#Norwich Lettings

[qbtsnack]

As an aficionado of feet, I am utterly enchanted by their exquisite beauty and individuality. Each pair of feet is like a canvas, revealing a rich tapestry of stories that embody the personality and journeys of its owner. From the graceful curves of the arches to the meticulously manicured nails, every exquisite detail beckons me closer, inviting me to appreciate their charm.

[ahalliance]

i should read more historical fiction to run stats on how many partake in the mcu-disney-girlbossification-sanitisation of women and how many are normal*

[une-sanz-pluis]

[Thomas de] Stanley [Dean of Wells] died in March, 1410, and at the end of this register is an interesting account (No. 1265 [sic. actually 1269]), given at some length, of the election of his successor Richard Courtenay. Bishop Bubwith was in London and on 3 April, 1410, the president and chapter petitioned for permission to proceed to the election of a successor, and on 12 April bishop Bubwith formally sanctioned this procedure. So the president and chapter met in Wells on 12 May, and appointed the following 26 May as the day for the election, and notices went out for the purpose to all the canons. On the day appointed canon Richard Harewell, the president, assembled, and with him canon J. Hody, the precentor, R. Bruton, the chancellor, W. Langebroke, the treasurer, Roger Harewell, archdeacon of Hath, W. Calf, the succentor, and twelve other canons, and seventeen were represented by proxies. Of thirteen canons no news seems to have been received, and they took therefore no part in the procedure. The result of the business was the election of Richard Courtenay as dean, and the fact of this choice was publicly announced from the High Altar by Chancellor Bruton after the Te Deum had been solemnly sung. That afternoon the precentor and the chancellor were instructed to go and find Richard Courtenay and obtain from him his consent to his election. They found him in the new Vicars' Close, and he asked of them time for reflexion. The next day, 27 May, the delegates found Courtenay in the garden of the archdeacon of Wells and still apparently undecided whether to accept or not. They, however, pressed him for an answer, and thereupon with great and gloomy deliberation he gave his consent.

The next step was the bishop's confirmation of this act of the chapter, and on 7 June, 1410, they found the bishop in the college called Queen's Hall, Oxford, and on 19 June, 1410, bishop Bubwith, from his Inn at London, issued his mandate to Richard Bruton the chancellor for the installation of the new dean. Richard Courtenay was the son and heir of Philip de Courtenay "chivaler" and on 18 Nov., 1406, was granted his father's inheritances in Devonshire, Dorset and Somerset and in the autumn of the next year was engaged in taking horses for the use of the King into Wales and certainly on 22 Sept., 1407, was with Henry, prince of Wales, at the siege of Lampeter fighting against the Welsh rebels. He held at this time also the chancellorship of the University of Oxford. In the Calendar of Papal Letters, vol. vi, he is described as of royal descent, and in Nov. 1404, he is granted provision for a canonry at York and another at Lincoln. Already he held the archdeaconry of Northampton, the precentorship of Chichester, canonries at Exeter, London, Wells, York and Wilton, was a prebendary of Hayes and chaplain of Hayes. The same calendar explains his hesitation when elected dean of Wells. He had been provided with the expectation of the See of Norwich on the death of bishop Tottington and his appointment to Wells might create a difficulty. In May 1413 the vacancy occurred and Courtenay had to petition for a confirmation of the original provision. He pleaded that the chapter at Wells was ignorant of the pope's intention to send him to Norwich, and he also had accepted the deanery in ignorance of any difficulty such acceptance might create. However, that month the pope, in consistory, put aside the objections and Richard Courtenay ceased to be dean of Wells on his appointment to the bishopric of Norwich. Among the chapter documents is one deed which bears his name. On 11 August, 1410, a month after his appointment as dean, he seems to have been present in Wells. In the Register of bishop Bubwith there is not a single entry which suggests his personal attendance in the church or city of which he was dean. Richard Courtenay was consecrated bishop of Norwich at Windsor on 17 Sept., 1413. His successor at Wells was Thomas Carnyka or Karneka vicar of Setryngton and King's Clerk

Thomas Scott Holmes, "Introduction" in The Register of Nicholas Bubwith, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 1407-1424, Vol 1. Somerset Record Society (vol. XXIX, 1914)

The account that Scott mentions is actually given in No. 1269, not no. 1265, and found in the second volume of Bubwith's register. A large portion of that entry is given in untranslated Latin but the account is given in English (either modernised or translated, I don't know), the parts of interest to me I will excerpt here:

Certificate of Masters John Hody, precentor, Richard Bruton, chancellor, and Richard Drayton, canon, of the church of Wells, to the bishop that, in accordance with instructions in his letter to them dated in his inn at London, 6 June, 1410, Master John Orum, his mandatory in this behalf, appeared before them sitting in judgement in his church of Wells, on 16 June in this year, and produced a certificate under the seal of office of the archdeacon of Bath of his execution of a letter to Master Thomas Frome and him from the bishop, dated at London on 4 June and received by him on 8 June, requiring them to cite before them any opposers of the said election and by solemn proclamation in the church in which such election was held that any opposers of the election should appear before them or before the said Masters John Hody, Richard Bruton and Richard Drayton on 16 June, that he had made proclamation accordingly on 8 June ; that on the said day the dean elect appeared by Master Thomas Harewell, bachelor in laws, his proctor, and the aforesaid opposers were called for several times with a loud voice at the church doors, but none appeared, and so there was nothing set forth before them against the election or the elect. Dated and done in the cathedral church of Wells 16 June 1410.

The instrument of the process of the election aforesaid [to the above effect with this addition] of the appointment by the chapter after the election, dated about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 26 May, of Masters John Hody, precentor, and Richard Bruton, chancellor, canons of the church of Wells, as proctors to inform the said Master Richard Courtenay of the election and beg his acceptance of the same. Which proctors, with me William Brettes, clerk, of the diocese of Salisbury, notary public, and witnesses, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of the said day came in person to the new vicars' close of the church of Wells and presented the process of the election to the same elect whom they found there, and required of him in behalf of themselves and the chapter that he would consent to the election, who answered that he would deliberate upon consent or dissent, and they withdrew ; and on the next day, Tuesday, 27 May, taking with them me, the notary, and the witnesses, they came to the inn of the archdeacon of Wells and required of the said elect, who was there, his consent to the election as above ; to which he, seeking a further truce for deliberation in so great a matter, promised that he would answer at another time as the Holy Spirit should inspire him ; and afterwards, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of the same Tuesday, before the said elect in the archdeacon's garden, they required of him instantly and with earnest prayers his consent to the election, and he with great and gloomy deliberation consented to his election in these words: In nomine summe et individue Trinitatis, ego, Ricardus Courtenay, canonicus ecclesie cathedralis Wellensis, prebendatus in eadem, Divina tollerancia, licet inmeritas, in decanatum dicte ecclesie Wellensis, decanatu ejusdem jam vacante electus, statum hujusmodi non ambitiose desiderans nec obstinate recusans, set de misericordia Dei Omnipotentis intime conficlens, nolens Ipsius resistere voluntati, ad honorem Ipsius Dei pie Matris Ejusdem, per vos sepius et instanter requisitus, prefate eleccioni de me canonice et concorditer facte, licet immerito, et michi per vos oblate peticioni vestre ac presidentis et tocius capituli dicte ecclesie consencio in hiis scriptis. Acta sunt hec omnia et singula anno ab Incarnacione Domini secundum cursum et computacionem ecclesie Anglicanc 1410, indiccione tercia, pontiflcatus sanctissimi in Christo patris etc. Alexandri pape quinti, anno primo, mense, etc. superius prescriptis.

