#lipton plants

[keepingitneutral]

Transmitter Bunker, Ringstead, Dorset, United Kingdom,

Lipton Plant Architects

#art #design #architecture #minimal #nature #interior design #minimalism #interiors #retreat #bunker #dorset #united kingdom #beach house #transmitter #lipton plants #sustainability #renovation #second world war #concrete

[cerealkiller740]

1957 Lipton Tea advertisement with TI plant offer

#1957 #lipton tea #Lipton #tea #hot #iced #ti #plant #hawaii #cerealkiller #vintage food #food #vintage advertising #vintage magazine #kitchen #magazine #1950s #50s #50s ads

[chaisshitposts]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 & 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

hello there! welcome to another blog for the nerdy manifesters who want to feed their logical minds. full disclaimer, these answers are solely based on the research I've done, and if you'd like to do your own research, you should! you are the creator of your assumptions and reality, after all. I will never stop encouraging others to find their own answers. while I was writing this, I had no idea someone had already talked about muscle testing on Tumblr, so, please do check out their post too!

what is muscle testing?

according to my holistic therapy, muscle testing is, "[...] a method of gathering accurate biofeedback on the body’s Physiological and Psychological state by stimulating the muscular system. The body’s cells know their entire history and what they require to regain full health. Muscle Testing is an elegant way to retrieve the knowledge imbedded into the cellular memory of the muscular system." ^1 when muscle tests are performed correctly, it allows the one being tested to have a direct conversation with the subconscious mind, aka the machine that controls the entirety of our body.

how does muscle testing work?

"Our bodies interact and move through the world by contracting and releasing muscles. A Tester will illicit either a contraction or release of certain muscles by applying gentle pressure to the muscular system. This testing unlocks the vast knowledge muscle cells by utilizing the binary contraction-release language of the body.

This simple, yet powerful process, is the first step of energy therapy, and it provides an accurate assessment tool of the client’s condition. This is a major part of Integrated Physical Emotional Clearing (IPEC) Therapy."^2

To better simplify what this means, everything that 'works' has energy flowing through it. You, me, your pets, the plants, and beyond. When doing a simple muscle test, you consciously may have a thought, or ask a question perhaps, and when the muscle test is performed, the subconscious will control your muscles in a way that gives an indication of 'yes', 'no', 'like', 'dislike' through a strong/firm or a weak/struggling muscle response that involves the muscles locking in place or stress causing weakness in the muscles. Energy therapy involves changing beliefs at the subconscious level with the use of energy, there are various energy therapy treatments, however, the one that I know about in a deeper sense is PSYCH-K. Again, I recommend you go and do some research of your own!

why would I muscle test myself or others?

muscle testing is just another application of holistic health, and there have been studies on how it can aid in decision-making, figuring out allergies, as well as what foods your body does and doesn't like. along with that, you are also able to test your subconscious' view on certain things that you are conscious of. bruce h. lipton details in his book 'the biology of belief' that DNA expression is not, "predetermined or unchangeable. Instead, the book details how DNA is influenced by signals emanating from outside the cell. The strongest energetic signals that cells receive are our thoughts, beliefs, and attitudes."^3 which is how we're able to manifest drastic appearance changes with our thoughts, feelings, etc, as well as completely eradicate health issues, pain, and other things of that nature with the use of our thoughts, beliefs, feelings, experiences, etc. the medicine you take for your colds is literally just energy, consider that.

how can I muscle test myself accurately?

there are various tests you can do. there are dozens YouTube instructional videos that can lead you in the right direction! however, my personal favorite is the sway test, which i will discuss a little further down. it takes trust in yourself, however, other people can muscle test you if you'd like a solid proof answer. even so, here are a few videos you can watch to better familiarize yourself with. please be advised, there are various ways to muscle test, I highly recommend that you do all of them and figure out which one feels right for you, your body will know.

The Finger Pad Test

Pendulums for Muscle Testing

7 Different Self Muscle Testing Techniques

how can I muscle test other people accurately?

How To Do Applied Kinesiology Muscle Testing

also, whoever you're testing or if you're being tested, your chin must be parallel to the floor while your eyes are looking downwards for the most accurate testing while your arm is being pushed down. the position of your eyes allows you to fully engage your subconscious without worrying about your conscious getting in the way of accurately testing others or yourself, it's been believed to assist in dissociation.

what are some benefits to muscle testing?

since muscle testing is apart of energy therapy, energy therapy has the ability to benefit all areas of life, including, but not limited to— relationships, family, individual growth, and overall well-being whether that be physical, mentally, or emotionally. if you find yourself struggling with certain thoughts or beliefs, muscle testing allows you to have a conversation with your 'higher self' aka your subconscious.

how does muscle testing correlate to manifestation?

when you perform muscle testing on yourself or others, you're able to connect with your 'higher self' aka your subconscious which uses about 95% of your brain on a daily basis, it knows when a lie is being said as well as the truth. after you've established what 'yes' and 'no' is according to your subconscious by making statements you already know the answer to (Examples: [My name is [insert your name]. I have [color] hair. My name is [fake name that's not yours] I have [insert wrong color hair]), you can then ask anything you want. You can also make statements and see if your subconscious agrees with you or not, that will then allow you to take the necessary steps you need/want in order to become your best self.

how can I do the sway test?

stand up with no distractions (no TV, no music, no outside conversation), feet should be shoulder width apart and planted flat on the floor. or if you are unable to stand, just sit up as straight as you can manage. then, lift your chin up so that it's parallel to the floor, facing forward, and focus your eyes down on the floor. once you're done with that, state "my name is [insert name]", notice which way you lean naturally, make sure you're relaxed, this'll be your 'yes/like/true'. you can do this a couple times to make sure. and then you state "my name is [fake name]," notice which way you lean naturally, this'll be your 'no/dislike/false.' once you've established that, you can ask questions, make statements, and anything else you want, you can even test supplements by holding them in your hand as well as holding certain foods. your body may lean forward, backwards, sideways, etc, it's all based on the individual. please be advised that at any point in time you can retest from your yes/no answers by making the statements above, as many times as you want, just to make sure your yes/no answers are the same. I would recommend that you do this after every question you ask, just to give yourself the satisfaction. but again!! do what feels right and what makes you feel that you're getting the most accurate answers.

what are some ways I can muscle test myself without fear of my tests being inaccurate?

practice whatever test you feel most comfortable with, or have someone else test you if you're unable to fully trust yourself. personally, I find that the sway test is easiest. you can also use a pendulum as a muscle test if you'd like, whatever suits you as the individual is what you should go with.

how can I use muscle testing to heal my limiting beliefs, trauma, and other detrimental things that have been holding me back?

muscle testing gives you a deeper insight on the beliefs currently settling in your unconscious/subconscious mind. truthfully, you'll find out things you probably would have never expected to be there in the first place, hidden away somewhere. who better knows you better than you?

is it an absolute necessity to muscle test myself when trying to create new assumptions/testing whether or not my beliefs have changed on a subconscious level?

nope, not at all! this is essentially the same thing as getting your palm read, your aura read, having a tarot reading, and other things of that nature. It's up to you on whether or not you want to try this out or if you think it'll work in your favor.

how can I use muscle testing and psych-k simultaneously to benefit myself to the max?

in my previous post I provided the instructions on how to do psych-k, and if you fully watch the video you will notice that the demonstration involves muscle testing before and after the psych-k treatment. you can do the muscle testing on yourself with various methods, and then you can figure out how your subconscious stands on your conscious belief/affirmation. if the subconscious likes the affirmation or views it as true, then you're golden. however, if it sees it as false, then the next step would be to ask your subconscious 'Is it safe and appropriate for [name] to balance for this goal?' If the answer is yes, then proceed, if the answer is no, you may have some underlying issues that need to be addressed before that. It's very rare for the subconscious to say 'no,' however.

after receiving a 'yes', you will then ask 'are all systems ready and willing for a balance of this goal?' once you've gotten your answer, you will go on to do PSYCH-K.

after performing the necessary steps to implement this affirmation/goal/ etc into your mind, you may do another muscle test and see where you stand.

what are some questions or affirmations/afformations, and belief statements I could use to muscle test?

I am a master at manifesting.

I can manifest anything I want right in this moment.

I am ready and willing for change.

My desires are already mine.

