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jenufa · 2 years

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Freitag 05.08.2022

Erste Eindrücke

Die ersten Beiden Tage und Nächte habe ich in meinem Zimmer verbracht. So auch den heutigen Tag. Ich habe das Gefühl den Schlaf der tausend Toten schlafen zu müssen oder ich Schramme an einer Depression oder es liegt am Jet Lag oder einfach daran, dass ich Nachts unzählige Male von bellenden Hunden, kläffenden Hunden und schreienden Affen geweckt werde. Ja, zwischen bellen und kläffen ist ein Unterschied und wenn die Hunde nicht gerade mit den Affen streiten, dann streiten sie miteinander und manchmal verbünden sie sich zu einem rudelhaften Gejaule das die Stadt durchdringt.

Irgendwann ist es ruhig, plötzlich kein Ton mehr. Dann wache ich auch davon auf und frage mich weshalb? Ein Zauber liegt dann in der Luft, dass so eine turbulente Stadt vielleicht für einen Moment stillsteht? Und dann gibt es da noch die anderen 1000 unbekannten Geräusche die durch die dünnen Fenster zu mir dringen. Das klacken des Boilers auf dem Dach, das Rascheln der Bäume vor meinem Fenster, die Musik aus dem Handylautsprecher meines Hosts, das Chanten der Mönche nebenan, das Singer der Kinder aus einer nahegelegenen Schule, die Sirenen von Einsatzfahrzeugen und ab 10 Uhr das durchdringende Zischen eines Wasserstrahls, wenn die Autowaschanlage des Nachbarn öffnet.

Ich bin froh hier zu wohnen. Ich blicke auf den Tempel, den begrünten Hügel, auf das Kathmandu Tal das sich vor mir erstreckt und in die Gärten rund herum. Die Häuser hier sind schmal und hoch gebaut, dadurch kann ich in die Weite blicken. Auf der Dachterrasse genieße ich einen Panoramablick in jede Himmelsrichtung. Als würde sich die Stadt vor einem ausbreiten und dennoch ist sie mir zu aufgeregt, um einen Fuß hinein zu setzen.

Meine Hosts sind sehr freundliche Menschen. Sie umsorgen, achten auf einen und haben immer ein Lächeln auf den Lippen. Ich weiß, ich darf jede Frage stellen und um alles bitten. Diese ehrliche Gastfreundschaft hätte ich mir nicht erwartet. Von all den Sorgen die mir vor meiner Abreise in die Ohren geflüstert wurden, musste ich davon ausgehen mich zu schützen, aber so ist es nicht. Ich habe das Gefühl, hier gibt es eine Art Anstand den ich in einer Stadt nicht mehr erwarte. Fast dörflich fühle ich mich aufgehoben.

Auf der Dachtferasse des 3Monkeys Backpacker‘s Hostel.

Gestern habe ich mich ins Getümmel geworfen. Ich bin ins Stadtzentrum gegangen um eine lokale Wertkarte zu kaufen und kam ohne wieder zurück. Den originalen Pass braucht es dafür, das Visum mit Stempel und ein Passfoto. Mein Plan mich von Google zurück zum Hostel lotsen zu lassen ging also nicht auf und ich ging einfach drauf los. „You won’t get lost“ hat mein Host zu mir gesagt als ich von seinem Moped gestiegen bin. Daran hatte ich mich festgehalten und als ich merkte, das die Straße vor mir sehr breit war und zu Orten führte die ich nicht kannte, da gestand ich mir ein: „Doch… I am lost!“.

Ich sehe das erste Mal Verlaufen in einer neuen Stadt als Ice Breaker, in etwa wie den ersten Streit in einer neuen Beziehung. Es ist der Beginn von etwas und nicht das Ende. Du bist aus der Rolle geworfen, aus der Sicherheit, und jetzt völlig nackt und ehrlich dazu aufgefordert dich mit dem auseinanderzusetzen was unmittelbar vor dir ist. Das Gefühl des verloren-seins zaubert mit heute zum Glück ein Lächeln ins Gesicht und ich weiß, dass man immer fragen und um Hilfe bitten kann. Doch solange du noch Akku und nen Euro in der Tasche hast, setz dich in ein Café und geh online!

„Wenn man einen falschen Weg einschlägt, verirrt man sich um so mehr, je schneller man geht.“ Denis Diderot

Über verregnete Straßen bewege ich mich zurück in die Unterkunft. Nachdem ich mir die Route mehrmals eingeprägt habe wage ich das Abendteuer. Von ursprünglichen 37 Gehminuten habe ich es, laut Google, mittlerweile auf einen Rückweg von 54 Minuten geschafft. Dennoch biege ich zu früh ab und stapfe nun durch den schlammigen Naya Bazaar Richtung Ring Road. Mit beiden Füßen bin ich in dasselbe Schlammloch getreten, aber auch das gehört dazu. Ich überquere den Fluss, es regnet noch immer. Auf der Brücke bleibe ich kurz stehen und genieße die Aussicht.

Ich werde angesehen, aber fühle mich nicht unwohl. Die Blicke sind eher mitleidig: „ Die Dumme Fremde, soll ich ihr helfen?“. Ein blühender Garten tut sich neben mir auf. Inmitten von Häusern, oder was davon übrig blieb, umgeben von Gatsch und sorgsam drapierten Müllbergen, eine grüne Fläche voll Lebendigkeit und Schönheit. Erst jetzt fällt mir auf wie gepflegt es ist. Die Straßen sind unbefestigt, die Stromkabel hängen wie wild über die Stadt verteilt und ja, da ist auch Müll. Aber was die Strukturen nicht hergeben holen sich die Leute hier zurück. Es wird geputzt, gewaschen und gekehrt. Die Menschen halten etwas auf sich und überlassen ihr Schicksal nicht dem Schlamm der tagtäglich an ihnen hoch spritzt.

Langsam erkenne ich die Umgebung. Die La Chimbali Kaffeemaschine im Schaufenster, die Puppen vor einem Laden mit der großen Oberweite und den Yogahosen und die drei Geschäfte nebeneinander mit den vielen Gebetsketten. Ich bin in einer Gegend, durch die ich bereits gefahren bin. Jetzt weiß ich, dass ich es bald geschafft habe und lasse meinen Blick wieder schweifen ohne Ziel vor den Augen. Viele kleine Restaurant mit maximal fünf Speisen auf der Karte. Viele kleine Shops vor denen Hunde schlafen. Ob sie zu ihnen gehören oder Straßenhunde sind weiß ich noch nicht, aber das möchte ich herausfinden.

Bevor ich mit meinem Host ins Stadtzentrum gefahren bin hat er mich auf ein Kloster hingewiesen. Er meinte das kennt jeder, wenn ich mal mit dem Taxi fahren sollte und die Adresse nicht weiß, dann solle ich das Kloster nennen. Von weitem seh ich das goldene Dach, das prachtvoll verzierte Gebäude mit seinen herrlichen Schnitzereien. Ich biege ab, noch zwei kleine Gassen und bin zurück. Mit dem Glück einer Überlebenden in der Tasche wage ich eine Stunde später den Aufstieg zum Affentempel, aber das ist eine andere Geschichte.

Manang Society Monastery, ein Buddhistisches Kloster am Rande des Kathmandu Valley.

Hier ein Link für einen tieferen Einblick zum Thema „Religion in Nepal“:

#monestary #buddhism #kathmandu #travel nepal #backpack #hostel #lost girl

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 9 months

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two

Chapter Three

Normally, Masters conducted training in a variety of disciplines, in the main courtyard, or in the smaller open air spaces of the Kamar-Taj complex, regardless of the weather--for sorcerers-in-training required preparation enough to utilize their skills in unpredictable or adverse conditions. Even during monsoon season, this policy was seldom suspended, with the occasional rare exception; and by long-standing tradition, outdoor sessions were canceled only at the discretion of The Ancient One. Since her loss, such a situation had not yet arisen—so it was inevitable that such should fall in a week where Stephen was in residence there, far from his place as Master of the New York Sanctum.

From June through early September, Kathmandu saw rain daily, with intermittent evening thunderstorms. Steven Strange felt every day of that rain as a heightened ache in nearly every joint of his hands. He hadn’t needed to check Doppler radar online to know that a doozey of a storm was headed their way; he’d felt the drop in barometric pressure several hours in advance, and the damp in the air announced itself spectacularly in a persistent, bone-deep throb that did it’s best to distract him from every task he set himself to. Adding insult to injury, his tremors had intensified to the point of equaling those of the beginning months of his recovery. Meditation helped to some extent, but the discomfort remained a constant, like white noise in the background as he moved throughout his day. He kept to himself most of the day, focusing in the later hours on preparing himself to meet with Teyla for their first “lesson”, scheduled after the evening meal.

The winds lashed the rain against his back, while he crossed a courtyard lit by the flash of lightning, the peal of thunder distant enough to inform him that the worst of the storm had finally passed overhead.

She was waiting for him in the library, as they’d arranged, engrossed in a text he recognized from his own early studies, and scribbling notes in a hand that would rival the worst of any doctors’ that he’d known.

Stephen cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Teyla’s eyes remained cast upon the book in front of her. “Come here often?” he quipped, vying for her attention, swiftly realizing she probably wouldn’t get the humor of that old, banal pick-up line. He set his rucksack on the table, then took the seat opposite her.

She looked up with a start, then smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Doctor Strange—I got a little lost doing the translation here.” She slid the book across the table to him. “It’s the third passage down. I can’t tell if it’s require or recommend.”