[malkaleh]

The OT3 verse modern au in which Henry does something skilled on YouTube*, Anne sometimes appears in the background (she’s a human rights lawyer ala Amal Clooney) and Thomas is Lawyer Husband Not Appearing In Any Media and Henry has to Firmly State He Is Never Going To Stop Asking. 

*I’ve made him an event planner before and I will again but also my brain went ‘…historical costumer and equestrian’ so there’s that. 

cc @lemonsharks

[fixomnia-scribble]

Scientists are very serious.

This is a post about science. And soup.

Dr. Elinne Becket, a microbiologist from Cal State University, is in the middle of one of those Fridge Experiments that happens to us all - except in this case, she is uniquely placed to unravel the science down to the microbial level.

While cleaning out her fridge, Dr. Becket found that a tub of family-recipe beef vegetable soup had turned bright blue. “Ok I'm outing myself here,” she tweeted, “but there was forgotten beef soup in our fridge we just cleaned it out and it was BLUE?!?!? Wtf contam would make it blue??? Like BRIGHT blue!!  Even w/ all my years in micro I'm not handling this well.“

Read on for a breathless and ongoing saga of Soup and Science, and the wonderful international community that is Academic Twitter.

Academic Twitter quickly reminded her of her Responsibilities to Scientific Inquiry. (Cue the chanting from around the world of “CLONE THE SOUP! CLONE THE SOUP!”)

“I can’t believe y’all talked me into going back into the trash.” she tweeted in response, over a photo of a puddle of beautiful Mediterranean-sea blue soup in the trash bin, with bits of veg and noodles arising from the depths.

Scientists being scientists, Dr. Becket agreed to take a sample and send it to colleagues for cloning and microbial analysis.This involved getting arms-deep into the trash bin of Old Soup. “I’m never forviging @ATinyGreenCell (genomic biologist Sebastian Cocioba) for this.” Dr. Becket tweeted, with a photo of a properly dipped and snipped and VERY blue q-tip in a small clear plastic tub.

Diving into decomposing soup was not the only hazard. She writes: “My mom (who made the soup for my birthday) came across this thread and now 1) I have to answer for letting her soup spoil and 2) she's worried @ATinyGreenCell will figure out her secret recipe.“

Dr. Becket and Sebastian were able to culture the Blue Goo!

Becket posted a photo of three petri plates of streaked beef bouillon agar at 72 hours incubation, at 37C, room temp and 4C. She writes: “Left the plates where they were for another 2 days, except the 37°C one was brought to RT, which then grew white stuff over the yellow stuff and stinks to high heaven. RT looked the same. 4°C had impressive growth. Restreaked them all onto TECH agar, awaiting results!”

Sebastian, from his lab, tweeted a photo of three more covered petri dishes, with early results: “Great progress on isolating the glowy microbe from our #BlueSoup! It's so fluorescent the streak is GREEN. Still needs another restreak as it seems there is a straggler but should clear up in the next plate. Exciting!”

Then yesterday, Sebastian tweeted out an updated photo of his plates under daylight and blacklight. “Whatever grew on the #BlueSoup colony plates overnight glows under UV, but only on King's Agar B! That particular media is used to tease out fluorescein expression in pseudomonads. What are the chances that the same cell line expresses fluorescent AND blue pigments?“

“Looking closer, there definitely is a handful of different microbes showing distinct phenotypes. Could be that the blue producer and the fluorescent microbes are totally different microbes!”

At which point, Professor Cynthia Whitchurch of Norwich, England, responded: “Consistent with P. fluorescens being at least part of the #BlueSoup community. The fluorescence is due to production of the siderophore pyoverdine which is up-regulated when iron availability is limited. P. aeruginosa produced this too but my guess is you have blue Pf.”

And Australian agricultural researcher @WAJWebster helpfully tweeted a petri dish of ALL KINDS of colourful bacterial colonies from white to yellow to orange to stark black, with a cheerful: “You need bact-o--colours? I got you, fam.”

The best part is that as of today, March 9, 2023, THE BLUE SOUP MYSTERY CONTINUES. WE ARE WATCHING SCIENCE HAPPENING!

A paper is being written. And Dr. Becket’s mum is getting an author credit as the proprietary owner of the #BlueSoup recipe.

Dr. Becket’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/bielleogy

Sebastian Cocioba’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/ATinyGreenCell

Fun IFLS story is here: https://www.iflscience.com/microbiologist-investigates-after-her-beef-soup-turned-blue-in-the-freezer-67894?fbclid=IwAR0H27KqVZhzzrosnjzzKkxuKASZ-0L0Lt6hGwCRDJK8xvFbbSlyS4JvwlM

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil, I wonder if you'd consider sharing this link? The building of the Norwich Western Link road is a huge threat to rare Barbastelle bats and other species. It will threaten the UK's LARGEST known rare bat colony. As many people who can object to the road as possible will at the very least raise awareness and hopefully cause a change :) if it was pandas and rhinos at threat we would all be up in arms, so let's do it for the bats.

https://action.wildlifetrusts.org/page/145181/action/1

Absolutely.

[pathetic-gamer]

Pentiment's Complete Bibliography, with links to some hard-to-find items:

I've seen some people post screenshots of the game's bibliography, but I hadn't found a plain text version (which would be much easier to work from), so I put together a complete typed version - citation style irregularities included lol. I checked through the full list and found that only four of the forty sources can't be found easily through a search engine. One has no English translation and I'm not even close to fluent enough in German to be able to actually translate an academic article, so I can't help there. For the other three (a museum exhibit book, a master's thesis, and portions of a primary source that has not been entirely translated into English), I tracked down links to them, which are included with their entries on the list.

If you want to read one of the journal articles but can't access it due to paywalls, try out 12ft.io or the unpaywall browser extension (works on Firefox and most chromium browsers). If there's something you have interest in reading but can't track down, let me know, and I can try to help! I'm pretty good at finding things lmao

Okay, happy reading, love you bye

Beach, Alison I. Women as Scribes: Book Production and Monastic Reform in Twelfth-Century Bavaria. Cambridge Univeristy Press, 2004.

Berger, Jutta Maria. Die Geschichterder Gastfreundschaft im hochmittel alterlichen Monchtum: die Cistercienser. Akademie Verlag GmbH, 1999. [No translation found.]

Blickle, Peter. The Revolution of 1525. Translated by Thomas A. Brady, Jr. and H.C. Erik Midelfort. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.

Brady, Thomas A., Jr. “Imperial Destinies: A New Biography of the Emperor Maximilian I.” The Journal of Modern History, vol 62, no. 2., 1990. pp.298-314.

Brandl, Rainer. “Art or Craft: Art and the Artist in Medieval Nuremberg.” Gothic and Renaissance Art in Nuremberg 1300-1550. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1986. [LINK]

Byars, Jana L., “Prostitutes and Prostitution in Late Medieval Bercelona.” Masters Theses. Western Michigan University, 1997. [LINK]

Cashion, Debra Taylor. “The Art of Nikolaus Glockendon: Imitation and Originality in the Art of Renaissance Germany.” Journal of Historians of Netherlandish Art, vol 2, no. 1-2, 2010.

de Hamel, Christopher. A History of Illuminated Manuscripts. Phaidon Press Limited, 1986.

Eco, Umberto. The Name of the Rose. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2014.

Eco, Umberto. Baudolino. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2003.