I am intelligent and capable.

and if you struggle to come up with your own affirmations or questions, check out this video and see if it'll help you!

notes

personally, I've only learned about muscle testing and psych-k within the last three days, and I've already had results. before I started doing this to myself, I did it to my brother and ma (they're my guinea pigs 🧍) and they both experienced some weird tingling sensations in their brains after looping a single affirmation. I decided to do the same for myself, but with self muscle testing. my manifestations are coming in faster than ever just because my subconscious now believes I'm a master manifester. plus, I used it to change another belief I had and I actually started crying like a lil' bitch. 🧍and I'll be honest, yesterday I muscle tested myself and asked 'can I enter the void right now?' and my subconscious said yes. so, there was an attempt on my end where I used the lullaby method, lulling myself to sleep with just the words 'I Am', and when I went to sleep, I didn't enter the void, but I had a dream. I can't entail what the exact details were specifically bc it's personal but it was about my family members who've hurt me in the past, with lots of rage and anger. and when I woke up, an affirmation immediately popped up in my head 'I forgive those who have hurt me and I'm ready to move on.' bruh. this isn't what I consciously wanted, but obviously my subconscious thinks I need to work on this matter before I can ascend and so, I'm gonna trust myself.

gotta be honest, I've read other people's posts where they have had their 'eureka!' 'aha!' moments and their little epiphanies... thought they were all completely bullshit and I was a hater, but gods-- that shit's real, and now I gotta make a change within myself, and it's time for you to do the same.

references + extra resources

Quoted Information

PSYCH-K

The recorded lecture about PSYCH-K (it's an hour long but I think the knowledge is worth it)

Rewrite Your Mind

#muscle testing #manifest #manifestation method #law of assumption #god state #loa assumptions #law of attraction #laws of manifestation #manifestation #manifest anything you want #psych k #psych-k

[mads-nixon]

Night Changes

Lewis Nixon x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: thanks to @footprintsinthesxnd for inspiring me to finally finish this wip from back in october!! for once, this isn't a heart-wrenching fic that makes you cry your eyes out...it's super fluffy!! Hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: morning sickness & pregnancy, nothing else except for tooth-rotting fluff :)

Nixon, New Jersey: April 1950

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?"

"What?" (Y/n) sighed, glancing towards her husband from where she sat on the floor.

A chuckle left Lewis' lips as he gestured to the various paint colors on portions of the wall. "Which one? Pink, purple, blue, or yellow?"

Rolling over to her side, (y/n) attempted to get up. With her swollen stomach, it made everything ten times harder than usual.

Lew rushed to her side, "Honey, let me help you."

"I've got it," she grunted, somewhat out of breath.

(Y/n) tried and failed a few times, then let out a huff of air, sighing as she held out her hands for Lew to come and help her up.

He smiled softly, moving to help lift her. "I thought you had it that time."

"Your child has been making things harder on me, lately."

Once they stood up, Lew pulled her close, his hand on her bump. "My child? I'm pretty sure we both made this baby."

(Y/n) pulled back with a look of disgust, fake gagging. "Please don't remind me."

With his signature grin, he pulled her back in, trying to plant a kiss on her lips. "No," she laughed, leaning away to evade his kisses. "We've got to pick out the color for the nursery, Lew!"

"So now you want to get on task, huh?"

(Y/n) giggled as she continued to swerve her husband's kisses. "Yes! We have to get this done!"

"Alright," he conceded. "Just one kiss. Please?"

With an exaggerated eye roll, (y/n) leaned in and pecked his lips quickly. "Come on, doll. One more," he pleaded.

"Nope. You'll get more once we get done picking out the color."

He led her to the wall with the colors and mock saluted her. "Alright, then. Captain Nixon is focused on his next objective."

They had decided to go with the soft yellow because it was more gender-neutral, even though both felt deep down that it was a girl. Staring at their halfway-finished nursery, (y/n) couldn't help but think back to when it all started the year before.

Indianapolis, Indiana: July 1949

The Nixons sat at the Easy Company reunion with Lip, Dick, and their respective spouses. While the guys all talked, (y/n) spoke with Ethel Winters and JoAnne Lipton about everything from baking to babies. Ethel and Dick had been married for a little over a year and were about to start trying for children. JoAnne and Carwood already had a son, so she told the two women how wonderful it was to be a mom. Hard, but wonderful.

The woman pulled out a picture of the three of them with a proud smile on her face. "Danny turns three next month. He's a spitting image of Car, that's for sure. I love him more than anything in this world."

Looking over at her husband enthralled in a conversation with his best friends, she couldn't help but imagine Lew as a father; holding their little baby in his arms or putting them up on his shoulders. (Y/n) knew he didn't have a good relationship with his father and would do everything to be there for their future children.

She was broken out of her trance by Lew's hand squeezing her thigh gently. "You alright, sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

Eyed widening, she went to wipe the tear that streaked down her cheek, but he beat her to it. "What's wrong?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

"Let's have a baby."

Lewis was taken aback by his wife's bluntness. Sure, they had talked about having kids but had decided to wait a few more years. Hearing that she changed her mind filled his with the same sweet images that appeared in hers moments before. If he was being honest, he had felt ready for a few months but didn't want to mention it to her until she approached him first.

He took her hand and excused them from the table as he led her to the lobby area of the venue. As soon as they turned the corner, Lewis' strong arms enveloped her in a tender embrace, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Their lips met softly, mouths melding together gently. It was a tender and loving kiss that expressed their shared devotion and longing for the next chapter of their lives.

With a gentle smile, they broke apart, their hands still entwined. The room seemed to radiate with the energy of their love and the endless possibilities that lay before them.

"Is that a yes?" (Y/n) asked, short of breath.

He kissed her gently, eye glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, let's start a family."

Nixon, New Jersey: November 1949

It was a cold and rainy morning when (y/n) stirred in bed, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her once again. This was the third morning in a row, and her eyes flickered over to Lew, who was fast asleep beside her. She always joked that even a freight train wouldn’t wake him up. Clutching her stomach, she quickly sat up, her heart racing as her body was trying to give her a few seconds of warning. (Y/n) barely had time to get to the bathroom, her steps hurried and unsteady as she covered her mouth with her hand. 

Reaching the bathroom just in time, (y/n) dropped to her knees, her body convulsing with dry heaves initially, followed by her dinner from the night before. The sensation was accompanied by a rush of relief, but the butter taste lingered in her mouth. 

Stirred by the sounds from the bathroom, Lew realized something was wrong and came rushing into the bathroom, concern etched across his features. He kneeled beside her, gathering her hair and rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked worriedly, his voice raspy from sleep.

“I don’t know, Lew,” (y/n) replied weakly. “This nausea just won’t go away.”

“I think that we should get you to the doctor,” Nix suggested, worried she might have caught a nasty stomach bug.

She nodded, her mind already racing with a suspicion she dared not speak aloud just yet. “Yeah, maybe,” she answered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

After Lew left for work, (y/n) decided to visit the doctor to get some answers. Anticipation and nervousness bubbled within her as the test was administered. The minutes felt like hours, but finally, the doctor confirmed what she had hoped for – she was pregnant.

Unable to contain her excitement, she hurried back home, her heart bursting with joy. The second she got home, she walked past their extra bedroom, inspiration striking her. The sun cast a soft, golden hue through the lace curtains, illuminating the extra room that held years of collected odds and ends. (Y/n) stood at the threshold, groaning at the old boxes, forgotten furniture, and random oddities that filled the room.

She had a lot of work cut out for her.

After putting on a Nat King Cole album, she took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeves, beginning the task at hand. As she meticulously sorted through the belongings, memories danced in her mind – the dusty bookshelf that held Lew’s childhood favorites, the old rocking chair her mother had gifted her, and the worn-out toys that once brought her so much joy. 

With every box she emptied and every piece of furniture she carefully moved, the room started to transform. The clutter began to vanish, making way for her vision of a nursery filled with love and laughter. She could almost visualize the crib nestled by the window, sunlight streaming in, casting a warm glow on the tiny cradle.

Time seemed to fly as she got lost in the whirlwind of her excitement. As the clock ticked on, (y/n) meticulously organized, cleaned, and dusted, pouring herself into every corner. By the time Nix got home from work, she had cleared out most of the clutter. Her eyes held a sparkle of pride as she surveyed her progress, already lost in the thoughts of cradling their newborn baby in this very room.

Lew opened the door, calling out to her as he did every day. “Honey, I’m home.”

As he put his briefcase onto the kitchen table, he noticed the random items and boxes that were scattered around the kitchen. With a raised eyebrow, he stepped over the clutter and followed the sound of (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons to the couple’s extra bedroom.

“(Y/n)?” Lew asked as he entered the room, his eyes flicking between the few things left inside.

A rocking chair…

Some old toys…

His old bookshelf filled with children’s books…

She stood in front of the window with a hand covering her mouth, eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Hey,” she whispered.

Lew’s brows instantly furrowed and he approached her, taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“I’m happy.”

“You’re happy,” he pondered aloud, “But you’re crying.”

(Y/n) pulled back to look up at his puzzled face. “Yeah.”

“Why the sudden inspiration to clean out the crap in here?”

“Well,” she grinned up at him, her bottom lip wobbling as she spoke. “Our baby can’t have a room full of random stuff, can they?”

As (y/n) looked at him expectantly, he nodded with raised brows. “Yeah, yeah.”

But then his eyes widened suddenly and Lew’s gaze flew to hers. “The what?”