He read the passage through, recalling the difficulties for Novices, of translating Sanskrit on sight—made doubly hard, he reckoned, as she might need to translate it first to English, and then into Hadeethan. “It’s ‘pay no heed to’,” he told her, pointing to several words proceeding it, “You need to look at it in context to get the true meaning.” He slid the book back to her.

“Oh—of course! Now it makes sense.” She crossed the incorrect word off her notes, than laid her pencil down, “Thank you, Doctor. I have been stuck a while, trying to work it out.”

Strange reached into his rucksack and pulled his tablet out. “I’ve found this indispensable for translating ancient languages—saves a helluva lot of time.” He handed it to Teyla, who looked immediately perplexed by the device. “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of these,” he asked. She shook her head solemnly. “Okayyyyy—well how about I leave this with you for the evening? It’ll make the hours ahead much more productive for you.”

“That is very kind of you, Doctor Strange, although…well…I have no idea how this thing…”

“This tablet,” he told her.

“Oh. This…tablet. I have no skill with such a tool.” She offered it back to him.

“Well, this one isn’t difficult at all. Let me run through its functions for you, and I’ll bet you’ll be breezing through it in no time.”

Stephen went over the basics, and then showed her how to access various websites pertinent to her studies, including a translation site that he had relied on to get him through his early training. Once she got over her initial distrust of the technology as a sufficient aid for study, Teyla adapted readily, and proved to have a defter hand with it than he had anticipated

Next, he removed several books from his pack and set two of them in front of her. “Now, these texts provide an introduction to clairvoyance and divination. I want you to take some time over the next couple of days, read them through.” Teyla picked one up, and then the other, running her fingers across the titles embossed on the covers. “I’ve bookmarked some sections that I think have a direct bearing on what we’re trying to accomplish here,” he told her, “And if you feel ready, I encourage you to try what exercises you find worth your efforts.”

“I will do my best,” she nodded, “Master Salma said I will be mapping unchartered territory.” She looked down, quietly admitting, “I find it all…very…intimidating.”

“No one will be judging you, Teyla.” She met his eyes at that, searching for assurances. “I promise,” he added, “And if we’re lucky, Kamar-Taj will learn as much from you, and you from us.”

Relief dawned first in her eyes, and then spread softly across her face, “I must admit my mentors on Hadeeth were frustrated when they could not provide teaching enough for me to harness and refine my raw ability for divination. I pray that your efforts to guide me will not be a waste of your valuable time.”

“No effort to teach is wasted when the student is sincere in their desire to learn,” he assured her, his voice low and persuasive, “And that is something I’ve learned as both a student and a teacher myself—and not just of the mystics arts. My medical training was more than a decade long process.”

Strange pulled a plain, leather bound book and pen from the side pocket of his rucksack, “One of the simplest things you can do is keep a record of your dreams. The texts advise you do so nightly—or at least as often as you are able to recall your dreams upon awakening.” He slid the items across the table to her. “Whatever details you can remember without concentrating too hard—otherwise your waking mind will try to add definition to things that don’t make sense…”

Teyla nodded, growing excited, “Why yes—immediately record the images and the events of my dreams. How have I not thought of this myself! To keep a…a dream…”

“…journal,” they finished together. She grinned at him, “Your wisdom has already surpassed that of my Hadeethan teachers.”

He chuckled, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the idea, Teyla; it’s a basic beginning in most of these texts. Keep in mind, your best results will come from writing down your first thoughts, no matter how confusing or jumbled they may be. Don’t give your mind a chance to filter or rearrange them in a search for meaning.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I understand…”

“And your feelings, Teyla. How you felt throughout the dream—and how you feel upon awakening. Even if you wake mid-dream, or in the middle of the night,” he stressed, “Write it down. This should help us see patterns in your dreaming, and eventually enable you to distinguish normal dreams from the prophetic ones.”

And there it was: that light in her eyes and upon her face that reminded him of the simple joy of having an avenue of learning open up before him. As exacting as his medical studies had been, there had always been the deep satisfaction of just knowing he was on the path to knowledge meant for him. And again as he began his studies at Kamar-Taj. As a physician, Stephen had seen that light from time to time, in his best student interns—and had forgotten it could be equally satisfying to the teacher who invoked it in their charges. From a task he’d initially dreaded, he was suddenly glad the situation had forced him to become Teyla’s mentor.

Pleased that he had actually given Teyla something concrete in the way of guidance, Stephen asked how she was faring in her other training. Though she maintained that she would have no need for the physical defensive skills when she returned to Hadeeth, she admitted she was impressed watching the Masters of those disciplines at work—and that she felt every moment of her own workouts in the aching muscles that followed in the aftermath.

“Oh yes, they can hurt like hell the first week or so,” he laughed, “But I guarantee you’ll feel fitter than you have in your whole life by the end of the second.”

Eventually, their conversation made its way back to the subject of her studies with Stephen. “The texts I’ve read so far--I have to admit that they’ve left me curious, Teyla. Would you mind telling me what it’s like?”

“The…the dreams?” She seemed surprised he had asked so plainly.

“Yes. How do they work, exactly?”

Her face scrunched and her eyes took on a faraway look as she considered how to answer. “The dreams have always been with me, as…as far back as my memory goes. As a child, I had no idea they were any different from the dreams of others—and so I found no need to speak of them aloud.”

Quietly, Stephen prompted her, “So when did you realize that they were different?”

Teyla’s voice and manner grew solemn as her recollection came to life. “I was…hmmm…seven years of age. Seven Earth years. And I had dreamed a dream for three nights straight—of my closest friend, Meandra. It was a simple dream, and I had no inclination to question it.” She closed her eyes, enrapt in the pictures her mind created. “Meandra slept beneath a midnight, moonlit sky. Fast asleep; she lay upon a bed of moss beside a small creek.” Her mouth drew into a small, fleeting smile. “My child’s mind believed the dream arose from anticipation of a nature walk our teacher had promised to us. I would never have guessed it was a dream of warning.”

“Teyla,” he murmured, “Whatever happened, I’m sure you shouldn’t have blamed yourself.”

She sighed and looked back to him. “Child that I was, it could not be helped. When Meandra wandered away from the group, nobody noticed until we prepared to leave the forest. The adults searched well into the night, but found no sign of her. We all feared that she was lost to us.”

Stephen remained silent, considering the weight of guilt she may have borne, and at so tender an age. Seeing his concern, Teyla shook her head, “No, good Doctor, it was not a fatal loss—though if I had been less afraid, I might have ended everyone’s woes all the sooner.” She shrugged, and cast her eyes away shamefully, “Through a bitter night, I struggled with my fear that a simple word of warning might have spared Meandra losing her way. And even worse, I fretted that through my dreams, I had worked some sort of dark magic as I slept, which might have cost my friend her life.”

Compelled by sympathy, Stephen took her hand—gingerly, for the continuing discomfort in his own. “You were just a girl; surely no one could expect more of you,” he reminded her, “I hope someone was wise enough to tell you so.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “With the dawn, I sought my mother out, and revealed my dreadful secret. She bid me wait but a little, so that she could give the searchers a description of where Meandra might be found—and when she returned to me, she gave me only love and comfort.” Teyla’s pretty eyes were soft with that memory. “Meandra was not too worse for wear, and was swiftly reunited with her family. And after I had rested a while—still afraid to sleep, lest I might dream dreadfully—Mother explained the nature of my gift. She called it a blessing, and told me it promised a noble destiny if I could learn to use it for the good of my people.”

Resisting the urge to tell Teyla that laying such a charge on a seven year old was extremely poor parenting, Stephen ventured a guess, “I suppose she feels you’ve come of age to fulfill that destiny?”

“Even so,” she admitted, “But know, good Doctor, that this is my hope as well.”

“Of course,” he told her, “I would expect no less.” Strange withdrew his hand from hers, beginning to gather up the few materials which he now judged too elementary for Teyla to find of use. He winced as he lifted one of the heavier volumes, cursing under his breath as he lost his grip and it landed on the table; the thud echoed through the quiet of the library.

Teyla met his eyes for only seconds, but he read her clear understanding in that brief moment, before she looked to his hands. There was no hiding the tremor in them, but he tried to make light of the moment; sighing with feigned exasperation, “I need to remember this sort of heavy reading requires both hands to be effective.” His self-deprecation fell short of lightening the moment.

“It is the rain, is it not,” she asked cautiously, although Stephen was sure she knew the answer already. Teyla’s eyes lingered once again upon his hands, as though committing the network of scars to memory.

“Yes,” he shrugged, downplaying the degree of his discomfort, “Nature’s little way of keeping me humble.”

“Yet the magic you have worked with them is already legend among the students here.” She smiled at his surprise, “Did you not know?”

Stephen clucked his tongue, “Yeah…well…legends are usually half exaggeration anyway. At least here on Earth. You should take those stories with a grain of salt, Teyla.”

“As you wish, Doctor Strange—but their unstinting admiration of your deeds is genuine.” Demurely, she cast her eyes away and added, “A true hero I have heard you called; one who single-handedly battled one of the darkest forces in the multi-verse.”

Stephen waved her praise off (the simple movement enough to set the joints in that hand throbbing again), “Honestly, Teyla—I only did what any Master here would do if faced with such a catastrophic threat.”

The tilt of her head and her sympathetic little smile spoke her response well enough, leaving Strange feeling a bit self-conscious. Standing up to leave, he would have changed the subject, but that she asked after his hands again. Irritated at her dogged attention to his private pain, he tried his best to answer impassively, “I appreciate your concern, Teyla of Hadeeth, but this is a topic I’d rather not discuss.”