Fournier, Jacques. “The Inquisition Records of Jacques Fournier.” Translated by Nancy P. Stork. Jan Jose Univeristy, 2020. [LINK]

Geary, Patrick. “Humiliation of Saints.” In Saints and their cults: studies in religious sociology, folklore, and history. Edited by Stephen Wilson. Cambridge University Press, 1985. pp. 123-140

Harrington, Joel F. The Faithrul Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2013.

Hertzka, Gottfired and Wighard Strehlow. Grosse Hildegard-Apotheke. Christiana-Verlag, 2017.

Hildegard von Bingen. Physica. Edited by Reiner Hildebrandt and Thomas Gloning. De Gruyter, 2010.

Julian of Norwich. Revelations of Divine Love. Translated by Barry Windeatt. Oxford Univeristy Press, 2015.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others. Routledge, 2017.

Kerr, Julie. Monastic Hospitality: The Benedictines in England, c.1070-c.1250. Boudell Press, 2007.

Kieckhefer, Richard. Forbidden rites: a necromancer’s manual of the fifteenth century. Sutton, 1997.

Kuemin, Beat and B. Ann Tlusty, The World of the Tavern: Public Houses in Early Modern Europe. Routledge, 2017.

Ilner, Thomas, et al. The Economy of Duerrnberg-Bei-Hallein: An Iron Age Salt-mining Center in the Austrian Alps. The Antiquaries Journal, vol 83, 2003. pp. 123-194

Lang, Benedek. Unlocked Books: Manuscripts of Learned Magic in the Medieval Libraries of Central Europe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008

Lindeman, Mary. Medicine and Society in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, 2019.

Lowe, Kate. “’Representing’ Africa: Ambassadors and Princes from Christian Africa to Renaissance Italy and Portugal, 1402-1608.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society Sixth Series, vol 17, 2007. pp. 101-128

Meyers, David. “Ritual, Confession, and Religion in Sixteenth-Century Germany.” Archiv fuer Reformationsgenshichte, vol. 89, 1998. pp. 125-143.

Murat, Zuleika. “Wall paintings through the ages: the medieval period (Italy, twelfth to fifteenth century).” Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, vol 23, no. 191. Springer, October 2021. pp. 1-27.

Overty, Joanne Filippone. “The Cost of Doing Scribal Business: Prices of Manuscript Books in England, 1300-1483.” Book History 11, 2008. pp. 1-32.

Page, Sophie. Magic in the Cloister: Pious Motives, Illicit Interests, and Occullt Approaches to the Medieval Universe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013.

Park, Katharine. “The Criminal and the Saintly Body: Autopsy and Dissectionin Renaissance Italy.” Renaissance Quarterly, vol 47, no. 1, Spring 1994. pp. 1-33.

Rebel, Hermann. Peasant Classes: The Bureaucratization of Property and Family Relations under Early Habsburg Absolutism, 1511-1636. Princeton University Press, 1983.

Rublack, Ulinka. “Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Female Body in Early Modern Germany.” Past & Present,vol. 150, no. 1, February 1996.

Salvador, Matteo. “The Ethiopian Age of Exploration: Prester John’s Discovery of Europe, 1306-1458.” Journal of World History, vol. 21, no. 4, 2011. pp.593-627.

Sangster, Alan. “The Earliest Known Treatise on Double Entry Bookkeeping by Marino de Raphaeli.” The Accounting Historians Journal, vol. 42, no. 2, 2015. pp. 1-33.

Throop, Priscilla. Hildegarde von Bingen’s Physica: The Complete English Translation of Her Classic Work on Health and Healing. Healing Arts Press, 1998.

Usher, Abbott Payson. “The Origins of Banking: The Brimitive Bank of Deposit, 1200-1600.” The Economic History Review, vol. 4, no. 4. 1934. pp.399-428.

Waldman, Louis A. “Commissioning Art in Florence for Matthias Corvinus: The Painter and Agent Alexander Formoser and his Sons, Jacopo and Raffaello del Tedesco.” Italy and Hungary: Humanism and Art in the Early Renaissance. Edited by Peter Farbaky and Louis A. Waldman, Villa I Tatti, 2011. pp.427-501.

Wendt, Ulrich. Kultur and Jagd: ein Birschgang durch die Geschichte. G. Reimer, 1907.

Whelan, Mark. “Taxes, Wagenburgs and a Nightingale: The Imperial Abbey of Ellwangen and the Hussite Wars, 1427-1435.” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, vol. 72, no. 4, 2021, pp.751-777.

Wiesner-Hanks, Merry E. Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, 2008.

Yardeni, Ada. The Book of Hebrew Script: History, Palaeography, Script Styles, Calligraphy & Design. Tyndale House Publishers, 2010.

[acewritesfics]

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.  

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot. 

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit." 

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket. 

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love." 

"Thank you, mummy." 

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play. 

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too. 

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?" 

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was. 

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place." 

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister." 

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever." 

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires. 

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.  

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time. 

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!" 

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her. 

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise. 

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl." 

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.  

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter. 

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel. 

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel. 

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?" 

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around." 

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?" 

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."  

"Will you tell him?" she asks. 

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.  

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something. 

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are." 

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin." 

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.  

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel." 

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.  

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.  

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up. 

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.  

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.  

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.  

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it. 

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.  

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.  

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant. 

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?” 

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.  

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?” 

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.” 

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits. 

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.” 

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs. 

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin. 

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.” 

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone. 

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago. 

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.  

“I can keep her safe.” 

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.” 

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands. 

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.  

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.  

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.  

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.” 

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” 

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.” 

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.” 

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.” 

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him. 

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.” 

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel. 

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea. 

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.  

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

[thedreadvampy]

fuck I watched a video Al Jazeera put out listing the names of 34,000 confirmed, named dead in Gaza and it's fucked me up so much

it's an hour long. of just names and ages scrolling constantly. around 55 people on screen at a time.

and every one of those are human people. every name is a whole world destroyed. and at the most conservative estimates that's likely to be a fraction of the actual numbers dead.

I know. that over a hundred thousand people have been murdered in the last year. I know that and I know that the numbers health authorities are estimating now are more than the entire population of midsize cities like Carlisle, Doncaster or Norwich. but the scale of that is not easy to make sense of.

and the baldness of a list, small letters, scrolling fast, that takes 10 seconds to list a hundred names and lasts an entire hour - that has really hit home for me the difference in scale between 1,000 and 40,000. Let alone 118,000, or 184,000, or 200,000, or the similar estimates coming through of those still lost, or dead from sickness, injury and starvation.

it is, legitimately, more grief than can be imagined. literally one death can destroy your life completely. one loss is SO FUCKING HUGE. and this FRACTION of the loss Palestine is forced to bear is so immense that each huge world-shattering grief spends less than 5 seconds onscreen in a 59 minute video. It took over 10 minutes just to get through the list of children under 10. Jesus fucking Christ I mean. What do you do with that?

[cazzyf1]

Interesting facts I learnt about Maria Teresa de Fillippis & Lella Lombardi from Motorsports Magazine: Italian Legends

Maria Teresa de Fillippis:

She originally started off racing horses

Her first car was a Fiat 500 which she raced when her brothers bet she couldn't be a fast driver

She won her first ever race in the Fiat

Her father inspired her to succeed in whatever she did and supported her racing, Her mum didn't object either as she was happy that Maria was winning

She never had any sponsors or managers as she came from a wealthy family and made her own decisions, took no orders.