Tag List: @softguarnere @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2 @sofietargaryen @liptonsbabe @leximus98

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!! <3

#lewis nixon x reader #lew nixon x reader #lewis nixon x reader fluff #lewis nixon #lewis nixon imagines #hbo war #band of brothers #hbowar #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #nix #nix x reader #nixon x reader #band of brothers x readers #lew nixon #lewis nixon fluff

[probablyasocialecologist]

Kenyan tea pickers are destroying machines brought in to replace them during violent protests that highlight the challenge faced by low-skilled workers as more agribusiness companies rely on automation to cut costs. At least 10 tea-plucking machines have been torched in multiple flashpoints in the past year, according to local media reports. Recent demonstrations have left one protester dead and several injured, including 23 police officers and farm workers. The Kenya Tea Growers Association (KTGA) estimated the cost of damaged machinery at $1.2 million (170 million Kenyan shillings) after nine machines belonging to Ekaterra, makers of the top-selling tea brand Lipton, were destroyed in May. In March, a local government taskforce recommended that tea companies in Kericho, the country’s largest tea-growing town, adopt a new 60:40 ratio of mechanized tea harvesting to hand-plucking. The taskforce also wants legislation passed to limit importation of tea harvesting machines. Nicholas Kirui, a member of the taskforce and former CEO of KTGA, told Semafor Africa 30,000 jobs had been lost to mechanization in Kericho county alone over the past decade. "We did public participation in all the wards and with all the different groups, and the overwhelming sentiment we were hearing was that the machines should go," Kirui said. In 2021, Kenya exported tea worth $1.2 billion, making it the third-largest tea exporter globally, behind China and Sri Lanka. Multinationals including Browns Investments, George Williamson and Ekaterra — which was sold by Unilever to a private equity firm in July 2022 —  plant on an estimated 200,000 acres in Kericho and have all adopted mechanized harvesting. Some machines can reportedly replace 100 workers. Ekaterra's corporate affairs director in Kenya, Sammy Kirui, told Semafor Africa that mechanization was “critical” to the company’s operations and the global competitiveness of Kenyan tea. As the government taskforce established, one machine can bring the cost of harvesting tea down to 3 cents (4 Kenyan shillings) per kilogram from 11 cents (15.32 shillings) per kilogram with hand-plucking. Analysts partly attribute Kenya's unemployment rate — the highest in East Africa — to automation in industries, including banking and insurance. Some 13.9% of working age Kenyans (over 16) were out of work or long term unemployed in the final quarter of 2022.

#kenya #africa #tea #automation

[viktorbezic]

Transmitter Bunker, Ringstead, Dorset, United Kingdom - Lipton Plant Architects via @keepingitneutral

#architecture

[blurredcolour]

You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part Three

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

For the first time since you met, fate seems to be conspiring to keep you and Dick apart, forcing you to find new ways to remain connected to one another.

Warnings: Military Violence, Discussion of Injuries and Death, Separation, Fear, Discussion of Nazi Atrocities, PTSD, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 4568

--------------------------

Bastogne – December 21, 1944

Grasping the handle of your F-S knife, Dick chopped at the thick layer of ice in the ammunition box braced between his knees, revealing the frigid water beneath. He planted the blade into the dirt at the edge of his foxhole, starting to spread shaving cream onto his cheeks as his friend Nixon threw back the tarp covering the next hole over.

He emerged into the milky light, the fog still thickly besetting the Bois Jacques, as he stumbled over holding out your scarf. Dick motioned with his head for him to set it on the ground beside him and Nixon simply sat down there himself. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

“You were shivering so much after your recon I could hear your bones rattling.” He muttered as he dragged his razor over his stubble, flinching at the chill of the blade each time it met his skin.

Nixon gave him a lopsided smirk. “Sure your girl won’t mind me borrowing it? It still smells real nice.”

Dick glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “I have half a mind to stab you with her knife.”

Nixon’s grin only widened. “The poetry of it would not be lost on me, I assure you.”

With an affectionate roll of his eyes, Dick quickly finished shaving before retrieving the scarf from his friend’s hand and wrapping it tightly around his neck, tucking it beneath the collar of his ODs. Nixon was right, there was still a hint of your scent woven into the fibres and he could only hope to hold onto it. Merely nine days ago he had left you on the platform in Paris, and not three days ago he had stood at the crossroads outside Bastogne, staring back to where he knew you slept safely in your bed, making a vow to keep it that way. Your body bore enough scars from this war, he would not permit the accumulation of any more.

His hands found their way into his pockets, lips twitching as his fingers brushed against the edge of your cap badge stowed inside the right one. Pressing it between his thumb and forefinger, his heart warmed somewhat against the chill of the morning. The eerie silence was broken by Lipton’s shouted warning of ‘incoming!’ and he and Nixon quickly threw themselves into the bottom of the foxhole to take cover as yet another barrage of artillery rained down on their position. Working the pad of his thumb along the grooves of the maple leaves, he took slow, steady breaths, focusing on each ridge, on the raised lettering, using it as a tool to ground him amidst the maelstrom that filled the woods.

As the chaos eased off, the men slowly began to emerge from their cover, and Dick took stock of the dead and wounded. It was a tedious and heart-rending routine they had fallen into since taking up this position. Reports given and calm restored for the time-being, Dick took advantage of the rare moment with no demands on him to delve his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieve your letter. The creases were becoming well worn, the words nearly memorized, but the solace it brought him was no less profound.

When, at last, supplies reached them after Patton broke through the German lines, Dick was both taken aback and yet somehow unsurprised when his correspondence from regiment included a bound packet of letters bearing your handwriting. You were a determined woman, and true to your word it seemed you had been writing almost daily. With your posting in Paris, and connections at Allied HQ, your letters had been delivered through military channels rather than civilian ones.

Ordering the runner to wait, he quickly dashed off a reply to you. He kept the message free of sentiment, knowing that it would be read by numerous people along the way, but was desperate to send something to you all the same. Folding it carefully, he addressed it to you care of Major Wilkes at Allied HQ, aware that he might receive a reprimand, but after everything he’d just endured the idea of that really held no fear for him.

------------

Paris – January 7, 1945

It had been an agonizing three-and-a-half weeks. More accurately, the last two-and-a-half had been pure torture while the first had simply been filled with longing. As promised, you had written letters almost every day and sent them through the Allied post office. Letters about the weather, the book you were reading, the cat that lived in the courtyard of your building. Mundane topics that would pass by the censors and were in no way what you had actually wished to talk about, but you had done your best to keep the contents light as all the magazine articles recommended a lady ought to do.

And sometimes it felt like you needed advice on the subject. On how to field strip a Sten gun? Absolutely not – you could and had done that in the dark with your eyes closed. But supporting a man in the fight while you remained in the relative comfort and safety of Paris had been an entirely new experience for you.

The news of the German assault through the Ardennes, however, had put an abrupt halt on the festive feeling that had been unfurling across a city ready to celebrate its first liberated Christmas. It had not been necessary for Major Wilkes to ask you to stay late that first night, rifling through any and all decoded intelligence awaiting your translation from German into English, desperate to find out just how they had blindsided everyone. Late nights had run into early mornings, with copious amounts of artificially sweetened coffee consumed to keep you alert, thinking back wistfully to the Benzedrine tablets you would have carried if you were still a fully functional SOE operative.

The news had been dire – 2nd Battalion of the 101st surrounded in the Bois Jacques above Foy in the brutal cold, woefully undersupplied, under near-constant artillery fire. It had been all you could do to keep Dick’s face out of your mind as your eyes had raked over page after page of German, writing your preliminary translations in pencil before sending them to be typed up in order of importance. There had not been enough of importance in front of you to make a difference, it seemed.

A knock on the door to your small, windowless office had sent you scrambling to cover up the avalanche of paper covering your desk, but Major Wilkes had stepped into the room with a reassuring smile.

“At ease, Sergeant, it’s only me.” He had set a new cup of coffee on your desk, making you blink up at him owlishly before you had murmured your thanks. “I wanted to bring you word that the 101st continues to hold the line. Your Captain and his men are doing an excellent job.”

You had pressed your lips together shyly to hear the Major refer to Dick as ‘your Captain’ but had managed a nod of thanks. Your commanding officer had been slipping you bits and pieces of information as they came in, continuing to impress you with the fact that he never seemed to miss a thing. He had barely run into you and Dick at that restaurant over a week ago and yet he had retained that information and since taken the time to keep you updated on Dick’s situation.

“I understand you visit the post office almost daily on your lunch?” He asked.

Looking to him sharply, it had become even clearer to you just how astute Major Wilkes truly was. You had known him to be an acquaintance of Colonel Buckmaster, head of SOE’s F Section, for that was the reason why you had been placed under his command when you insisted on continuing to make yourself useful following the explosives incident in Normandy. But it had become increasingly apparent that Buckmaster and Wilkes may have spent a great deal of time together in similar fields to your own.

“I do sir, yes.” You had replied, taking a sip of the fresh coffee he had delivered even though your stomach had rolled in protest; you had needed the caffeine to keep working.

“Might I suggest you bring the letters to me, and I will send them internally. God knows when the actual post will reach them.”

“Sir I…” You had stuttered, taken aback by the generosity of his offer.

“I see you in here sixteen hours a day, Sergeant. Don’t you think your letters will help him just as much?” He had raised an eyebrow and you had nodded slowly.