“Forgive me please, Doctor Strange. I would not, for all the world, bring you further pain in this regard.” Teyla bit her lip, looking uncertain for several moments. “Please, do not be angry—but as we have discussed my dreams—and as I am under your tutelage in this regard--there is something I must share with you.”

Between the fresh flare of pain in both his hands—and Teyla’s seeming obsession with his wounds—Stephen’s patience was nearly frayed; he inhaled sharply, “What must you share, that cannot wait for another day?”

The young woman from another world blinked several times, her eyes misted over with unshed tears. “It is only that…that…”

“Yes,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I have dreamt of your hands, Doctor. And not only since I arrived at Kamar-Taj.” Visibly trembling, Teyla rose from her seat, to face him squarely across the cold distance between them, “I have dreamt your hands many times over, from the day I came to Earth to live with my father…and in the ten Earth years since.”

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sanctum-stinker · 1 year

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DEFENDER BACKSTORY AT LAST!!

Finally came up with a backstory for Defender for my re-write! Very very little of this is actually mentioned, and even less of it actually significant to the plot, but I do like to have it there anywho. Feedback, question and all similar things are always much welcomed!

I will be referring to him (Defender Strange) as Stephen just for convenience throughout this, and 616 will be used to refer to the MCU (even though I and many see it as the comic universe.) Anywho, let’s get to it!

- The differences in character between 616 and 617 begin on May 4th 2012, The Battle of New York. Doctor Stephen Strange is performing surgery at Metro general, leaving his usual post as neurosurgeon to join the ER nurses and Doctors as an influx of people is rushed in during this devastating attack. - The attack happened right after Stephen successfully completed a 10-15 hour long brain surgery, and thus midway through his work in the ER Christine and him have an argument about him taking a break. Stephen is required to take a 30 minute break so that he doesn’t collapse and can continue helping the steady stream of the injured, but being the stubborn man that he is he refuses to. -Eventually he leaves out of frustration, saying that he’d get some fresh air and then come back in knowing then Christine would be too busy with other patients to stop him from continuing his work. -When he goes outside, he’s horrified to face a swarm of Chitauri soldiers, the hospital has begun to be under attack. Stephen is attacked by one of the Chitauri, but is saved by the Hulk who shows up just in time to smash his way through the oncoming swarm and divert them from the hospital. -Unfortunately, during this Stephen gets fatally injured, wether by the Hulk directly, or by the Chitauri he couldn’t be sure through the pain and confusion. His hands end up being crushed, and parts of his body heavily wounded. -He manages to drag himself inside, and is forced to wait in line with the rest of the patients. This is agonizing, not just because of the pain, but because he knows the nerve damage in his hands will become irreparable while he sits there. -He develops a keen dislike towards the Avengers and their way of operating. Being a man who worked in the hospital he knew that the Avengers caused more ruckus than they stopped, and that these things were happening to earth because of their existence. -Stephen, while he was in the hospital tending to the wounded, spotted Jonathan Pangborn, a man he had refused to see due to the severity of his wounds. He couldn’t speak to him at the time, but seeks him out after his own surgeries to understand how he had miraculously healed. This is where he learns of Kamar-Taj. -Forced out of his job by his wounds, and fueled by anger and need for revenge, Stephen leaves to Kathmandu. He doesn’t wish to heal and take back his old life like 616 Stephen did, nor bring back something he had lost like 838 Stephen, he wishes to gain tremendous unfathomable power to overthrow the Avengers and protect the world in a way they could not. Now the whole Kamar-Taj spiel I haven’t figured out in detail because there is SO MUCH to work with, but something occurs and Tao is killed, but Stephen manages to pull through and put his thirst for power and revenge behind him to prove himself worthy of the title of Sorcerer Supreme, and thus after her death he replaces her. He basically has to go through a small amount of character development and gains the ability to use magic. It’s Defender’s equivalent of the 2016 movie and I’m yet to come up with anything concrete yet. Now, I’m aware that Doctor Strange 2016 (apparently) occurs in 2016, and the events of the next part, Age of Ultron, occurs in 2015 in the MCU timeline. However, in 617 Stephen becomes a sorcerer earlier, as his accident happens in 2012 during the battle of New York rather than 2016 when 616 Stephen goes on his journey to Kamar-Taj. Thus, during 2015 when Ultron attacks, Stephen in 617 is Sorcerer Supreme. That was unnecessary but I put effort into figuring that out so I’m putting it there. -Stephen has since mellowed slightly from his rage filled self who initially joined Kamar-Taj to overthrow the avengers, however his dislike for them still remains. When he hears of an attack in Sokovia caused by Stark Tech his personal bias causes him to disobey the Mystic order and he leaves to intervene. -Stephen wishes to be a force greater than the avengers, he wants to make sure that they don’t have to avenge because “If you’re avenging it means you’ve already lost.”

-With his new moral compass molded by Tao’s kindness and wisdom he is able to put his hate aside to help the Avengers and offer them his mystical help during the attack. As such they are somehow able to lower the floating island back down as opposed to destroying it over the ocean with the help of Stephen and the forces of Kamar-Taj who have not been in the public eye since the creation of the mystic order. - After everything subsides Stephen offers his two cents on the way they are operating, stating that earth needed to focus on its defenses. He did not want to prepare for a war by creating armies, but rather prepare so that they could avoid it. He offered a partnership with the Avengers, the mystic order would offer their help and services when needed and in turn they received the full cooperation of the avengers and their resources. Due to Sokovia never being destroyed the accords are never created, the band never splits up. With this new mission to Defend earth as opposed to creating a team ready to fight for it, the team grow much closer and manage to work a lot better. Where are my 2012 Avengers fam folk. I know you’re out there. -Thor and Stephen work together the most. Thor tells Stephen about his vision of the infinity stones during a dinner they were having, telling him that they should likely investigate potential enemies looking for them now that three of them were on earth. Tony overhears this and offers the knowledge he received during his own vision about Thanos. This initiates a mission to create a plan to defend the stones, with Tony sending out Stark bots around the world for surveillance and security and the Mystic order strengthening their barriers. On top of that Thor searched the cosmos for any signs that Thanos, their potential enemy, could be about. -All in all Stephen’s Intervention with the Avengers, and everything that came after manages to prevent Infinity war from happening. Because he never got blipped out Stephen remains Sorcerer Supreme and once satisfied with the way the avengers are operating he returns to the Sanctum and Kamar-Taj full time to focus more on his part as Sorcerer Supreme.

Anywho! That’s the most of what I have so far. I have some random bits and bobs of info which I’ll list down below. I wanted to have Defender be what 616 Stephen ideally wanted to be. Sorcerer Supreme, wiser and stronger, and able to protect what he cares for. Also because infinity war and endgame are such a big weight in Stephen in my re-write, having Defender avoid such events would lead to an interesting conflict within Stephen because he didn’t know he was capable of such things. However! Unlike 616 where he sort of repressed his feelings because his main conflict was his love and inability to express it, 617 Stephen was forced to be more emotional with him becoming a very angry and hateful man. Because of this, even later on, he finds himself jumping to conclusions and doing things before he thinks them through, he is a more emotion driven man as opposed to the logical thinker that we know Doctor Strange to be. This later on leads to him trying to take America’s power. He has as much to learn about himself as 616 Stephen does in my rewrite, and I found that really interesting to play around with.

Anywho, random facts.

-His hair is a symbol of his growth. It was shaved off after his accident so that the doctors could patch a cut on his head, and he grows it out when he becomes sorcerer supreme. -WONG IS A BIG PART OF HIS BACKSTORY! He is, I just haven’t figured out what part he plays. I really want to weave in influences from the Origins one shot which I ADORE and puts a cool ass twist on his character. I’ll make another post just for him when I come up with it. -His robes are never blue. They remain red like the Master’s robes with black highlights. The change of red with black highlights to Black with red highlights is meant to sort of symbolise his growth and ability to control his anger, with red obviously symbolizing his anger. -The robe designs which I attached above has elements from the original Comic Defenders Stephen. The chest symbol, the flap at the back and the slicked back hair are all influenced by his original appearance, but they change once he becomes sorcerer supreme and his hair obviously gets longer.

Anywho, that’s all for today! I know it’s messy but I really just needed to get this down. It’s not really important at all regarding the actual plot of the re-write, so I’ll probably alter details and bits and bobs here and there just for funzies. I’m in no way an expert about the Avengers, so if you have any ideas or comments about their incorporation here please do tell me!

Thanks for your time!