She never raced for Ferrari because she didn't want Enzo Ferrari to try and control her - Maserati respected this

Fangio told her she drove too fast and needed to go slower

Fangio, Ascari & Villoresi were her hero's and they were always very good to her

On track she called Fangio her 'Race Father' because he treated her so well and she admired that

"The relationships within the team were influenced by the older drivers. They were all older than me so they would protect me from anything like that (people trying to romance her at the track) I could look after myself, you know, and when things became too intense or too vulgar then I would joke with them, make fun of them, and they would go away"

She was once courted by Luigi Musso

"She was admired not only for her beauty but her courage in a racing car. She had guts, and was respected by her fellow competitors. I thought it was absolutely great she was in Grand Prix racing"- Tony Brooks

Monaco was tough on her at the corners

She was known as 'pilotino' because she was the smallest person racing

A car was made for her but had so many delays that neither her, Hans Herrmann nor Wolfgang von Trips could get the car on the grid during qualifying. Stirling Moss advised her to not race that car anymore

She was due to race the car at AVUS but gave the car up to Jean Behra who's car it originally was and was without a car. He was killed at that race

After this De Filippis left the sport to focus on having a family and didn't return until 1973 to join the International des Anciens Pilotes de Grand Prix F1 club

She became the club's vice president in 1997 and made honorary president days before celebrating her 85th birthday

Lella Lombardi:

Robin Herd says the Nurburgring was Lella's best driver, not the time when she got half a point

She started off with Monzo-based Formula 875

Her partners name was Fiorenza

She did well in F3 and became Italian's Ford Escort Mexico Challenge Champion the same year, 1973

Jackie Epsteine ran a Formula 5000 team in the winter of 73 and was persuaded to let Lella try, and became impressed with her driving and technical knowledge like when she correctly pitted when realising the car was getting a puncture

She was nicknamed 'Tigress of Turin' though the place name is wrong

She had little trouble getting sponsors. She stayed in Italy and flew to each race and never asked for expenses.

"She was charming but stubborn and independent, and a tremendously careful road driver. I went with her from Snetterton to Norwich once: 30mph all the way. Painful. People were staring and peeping. She didn't care"

"She wasn't interested in fashion and usually wore trousers if she was in civvies. She had an image to keep; "I'm tough so don't mess with me" She was a loner, really. No entourage. She never brought a girlfriend"

"Her sex and sexuality were not topics of conversation in the paddock. She was judged purely as a racing driver"

"She wasn't a publicity seeker. BBC news came to her first test with us at Goodwood and she wanted to know why. That she was a woman was irrelevancy to Lella. She was a racing driver first and foremost" - Robin Herd

Lella would complain that her car was understeering badly in corners but Vittorio who tested the car out said it was fine. Only next year when Ronnie Peterson described the same handling with the car did they realise Lella had been correct

With Ronnie Person joining Lella was unfortunately let go from March

"Lella was the perfect co-driver. She was much more concerned by the settings than I was, great with the mechanics and very speedy. But she wanted me to be just as fast and was always giving me tips and help. She was passionate about racing. She was no interested in music, reading, culture or anything else. Just racing - and fishing" - Christine Beckers

"When asked in a press conference how she was coping with such a hefty car, she replied, "I don't have to carry it, I just have to drive it"

Lella felt she could have been rich and famous in America but her love for Italy made her stay there

She knew foreign people appreciated her but she wanted to be know in Italy

Lella knew of her breath cancer by 1985. She had hit her breast on a sailing trip and it hurt her a lot.

With her partner Fiorenza she was trying to create a team and find others to help her including Giusy Remondi

She used to sleep in her truck to save money for racing

"She and Fiorenza were a beautiful couple, reserved; the spotlight was never on them"

"Lella only complained about the inequality in Formula 1 - because nobody had listened to her about the changes for the car"

"On her deathbed she asked us to continue the team to preserve what she had achieved. We miss her passion, determination and modesty"

Lombardi checked into Milan's san Camillo Clinic in February 1992 and died on March 3rd, days short of her 51st Birthday

[sunny-day-jack-official]

The posters designed for the Norwich Anime & Gaming Convention are now available at Shark Robot for everyone worldwide to purchase! The SFW and NSFW variations are available separately for purchase, and each poster is printed on premium luster photo paper with archival quality inks. They also come in four size options to choose from so you can ensure that you have enough space to admire these bad (and good!) boys:

$9.95 USD - 8" × 10" (20.32cm × 25.4cm)

$12.95 USD - 10" × 13" (25.4cm × 33.02cm)

$13.95 USD - 12" × 16" (30.48cm × 40.64cm)

$14.95 USD - 16" × 20" (40.64cm × 50.8cm)

Additionally, Hatter Jack has returned as a sticker, in case you missed the run for the Patreon Hoodie! Single die-cut sticker are sized 2.95" × 3.09" (7.493cm × 7.8486cm) and retails for $2.95 USD.

Posters

Bachelor of the Month - Prince Blossom's Blossoming (Prince Blossom)

Originally designed as a convention souvenir, our princely mascot Prince Apfel Octavius Blossom The Third basks in the floral delights of his hidden rose garden. Perhaps, is he beckoning you to come closer? You would do well to oblige your lord~ (Looking for the NSFW variant? Purchase it here!)

DachaBo - Rude Awakening (Simoun) 

Originally designed as a convention souvenir, this little meow meow doesn't appreciate his beauty sleep getting interrupted. The least you can do is let people know when you're gonna barge into their nap corner, okay!? Not like he wants to see you, a-anyways... (Looking for the NSFW variant? Purchase it here!)

Gallagher Mansion - Elias' Sunday Best (Elias Gallagher) 

Originally designed as a convention souvenir, our dearest departed Elias Gallagher is getting ready to put on his Sunday clothes. Oh? It seems like he's noticed you looking... Well, he's certainly not displeased~ (Looking for the NSFW variant? Purchase it here!)

Sunny Day Jack - Wave For The Camera (Jack)

Originally designed as a convention souvenir, your best friend Sunny Day Jack is here to say hi! All eyes on the star of the show, after all. Why don't you wave back? (Looking for the NSFW variant? Purchase it here!)

All purchases of merchandise from our Shark Robot catalogue further supports development of our series! You can view the full catalogue here at our vendor page.

[major-mads]

Chapter 7: Lucky 25

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 11k

Thursday, September 16th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1300 HRS: 1 PM

Hope’s back ached as she bent over her old Singer sewing machine, silk fabric sliding effortlessly as the needle punched thread through it. Silk was hard to come by with rationing, and there was no way, even with Hugh’s help, that she could afford a new wedding dress. Luckily for her, Frank had a knack for making things disappear from the storeroom on base and later making them reappear in the girls' hut. 

Ruth hummed Artie Shaw out of tune from behind her as the blonde cut out more fabric from the pattern, laying the pieces of cloth over the tissue paper cutouts. Tatty and Helen hand-sewed small pieces of lace together, just some odd cuts they’d gotten from the local fabric shop.

The girls worked hard all afternoon, measuring, cutting, and sewing. The dress was coming along nicely, and with only three weeks to go until the big day, Hope was anxious to get it finished in time. 

The Singer buzzed along nicely as three familiar heads poked around the nissen hut door.

“Knock, knock,” Hugh called out, stepping inside, his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl's work. Gale and John followed him closely. 

“You guys can’t be in here,” Helen scolded.

“It’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding, Cleven,” Tatty hissed, marching over to the men. “You better get going before…”

“My dear Tatty, don’t be so defensive, I merely come to offer my services,” Hugh bowed dramatically. 