“Good, I expect to see the first one on my desk tomorrow at 0900 for mail call. And don’t stay past midnight tonight, you’ve done that for the last three days.” He had looked to you firmly and you had nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir.”

The news of Patton’s break through had brought with it some sense of relief but it paled in comparison to that brought by the tattered scrap of paper which found its way onto your desk that day in early January.

Two sentences scrawled in pencil upon paper bearing all manner of stains and splotches that reduced you to tears of the sweetest relief. Dick was alive. Yes, the reports all said so but to see something addressed to you in his handwriting made it real.

The pace of the war seemed to change after that – time and troop movements speeding up immeasurably. The promised arrival of six fresh-faced CWACs taking up residence in your apartment, needing constant supervision on the worldly Parisian streets only served to blur your perception of time even further. Certainly, they had arrived with a captain and sergeant of their own, but not one of them had set foot outside Canada before, save a brief stint in England, and relied heavily on you to ensure they were able to make their way to and from their posting – mercifully in the same building as yours.

Feeling not unlike a mother goose with a trail of goslings behind her, you did your best to keep them out of trouble with locals, and soldiers alike, leaving you little time to enjoy your now regular correspondence with Dick. Nor the privacy, for their Sergeant shared your bed with another girl on a single cot crammed in the corner of the room, the other four girls sharing the second bedroom. Their feminine influence did prove useful in finally eradicating your habit of cursing, however, which you had been trying to accomplish for Dick’s sake anyway.

One evening in late February, the sound of Glenn Miller and his orchestra echoed from the kitchen, accompanied by their bright laughter as they cleaned up from dinner. The girls were more than a little distracted by practicing their dance steps with each other to prepare for a dance hall outing the following night. Shaking your head fondly you signed off on your latest letter to Dick, sealing the envelope with a few dabs of glue before walking to the front hall to slip it into your shoulder bag to post tomorrow. The sound of heavy boots on the stairs set the hairs on the back of your neck on end, even in liberated Paris, while the subsequent knock on the apartment door had your heart skittering against your ribs.

Several of the girls appeared in the doorway to the kitchen but you stopped them with the firm gesture of your palm, raising up on your toes to take near-silent steps before glancing through the peep hole of the door. The sight of the Officer’s Airborne patch on the garrison cap of the man outside had you clutching at the letter still in your hand tightly, but as he swivelled his head you were startled to see dark brown hair rather than the ruddy red you had been hoping for.

Pulling at the chain before unlocking the deadbolt, you tried to deny the feeling of your heart sinking through the floor. If something had happened, the reports would have told you. Major Wilkes would have told you. You exhaled shakily as you opened the door to see Lieutenant – No, Captain Nixon – standing on your doorstep with the distinct shape of a paper wrapped bouquet tucked into the crook of his arm and an envelope pinched between his fingers.

“Good evening, Captain Nixon.” You assembled what you hoped was a calm smile on your face.

“Ma’am.” He smiled in return, and you couldn’t help but note that the youthful softness he’d had about him in Normandy seemed to have been etched from his features. “With Major Richard Davis Winter’s compliments and regrets.”

At the sound of his voice, the girls flooded into the foyer behind you with all the subtlety of a herd of cattle, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you accepted the offered flowers and envelope.

“Thank you very much, Captain. Please convey my gratitude and understanding.” You swallowed, realizing now that though his battalion had been pulled back to Mourmelon-le-Grand for well-earned rest, it seemed you were not going to have the chance to lay eyes on Dick for quite some time.

“Of course.” He grinned, eyes dropping to the letter still clutched in your other hand. “Is there anything I might deliver to him in return?” He prompted with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh…oh!” You swallowed and quickly held it out to him. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“My pleasure.” He nodded. “Have a good night. Ladies.” He nodded to the cluster of women behind you, earning a chorus of giggles and farewells before disappearing down the stairs.

Tucking the letter into the pocket of your skirt, away from prying eyes, you lay the bouquet on the dining table to gingerly unwrap the paper, revealing a dozen red roses. A collective gasp sounded from all seven of your mouths at the surely astronomical cost. The amount of personal funds that Captain Nixon added to the sum Dick had sent with him on his leave to Paris would be a secret he kept well beyond the end of war. The worn enamel pitcher from the kitchen suddenly appeared on the table in front of you along with a paring knife, the girls settling into the chairs and begging for you to tell them all about your Major and the handsome Captain he had sent with flowers in his stead.

Carefully trimming the end of each rose stem before placing it into the makeshift vase, you spun a tale of an accidental collision with then-Captain Winters at the train station. His friend Captain Nixon had been there too, and you had shown them around Paris to make up for causing such a ruckus on their arrival. Partially based in truth, by the time you got to the dinner and dancing, dreamy sighs reached your ears. Nestling the last rose in amongst the rest of the bouquet you smiled softly at how lovely the dining room suddenly looked, but the letter was fairly burning a hole in your pocket.

You were unspeakably grateful when their sergeant interrupted their barrage of questions with a firm reminder that the kitchen was still in a state of disarray, and though they let out a collective moan, they trudged back in to finish cleaning up. Mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ in her direction, you quickly slipped off to your room, shutting the door and tearing into the envelope somewhat savagely.

The personal tone of his letter, a clear indication of the level of trust he held in Captain Nixon to carry around such honest words, made your heart ache fondly. You wished that the letter you had placed in his friend’s hand was comparatively tender, but you had written it, as always, with the expectation that several others would be privy to its contents before it reached him. Re-reading it several times before tucking it away safely in the false bottom of your suitcase, you knew it was a piece of him you would hold onto for the rest of your life.

More surprises lay in store for you that month when the girls took it upon themselves to write to their superiors in London, recommending you for a promotion. A King’s crown was soon in place of your sergeant’s stripes to denote your position of Company 47’s Sergeant Major. It was a promotion which amused Major Wilkes greatly, seeing as you’d gained it through honest means, while your place as a CWAC most certainly was not.

As the Allies advanced into Germany in the early spring, however, it proved to be one of the few sources of amusement in your office. Certainly, the promise of an ever-closer victory in Europe was a spot of radiance on the horizon, but the flood of paper being returned for translation was unveiling a darker and darker truth of just what had happened under Nazi rule. You had heard the rumors, and seen their violence firsthand, but the liberations of the camps, the cold and calculated way in which these things were discussed in the documents before you – it was taking a toll.

The news of the German surrender had brought with it riotous celebration throughout the streets of Paris, but you had only felt a moment a quiet relief that Dick would no longer be subjected to enemy fire – for now. The battle of the Pacific still raged for the American army, and you could not help but dread the possibility of his redeployment there. Major Wilkes startled you on your way back into the office with just two days later with some news.

“I’m sorry to say, Sergeant Major, you won’t be remaining with your company much longer.” His eyes held their usual spark of mischief as they did whenever he spoke of your ‘company’ but you tilted your head curiously at his words.

“Sir?”

“Plans have been in place for the eventuality to see justice done in the face of the heinous acts I know you have been busy translating.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded in reply.

“We are to move into Germany as soon as possible, please return to your lodgings and pack your things and report back to me immediately.”

“Yes sir.”

It was easier said than done, navigating the streets still in the throes of celebration, but you managed nonetheless to gather your belongings and leave a note of farewell to the girls. By the time you returned to the office with your suitcase, the clerks had nearly finished packing everything into boxes and the twenty of you working directly under Major Wilkes made your way down to a transport truck to begin the long drive. Settling in for an uncomfortable ride, you did not concern yourself with the precise destination like many of the other staff who were whispering amongst themselves. ‘Germany’ would suffice for now.

It wasn’t until mid afternoon the next day when you arrived in Nuremberg, with pockets of the city relatively untouched by the air raids and invasion, that your curiosity was piqued.

“Nuremberg, sir?” You asked him as you worked together to unpack into a new set of offices.

“A hunch.” He said with a knowing grin, and you had a feeling there was an awful lot more to it than that.

Spring wore on into summer, the documents you worked on grew more disturbing, and the London Conference convened proposing an International Military Tribunal to take place in Nuremberg, confirming your suspicions about Major Wilke’s ‘hunch.’ Dick, it seemed, was enjoying his time as an occupation commander in the Alps – not four hours away and yet duty still managed to keep you apart. The office was growing busier, more cramped as men no longer required for the fight were able to return behind desks and take up the work of translation alongside you and your colleagues.

Despite the increasing volume of personnel under his command, Major Wilkes still managed to keep an eye on you, not missing the way you had developed a tendency to stare vacantly off into the corner of the room from time to time. Physically present yet taken back to some moment in time you’d been forced to bury for the sake of carrying on with the tasks before you – the face of the German soldier as he drove his bayonet into your side, the ten second plunge into the inky blackness from the belly of a silent plane, the wailing of that boy’s mother when you’d returned with her dead son draped across your shoulders.

“Sergeant Major?” He interrupted one such moment in mid-July, making you sit up straighter as you were caught red-handed.

“Yes sir?”

“My office.”

You stood quickly, feet briefly snagging on the legs of your chair making you struggle awkwardly before you were able to follow him into his office.

