared for rainy conditions and muddy trails. Waterproof clothing and good-quality trekking shoes are highly recommended.
2. Stay Hydrated and Pack Light
The trek can be physically demanding, so keep yourself hydrated and avoid carrying heavy loads. Pack essentials like water bottles, snacks, and a first-aid kit.
3. Follow Local Guidelines
Dudhsagar Falls is located within a protected sanctuary. Ensure you follow local regulations and avoid littering to preserve the area's natural beauty.
4. Opt for a Guided Trek
If you’re unfamiliar with the area, consider using a guide or opting for a guided trek package. This will make the journey safer and allow you to focus on enjoying the scenery.
5. Start Early
Begin your trek early in the morning to avoid the midday heat, which can make the trek more challenging. Early mornings also allow for a more peaceful experience, with fewer crowds.
Conclusion
Dudhsagar trekking is a journey like no other, offering a rare view of one of India’s most mesmerizing waterfalls in all its milky splendour. Whether you’re a nature lover or a thrill-seeker, this trek will surely leave you with cherished memories. Walking through scenic forests, along railway tracks, or wading through streams, you’ll understand why Dudhsagar remains a beloved destination for trekkers year-round.
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captureatriptour · 3 months ago
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Journey of Discovery: Explore Almaty and Baku on Foot
Embarking on a walking journey through Almaty and Baku offers a unique opportunity to immerse yourself in the vibrant culture, rich history, and stunning landscapes of these two captivating cities. From the majestic mountains of Kazakhstan to the enchanting streets of Azerbaijan’s capital, this guide will help you navigate your adventure on foot.
Day 1: Arrival in Almaty
Strolling Through Panfilov Park
Upon arriving in Almaty, take a leisurely stroll through Panfilov Park. This lush green space is home to the impressive Ascension Cathedral, a wooden structure that showcases beautiful Russian architecture. Enjoy the serene atmosphere and perhaps grab a snack from a nearby vendor.
Exploring the Green Bazaar
Next, head to the Green Bazaar, a bustling market where you can experience local life. Sample traditional snacks like chak-chak (honey-soaked pastries) and shop for fresh produce, spices, and handicrafts. The vibrant colors and aromas make it a feast for the senses.
Day 2: Almaty’s Natural Wonders
Hiking to Medeu and Shymbulak
On your second day, take a walk or a short public transport ride to Medeu, a famous skating rink surrounded by mountains. From here, you can hike up to the Shymbulak Ski Resort. The trail offers breathtaking views of the Zailiyskiy Alatau mountains and the chance to spot local wildlife.
Evening in the City
Return to the city and explore the trendy Zhibek Zholy Avenue, lined with shops, cafés, and restaurants. Enjoy a dinner of Kazakh cuisine, perhaps trying beshbarmak (boiled meat with noodles) or plov (rice pilaf).
Day 3: Journey to Baku
Travel to Baku
After breakfast, catch a flight or a train to Baku, the vibrant capital of Azerbaijan. Upon arrival, settle into your accommodation and prepare for exploration.
Walking in Icherisheher (Old City)
Begin your Baku adventure by exploring Icherisheher, the historical core of the city. Walk through its narrow alleys, visit the Maiden Tower, and admire the Palace of the Shirvanshahs. Each site tells a story of Baku’s rich past.
Day 4: The Modern Marvels of Baku
Flame Towers and Boulevard
On your fourth day, take a walk along the Baku Boulevard, a beautiful waterfront promenade. Enjoy views of the Flame Towers, which illuminate the skyline at night. Stop by the Baku Eye, a giant Ferris wheel, for a stunning perspective of the city.
Heydar Aliyev Center
Continue your journey to the Heydar Aliyev Center, a stunning piece of architecture by Zaha Hadid. Walk around the center’s grounds and explore the exhibitions showcasing Azerbaijani culture and history.
Day 5: Gobustan National Park
Day Trip to Gobustan
Take a day trip to Gobustan National Park, where you can walk among ancient rock carvings and mud volcanoes. The unique landscape and historical significance make this an unforgettable experience. Join a guided tour to learn more about the petroglyphs and the area’s geological features.
Day 6: Local Culture and Cuisine
Visit the Carpet Museum
Back in Baku, visit the Azerbaijan Carpet Museum to appreciate the intricate art of carpet weaving. Take a leisurely walk through the exhibits and learn about the cultural significance of carpets in Azerbaijani heritage.
Culinary Experience
In the evening, enjoy a culinary experience by joining a local cooking class or dining at a traditional restaurant. Try dishes like plov, dolma, and kebabs, and don’t forget to sample Azerbaijani tea.
Conclusion
Walking through Almaty and Baku allows you to connect deeply with the local culture, history, and natural beauty of these remarkable cities. From the mountains of Kazakhstan to the rich heritage of Azerbaijan, each step of your journey will reveal something new and exciting. Pack your walking shoes, embrace the adventure, and prepare for a journey of discovery that you’ll cherish forever!
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