Hope snickered, all too aware of Hugh’s sewing skills, “I don’t think your skills are required here, Hugh. You’re not really one for a needle and thread.” 

Hugh scrunched his face up at her just like he’d done since they were children, and before he could throw out any more ridiculous ideas, Gale stepped forward.

“I don’t want to cause trouble, I merely want to spend some time with my girl,” Gale smiled charmingly at Tatty who moved aside.

“No wonder Hope can never say no to you, Major. That damn smile.” 

Gale made his way across the room just as Hope finished covering the dress with a sheet. “Hello darling,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Hope stood up, pressing her lips against his again, smiling into his touch. 

“Tatty, come on,” John all but whined, pointing into the hut while Tatty stood firm on the doorstep. “It’s me.”

“And that is exactly why I’m not letting you in. You’d get your grubby mitts all over the dress.”

“I wouldn’t dare! Please,” John clasped his hands together, looking rather sad and pathetic until Tatty sighed. 

“Fine, but one step out of line, Major, and you’re out.” 

John moved past Tatty towards Ruth who was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by a collection of differently shaped pieces of silk. 

“Never knew you were such a seamstress,” he grinned, kissing her gently and enjoying the familiar blush that crept across her pale cheeks.

“Well, I’m a woman of many talents,” Ruth retorted, grinning up at the Major.

“That you are.”

“Hugh, put that fabric down now,” Hope hissed, moving away from Gale’s arms to scold her brother, smacking his arm until he released the precious fabric. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a hold of this?” 

“It’s just some silk, I’m sure any white fabric would do,” Hugh replied nonchalantly, pushing the reeling of cotton across Helen’s desk and glancing awkwardly around the room as it fell to the floor.

Hope sighed, “Hugh, for once in your life, please just be serious and stop acting like a child. It’s for my wedding day. Please don’t mess this up for me.” 

Hope loved her brother dearly, but sometimes it felt like she had to do all the work in their relationship.

Hugh nodded apologetically, “I will. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your big day, Little Bird.” Hope smiled at her childhood nickname, it had been a long time since he’d called her that. “But is there anything I can help with?” 

“Yes, there is,” Helen grabbed ahold of Gale and John’s sleeves, marching them towards Hugh, “You can take these two and keep them out of trouble until this evening.”

“Oh, come on, we just got here,” John groaned, glancing at Ruth in the hope of some sympathy, but she just waved at him. Gale glanced around Helen, blowing a kiss in Hope’s direction before the three men descended from the hut.

“You ladies have fun now, we’ll see you later,” Hugh called out, slamming the door dramatically. 

Helen turned back to the group, hurrying back to her spot beside Tatty, “I honestly don’t know how you’ve put up with Hugh for so long.” 

“I didn’t have much choice,” Hope laughed, turning back to the sewing machine, “He’s my brother after all.” 

A few moments passed until another knock sounded at the door, and Helen marched back over with a groan, slinging it open to reveal John leaning on the doorframe. 

“What is it?”

He peered around the woman, his eyes falling on Ruth. “Can I get a kiss?”

“You just got one!” she giggled, rising to her feet and approaching the door. “You’re so needy.”

Helen moved out of the doorway, chuckling as Ruth rose on her tiptoes and quickly kissed John before pushing him out the door with a wink. “See you later, hotshot!”

As the door closed in his face, John couldn’t help but shake his head at Ruth, his heart racing at the mere sight of her. Buck clapped his shoulder and turned him toward the nearby mess hall where Hugh walked a few feet ahead of them. “You gonna tell her tonight?”

“If Dye gets back in one piece, I will,” Johnny nodded, scratching his mustache. 

“He will.”

One Week Earlier: September 10: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

The mess hall was unusually quiet as John and Gale sat eating their breakfast, having missed the morning rush by sleeping in an extra hour. They both laid awake the night before, their minds unable to shut off after the events of John’s party. Since they’d arrived, Bucky was silent, only speaking to thank the mess hall worker for his coffee.

Buck stared at him skeptically, taking in his slightly pursed lips and distant gaze that focused on the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. “I can hear the gears turning from here, John. What is it?”

A few beats passed until he spoke up, his eyes remaining on his food. “Ruth.”

“Hmm,” Gale nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What about her?”

“Everything…I can’t get her off my mind, Buck. I don’t know what’s going on.”

‘I do,’ the younger man thought.

John shook his head with a sigh, his brow creasing as his conflicted gaze lifted from the table. “I can’t explain it.”

Gale put down his coffee cup and smiled softly at his friend. “I can…you love her.”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

“What don’t you know?” he asked as his brows furrowed. Gale saw the deep thought behind the Major’s eyes and realized the confident and boisterous John Egan was nowhere in sight. This Bucky was unsure of himself, facing emotions he’d never felt before. Buck’s voice softened as he continued. “What do you know?”

John raised a questioning brow and Gale leaned his elbows onto the table. “How do you feel around her?”

“I don’t-” Bucky frustratedly groaned, sitting back into his seat. ”I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just try.”

Every moment he shared with Ruth replayed like a film in John’s mind as he tried to find the words to describe the way he felt.

“When I think about her,” he finally began, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It just…It just does somethin’ to me, Buck, and can’t think straight.”

Gale listened intently, nodding along as John continued, his voice growing softer.

“And after last night, how she did all that for me? I’ve never met anyone like her.” His brow creased in thought as he struggled to find his next words. “She’s…she’s-”

“Everything,” Buck finished, Hope’s smiling face forming in his mind.

Gale’s words hung in the air for a few moments as the Majors thought of their beloved nurses. 

Bucky nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the window where the morning sun filtered through the glass, lighting up the mess hall in a golden glow. He took a deep breath as he finally came to terms with what he was feeling. 

John Egan was in love.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “She’s everything.”

A knowing grin painted Gale’s face as he repeated his earlier statement. “You love her.”

“That how you feel about Hope?”

“Yeah, it is.”

As Buck’s words settled over them, John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was as if hearing the words out loud made them easier to grasp, and he couldn’t deny it any longer…he was in love with Ruth Morgan.

But even as the realization settled in, Bucky couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of his mind. This was a new territory for him, uncharted skies that both excited and terrified him. He’d always prided himself on his wild heart, but now he found himself willingly surrendering to feelings he’d managed to avoid for so long.

“You know,” Gale began, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “You should tell her. It’s pretty clear she feels the same way.”

“We said we’d take it slow.”

Cleven pushed his plate aside and leaned further over the table. “So? When have you ever been one to follow the rules?”

Finally, John’s serious expression faded and he shook his head with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And when have you ever encouraged me to break them?”

“Today,” he shrugged. “But only cause you need an extra shove.”

“Should I get used to this new Buck?”

“Don’t count on it,” Gale smirked as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. 

1900 HRS: 7 PM 

The lively sound of Glenn Miller filled the Officer’s Club as the band brought the hall to life. Couples jitterbugged and lindy-hopped across the dance floor, and happy conversation filled the air, including loud cackles and laughter from a table in the bar section where Hope and Ruth sat with their Majors. They were reminiscing about their time in San Angelo, Texas, with the girls’ under their arms and Hugh to the right of his sister.

Buck took a sip of his ginger beer with a raised brow. “Isn’t that where you picked up that damned jacket?”

“Sure is,” John replied and sucked his teeth. “My pride and joy.”

“So that’s where you got it,” Ruth giggled, shaking her head.