“Close the door.” He said firmly and you were quick to do so. “This is long overdue.” He muttered and held out a piece of a paper. “Seventy-two-hour pass to Austria. My apologies for the length of time it took to arrange it, as well as the short notice.”

You stared at it openly before he thrust it a little closer in your direction and you stepped forward to take it from him. “Th…thank you very much Major Wilkes.” You gulped roughly, holding it between both hands as though to protect it.

“Now I have it on good authority there is a supply truck departing for Zell Am See at 1030 whose driver would not be opposed to a passenger. You’ll find the address tucked inside of your pass. It will most likely not be so easy to make your way back, which is why you have seventy-two hours. You’d best be on your way, Sergeant Major.” He smirked, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

You could not help the smile that stretched from ear to ear, nodding rapidly. “Sir, yes sir, absolutely I will be back on time I swear it. Thank you very much, sir.” Turning quickly, you nearly raced out of the door before reminding yourself to walk at a calm pace in front of your colleagues. You grabbed your shoulder bag from the bottom drawer of your desk, locking up the documents you had been working on, and snagged your uniform jacket from the back of your chair before making out way out through the main door of the office.

It was only once you were out in the hall that you began a mad dash for the entrance, not even having the time to return to your billet for a bag. You checked the address on the slip of paper inside your pass before running almost all the way there, drawing far too much attention to yourself – and not caring in the least. You arrived with ten minutes to spare, a sticky mess beneath your woollen uniform, finding the driver who helped you into the cab of the supply truck. He was a gruff, middle-aged man, but after you caught your breath, a few well placed questions easily drew him into telling his life story, filling the time as you wound your way higher into the mountains that Dick had described in his letters.

It was mid-afternoon by the time you arrived at the supply depot in Zell Am See, but you still had yet to reach Dick’s lodgings. Truth be told, you hadn’t even told him you were coming; there was a chance he might not even be there. Walking down the side of the road toward the hotel you knew they had requisitioned, you swallowed as you heard a jeep pull up beside you, rather missing the reassuring weight of your knife at your hip.

“If that man doesn’t sing you ‘Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeant Major’, he’s just not living his life to the fullest.” Your eyes widened as Captain Nixon grinned up at you from the driver’s seat.

You let out a bark of laughter, though the accompanying smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m impressed you recognize my rank badge…” You couldn’t help but admit.

“Used to be my job to know things.” He muttered, a touch of sadness in his voice.

“Not all it’s cracked up to be, knowing things.” You trailed off in a similar tone.

“I apologize I don’t have any flowers on me this time.” He tilted his head with a smirk, breaking through your melancholy silence. “But climb in, I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

You quickly slid into the front seat beside him, thanking him profusely as he took you up the winding road to the hotel and through the checkpoint with ease. You followed him inside the building, removing your cap with its replacement badge, and up the stairs before he gestured at the door to room 308. Feeling suddenly nervous, you glanced over to Captain Nixon only to see him walking away down the hall.

“Captain Nixon where are you going?” You whispered after him anxiously.

“Trust me, he’s seen enough of my face.” He winked and disappeared into another room a few doors down.

Taking a fortifying breath, you raised your hand to knock.

-------------------------

Read Part Four

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Tag list: @allthingsimagines, @bcon24

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

[notalwayscommonsense]

Drinking Water & Staying Hydrated

On this account we cover how to do things that are "common sense" for the people who dont know. Shame-free. Today, we'll be covering some tips and tricks for drinking more water when you're unmotivated to or simply forget.

If you were to ever find yourself lost in the wilderness, the first thing you would wanna look for ASAP is a source of water. Humans need around 8 glasses (~2L) of water a day that our bodies can function right! It's very important, as dehydration can lead to constipation, kidney stones, overheating, exhaustion and generally a really bad mood!

Water helps to..

• keep your joints flexible

• regulate your temperature

• clean your insides via sweat/urination

• digest, salivate, transport nutrients

• carrying oxygen to your cells

• maintaining electrolyte balance

And much more. We're made up of around 60% water, after all. Though, drinking that much water every day can be a very tiresome chore for many of us, especially those who struggle with executive dysfunction and mental illness. Never fear: we've compiled a big list of little actions you can take that might help you drink a little bit more water in a day. Don't worry if 2 liters of water sounds like a big step! Even a few sips more makes a big difference. Progress is not linear!

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1) Switch it up - Water is obviously tasteless and for many people this deters them from staying hydrated when they could opt for something more sweet or exciting like a juice or soda. Luckily, there are dozens of ways to spice up your drinks. Hundreds of artificial flavorings exist; MiO, Sunkist, Starburst and other more affordable off brand water enhancers can transform your drink into something more flavorful. Whether you want something tart like lemonade, savory like iced tea or sweet like fruit punch, there's an enhancer that will fit your taste.

If you would prefer something more natural, there's countless recipes for fruit infused water. Cucumbers, lemon slices and mint can give your water that subtle boost you need to encourage hydration. Below we'll link some recipes if you'd like to try them.

For some people, its not so much the taste, but more so the texture. If you're a soda lover, opt for some sparkling water instead, flavored or unflavored. Brands like LaCroix, Sparkling Ice and Bubly can all give you the same smooth sipping of a soft drink while helping you meet your water quota for the day.

If none of these sound like something you're interested in, you can always opt for making tea instead, hot or iced. If you like cold drinks, you could make a whole pitcher and keep it in your fridge for easy access, whether its chamomile, matcha or plain old Lipton.

2) Make it fun - Making yourself genuinely want to do something is a great way to tackle executive dysfunction. If you're able and open to spending some extra money, buying yourself a fun new water bottle can make you want to use it and carry it with you. Personalization is another way to make a new water bottle even more fun or enhance one you already have. Add dishwasher safe stickers, customized beaded/braided handles and marked timestamps.

A free, more low effort alternative to make drinking water fun is to download an app such as Plant Nanny. Its premise is simple - drink water and in return you water an adorable plant in app. With your help, they'll grow up and you can slowly collect them all. Its a bright, colorful, interactive game that will help you visualize your needs and be rewarded for taking care of them.

3) Eat your water - If the action of drinking is something you struggle with, opt for eating water-rich foods. On top of being a great way to meet your water goals, it comes with more nutrients, vitamins and fiber than regular water while leaving you feeling filled. Below are some fruits and veggies you can snack on that will leave you feeling more hydrated.

Cucumber - 96% water

Celery - 95% water

Spinach - 93% water

Watermelon - 91% water

Cantaloupe - 90% water

And much more!

For something more fun, you can always make some popsicles with coconut water (94% water) and fruit. Pop those in the freezer and have delicious ice pops ready to go in a few hours.

4) Reminders and Encouragement - If you dont have an issue with drinking water but you often forget, a gentle push in the right direction may be all you need. Ask your friends or family for motivation and reminders. You can even challenge them or work towards goals together! Theres nothing better than some friendly competition.

Apps like Waterminder, Waterllama and Habit Tracker can all send reminders to your phone and help you track your progress. If you dont want to download an app, you can always just set some alarms as well. Plant Nanny, as mentioned above, is a fun alternative to this that brings gaming into the picture.

5) Passive Influence - Making some small changes to your routine can make drinking water passively a lot easier. Keep your water bottle on you, carry it from room to room, that way its always easily accessible when you're thirsty.

Switch out your regular snacks for something spicy or salty. Get a bowl of pretzels and a glass of water at the same time and you'll find yourself drinking it with ease. Potato chips, lays, fries or salted nuts are all great options.

If you cant find yourself able to replace your regular beverage with water, challenge yourself to drink a glass of water before you have one. Keep water bottles (plastic or reusable) next to your regular drink in the fridge so you remember to grab both. Another quick way to get some added hydration is adding extra ice to what you usually drink. About 8 cubes is a cup of water!

Always get a glass of water before bed so you have something to sip on, and in case you wake up feeling thirsty. Its a good habit to also get a glass of water right when you wake up. Thats already knocked two glasses out of the way for the day.

Another great idea as a passive, unscheduled reminder, is to drink water every time you use the bathroom. Theres no shame in leaving your water bottle in there as a gentle reminder when you walk in.

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Most importantly, more important than drinking 8 glasses of water a day, is to be gentle with yourself. Its okay if you struggle with drinking even one glass a day. Just trying to take small steps in the right direction takes a lot of strength. Try some of these tips out, even if you don't think they'll work for you. Who knows, one might change your relationship with water before you know it!

Products, Recipes & Articles:

8 Infused Water Recipes

MiO Liquid Water Enhancer

Plant Nanny

#actually autistic #actually neurodivergent #affirmation #encouragement #healing #mental health #positivity #recovery #reminders #tutorial #adhd #executive dysfunction #self recovery #self care #self compassion #hydration #gentle reminder

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

i'm a huge tea enthusiast so i want nothing more than to project this onto my faves. however. vash is the kind of guy who gets a cup o' joe from the dunkin donuts every morning and wolfwood drinks multiple shots of expresso. neither of these bitches drink tea. KNIVES ON THE OTHER HAND.