#Momstinkycut #stephen strange #doctor strange multiverse of madness #doctor strange fanart #doctor strange

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lewishamil10n · 9 months

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🎶✨️when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (negotiable, but positivity is cool)🎶✨️

tagged by @hungerpunch thank u so much lo!!

and because you did yours so thoughtfully, i'm going to try and do the same!

time in a bottle // jim croce — it's just so SOOTHING. it's the kind of song you listen to with your eyes closed, so you can really feel it. the lyrics! it's just such a sweet song, i love it so much.

yellow // coldplay — it's my favorite song by the band. not only because it rewired my brain, but because i have a lovely memory associated with it. in 2017, i went on a university volunteering trip to nepal. i knew this song then but wasn't that familiar with it; my roommate for the trip on the other hand fucking LOVED it. every day after dinner we used to walk around our area, just checking out the shops in thamel, kathmandu, and getting ice cream or drinks. just enjoying the weather and atmosphere, you know? and this one night, as we walked past a bar with live music, my roommate heard a line from this song. it didn't occur to her until much later — she was talking about something — and when it did, she grabbed my hand. "it's the song, it's yellow, it's my favorite song!" and she was so excited, and i had a bit of a crush, so i let her lead me by the hand all over the area, trying to find that bar again. by the time we did the song was already over, but just the searching... just the searching is one of my favorite memories. for her birthday the following year i painted the opening lines of the song for her so she could hang it in her room. she still has it, i think. we've lost touch but i think of her often, and i always think of her when i listen to the song.

i just called to say i love you // stevie wonder. i love this song because my dad loves this song. he's incapable of playing it just once. he'll listen to it three times in a row, and he always holds my mum's hand when he does it.

december 1963 (oh what a night) // frankie valli and the four seasons. when my brother was in fourth grade and i was in sixth, our school held a talent show. the older classes got to do a play. my brother's grade did a dance choreographed to this song. they wore these little tuxedos, it was so CUTE. i remember he spent weeks singing this song and just dancing at home. i think my parents have the video and photos somewhere. we both still jam loudly to this song whenever someone puts it on while we're going somewhere.

leave out all the rest // linkin park. when i first heard it i cried. i slowly built up an immunity over a few years, but then chester passed and i'm back at square one, unable to listen to it without crying. it's from my favorite album and it's just so soft and sweet and from the heart and just... it's wonderful.

no-pressure tagging @trials-era-sam @allthebestcowboyshavedaddyissues @lewishamiltonstuff @milflewis @effervescentdragon @princemick @whoregaylorenzo @mostannoyingbillioner @lesbian-i-ching and anyone else that wants to!

#tag game #remy.txt

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the-kirbe-anon · 2 months

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Hey, so it's a really long story But I've been drivin' all afternoon (I-i-i-i-i've) (Drivin', drivin', drivin', drivin') I've been drivin' all afternoon But I hate to say it, I won't be there soon And though I'm late, you know I just can't wait To come home to my slice of heaven on toast But my Grand Prix broke down without fail Another flat tire and another nail I miss your smile but this could take a while 'Cause this "Road Closed" sign says there's no way around No, first I felt kinda sad but I said out loud "You know, this isn't so bad?" Your photograph on my dash knows it's true It might take me forever, but I can't wait to see you I've been trudgin' since 2 AM On the side of this highway, 'cause back there when I patched that flat, I ran on fumes And that was a bad move 'cause yeah, I ran out of gas The heavens opened, the rain came down Now I'm soaked to the bone, but I'm homeward bound So I just don't care how much I have to bear 'Cause you'll be there when I walk in through the door So down this road I will run and only stop to buy you A bouquet for no reason Hey, it's kinda crazy what daisies can do It might take me forever, but I can't wait to see you Well hey, I'd say that the real question is Am I unavoidably detained Or extremely fashionably late? There ain't nothing ventured, nothing gained It just really hasn't been my day But, I'm on my way Am I unavoidably detained Or just unbelievably, insanely, fashionably late? There ain't nothing ventured, nothing gained It just really, truly, hasn't been my day But I'm on my way If I blew in by daybreak, I'd be in luck I'd hand you a coffee right when you woke up But my ETA just jumped to MIA And I'm so lost, my mind is startin' to stray Let's say I fly to Kathmandu To show the whole world I got a lot to prove But all I find is all these highways wind And lead back to my slice of heaven on toast Oh, would your heart kinda glow if I held your hand And I promised to stay home? Hey, when I blow in that's the first thing I'll do It might take me forever It might take me forever But I love you forever, and I can't wait to see you Yeah Woo, hey, I'd say that the real question is Am I unavoidably detained Or extremely fashionably late? There ain't nothing ventured, nothing gained It just really, truly, hasn't been my day But, I'm on my way Am I unavoidably detained Or just unbelievably, insanely, fashionably late? There ain't nothing ventured, nothing gained It just really, truly, hasn't been my day But, I'm on my way, yeah I've been drivin' all afternoon But I hate to say it, I won't be there soon

It was just starting to drizzle as I walked out the door

But I’ve delivered papers in the rain like that before

Three thirty in the morning, I was happy as a lark

As I grabbed my bike and rode into the dark

I pedaled through the neighborhood, the weather on my mind

The wind was picking up and howling louder all the time

The sky churned like a cauldron and the distant thunder roared

And I knew that I was in for quite a storm

A little rain never hurt no one so I kept pressing on

And I tried to tell myself, it’s always darkest before the dawn

Lightning struck an oak tree as I leapt off my bike

The sirens started wailing but there was no good place to hide 

I knew without a doubt, there was a twister touching down

So I crawled into a culvert to wait it out

The little bit of courage I had left was almost gone

But I tried to tell myself, it’s always darkest before the dawn

And then the nightmare started, it got deafeningly loud

Everything fiber in me screamed out but I couldn’t make a sound

The whirling of a vortex, a violent carousel

It sounded like a freight train was dragging me to hell

And this was my prayer, “save me from this terrible nightmare” 

That was when I saw my family with my eyes shut real tight

Would they know how much I loved them if this was how I died?

No, I vowed I’d not be murdered by a monster in the sky that night

But if I went home to heaven, at least that’s where I'd belong

Yeah I tried to tell myself, it’s always darkest before the dawn

So I kept hanging on

I kept hanging on

The shadows slowly melted as I was hunkered down

Till at last the worst was over, the storm was dying out

I crept out of that culvert and I went weak in the knees

Cuz what I saw was a somber sight to see

There was nothing but destruction and wreckage in that town

Cars were upside down and houses leveled to the ground

A twisted trampoline was hanging from the power lines

I blinked a tear back cuz I felt lucky to be alive

And that was how I learned to live when you can run but you can’t hide

How to feel trapped in a tunnel but come out the other side

Cuz with all the stormy weather in the world, you learn to take

Life one storm at a time, you don’t have to be afraid

And now when there’s bad weather on the way, I stay calm

And I keep hanging on because it’s always darkest before the dawn

And I keep hanging on

I keep hanging on

#poyo #kirbe anon's owl city hyperfixation #owl city mutual #I admire the dedication to sending me an entire song in an ask

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unmak1ngs · 3 months

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( amita suman. cis woman. she + her ) ✧ entering through oldham’s shore, we’ve spotted zoya suvedi, as usual carrying their twin daggers, a gift received from her father when she turned eighteen. the tides let us know they’re a twenty8 ( 121 ) year old vampire with their sun in sagittarius, and their day mostly occupied by bartending at the owl's tree. the spring breeze whispered they quite enjoy the feeling of sunshine cascading against her skin, something she wasn't able to appreciate for so many years after her turning ; the quiet and peacefulness the woods offer, particularly at night, moonlight an old and intimate friend by now ; getting a drink at the bar after a long shift, eyes already heavy with exhaustion, which might or might not be responsible for their compassionate, resourceful, steadfast, perceptive, unyielding, decisive nature. zoya isn't an oldham local, yet the ocean’s waves brought us tales about them regardless, about how she lost her parents when she was eighteen, but was only turned into a vampire ten years after that ; she has a collection of daggers and knives she's found over her many years on earth, though her favourite ones came as a gift from her father ; besides the training her family imposed on her, she took classes to become an acrobatics as a child and teenager, making her a formidable opponent in hand - to - hand combat, even before being turned into a vampire. although we can never know for sure when it comes to oldham, in the end, it could be only rumors, right?

BASICS

FULL NAME: zoya suvedi

NAME MEANING: zoya is of hindi orgin, and it means shining, life

NICKNAME(S): zo ( friends only )

AGE + DOB: twenty8 ( 121 ) + november 25th, 1903

PLACE OF BIRTH: kathmandu, nepal

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis woman + she / her

ORIENTATION: demisexual, demiromantic

OCCUPATION: bartender @ the owl's tree

SPECIES: vampire

RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: amir suvedi (†)

MOTHER: ditya suvedi (†)

SIBLING(S): none

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): none

PHYSIQUE

FACECLAIM: amita suman

HAIR: black

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HEIGHT: 1,67 cm / 5'5''

NOTABLE FEATURES: a very intense gaze, which seems like it's analyzing you ( which it most likely is ), but that also holds an underlying warmth and sadness ; incredibly long dark hair, that's usually done in a braid that cascades down either of her shoulders ; an emerald ring on her ring finger, which protects her from most of her weaknesses ; sometimes looks like a cinnamon roll, but she'll definitely kill you

OTHER

ALIGNMENT: chaotic good

TEMPERAMENT: choleric - melancholic

ABILITIES: besides the usual vampire abilities, she's a proficient fighter, a good acrobat, deadly with her daggers, and a great strategist

TRAITS: compassionate, resourceful, steadfast, perceptive, unyielding, decisive

INSIDE MY CHEST I FELT MY HEART SNAP INTO TWO PIECES WHICH FLOATED APART. BY NOW I WAS SO COLD IT WAS LIKE BURNING. ( tw for death, violence )

your childhood starts with a voyage. your father is a surgeon, a rather excellent one, and he receives an important job offer. it demands he moves from kathmandu to delhi, so your small family follows: your mother, with her reservations about leaving her home, and you, bright eyed and small, barely eight years old, not fully understanding yet quite excited about the chance to see a new place. though it is hard, you find a nice life there — peaceful, with many comforts that you're deeply grateful for. you constantly ask for a baby brother or a baby sister, but the fates decide not to grant your parents that wish.