“Well,” he shrugged, holding a hand up defensively. “It was being discontinued, so I had no choice.”

Sitting up in his chair across from them, Hugh let out something between a chuckle and a scoff. “It was a choice, alright.”

Hope’s eyes met Ruth’s at the comment, waiting for a snarky comeback from the Major, but the blonde just patted John’s chest consolingly before he could respond. “It was being discontinued for a reason, John. Have you seen that thing?”

“Thank you. It always looks dirty,” Gale interjected as he smirked at John. “Seems Ruth is on my side for this one, Bucky.”

A giggle escaped Ruth’s lips and she sheepishly looked up at Johnny to see him already staring down at her, a playful frown on his lips a few inches away. “Say it isn’t true, Ruthie.”

“Sorry, hotshot,” she laughed, her eyes unable to resist flicking to his mouth at their close proximity. “Buck’s right, hon, but know you’re still my favorite Major.”

John’s frown faded and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as her laughter filled the air, and to his surprise, she leaned up and kissed him softly. Ruth pulled away after a moment with bright pink cheeks. The taste of her drink lingered on Bucky’s lips as his gaze locked with hers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

His plans to finally tell her how he cared about her, how he loved her, flashed in the forefront of his mind. But even as he stared down at her smiling face and a wave of pure adoration washed over him, his stomach swirled with nervousness. 

What if she thought it was too fast? Too soon? Too much?

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, John forced himself to look away and took a sip of his pint before turning to Hope and pointing at her across the table. “And whaddya think, Hope? About my jacket? It’s nice, right?”

The woman met Ruth’s lovesick eyes and chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but I prefer Gale’s.”

Gale smiled smugly, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, “That’s my girl. Always knew you had good taste.” 

“Well, of course, I do. I picked you didn’t I?” She grinned at him, leaning up to press her lips to his, smiling into the kiss.

“Well, that’s right. You sure a lady with a good eye,” Gale mused, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Gale,” she chuckled, feeling his breath tickling against her collarbone, while her fingers carded through his tousled, blond locks. 

“Gaaaale,” John teased, dramatically drawing out the name with his eyes closed. “What kind of name is Gale, anyway?”

Hope’s eyes widened in amusement as Gale groaned beside her, having heard the joke a million times before. “Well, what kind of a name is Bucky?” she asked, tilting her head with a sarcastic grin. “Now Buck I can get because he’s a dashing young man, but Bucky? I don’t know…”

The group burst into laughter and John tried to send the woman a dirty look, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smirk and joining in with them. Before long, he itched for a dance and stood to his feet, pulling Ruth toward the dance floor.

“I think it’s time for a dance, Ruthie.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” she giggled, sending Hope a wave as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides in her tight skirt.

The couple found themselves at the edge of the dancefloor, swaying hand in hand to the soft trumpet solo ringing through the hall. Ruth rested her head on John’s chest, calmed by the gentle thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear and his warmth as they danced. 

She could’ve stayed there in that moment forever…just her and her hotshot…just her and the man she loved. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair, breaking the silence between them. “I know I told you earlier, but you do.”

Lifting her head from his chest, Ruth smiled sheepishly at him. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear my dress uniform, but-”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did.”

She raised an eyebrow and slid her hands around his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smirk, his eyes drifting down to her breast pocket area that proudly displayed her pair of wings and lieutenant’s bars. “I’m a sucker for a woman in uniform.”

“So I need to worry about the WACs?”

Bucky chuckled, tugging Ruth against him. “Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to worry about, lieutenant.”

As the music swirled around them, John’s gaze softened as he looked into her deep blues. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Ruth’s cheeks flushed pink as she returned it, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, melting into his embrace. She felt him smile against her lips and pulled back to get a good look at him.

“What are you smiling about, Major?” she joked.

Bucky wanted to say, ‘How much I love you,’ but anxiety churned in his stomach and he couldn’t go through with it.

“Just you.”

Rolling her eyes, Ruth pecked the corner of his lips before returning her head to its place on his chest. “I’m so happy for Gale and Hope.”

“Me too,” he replied, his eyes scanning the room for the couple. “Speaking of Buck…where is he?”

Ruth joined him looking for their friends, but she had no luck and wiggled her eyebrows at Bucky. “They’re probably having some alone time.”

He sent her a mischievous smirk, and she knew what he planned to do. “Leave ‘em be, Johnny,” she groaned, sighing as he pulled her along behind him toward the door. “Don’t bother them.”

“But it’s my job to bother Buck.”

Before Ruth could respond, he flung open the side door and stuck his head outside. By the wild grin on his face, she knew he’d found them. “Hey, Lovebirds! Hurry up, you're missing the party!” 

“Five more minutes!” she heard Gale groan, and then John closed the door, a proud smirk hanging from his lips. 

“You’re terrible.”

Bucky shot her a wink and led her back to their table, settling back into their seats as they saw Gale and Hope enter the hall and begin swaying slowly. 

“Would you look at that?” John scoffed, sipping his pint and throwing an arm over the back of Ruth’s chair. “I’ve been trying to get Buck to dance for years and Hope did it in two months.”

The couple couldn’t help but watch their friends dance, both with lovesick smiles as they got lost in the song, spinning around the floor with a practiced grace that neither Ruth nor John expected. 

Buck was good at dancing.

Their concentration on the couple was broken when yells echoed through the air. Following the sound, they saw Harry throw peanuts across the table into Hugh’s mouth, laughing hysterically as Hugh caught another one. 

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Hope beat her to it.

“I leave you two alone for all of five minutes and you wreak havoc,” Hope tutted, patting Harry on the head like a small child. “If you choke on all those nuts Hugh, I swear…”

A giggle escaped the blonde’s lips at the comment and John chuckled beside her.

“Alright mother,” Hugh laughed, throwing one of the nuts at his sister. 

Hope and Gale took their seats beside Harry, settling easily beside each other with Gale’s hand draping lazily around her shoulder. The six of them fell into easy conversation, and soon, the table became more crowded when Veal, Crank, Brady, Blakely, and a few other airmen joined the group. Laughter and wisps of cigarette smoke filled the air as the men and the two nurses unwound, enjoying the company of friends.

Ruth remained tucked under Bucky’s arm, listening to yet another story from training in the States. This one was about a failed exercise where several forts experienced ‘equipment malfunctions’ and ‘discrepancies’ that forced them to land in or near the hometowns of family and girlfriends. 

Crank grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, the Hundredth almost got canned after that.”

“And I got demoted for the first time,” John chimed as he thought about just how many times he’d changed commands over his time with the 100th.

Eyes widening in surprise, Ruth playfully smacked his chest. “For the first time? I thought you getting demoted back to Squadron CO only happened once?”

“It would’ve been three times if LeMay would have found him or Buck that day he came to base,” Kidd added.

Nudging Buck with her shoulder, Hope smirked. “And what about you, Gale?” 

Gale shrugged as he hid a smirk behind his glass of ginger beer. “I don’t know why LeMay thought both of us were responsible for the ‘raunchy discipline’ on base.”

“So you’re sayin’ it was just me?” John asked with an incredulous grin.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I mean,” Benny started, trying to hold in a laugh as he rubbed Meatball’s head affectionately. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck tear up a bar with a narwhal tusk.”

Laughter erupted like a sudden burst of fireworks around the table, echoing around the lively room and drowning out the music. 

Narrowing his eyes at them, John pointed around the table.  “Technically, none of you dodos saw any of that!”

“We didn’t have to. We saw the aftermath,” Brady called out through his chuckles.