I AM GIVING HIM THE PRETENTIOUS INTERESTS HE DESERVES. he hates the smell of coffee. can't stand the taste of it, bristles like a cat if any of it gets near him. has a special tea timer specifically for brewing, and all sorts of fancy tea pots and tea strainers that fill a whole cabinet in his apartment.

he breaks vash's coffee machine one morning out of sheer spite and vash retaliates by flushing his expensive-ass-imported-straight-from-china oolong tea leaves. he nearly kills vash for it (this is a normal tuesday).

he has an entire shelf full of the different teas he drinks. there's everything from genmaicha to osmanthus oolong to white peony and if you dare ask if he's got any lipton, he has to visibly hold himself back from biting you dead.

wolfwood has, of course, tested this empirically. knives did, in fact, try to bite him dead and only the timely intervention of vash coming home from work was able to keep his fool ass alive.

rem was super concerned about knives's budding anger issues when he was growing up and a child psychologist friend of hers suggested that knives get a hobby he could really get obsessed about, just so his yandere tendencies don't get any worse. rem bought him tea.

it wasn't all that fancy--just an 8 dollar jar of tie kuan yin from the local asian market--but knives adored it. rem still sends him a new jar every year on his birthday, and even though knives swears he thinks it's cheap trash, he still somehow portions it out to last the whole year until rem sends him the next one.

when wolfwood came to, uh, "ask" knives if he could date his little brother, he came bearing a tea plant. it was ridiculous, because it's not like knives has the room in their apartment to grow it properly.

but it was just surprising enough, just thoughtful enough (he'd been expecting that the little shit would fight him for vash's hand, tbh) that he accepts the gift. it takes up half the kitchen and he's named it sonata. not that he'll ever admit that to vash, but his brother has sharp ears and heard him whispering sweet nothings to it. it was cute.

and when wolfwood decides he wants both of the twins, he asks knives out to the most expensive, most pretentious teahouse in the area. they have to drive for an hour to get there and knives nearly jumps out of the car/tries to kill him three times.

but the look on his face when he tried their matcha? exquisite. wolfwood is going to savor that expression of sheer delight for a long, long time.

he gets another date out of it, though knives still refuses to kiss him if he tastes like coffee.

#plantwood #knives millions #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun stampede #GOD I LOVE PLANTWOOD MODERN AUS. EVERYONE LIVES NO ONE DIES BABY #inspired by my tea enthusiasm and coffee hatred

[cottagecorelich]

The Evolution of My Magic,

Is such an interesting thing for me to think about. Lots of places online and paths you read about will discuss the different tools and uses and rocks and herbs etc. They will also say that all you really need is yourself and your intentions, and yet I don't see this.

My path has evolved. It looked like, expensive rocks, hand made wands, and fancy knives, a mortar and pestal, drying plants, in depth rituals and so many things like this.

Today it looks like the cup of lipton tea I made for my friend who was feeling under the weather.

Today it looks like a picnic in the park with my close friends.

Today it looks like a meditation that turned into a 30 minute nap.

Today it looks like a tarot reading on my porch in my pajamas.

Today it looks like cooking a meal, cleaning, writing, painting, walking, and reading.

Today my path is myself, honestly. Yes I have labels and funny lines to define myself within, but it is still within my own ability and daily life. A day in my life, a normal daily practice, is just my day.

Returning to my roots I suppose.

#paganism #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #pagan witch #pagans of tumblr #paganblr #deity worship

[scotianostra]

March 29th 1835 saw the birth of The Scottish tea planter James Taylor.

Born to Michael & Margaret Taylor at Moss park, Monboddo Estate, Laurancekirk, young James was devoted to his mother whose death took place in 1844, when James was nine years old. James was educated at Auchenblae, which stands at the entrance to the Glen of Drumtochty and worked with his father on the farm there. When his father married again, home life became unbearable to the young lad who was no favourite with his step-mother. As he grew older he disliked what he considered the drudgery of farm life, but his father gave no encouragement to his desire to leave home and push his way in the world.

Via London he ended up on the Loolecondera estate, in what was then Ceylon. At the time of his arrival Ceylon was more known for it's coffee but there was an onset rust disease, destroying the crops, Taylor visited India in 1866 to learn about growing tea. Upon his return, Taylor planted a 21-acre plot of tea on Loolecondera in 1867 – Field No 7.

Taylor’s initiative enabled a new industry to hastily replace an old one which had been brought to its knees. It breathed new life into the perilous situation that investors, owners and planters had found themselves in.

The first shipment of Ceylon tea comprising 23 pounds in two small packs was sent to the London tea auction. The value of the shipment was 58 rupees. In 1873, his first quality teas were sold for a very good price at the London auction.

It was a small step for a man but a giant leap that paved the way for a flourishing trade, leaving behind a rich heritage that is treasured to this day.

James Taylor put his heart & soul into cultivating tea. He was never married, his first & last love being tea.

During the forty years he spent in Sri Lanka, he took a holiday and spent it studying tea in Darjeeling.

From an initial export of a mere 23 pounds, tea production on Loolecondera and the country expanded rapidly and by 1890, exports had risen to more than 20,000 tons. So too did the glowing reputation of Ceylon Tea. It was in the early 1890 he met up with fellow Scot Thomas Lipton and the latter started his own Tea production, which lasts to this day.

The rapid growth of the Ceylonese tea industry allowed the large tea companies to take over therefore the small farmers like Taylor were chased out from the industry. Because of this, Taylor was dismissed by the Loolecondera estate management. He passed away just over a year later of dysentery in Sri Lanka in 2nd May 1892 at the age of 57 years, and is buried at Mahaiyawa Cemetery in Kandy.

In 1893 one year after his death, one million packets of Ceylon tea of the first shipment to London were sold at the Chicago World's Fair.

A museum was built in 1992 to commemorate him in the place where he lived. The pics include his grave at at the Mahaiyawa Cemetery in Kandy.

#scottish #scotland #history #sri lanka #ceylon #Tea planter

[wwhatev3r]

Easy Company Preference: having a Summer Day

I went to a river yesterday, and I had this idea while I was there. You can imagine the background as being in a Beach, river, lake or even a pool. Basically, just the boys having a summer day. Whatever you like :) | Gif by  @whatelsecanwedonow​ |  I recommend to read everything because the characters headcanons are connected. 

Carwood Lipton - Just imagine him sitting in his towel with his swim shorts and a white clean shirt, watching the boys. Just in case someone would drown. He would hand the food and remind the boys to use sunscreen. I can see him with the sunscreen on his cheeks and holding a floater. 

Dick Winters - This man would be swimming around, far away from everyone and minding his own business. Of course, he would keep an eye on the boys while talking to Nix by the water. He trusted Lip and Speirs to keep an eye on them. 

Lewis Nixon - The only person who can make him go into the water is Winters. I can see him being like that uncle; always with a beer in his hand, just looking around, maybe even grilling with Bull. Also, I feel like his hair would look like the fur of a wet dog after getting out of the water.

Ronald Speirs - This man would stand most of the time under a tree, with sunglasses and even using binoculars to keep an eye on the company while they were in the water. He is a sun avoider. Sometimes he would go talk to Lip (to make fun of the boys). While one was in the bathroom the other would take charge in looking over the guys (yes, like a patrol.) Just imagine: “Private Luz, don’t you dare jump out of that rock. Liebgott, don’t drown your colleagues!” / He thinks it’s still a work day, so 0 fun. (He even turn down some girls because of it.)

Joseph Liebgott - I can see him being that person pushing people’s head under the water. Idk why. He also would play volleyball with some of the guys, and he would be the best one. At the point that they would quit playing with him. He sings a LOT.  This mf tried to act brave by challenging Bill for a swim race and regretted his choice.

Bill Guarnere - He refuses to use Sunscreen. “Sunscreen is for quakers!” | He spends the day mostly playing sports and eating food. Him, Lieb, Luz, Babe, Malarkey and Muck would make a competition to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest. He completely lost the competition and got so angry. Btw, he and Babe drink too much and never get drunk. 

George Luz - The Soul of the Party. I can see him cheat in the underwater competition. He would be that one person who would run into the water to splash water to the people who take the longest to get in. That person is Shifty. He can’t stop eating watermelon. Also, he is the idiot who feeds the seagulls. 

Donald Malarkey - This man needs to use the whole sunscreen bottle. His skin is too sensitive so it gets red really quick. Him and Muck make sandcastles competitions and play pranks on the rest of the guys. (They put seaweed on Lip’s face when he falls asleep.) He eats too much snacks.

Warren “Skip” Muck - Him, Malarkey and Penkala are the golden trio. He is that wierdo who uses goggles and a stupid hat. He catches fishes with a bucket just to free them right after. He is the one who reminds Malarkey to use Sunscreen and get’s all dirty eating ice cream. 

Shifty Powers - He is so quiet. He would help Muck catch the fishes, since he is the most observant. He takes a while to get in the water. Also, if you guys were in a river or in a more natural place, he would spend most of the time in that space; watch butterflies, plants and different animals. He will be the one who makes sure everything is clean and no one throws any garbage on the beach. 