from a very young age, as far back as you can remember, you are let into the family’s secret. they belong to a select group of people, what you like to think of as a secret society, whose task is to hunt vampires, and you never think it’s scary, or weird. to you, it’s as natural as breathing, a part of your parents’ history. trouble arises when they want to start training you to become one of them: you protest and refuse and sometimes yell, but you’re their only daughter, you must carry on their legacy. you get no other option or salvation, and thus your preparation begins. it’s something you never really get into, even if your sessions are somewhat outstanding. you are definitely not following this line of work once you’re of age. you want to be a doctor, like your father — only a doctor.

fate is a tricky little thing, however, cruel as can be. your world crumbles soon after turning eighteen, when you come home one night to find a slaughter, red painting the walls you once thought were safe. your parents sightless eyes forever open, their bodies drained of blood: you're well aware of who did this. you’re left terribly alone, nightmares crawling with the memories you cannot purge, and you’re paradoxically both empty and full. full of fury, grief, determination — blinded by loneliness. fate can be cruel, but you can be cruel, too ; so you decide then and there, you vow, that you’ll find the ones who did this to them, even if it brings about your end. you become the one thing you never wanted, hunting vampires across the world, leaving death in your trail.

it takes you ten years to find them, the architects of your downward spiral. they remember your family, but they don’t remember you, the little girl they left an orphan, and who manages to catch them by surprise on a hot summer night in london. your skills have grown over the years, carefully fostered, waiting for this desired day anxiously. this allows you to surprise them, and you swiftly take out one of them. you wait for the thrill, you do. you expected an uplifting sensation would fill you after finally getting your revenge, but the taste of ashes still lingers on your tongue, as sour and rancid as it was the day you took your first life. there is nothing inside your chest, besides the hollow left by your parents’ absence. no amount of killing is going to bring them back. this realisation rattles you, leaves you breathless for a second, enough for the fight to abandon your body, and enough for the other vampire to gain the upper hand. what follows is a destiny more twisted than death, if that were even possible: you wake as one of them, left alone to become the thing you hunted for so long. the predator becomes the prey, the prey becomes the predator. you almost find it a fitting punishment.

you are cursed with endless youth, and endless regret. you roam the world, alone, establishing few meaningful relationships, but still learning to find beauty, a semblance of happiness. you go to university, you study, like your father would’ve wanted. it’s by chance that you find yourself in oldham while on the run from hunters. you’re seeking refuge, and something calls you to this strange little town, finding there the peace you’ve been searching for the longest time.

#oldham.intro #╰ ✧ ZOYA SUVEDI: about ❨ glass is only brittle until it breaks‚ then it's sharp ❩

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doctorstrangeaskblog · 2 years

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Is it just me or do you look younger. (2 me he looks younger in dsmom than in ds)

You think...? Thanks. Well...I'm healthier now than when I first came to Kamar Taj. I had lost a lot of weight....starved for a few days... I was lost and homeless in Kathmandu for some weeks after all. My hands were still inflamed due to the surgeries too.

#BBY IS HEALTHIER #okay hes thinner in DS1 the movie has BARROQUE light (DARK AF)#i think he got more weight the light of IW and DS2 help to show how pretty he is #he found the best goatee style for him (natural now) and hes not combing his hair SLICK BACK anymore- his fringe makes him look younger

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romerona · 1 year

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Chapter 10: The bazaar.

-In which the daughter of the Lord of Darkness who was born with the sole purpose of destroying the universe falls in love with Peter Parker.-

Masterlist.

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

It was the end of Sharad and the start of Shishir, the coldest months of the year, well at least in Nepal, where the usual high temperature turns chillier, but at the moment Carina's robes were enough to cover her from the changing winds as she walks the streets of Kathmandu with Stephen Strange, who naturally likes to doubt Carina's sense of direction and knowledge.

"Are you sure we're not going to get lost?" He asked for the fifth time since they had left the sanctum.

Suppressing an eye roll, Carina yawned tiredly while nodding her head, again. "I've walked these streets my entire life, Stephen, have some trust."

"I'm just being cautious, I just happen to know some people around here are not the nicest." He told her, eyes observing the streets.

"Stephen, there are bad apples everywhere in the world," Carina said, as she stopped to give a praying old woman an apple and a few coins. "But we must not be afraid, instead we should have courage and be kind."

"Who told you that one? Let me guess, The Ancient One?"

Carina shook her head, grinning up at him. "Nope, Cinderella."

"... Right," Stephen scoffs a laugh.

Thankfully, they arrived quickly and without trouble at Asan, the historic bazaar, where you can buy anything from spices to textiles, bullions, electronics and food items. The market colours were vivid and bright, which was always enticing for Carina no matter how many times she walked about the same streets.

Stephen and Carina walk past a variety of merchandise and a diverse range of products through the mass of people, a familiar woman, Chaha, caught her eye, she's the one Carina usually goes to buy her paintings, but before she turns to Stephen whose eyes were roaming around the colourful streets.

"Okay, there's a place just down the street to buy your razor, and anything else if you need," She informed him, pointing at the one store on the kiosk. "Just tell him you're from the Kamar-Taj when you get everything you need."

Stephen nods, glancing at the little store before looking down at her. "Where are you going to be?"

"Just buying a few paintings, don't worry you'll be fine, I won't be gone long." She teased him before a yawn broke out of her making her cover her mouth.

"Alright, I'm leaving." Stephen rolled his eyes, before beginning to walk away without another word leaving Carina to walk towards the shop of paintings.

"Namaste, Chaha-ji," Carina greeted the woman with a smile who smiled back. "तपाईंलाईकस्तोछ?"

"म ठिक छु, तपाईंलाई कस्तो छ?" She said, greeting her back

Carina nodded. "म ठिक छु, I'm here to buy more paintings."

"Of course, what colours you want today?" said the woman, "I have new colours, see..."

Chaha showed her plenty of 'new colours', which were the same old colour but more pigmented, Carina ended up buying the same pallet of colours as always, a new brush and a brand new sketchbook, which was much needed.

She bid the woman goodbye before going to search for Stephen, smiling at a few people she knew from her previous visit here and there.

"I'm telling you, I'm with the Kamar-Taj." Carina heard him before she arrived. Stephen was annoyed.

"No, no you pay." said the owner of the shop.

Stephen sighs. "You're not listening to me– "

"शुभ - प्रभात," Carina entered the shop, Stephen did look indeed annoyed but a quick relief passed through his eyes when he saw her. "यो मान्छे मालिकहरूको भाग हो, उसले तपाईंलाई तिर्नु पर्दैन, सर."

The man made a noise in the back of his throat, "मैले उसलाई पहिले वरिपरि देखेको छैन."

"ऊ नयाँ छ, अब मलाई रेजर दिनुहोस्," She nudges her head at the things on the counter with a tight smile.

He sighs taking a plastic Bach from under the table and placing the stuff inside it. The man gave Stephen the plastic bag with a curious look, who took it with narrow eyes. "Thank you."

"धन्यवाद." Carina repeated, before leaving the store with Stephen following her.

"Talk about stubborn." Stephen rolled his eyes, huffing. "I told him five times that I was part of the students,"

"He said he hadn't seen you before, he was just cautious," Carina told him,

"How many people does he get wearing old robes and telling him they're from the sanctum?" He scoffs, a sarcastic end to his words.

Carina shrugged, "It's not a secret the temple pays a few stores for the exchange of goods, some people take advantage of that, not to mention that beard of yours didn't help."

"Funny." He deadpanned, "And what was I supposed to do? Show him my certificate of the sanctum or something?"

"It's neither of your faults, but now he will remember your face if you ever go back..."

Carina's eyes travel through the shops, lighting when she smelled the familiar scent.

"That'll be a hard pass–"

She grabbed Stephen's sleeve and pushed through the crowd, avoiding a few bikes on the way ignoring the man's protest and questioning.

"This is the best Chana Chatpate, and you are going to try it," Carina said, doing a short line to buy two portions.

Stephen sighs in defeat and nods. "You could have just said you wanted to come here instead of dragging me all the way."

Carina yawned, rolling her eyes. "Stop complaining, I'm hungry."

There were another two people on the line when her eyes caught the pretties pink bag she had ever seen. She turns to Stephen muttering a quick. "Stay here, I'll be back soon."

Without waiting for his response, she made a beeline to the store, which was showcasing soft silks, pretty bangles, woollen garments, artefacts and a few other things, the list is truly endless. The shop was not part of the list the sanctum paid to, meaning she needed to use her emergency money.

She approached the owner and asked. "यो झोला कति हो?" Pointing at the pink flowery bag.

The man told her the total, adding that it was a good quality bag, and that it was fashionable for young girls. Carina doubt it was, as it looked quite old, but she liked it nonetheless. It was a bit pricey but she could get it if she abstain from buying her chatpate, which she had to pay for as street food was also not on the list.

Other than the paintings, Carina never buys anything for herself, when she visits with the ancient one it was usually a quick visit as the woman was a busy person, and when she comes with Wong, he's usually telling her that 'attachment from the material is detachment from the spiritual, so she doesn't even look at anything else, but now, she's with Stephen who she was sure couldn't care less if she does buy it or not.

"ठिकै छ." She told the man, giving him the money.

When she had a hold of the pink bag, she felt a rush of excitement, a giddy feeling. It was definitely worth it, buying something for herself was so gratifying, that even her hunger went away.

Skipping back to where Stephen was making line, she got there just in time as the last person left with their food. She motions the worker for just one portion before paying, using the last of her emergency rupees.

"What about you?" Asked Stephen, once the worker gave him the food wrapped on a page of the newspaper.

Carina grinned and showed him her new pink bag, "It was this bag or food, and I felt it would feed me more if I bought the bag."