After a few moments, the laughter died down, and the large group broke into smaller conversations. 

Gale spoke quietly to Benny as Hope whispered with Hugh, and Ruth listened as Jack shared more stories of John’s escapades back in the States. Before long, the two majors went at it as they often did, but Ruth’s attention was drawn away by Hugh and Hope slinking away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

‘This outta be good,’ she thought.

When the band slowly faded out, Ruth smirked, knowing what was most likely coming. She peered over at Gale, expecting him to be watching Hope, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Benny and didn’t seem to notice his fiancée’s absence from the seat beside him. 

The band thrummed to life, music springing out across the room in a less-than-subtle fashion that had all heads turning toward the siblings. Then Gale’s eyes found Hope’s across the room and he did a double take, glancing back at her empty chair in confusion. 

Ruth pointed at siblings, a wide smile painting her face as she whispered in John’s ear. “This is gonna be interesting. They both can sing.”

“Sparky? No way,” he griped with a grimace. “No way he’s got better pipes than me.”

Giggling, she patted his cheek lightly and turned back to the stage. “Just wait and see, hon.”

Hugh took his place in front of the microphone, encouraging Hope to do the same as he pressed his lips near the cool metal grille. The conductor gave them the queue, and she took a deep breath before singing into the microphone.

“One of our planes was missing, two hours overdue. 

Yes, one of our planes was missing with all its gallant crew,

The radio sets were hummin', they waited for the word,

Then a voice broke through that hummin',

And this is what they heard!”

The song, rather aptly chosen by Hugh for Dye’s 25th mission, began to flow easily. Hugh joined in, belting out,

“Comin' in on a wing and a prayer!”

The second Hugh’s voice rang through the speakers, the skeptical smirk on John’s lips fell, and he raised a brow at Ruth, who just rolled her eyes at his reaction.

“I told you he was good.”

“I never said he was good,” he defended.

The corners of the blonde’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

Around them, some of the crowd began to join in, all looking at Dye whose cheeks were growing redder by the minute as he stood beside Lil, trying to shield his face. 

“What a show (What a show),

What a fight (What a fight).”

The instrumental section began to play, and the couple watched as Hugh took Hope’s arm and spun her around in quick concession. A wide grin spread on Ruth’s face that matched her best friend’s on stage. 

With her eyes glued on Hope, Ruth started to sing along. Her voice was slightly off-key, but she didn’t care, continuing to sing quietly where only John could hear. The man couldn’t look away from her smiling face as she sang. His gaze wandered over her face with a gentle intensity, watching how her lips moved, the slight quirk of her smile adding to her already breathtaking look.

“Yes, we really hit our target for tonight,

How we’ll sing as we limp through the air,

Look below, there’s a field over there.”

Ruth’s eyes flickered over to John and caught his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she noticed the same vulnerable glint in his eyes as the night he told her of his past. She offered him a questioning look, silently asking what was on his mind.

Johnny’s mind raced as his lips parted slightly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sent her a small, reassuring smile and barely shook his head as if to say, ‘nothing.’

There was something in his eyes that Ruth couldn’t quite put it into words, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless. With a soft nod, she turned her attention back to the stage, her hand reaching for John’s beneath the table, intertwining their fingers gently.

The Major’s heart sank as Ruth turned away, his own hand squeezing hers softly in response. He cursed himself silently for his inability to tell her how he felt, and frustration bubbled up within him.

How many more opportunities would he let slip away without telling her the truth?

“With our full crew aboard,

And our trust in the Lord,

Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.”

As the song came to a close, Hugh wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing her hard before grasping her hand and pulling her down from the stage. Hope hopped down the best she could, ignoring the small ripping noise from her skirt that would surely be a problem later. Hugh had a little skip in his step as they made their way back to the table.

Hugh threw himself down into his chair, downing the last of his whiskey, while Hope took her seat beside Gale, his face still in awe and his lips turned upwards into the largest smile.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He mumbled softly, kissing her cheek, letting the rough stubble on his chin graze against Hope’s cheek. 

She squirmed, laughing lightly, “Oh only about every hour that I’m on base and in every letter.”

“Good,” he mused, kissing her cheek once more, “Because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” Gale was broken off by Bucky’s loud declaration. 

“What the hell was that, Sparky?” John asked with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows raised at Hugh. 

Scoffing as he settled into his chair, the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I sounded a helluva lot better than you ever have…Isn’t that right, Croz?”

Harry’s expression dropped, his eyes widening nervously as he darted glances between Hugh and his Squadron CO, who sported a smirk and an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Uhhhhh…”

Ruth was in the middle of sipping her when the comment left Hugh’s lips, and she choked on the liquid, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed, trying to regain her composure. Immediately, John’s hand on her chair moved to rub her back as he ducked to check on her, the rest of the table turning their attention to the pair. Before he could speak, she waved him off with a sheepish smile, finally managing to swallow. 

“Sorry about that,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes. “I’m alright…please continue.”

Looking around the group, Ruth met Hope’s concerned gaze and sent her a teary grin, her pale face splotchy as she caught her breath.

“Where was I?”

Bubbles chuckled under his breath before sending Hugh a smirk. “You were complimenting Bucky’s singing abilities.”

“Right! I-”

“Everyone look here!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded the group as Captain John Schwarz, the 100th’s photographer, stepped forward with his camera in hand. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get a good one!” he called out cheerfully, adjusting the settings on his camera.

The group quickly turned toward him, and Ruth managed to put on a bright smile for the photo despite still trying to clear her throat. They all posed in their seats, and John’s arm draped casually over the blonde’s chair, her hand resting on his knee as she leaned into him.

With the click of the camera, the Captain took the picture, but before he could step back, John called out to him with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. 

“Alright, lovebirds. That’s enough,” Gale grinned, repeating Bucky’s words from a few minutes before. 

Schwarz moved around the table, snapping a photo of Demarco and Meatball, Hugh with poor Harry in a headlock, until he moved around to Hope and Gale. Buck stood up, leading Hope slightly away from the table, and wrapping his arms around her from behind kissing her temple. Hope grinned widely at the photographer who snapped the picture with his own smile.

Hugh appeared beside the Captain, mumbling something under his breath before moving over to the couple. 

“Could I please borrow my sister, Cleven?”

Gale looked a little forlorn as he released Hope from his embrace, stepping back towards the table. Hugh pulled his sister into his side, a bright smile on his lips as Schwarz took the photo. 

Back at the table, Hope slipped into her seat beside Gale, his arm draping over her shoulder as they got comfortable. Ruth sent her a bright smile from her position on John’s lap, and soon the group’s conversation picked back up, laughter filling the air once more. This continued for a little while longer, but when Dye made his way over with Lil under his arm, there was a shift in the air.

It was almost unnoticeable at first.

Ruth chuckled under her breath, watching John take a drag of his cigarette across the table and point to Dye as he neared the group. “There’s our very own Charlie Robertson!”

She’d moved back to her own chair when he got up to get her another ginger beer. Ruth learned her lesson with alcohol after waking up with a raging migraine the morning following John’s birthday party.

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Lil asked, trailing behind Glen and smiling at John as she passed him on his way back to Ruth.

“Not me,” Hugh snickered, sipping his whiskey with a grimace. The British liquor was nothing compared to the ‘good ole American stuff,’ as he called it. In his footlocker sat an unopened bottle of VAT-69 he was saving for his own 25th mission.

No one else thought anything was wrong with the alcohol, but Hugh just had his particular taste and he stuck to that.