David Webster - He is in his natural habitat. He just loves water, principally the ocean (if that’s the case.) If it was, he would definitely spend his time writing poems about it. He has a boat so he would let the boys go for a ride. If it was a more natural place (like a river or a lake), he would stay with Shifty. Both would teach each other things about different species and plants. Btw, this man has the most random facts about the ocean, mostly about sharks.

Babe Heffron - This poor boy barely stepped on the water and got burned by a jellyfish (He was pushed by Bill and Luz.)  Eugene took care of him and he didn’t get in the water for the rest of the day, which is okay, I feel like he wasn’t a very good swimmer anyway. He played cards with Luz, Martin and some other men, and found some really cool seashells with Roe. 

Bull Randleman - As I said, he was in charge of grilling and making the food for the company. Just imagine him with his cigar and an apron saying “Kiss the cook”.  I also think he would be the guy who would pull the smaller guys out of the waves. | “You’re fine Perconte, don’t worry boy.” If any man dared to catcall a lady, I swear, just Bull’s gaze would make them tremble. 

Eugene Roe - I can see Eugene with sunscreen on his cheeks and a medical box by his side in the towel. He only got his feet in the water and was only one time. He is just not a big fan of swimming. He will help the guys with the towels when they are leaving the water and I’ts cold. I feel like most guys will come to him to help them put sunscreen on their backs. He is just trying to relax, but he can’t. 

Joe Toye - He loves to play sports with the guys. Also, he is that one person who doesn’t want to go to the water alone. Btw, he is one of the guys who asked Eugene to put sunscreen on his back. He hurted his knee playing football with Bill and instantly got up and continued, giving zero fucks. He would bring ice cream for everyone for sure, and would get so angry if he had sand in his food.

Frank Perconte - He hates sand so much and doesn’t want to get sunburned for nothing in this world. He also loves to play sports with the guys and tries to act cool by going to a deep area of the water and then Bull has to go pick him up. I feel like he would be that person who would get really mad if you drop a grain of sand on his towel. 

Floyd Talbert -  He got hit in the head by a volley ball because he was standing by the net while flirting with a group of girls. He never made the same mistake again. He doesn’t want to wet his hair because he might ruin it. He has the most beautiful swim shorts, let me tell ya. He is the one who chooses the music that is playing. Him and Lieb got into a discussion because of it. 

Johnny Martin - This man will fuck you up if you put the music too loud or leave garbage in the beach. He makes sure Luz or Bill don’t eat lunch for the third time or steal food from anyone’s plate. The one who screams at everyone commanding them to run after the parasols when they start flying with the wind.

#band of brothers #band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers imagine #easy company #joe liebgott #george luz #dick winters #bill guarnere #ronald speirs #donald malarkey #bob #joe toye

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Nothing like a bonfire autumnal

It was a dark and slightly damp night at Crazy Claws' retreat for fellow Funtastics in Lake Delton ... and for some reason, Crazy Claws thought it might be worthwhile to set up an autumnal-type bonfire just for the sake of relaxation and maybe swapping the odd story or two over spiced apple cider. (And I mean the real sort of apple cider, not that God-awful Alpine Instant Spiced Cider. Thankfully, by way of some Wisconsin apple orchards.)

And while the night may have been chill, not to mention (as noted earlier) damp-feeling, what better night for an autumnal bonfire could there have been, come to think of it? Decently-seasoned logs and leaves adding their own aromatic distinction to proceedings which our entire party--even the likes of Touché Turtle and Pixie and Dixie couldn't resist the feeling inherent.

Crazy Claws had me and Huckleberry preparing the apple cider in the former's kitchen, making sure the whole was decently warm and richly spiced in its own distinct way ... and just be thankful Crazy Claws keeps a stock of insulated mugs to keep the whole warm in the circumstances, and as this little bonfire gathering demonstrated, such need not be for coffee exclusively. Tea, even....

And what an enthused sort of gathering there must have been, the sort somehow eschewing the ghost stories of the Scooby-Doo sort as would otherwise be endemic to the season in favour of more interesting stuff. Like "shooting the bull" in a rather lighthearted, animated sort of way you might say.

Like, for example, Pixie and Dixie just imagining the scenes of dazed and confused cats somehow attracted to the genetically-modified catnip they planted to give Jinksie a difficult time and maybe get him to stop chasing "them meeces" all that much. Somehow, catnip can't help but get to be an addicting distraction.

And even Dum-Dum, Touché's Boon Compadre, sharing anecdotes of summers with Bristlehound on a houseboat along the Mississippi River as much "chilling out" as seeking out Friday-night fish fry of the small-town tavern sort. The kind with overly generous, all-you-can-eat portions, and just hope the French fries aren't too greasy and indigestible enough to seek out some Tums afterwards. One place in Minnesota which Dum-Dum recalled took something of great pride in hand-cutting their French fries instead of using frozen such. "Somehow," Dum-Dum remarked, "they turned out especially crispy."

Still, though, with Huck and yours truly, much of our discussion was about fantasies of just wearing wetsuits in the early morning shallows of some lake and just meditating between ourselves, as if plans for the winter dive holiday with Peter Potamus' crew of divers were still simmering like a pot of Grace Cock Flavoured Soup Mix (and I assume you've seen the memes associated with the double-entendre that the name implies, notwithstanding a prominent illustration of a chicken on the front of the packet).

"To be candid with you all," Crazy Claws remarked, "curiosity took hold of this cat and he was able to purchase a few packets of this Grace Cock Flavoured Soup online a winter or two ago, attracted by that rather coy meme playing on the suggestive-sounding name. And mind you, the soup, though a little on the spicy side, turned out to be decent. Even when you had Lipton's and Wyler's instant chicken soups to compare against."

Which certainly warmed our cockles on a misty Wisconsin fall evening sitting by the fireside. Cattanooga Cats, eat your heart out.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @theweekenddigest @zodiacfan32 @iheartgod175 @archive-archives @thylordshipofbutts @screamingtoosoftly @princessgalaxy505 @themineralyoucrave @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @xdiver71 @indigo-corvus @jellystone-enjoyer @a-gang-of-silly-bananas @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #fanfiction #road trip experience #huckleberry hound and snagglepuss #wisconsin dells #lovethedells #crazy claws #autumn nights #autumn bonfires #hot apple cider #mulled cider #misty nights #swapping stories by the bonfire #grace cock flavoured soup #hannabarberaforever

[buggabeewitch]

My Ritual for Venerating My Ancestors and Loved Ones

↑ ( a spread from my grimoire ) ↑

I’m excited and nervous to bare my soul on this site, but I figured someone might learn a thing or two from my practices. So here we are!

Let’s dive right in…

Spell Components

A candle with corresponding colors. You can choose brown for the element of earth or for ancestry, purple for spirit work, gold for veneration, or white for clarity. Use whatever works best for you.

Anointing oil of your choice.

Herbs and Plants (for me, that’s orange bits, apricot bits, rose and sunflower petals, mugwort for dreams and spirit work, sweet cayenne pepper, lipton black tea). Use what resonates for you and your ancestors.

Rocks and Crystals (for me, that’s pretty rocks I find on a walk outdoors, clear, smoky, and rose quartz, citrine). Use what resonates for you and your ancestors.

Pen and paper. You may choose to have the color of ink and paper be significant to you. Ponder it and do whatever you can or what best suits your practice.

Miscellaneous ingredients (taglocks, jewelry you inherited or were gifted from them, symbols of or literal gifts you received from them in life or in death, charms or trinkets that remind you of them, et cetera).

A jar, bowl, satchet, charm bag, envelop, or some other form of container or vessel.

Offerings! This is incredibly personal to whatever your ancestors enjoy, whether in life or in death. For me, certain ancestors like black tea, some liked rockstar energy drinks, and my family dog gets fresh water. Offerings can be pledges to do devotional acts as well if physical offerings aren’t a possibility to you. For example, my offering can be the intention to grow a sweet cayenne pepper plant for my Wapa. I could pledge to try out crochet for my maternal grandma. I could pledge to dedicate space in my week to read or learn something new and interesting for my paternal grandma. Like I’ve been saying and will continue to say, do what’s best for you and what works for your practice.

A key with which you think you can carve into a candle, and/or just a regular ole inscription tool.

Ritual Walkthrough

Cleanse and awaken your candle. Do what suits your practice, but for me that means cleaning, cleansing, and awakening my candles, and asking them if they’d like to help me and subsequently to help me if they agree. If you can’t tell, I’m a bit of an animist, but if you’re not, just don’t what’s best or customary for you.

Anoint your candle with whatever oil you choose. I have a recipe for ancestor oil planned, otherwise I just use regular, cold pressed sweet almond oil for sweetness, love, and clarity. Anoint however best suits your practice. For me that means rubbing towards myself to invite them down to and toward me. Use that key or inscription tool to carve their first name(s), full name(s), surname(s), or maiden name(s), or whatever name you personally call or called them. I call my grandfather Wapa. It would be weird to call him by his first name. But it may feel and be right for you. Do whatever suits your practice.

Light your candle, placing the key in front of it, and invite the candle to open the doorway between you and your passed loved one(s). Call them by name when you invite them, best done aloud in my practice.