"That's an unhealthy logic," Stephen mumbled not looking impressed by her choice.

Carina brushes her fingers over the bag. "It's the first purchase I ever made for myself, Stephen, ever."

"Alright, alright." He hold his free hand up as they moved through the streets. "Good for you, then."

"It's so pretty, isn't it?"

Stephen regarded the bag, "I supposed, not my favorite color thought."

"Well, It's my favourite colour."

"And that's what's important," Stephen said before looking down at his chatpate. "Now how do I eat this?"

Carina giggles, pointing at the small chopped cardboard, "With that,"

"That's not hygienic," Stephen said, making a face.

"Try it," Carina rolled her eyes.

Hesitantly, Stephen grabbed the rectangular cardboard, scooped some chatpate on it and shoved it into his mouth. Carina watches expectantly as he chews it, face not giving anything away.

"So?" She asks when he swallows.

He looked at her and grinned softly, nodding his head. "It's pretty good."

"I told you so," She laughs triumphantly, pushing him slightly. "Never doubt me, Strange."

"Hard not to but I'll try."

As they were walking back to the temple, Carina yawned once again, making Stephen turn to her. "Did you not sleep last night?."

"I... it was just a bad night." She told him, avoiding his eyes, taking her necklace in her hand.

"Are you sure?" He asks, eyes narrowing as he places a hand on her forehead. "You look a little sick, are you coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, just a little tired that's all " She rolled her eyes, pushing his hand away.

"Okay, fine," Stephen said, turning back to his food. "You want the rest? I'm full."

Carina nodded happily, taking the paper cone from him. "Thank you."

She was glad Stephen dropped the subject because in a way she was telling the truth but in a way she was also lying, it was a bad night of sleep but not just that. It started with soft murmurs, soft undecipherable whispers that woke her up at night, Carina just wrote it off as a figment of her imagination, a short-lived nightmare, maybe she's finally experiencing PTSD after that night with the Zealots, they come every night and leave every morning. It was tiring but she'll rather keep it to herself, she'll only be a burden.

"So, there's a full moon party in a few nights, you should go," Carina said, not wanting to start thinking about the whispers. "You know, after you shave."

Stephen glanced at her, ignoring her last comment. "What's that?"

"A party we throw every other month to celebrate the completion, fertility, abundance, and transformation that the full moon brings, but in reality is just an excuse for the adults to abuse of all the Ale that the Kamar-Taj has stored and for the kids to eat all the sweets on the dessert table." She shrugged, taking a bite of the chatpate.

"I might make an appearance, do you often go to those parties?" He asked.

Carina nodded. "They always project a movie for the kids, this month is Atlantis: the lost empire, and I happen to like Disney movies."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Stephen told her, before scoffing and glancing down at her amusingly. "And who says Ale, anymore?"

"I do, it's more sophisticated."

"More like prehistoric."

A/N: Hope you enjoy the chapter. Please, tell me if you want to get tagged.

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abeyyabhishekh · 11 months

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"Am I 10, or 12, or 22 (the sum)?"- I guessed standing in front of the mirror, while everyone was asleep. My eyes were itchy and red. It was the 3rd night i hadn't slept in a row. I stayed awake for long enough, i began to see things outside reality and began to go insane bit by bit. First, my senses refused to collaborate, then I had difficulty recalling things. I became a confused, indecisive creature that walks on earth. I lost track of time. I didn't just become illusioned, i became the very illusion myself. Suddenly volunteering for the grand magic trick done by God himself.

Then i slept, for a very brief period, like 1/3rd of a minute. I didn't remember falling asleep either. I just remembered waking up in the middle of Fluid class. Did I just nod off? I asked Adesh, then told myself to have a nap or, i stroll back home, but what I did was studied the whole period with my red itchy sleepy eyes. I waited for the night, then for the morning. Everything was going in a loop, even the issue of lack of sleep itself. I was downhearted because I couldn't sleep, i couldn't sleep because I was downhearted. "Isn't it a paradox?"- I asked myself. "Ofcourse yes, Everything is a paradox. A recurring pair of events. A program."- I answered myself.

"Insufficient sleep can increase your chance for dementia in the future" the healthcare column of 'The Kathmandu Post' i follow say. I read, then closed the browser, drank a glass of water. I had heard that an average human sleeps for 1/3rd of his life. I had also heard, How 1/3rd of our life is wasted before we can finally think for ourselves. How little time is left to accomplish. It is only in what remains that we do so much; finish study, obtain a degree, work our ass off, contribute to society, make friends, fall in love, marry, travel, find ourselves, lose ourselves, come to terms with god, see sunsets, form opinions, experience the true 'wakefulness'.

Yet when i look around, what i see is a monotonous cycle of continuous events with no intervention. It makes me ponder death. I think of "what i would have to look back on in the past, when I'm in the future myself? What will be there to reflect upon, when at last, death will arrive?" My eyes will dilate, my jaw wide open – not in fear but in awe. What after? I wonder.

Well, sleep. Sleep well.

There was a knock on the door. Bhai had knocked the door to wake me up. The sun had risen. I walked to washroom.

"Am I 10 or 12, or twenty 22 (the sum) ?"- I guessed standing in front of the mirror, while (not) everyone was in sleep. My eyes were still itchy and red. 3rd night in a row I hadn't slept.

Without thinking of anything more, I washed my face and left for 'Fluid' class.

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chrissorensen · 1 year

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So sad to hear about the plane crash in Nepal yesterday. I flew this exact route from Kathmandu to Pokhara on Yeti Air when I was there shooting for an NGO in 2014. Nepal can be a risky place to fly within the country with the mountains and weather, but an amazing, beautiful place with wonderful people. Some pix from Kathmandu and Pokhara from that trip. Thoughts with the families and friends who lost loved ones. . #nepal #kathmandu #pokhara #fuji #fujix #fujifeed #fujifilm #myfujifilm #fujifilm_us #travelphotography #travelphotographer #travelbug #traveldeeper #traveltheworld #instatravel #wanderlust #roamtheplanet #bestplacetogo #beautifuldestinations #passionpassport #mytinyatlas #travelgram #suitcasetravels #travelholic #traveler #aroundtheworld #globetrotter https://www.instagram.com/p/Cne_HcTO6x0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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fanartka · 2 years

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Since I'm new to this fandom, I only saw this scene yesterday. I just can't imagine how Scott Derrickson could have cut it out of the movie as it reveals so much about Stephen's character changes. Before, he didn’t care about some kind of resuscitation, where they just “saved a couple of alcoholics for a workday.” It was so uninteresting. In the 2007 animated film his character is even worse.

And look at him now. Lost in the city and in his own life, he was finally able to understand another being's pain because he experienced it himself. He empathizes with the wordless creature whose eyes are filled with the same pain as his own. Both of them are lonely, homeless, lost, disheveled, and their poor paws, on which their very survival in this world depends, are broken.

Stephen wholeheartedly helps this dog and feels joy that he could do at least something good for another. How is this different from the scene with grateful relatives in the hospital when he was still a self-confident neurosurgeon.

I like his joke from his past life. And I also really like the moment that Mordo sees him like that, and maybe that's what leads to Mordo protecting him from robbers. In 1 minute 20 seconds we are shown that Stephen gets lost in the city, helps someone in need by giving the dog some of his last bandages. His kindness led to the fact that the robbers paid attention to him, and Mordo became convinced that this man was worth it to save him and teach him the art of magic. I think it was this scene that made him insist and plead for Stephen when the Ancient One put him out the door, as if she didn’t understand that you can’t show such a person hope and immediately take it away.

The other deleted scenes are good enough too. But this one is perfect and that film really needed it.

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persuasivewhispers · 2 years

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WHO: tenzin & @shadcwstealer WHAT: tenzin finally goes to see sunny WHERE: sunny’s apartment

After months of hesitating and putting it off, Tenzin was finally stood outside of Sunny’s apartment. If her trip back to Kathmandu had taught her anything, it was that life was far too short to keep running away. Being involved with the Brotherhood meant that she was almost constantly in danger, and she didn’t want to die without Sunny getting to hear that she was enough, and it was never her fault that Tenzin kept leaving her. She needed her to know that she loved her, even if the thought of saying those words was more terrifying than the thought of being killed in action one day.

Five minutes of awkward pacing and pure panic passed, then Tenzin finally knocked on the door. Anxiety gnawed a the pit of her stomach, and she toyed with gift box in her hands. If her words wouldn’t win Sunny over, then a gift probably would. “Seon-mi, open the door. It’s me.” She’d lost track of how long it had been since they’d seen each other, especially since her days had begun to blur before leaving for Nepal. But, she did know that if she was greeted with a slap, she wouldn’t blame her ex-something.

#c: sunny #sunny: 002 #weewooweewooweewooooo #[shaking intensifies]

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 year

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A Strange Slice of the Big Apple

a Doctor Strange x Female Reader fluffy fic

summary: Female Reader, an Adept Level Sorceress, escorts some of Kamar-Taj's youngest initiates on a tour of the New York Sanctum, hosted by her hero and crush, Doctor Strange. Takes place pre-Infinity War.

characters: Stephen Strange, Female Reader, Cloak of Levitation

genre: fluff and pining

rating: general audience

word count: 3.2k

For the youth of Kamar-Taj, life was never all study and drills, rigorous exercise and strict discipline. The wisdom of many Masters had long recognized that the young ones needed time away from their studies, time to relax, time to play. It made them better students in the end, and generally lent a more pleasant atmosphere to the compound—occasionally encouraging even the most single-minded and dedicated of the adults to follow the children’s example.