Gather your container (jar, pouch, bowl, bag, envelope) and prepare your ingredients (herbs, rocks, papers and pens). To me, preparing ingredients means holding each one individually in my hands and asking them if they’d like to help me. If they do, I ask them what I need from them. For the paper and pen, I’ll write my prayers and notes to my ancestor(s), memories of them, lessons learned from them, and anything else I want to have written down to use in the spell. Add each ingredient to the bag as you complete this. Note! Don’t seal the container (unless you feel it’s something you should do) because you may want to add or remove items as your relationship grows or if you find they don’t jive with something you’ve added any longer.

Lay out your offerings. Take your container of goodies in your hands and say a prayer of gratitude, of veneration, of appreciation. Some things you may want to include are an introduction to your offerings, inviting them to indulge freely, you may want to include thanks for what they did for you in life, you can include the notion that you want to continue your relationship with them in death. I end my prayer usually by saying some form of “I love and cherish you, now and always.” Do whatever feels right and suits your personal craft and relationship with your ancestor(s).

Place your container of goodies on your altar, if you have one, otherwise just place it in a place where it will be safe and able to be well cared for. Let this spell container serve as an earthly reminder of your veneration and appreciation of your ancestor(s).

When you’ve finished consecrating the spell vessel, communing with the ancestor(s), and praying, extinguish the candle to dismiss them. You don’t want to force them to stick around. Let them know they are free to stay or leave. They may have others to visit, you know. They’re still beings with free will and desires.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

Are you sick of me telling you to do what’s best for your personal practice? No? Good! Yes? Too bad, because that part is incredibly important. Don’t use apricot pits if they mean nothing to you. They have a world of meaning to me. It was the biggest tree in my Wapa’s front yard for a large portion of my childhood, it’s the heart of the fruit, it’s the seed from which a new tree can grow, it’s the hard, sturdy, unwavering part of the soft fruit. But if an apricot pit is just trash to you, so be it! If the idea of offering something as unhealthy or “trashy” as an energy drink revolts you, then just don’t offer it! It reminds me of a time before my grandma started shaping up in her health habits. It reminds me of that time, not actually the bad habit, but of memories we shared during the time that align with the time before she broke that habit. Plus she may want to indulge in an old vice, and who am I to judge that?

Also, for me, ancestor work doesn’t only have to be for the dead. I know that sounds a bit weird, but the definition of ancestor doesn’t specially state that they have to be deceased to be an ancestor. Plus, right now I live over a thousand miles from my grandparents who are still with me. I want to honor and venerate them in magical way as well as in a mundane way, like facetiming them, texting them, sending them snail mail, et cetera. I want to give them things I can’t simply post in the mail or just say with words. So I include living ancestors in my magical workings.

Again, I’m very nervous to be sharing such a personal ritual of my practice, so please remember to be kind and use my words with care. Don’t just blindly follow me. Soul search and discover what works best for you in your practice involving your ancestors.

Thanks for reading and let me know if you learned something or enjoyed sharing a bit of my practice with me! May your journey be a blessed one!

#my post #buggabeewitch #ancestor work #ancestor working #ancestor ritual #practicing witchcraft #witchcraft ritual #witchcraft #ancestor veneration #grimoire spread #buggabeewitch grimoire #working with ancestors

[bobparkhurst]

festive ficlets: dec 19

Prompts from @almost-a-class-act

Pairing: George Luz x Carwood Lipton (bonus appearance by Ron Speirs)

Prompt: Skating accident!

“I am not unalike a gazelle,” George calls out, approximately half a second before his skate cracks on a stone half-hidden in the frost and he’s going ass over tit across the frozen lake, careening ever closer to the bank. His fingers scrabble against the ice, but make no purchase in the slick, and so instead he closes his eyes, throws his arms over his face and neck and braces for the inevitable.

The last thing he hears before impact is Lip shouting his name.

“That man is going to give me a heart attack sooner or later,” Lip says the next day over breakfast. Ron, across the table, replies nothing, but spears his fork through a piece of bacon and pops it into his mouth, waiting for Lip to continue. “Do you know what he said when I got to him?”

Ron’s eyebrow raises, almost imperceptibly. 

“He asked me if I thought he could give Ginger Rogers a run for her money.”

“I liked Shall We Dance,” Ron says mildly, and reaches for his coffee. He makes a face as he sips it and the cup is pushed away from him when he sets it back on the table. He signals for another to be brought over. “I assume he’s fine?”

“Not a scratch on him.” Lip places his elbows on the table, holding his own coffee in both hands. He smiles at the waitress who comes over with the refill and has to bite his cheek when he notices the blush that rises on her face when Ron does the same. As soon as she has turned around, Ron rolls his eyes at his expression and very pointedly begins eating a pancake.

When it comes time to pay, there’s a brief tussle, which Ron wins chiefly by pointing out that it’s his turn and besides, he’d done it already when Lip hadn’t been looking. The winter sun is bright when they emerge, and Lip finds himself blinking, suddenly watery-eyed. Ron’s shades glitter in the light and though he can’t see his eyes, he can read the concern in the tilt of his head and he waves it away.

George meets them on the corner, tips half a salute in greeting to Ron, who bids them both goodbye and makes his way to his car. His cigarette dangles from his lips as he leans against the wall, book tucked under his arm. It looks like he has been waiting for a while, which Lip full knows he hasn’t, that he’s only just finished an early morning meeting about some dance or event or something else that he’s been asked to be on the committee for. For all his best efforts, it’s not easy even for him to keep up with all the ways George keeps himself busy. 

They have some time yet before Lip is due at the college, and so he allows himself to be led back down to the lake where George had fallen the day before. They make a slow circuit; there are few enough people out that it almost feels like they’ve got the whole space to themselves, and if he makes only the slightest effort to do so, it’s easy to believe that they two are the only people in the world, that there’s nothing left out there that can come for them now. It’s a beautiful, heady feeling, and one that Lip has yet to grow accustomed to. He rather hopes that he never does.

The impact point is still visible, plants ripped from their roots scattered over the ice. Not so very far away, a jagged crack sends a spike of anxiety running through his peace; he bumps George’s shoulder with his own, just to check that he’s still there. Though George doesn’t look at him, his head nods, acknowledging the gesture. He tracks a couple of figures moving on the other side of the frozen water, until they disappear, and finally he moves to look at Lip.

“I’ve kinda gone off skating,” he says. His fingers are jammed in his pockets and his arm almost brushes against Lip’s as they walk. “I just kept showing up all the kids, it was getting embarrassing.”

“I guess it’s a hard to be master of all things,” Lip says. George laughs.

“You’ve always understood me,” he says, and winks.

#band of brothers #aiming to finish these by new year #we'll see #lipton x luz #bob: festive ficlets #ron speirs loves musical comedies pass it on #just realised this is lip's first appearance in the collection #still got five to go #it's not his last

[rye-in-a-coat]

rye how do you drink your tea? and what is the best tea?

i’m now intrigued

My favourite teas are chamomille, mint, lemongrass, and this bitter as hell tea I drink every morning before any other food or drink (I have to confess tho that this one is drank cold). On this stuff I cannot say what tea is the best, any tea is valid.

My mug has the following elements in its inside: hot water that I microwaved (Microwaving water is ok), and the teabag. There are sometimes where the water is heated in a kettle or pot with the plant inside, but these are not usual instances and they happen when other people had already made it and I served myself a cup.

Ofc, in the past I have sweetened my tea with sugar, too much sugar, honey, liquid stevia sweetener, too much liquid stevia sweetener and even milk back when I was a weeb for the U.K. (Shocking). Since some years ago I made a change for better and I have been having tea with no sweetener at all. Just the teabag and the water. It's quite enjoyable.

When I was quite small I once tried Lipton, that ain't tea-tasting. A couple of years ago I tried ARIZONA, that shit ain't tea, it felt like having to swallow pure cold corn syrup that barely tasted like tea. The can design is an 11 out of 10 tho. On January I tried boba tea, dear God, it felt more like a task than an enjoyable drink. Chugging down milk (I don't like plain milk) that barely, just barely had a hint of tea flavour; that's already horrible, now add having to chew the unchewable balls each time one of the tons there are in get in your mouth so you don't choke and die. Clearly these teas ain't for me. Not judging if you like them.

However I learnt from my friend from American Georgia than in the U.S. Southeast they drink tea with high amounts of sugar and honestly idk bro.

Coffee sucks but I still drink it sometimes as a decision. It also has no effect on me that I have observed. Literally it smells better and coffee candy tastes a thousand times better than the real deal. Most overrated drink to ever exist. And no. Nope nope before you say it. No amount of fancy preparation methods will seduce me. This is also another reason why I am not that one blond bitch.

In conclusion, tea is second best drink according to me after water and before tepache. Milk is fucking great tho, love all of its products. What a blessing to us. But in this ranking I am evaluating them in their basic drinking form.

#letters to rye #Thanks for your ask. Greatly appreciated. #And again. No judgment for the PEOPLE who enjoy the drinks I don't simply enjoy.