Adepts, whose natures suited them for such nurturing sort of tasks, were assigned to oversee small groups of these young ones, guiding them quietly and judiciously in their games and leading them on field trips to locales within–and ranging far from–Kathmandu. On such an occasion, you had the duty of chaperoning a group of young Novices to the New York Sanctum so that they could explore several floors of artifacts housed there—with the promise that good behavior by all would grant them the opportunity to enjoy the Bleecker Street Playground, or perhaps even Washington Square Park, on this fine spring day.

You found yourself as excited as the children were about the outing—but for a far different reason. Though your path had rarely crossed with that of the renowned Master of the New York Sanctum, his deeds in defense of the Earth had become the stuff of legends among students and masters alike; and the sight of him (on his regular visits to Kamar-Taj) striding through the courtyard of the compound—effortlessly projecting the perfect picture of a man on a vital mission–had reinforced the hero worship which his charisma and accomplishments had kindled in your heart.

A fruitless, ridiculous crush to be sure, and a distraction which you had vowed not to allow to interfere with your own training in the mystic arts…but for today. Today was your quiet chance to observe him from a nearer distance, to memorize his little details, and to satisfy your curiosity about the man beneath the hero’s mantle.

Naturally, you had expected to find a fellow Adept awaiting your small party, ready to usher you and the children through a tour of the Sanctum, before allowing leeway enough for all to survey the artifacts and magical relics–the most valuable of which were safely housed in glass cases. Instead, you exited the portal to come face to face with Stephen Strange himself, clad in his trademark blue vestments, and wearing the Eye of Agamotto.

Rendered speechless in surprise—and suddenly self-conscious to be so near him, and unprepared at that—you stopped short, gasped, and staring up into his exotic, mesmerizing eyes, mumbled an incoherent hello. Strange raised a brow, looking amused, and the moment seemed to last forever as you studied his breathtaking features. He’s even more handsome up close, you realized, pondering what the true color of his eyes were; from afar they had always appeared blue or gray depending upon the light, but up close you found a near kaleidoscope in their depths. Clear crystal blue they were, and yet there were hints of green as well, with flecks of gold; this must be part of his magic, you thought. In the space of only a few heartbeats more, you read a hard-won wisdom, a sly humor and a quiet compassion that spoke of having borne his own share of pain—all in the depths of his beautiful orbs. These are eyes some lucky woman could get lost in, you thought dreamily, if only…if only…if only…

Then he was chuckling, pulling you from your musing, and leaving you wondering just how big a fool you’d just made of yourself. A flush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks, even as a very natural and endearingly crooked grin softened his mouth. “Welcome to the New York Sanctum,” he laughed, so sincerely friendly that you began to relax a bit.

“Thank you, Doctor Strange,” you managed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathless as he made you feel. The youngsters had crowded around you, hushed despite their eager expectations, surely impressed with the commanding figure of the Master before them.

Smoothly, he turned his attention their way, “Hello, children. I’m glad you could visit us today—we’ve got some really cool things to show you. Things that still amaze me at times.” You noticed that as he spoke, Strange took a moment to make eye contact with each child, before he looked back to you. The unexpectedly warm appraisal in his gaze held you bound, breathless again as you wondered if he somehow read the secret yearning of your heart. “So–shall we begin?” His impish wink convinced you that he knew exactly what you were feeling—and that perhaps it pleased him too.

Your young charges followed him readily, chattering quietly amongst themselves, allowing you to fall to rear of the group. His manner with them was easy and engaging, and he had them asking questions you wouldn’t have expected of them—and answering his ridiculous puns with giggles that echoed in a way this Sanctum had surely never seen. Clearly, he enjoyed an audience, and from time to time, you found his eyes on you, checking to see if you were enjoying his show as well.

But you soon realized there was one relic conspicuous by its absence—his very own Cloak of Levitation. Perhaps he was saving it for last, and would introduce it at the end of the tour with a dramatic flourish. Or perhaps he was waiting for one of his guests to ask after it. Well then…that’ll be me, you decided boldly; I’ll just show him I’m much more than a meek junior mage, mooning over the great master.

Gathering your courage, you drew a deep breath, instilling your query with enough sass to impress him with your mettle, “But Master Strange, where is the relic as famous as you? Where is the Cloak you’ve worn into mystic battles, time and again?“

He appeared taken aback for a breath or two, squinting those exotic, mesmerizing eyes right at you, with his mouth drawing into a baffled frown as he dramatically patted first his right shoulder, and then his left. The children watched him entranced, a few of them even holding their breath in anticipation of his answer.

“Hmmmm,” he grumbled, playing the scene for all it was worth, “Well, I’ll be damned–Cloak seems to have wandered off!” He looked to the young ones, shaking his head and t’sking, “Absent without permission.” He bent closer to the children, “Have any of you spotted it? I thought for sure that Cloak was looking forward to meeting you all today.”

Some of the children gaped open-mouthed, while others rushed to suggest just where the famed garment might be. Strange listened while nodding sagely, giving each little Novice their say. “Those are very good ideas, children,” he told them, then crouched down to their eye level to add conspiratorially, “But I have a hunch that with your help, we can coax Cloak out of wherever it’s hiding.” He spared you a look, his wide grin and raised brow enough of a hint of what was to come—so you had best just relax and enjoy his little joke. “How about we all shout as loud as we can and see if we can get Cloak to come and join us?”

Needing no further prompting, the youngsters joined in a mixed chorus, calling out to Cloak. Stephen stood back up, wearing the most shit-eating grin you had ever seen, so that you realized–just before you felt a firm tap on your shoulder–that Cloak hovered right behind you. The children giggled, some shouting in delight, when they noticed, watching as Cloak draped itself across your shoulders, to gently urge you nearer to the Master of the New York Sanctum–who shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide, silently proclaiming an innocence that was far from convincing—to you, anyway.

Standing right next to him, you found that his eyes were so merry (at your expense, no less) and so completely captivating that you just couldn’t feel the least bit put out as the punch line of his joke. “Cloak seems to like you, Adept,” he confided, his voice deliciously deep, and low enough for your ears alone to hear, “And Cloak is an excellent judge of character.”

Emboldened by the compliment in his voice and in his eyes, you let your gaze linger upon the small details of his face—the fine lines beside his eyes, denoting his usual good humor and a tendency to smile; the crinkle at the bridge of his nose, utterly adorable when he’d been playing at being perplexed, though you’d seen it at times so stern and commanding that you had, more than once, secretly wished he’d direct that focus upon you; the fullness of his lips, accentuated by his facial hair, the bottom lip plump enough to make you envious for a taste. Unseemly thoughts, you knew, for an Adept to have about a Master—made more inappropriate in light of the gravitas of Strange’s astounding magical powers, and by the well-known weight of his awesome responsibilities.

Strange seemed to study you as well, and you held your breath, praying that the run of your thoughts was not clear upon your face. He winked again—and you were sure he at least guessed what you’d been thinking, so that you felt a heated blush rise in your cheeks. Cloak hugged you a little tighter, bracing your confidence. “A most excellent judge of character, indeed,” Strange repeated under his breath, before turning his attention back to his younger guests.

Strange continued to guide them through the Hall of Relics, moving the children along briskly. You had thought to fall back once again, self-conscious now that that you were certain he was aware of the crush you had been unable to conceal—but Cloak had other ideas. Each time your gait slowed, it pushed you forward enough to keep pace with the intimidating Master, never allowing you to remain more than two feet away from him. Confounded, you had no choice but to remain in Strange’s orbit, and eventually you relaxed enough to enjoy the tour.

Forty-five minutes later you stood with your charges, in front of the round window on the fourth floor of the sanctum. The Window on the World, he had called it, explaining that it enabled him to view more than just the city outside, more than just Earth itself, but countless worlds across countless realities, as one of his most important responsibilities was to monitor for any threats from infinite dimensions, to our quiet little corner of the multiverse. What a heavy burden that must be, you thought, and one that never ends. How does he do it, day in and day out; does he ever wish for even a day’s respite?

Stephen looked to you, admitting—as though he’d read your mind, “It is a heavy burden at times, yes—but it’s an incredible privilege, too. You can’t imagine the wonders I have seen, the acts of courage and generosity by beings very different from us, and yet somehow the same. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj are not the only ones who defend creation against the darkness.”

He looked a little sad, before he turned back to the Window, and you wondered if standing sentry in this way made for a lonely life—and knew in that moment that if he asked, you’d gladly serve beside him. Not just to see the marvels of which he spoke, or to simply safeguard life on Earth, but to give companionship to this hero, who was flesh and blood after all, brilliant and funny and surprisingly kind. Before he might see, you thumbed the tears from the corners of your eyes, smiling brightly enough to keep those thoughts secret.

“Now,” he tuned back to the children, telling them magnanimously, “That concludes our tour of the Sanctum—but I doooooooo have one more surprise up my sleeve.” Strange grinned at the bright little faces giving him their full attention, “Who’s hungry?”

The Sanctum dining room was far smaller than the dining hall of Kamar-Taj, but it easily accommodated the dozen young Novices, the Sanctum Master, and one starry-eyed Adept, enjoying an unexpected treat: New York style, thin crust pizza. Some of the children had never had partaken of the Americanized delicacy before, but they didn’t hesitate to dig right in; and he had thoughtfully provided plain cheese pizza, as well as sausage and peppers for the more adventurous among them. Though he gave them a lesson in exactly how true New Yorkers ate it ( “You have to fold it like this, kids,” he had stressed, “And start from the pointy end,” before taking a healthy bite of his slice) Strange ate little himself–though you could tell he was enjoying every moment of the children’s reactions. He did, however, take an extra-large portion of ice cream from the make-your-own sundae bar which he had arranged for them in the kitchen.

You had a modest sized sundae yourself, enjoying a treat you’d hadn’t tasted since you began your training at Kamar-Taj. Cloak had withdrawn from you, to hover just past the industrial size refrigerator, once it was certain that you would partake of the meal. Strange set his empty bowl and spoon in the sink, and came to lean against the counter, right beside you. Your heart began to race to have him so near, and you told yourself don’t stare, don’t stare, even though you yearned to look directly into his beguiling eyes.

“You know,” he told you, “I probably should have held off on the ice cream until after your trip to the park. They’re um…well, they’re looking pretty sugared up right now.”

You laughed softly, marveling how he spoke to you as an equal, despite his lofty status, and he rewarded you with a sheepish grin. “I’m sure I can handle it, Doctor Strange. Give them an hour to run around, and play on the swings, and they’ll burn it off.”

He nodded, as though he was deferring to your wisdom, so that you added, “They’ll be out of steam by the time we get back to Kamar-Taj, and most will probably be conked out in their dormitory before sunset.”

“Still,” he maintained, leaning close enough for you to note the constellation of light freckles that graced the stunning contours of his face (making you wish for the leisure and the familiarity to number each one of them with the gentlest sort of kisses), “I can have one of my staff accompany you to the park—you know, to keep the kids from getting too out of hand.”

You nodded and smiled, quietly disappointed that he couldn’t do that duty himself—but grateful for the offer, “I could probably use a hand with them. Thank you, Sir.” He nodded back, and then he passed from your side, leaving you to sigh softly, fully heart-struck at his kind nature.

Doctor Strange had thoughtfully sent two of his Adepts (one of whom you had trained with in your early days at Kamar-Taj) to help you chaperone the children on their outing to Bleecker Street Park, making your task far easier than expected. The afternoon passed pleasantly, and though you were fully attentive to your young charges, a small part of your mind—and heart, you realized ruefully—remained back at the Sanctum, imagining what it might be like to watch Stephen Strange move through his day. Wishing you could watch him at his vital work, in matters both large and small. Longing to not only learn from him, but to somehow serve as a helpmate. You promised yourself such dreaming would end when you crossed the threshold of 177A Bleecker once again.

Still, you felt rather crestfallen as you prepared to conjure a portal back to the compound, disappointed that the Master of the New York Sanctum was nowhere in sight. You would have liked to thank him for his hospitality and kindness to the children; you would have loved to stand beside him one last time, to feel his charisma wash over you, to hear that deep, rich, decadent as dark chocolate voice speak your name just once, so you might prize that memory in the days and weeks to come.

Shepherding the youngsters through the orange-gold portal, where the Master of Novices awaited their return, you couldn’t help but turn back one last time, wistful and wishing for any reason to linger a bit more. Cloak zipped into view, made a beeline your way, and wrapped itself steadfastly around you.

Strange followed in moments, huffing in irritation, and cursing under his breath as he came up beside you. “I’m sorry,” he growled, hands planted resolutely on his hips, “Cloak has quite a stubborn streak—and apparently thinks it’s rude of me not to see you off…”

You felt Cloak shiver, and loosen the embrace a bit, though it did not release you—apparently waiting for Stephen to continue.

“Alright, I’m getting to it, can you just chill a minute?” he insisted, rolling his eyes.

You swore it felt like Cloak was laughing, and that made you feel like laughing too, the sight of the formidable Master—and object of your quiet, perpetual pining—endearingly out of sorts, as mortal as any ordinary man; warm and funny, and as Cloak drew you closer to him, kissably close.

The man before you, cleared his throat and took a calming breath. “Cloak likes you…a lot, I suppose…and thinks I should invite you back to visit…the Sanctum…” Cloak aimed a quick jab of its hem at Strange, so that he added, “Us…visit us…another day.”

Secretly thrilled, you wracked your brain for a reply sophisticated and cool enough to impress; what fell from your mouth fell far from your aim. “Uh…um…yes…yes…I…I…I’d like that. A lot…”

“Okay then,” he nodded, watching sheepishly as Cloak disentangled from you, and floated away triumphantly. “So…any time…if you’re in the mood…you’re welcome here.” He smiled genuinely, and your heart fluttered softly, as you realized that that smile was actually for you.

How lucky can a girl get, you thought, feeling the warmth of the portal at your back, while you hesitated a moment or two, wondering how bold you dared to be. Before you could second guess yourself, you stepped in close– enough to feel his breath on your skin and wonder at the incredible depths of his amazing eyes—and laid the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever bestowed on anyone, upon his cheek. Backing away quickly, you grinned, memorizing his look of surprise mixed with appreciation, “I’d like that, Doctor Strange, I’d like that very much.”

For a moment he looked surprised, and then that crooked smile--which had lodged itself indelibly in your heart--broke upon his face. The Master of the Mystic Arts chuckled, and raised a brow appraisingly, looking quite pleased with the little token of your regard. To that, you held your head high, as you turned and entered the portal, delightfully conscious that his eyes lingered upon you as the ring closed--with you already plotting whatever excuse you would need to employ for a return trip back to his Sanctum.

If you enjoyed this, please stay tuned for the sequel, a celebration of Stephen's birthday, coming November 18.

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#my writing #A Strange Slice of the Big Apple #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange x y/n #stephen strange x female reader #stephen strange x y/n #fluff #pining #humor #Doctor Strange #Stephen Strange #Cloak of Levitation #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #Benedict Cumberbatch

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112344949848489498 · 6 days

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What happens to the tons of waste material of the Mount Everest?

Mount Everest, the highest peak on Earth, stands as a beacon for adventure seekers and mountaineers worldwide. However, amidst the thrill of conquering the summit lies a complex web of environmental challenges that often go unnoticed. In this blog, we delve into the lesser-known aspects of Everest's ecosystem and the initiatives undertaken to mitigate its environmental impact.

Every year, tens of thousands of visitors trek to Mount Everest, leaving behind a significant trail of waste. The staggering number of visitors, coupled with the lack of proper waste management infrastructure, has led to an alarming accumulation of trash in the region. A study estimated that during peak tourist seasons, over 4,000 kilograms of solid waste are generated daily, a figure that has likely doubled over the past decade.

At Mount Everest's base camp, there aren't any regular toilets you might find elsewhere. Instead, people have come up with a clever solution. They use tents as a sort of bathroom. Below these tents, there are big drums covered with plastic. These drums can hold a lot of human waste, about 30 to 35 kilograms, before they need to be emptied.

Once these drums are full, a group called the Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC) comes to collect the waste. They make sure it's disposed of properly, so it doesn't cause any problems.

The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC) charges 210 rupees per kilogram for collecting human waste. Additionally, they have set prices for other types of waste, such as plastic garbage, decomposable waste (like food scraps), and non-decomposable waste (like metal or glass).

To combat this issue, the Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC) has implemented various waste management strategies. Climbing guides collect trash from higher camps and bring it down to base camp, where waste is meticulously sorted into degradable and non-degradable categories. Porters and yaks then transport the bundled waste to lower sites for further processing.

One innovative solution introduced by SPCC is the "Carry Me Back" initiative. Participants returning to the Lukla entry point are provided with small bags to collect trash, which is then transported back to Kathmandu for proper disposal. Additionally, waste materials are repurposed creatively, with artists in residence programs utilizing discarded trash for art and craft projects.

What goes up must come down: Before climbers begin their ascent of Mount Everest, they are required to make a deposit of USD 4000. This deposit is refundable but with a condition attached: climbers will get their money back only if they bring back at least 8 kilograms of garbage trash from the mountain. It's important to note that empty oxygen cylinders and human waste are not included in this weight requirement.

Some of the waste materials generated in the Mount Everest region find new life through creative endeavors. For instance, empty bottles are crushed, compressed, and molded to create miniature versions of Mount Everest's topography. This innovative approach not only reduces waste but also showcases the beauty of the region in a unique way.

Additionally, the Sagarmatha Next Experience Center plays a role in promoting sustainability and creativity through its Artist-in-Residence program. Artists participating in this program repurpose discarded trash into works of art. By doing so, they raise awareness about environmental conservation while highlighting the potential for beauty and creativity in recycling efforts.

Despite these efforts, Everest's delicate ecosystem remains under threat. Research has shown alarming rates of glacier retreat, with one study revealing that Everest's highest glacier lost 200 years' worth of ice in just 25 years. Furthermore, the presence of over 100 dead bodies on the mountain poses both environmental and logistical challenges, with the removal of a single body costing a staggering $70,000.

Moreover, studies conducted on snow and stream water extracted from Everest have revealed concerning levels of micro plastics, toxic heavy metals, and pathogens. These findings underscore the urgent need for sustainable practices and conservation efforts in the region.

In conclusion, while Mount Everest continues to allure adventurers from around the globe, it is imperative to recognize and address the environmental repercussions of human activity in the region. By promoting responsible tourism, implementing effective waste management strategies, and supporting conservation initiatives, we can strive towards preserving Everest's natural beauty for generations to come.

The blog, aimed to shed light on the environmental challenges faced by Mount Everest and the efforts being made to address them. Mount Everest Conservation: Balancing Adventure with Environmental Responsibility, emphasizes the importance of environmental stewardship while appealing to readers interested in both adventure travel and conservation.

#everest base camp trek #waste material of the Mount Everest #trash management #SPCC #Sagarmatha pollution control commitee

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