“1922. White Sox at Tigers. No runs, no hits, no errors,” John answered, his hand gesturing in the air with each word before sinking into the chair beside Ruth. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, scooting his seat closer to her until their shoulders touched and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, whispering into his ear.

“He threw the last perfect game, right?”

“Sure did,”  he grinned, shooting her a wink. “Way to go, Slugger.”

Benny nodded from beside Hope and Gale, not having heard the blonde. “Yeah, he’s the last guy to throw a perfect game.”

“Til’ now!”

“You get to go home before Florida?” Jack asked, but the conversation soon Ruth faded as she turned her gaze to John with a fond smile. She traced the outline of his face, her eyes trailing over the dark pink scars from Regensburg, the slope of his nose, his mustache, and the natural pout of his lips…the soft lips she’d kissed dozens of times. The warmth of his touch seeped through her uniform, and a feeling of contentment washed over her. 

Over the last week, the couple exchanged multiple letters corresponding about the party and how each was doing, but John mainly raved about how much he liked his birthday present. 

‘Doll, I think I’m hooked…’ John wrote two days after the party.

She was broken from her inner dialogue when the toothy grin on John’s face suddenly fell, and Ruth’s heart jolted in concern as she became aware of the hush that fell over the group

“We’re all that’s left, aren’t we?” 

At Glen’s question, her eyes quickly scanned those around them and found that all the airmen shared the same pained and exhausted look. Curt’s smiling face flashed in her mind…a reminder of the sacrifices of the heroes from the 100th. 

Hope’s wandering eyes met Ruth’s across the table, and she sent her a weary frown at the way the lively men quieted, each lost in their thoughts. 

Blakely spoke first, breaking the silence that fell over the group “12 crews out of-”

“35 that flew in from Greenland,” Crank finished.

With his lips in a tight line, Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

Ruth reached out, her free hand finding John’s atop his chair’s armrest, squeezing it gently. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she felt him deflate slightly beside her just before Gale began to speak.

“We’re just happy for you, Dye.”

“That’s right. We are,” John added, his voice deepening as he raised his glass. “Very happy for you. Very happy.”

Glen held out his drink to the group. “And to all the fellas that aren’t here tonight, who should’ve been.”

The table broke out into quiet mumbles of agreement as they all lifted their glasses in a toast before tipping them back. Ruth’s ginger beer fizzed as it traveled down her throat, and beside her, John downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, unfazed. She watched him stare at the tabletop in front of them for a few seconds until Dye’s voice filled the air.

“Gentlemen…and ladies, I’m gonna go check on the boys, make sure they aren’t celebrating too hard without me.”

As he walked away with Lil tugged against his side, John’s eyes followed them and he pointed in their direction, muttering, “Charlie Robertson,” under his breath.

The jovial atmosphere from before shattered as the group remained quiet despite the raging party around them. And to think…John’s day had started off so well, had gone off without a hitch until that very moment.

He got to see Ruth, and Dye made it back from his 25th Mission, but as Bucky leaned back in his chair, he couldn’t help but be bothered by all the new faces and the lack of old ones.

Even Ruth’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to quell the rising anger and frustration that swirled in his stomach when he thought of the numbers. 

Out of 35 crews that flew in from Greenland, only 12 remained. 

120 men out of 350…230 gone in the matter of a few months. 

‘Will we all just be another number? Another crew marked off the list until replacements come and fill the huts like we never existed in the first place?’ 

These questions floated in his mind while his gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him. “I’m, uh, gonna get another drink. I’ll be back,” he announced quickly, rising from his chair and turning toward the bar. Ruth’s anxious eyes followed him before she glanced back at Hope.

Buck watched him go with a pang of concern and kissed Hope on the temple, promising his return before he got up and followed after his friend. The women shared a knowing look as they watched the men they loved disappear into the crowd. Seemingly following their Majors, the rest of the men got up and trailed after them a few minutes later, leaving Hope and Ruth alone at the table.

“I’m worried,” Ruth muttered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “What happens if John or Gale don’t make it back one-”

Hope cut her off quickly and moved to sit beside her.  “Hey. They’re going to be fine, Rue. Before long, we’re gonna be celebrating their 25th mission, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispered as her gaze fell to the table.

The dance floor cleared over the next few minutes, and just a few couples remained dancing. In the middle of the floor was Helen, wrapped up in the arms of an airman they’d never seen before. Wide grins grew on their faces as they watched her place a few kisses against the dark-headed stranger’s jawline. Over his shoulder, Helen’s eyes wandered to the two women sitting alone, and Ruth smiled, giving her a thumbs up as Hope winked at her.

Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Hope scanned the room, meeting the familiar but concerned blues of Gale across the room from where he leaned against the bar beside John. They talked to yet another new airman the girls had never met, but even she could see the grimace on Bucky’s face as he leaned closer to the man, gesturing his hands out.

She glanced over at Ruth who thankfully was too busy tidying up the mess the men left before returning her eyes to her fiancée. In the few seconds she’d looked away, the replacement airman disappeared, and the two Majors stood alone.

“Come on, Rue. Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?” Hope asked, rising to her feet and offering Ruth her hand with a forced smile.

She knew something was up with John. She could tell by Gale’s body language alone.

The blonde took her hand, allowing Hope to lead them towards the men. But just as they passed Helen and the dancing soldier, Colonel Harding and Major Bowman stepped through the doors and sauntered over the bar, a fat cigar hanging from Chick’s lips. 

“My boys!”

Not wanting to interrupt, the women stood on the outskirts of the group, moving to stand beside Tatty, even though both Buck and Johnny sent them a questioning look. Ruth scanned Bucky’s face, but her smile fell when she immediately noticed the line between his brows and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Listen up! I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover. He thinks you sissies could be getting flack happy.”

“No, not us, sir,” the airmen chorused.

“I told him war is war. The longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. And it’s been that way since the first caveman son of a bitch picked up a club and went after the other. Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?”

As the men shook their heads, Ruth and Hope shared a wary glance. 

Where was this going?

“No! Damn sure not! What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight. What you do between battles…” Harding trailed off with a chuckle, smirking as he took a drag of his cigar.

Hope watched as Buck remained stoic, no reaction on his face, but John looked over at Ruth, sending her a wink. “I like your style, sir!”

For the first time, Bucky’s wink didn’t make her heart skip a beat…it made it drop into her stomach. His grin was so clearly forced that her mind went haywire, and he was the only thing she could focus on. Sensing the blonde finally picked up on John’s demeanor, Hope silently intertwined their hands, squeezing Ruth’s reassuringly.

Red broke his silence, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. “Aerial combat like this hasn’t been around since the caveman, sir.”

“Of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties,” Harding dismissed the Major, turning to look at the dance hall. A few seconds later, his demeanor changed, and his voice grew serious. “Who the hell decorated this fiesta?”

Everyone looked around the group before Jack hesitantly spoke. “I put together a committee, sir.”

Craning their heads to see around the Colonel, the women confusedly searched the hall for what he possibly could be upset about, but had no such luck.

“The damned plane looks like it’s in a nosedive.”

The sound of chuckles filled the air as John grinned over at Ruth. “Fire ‘em. Fire the committee…Ruth can decorate next time.”

She did her best to smile back at him, but it was just as forced as the grin on his lips.

“I won’t bother next time,” Kidd muttered.

Harding seemed to move on and faced the men again, waving them all closer. “Come on, get in. Come here. Got something to tell ‘ya.”

Hope and Ruth stepped forward, watching the Colonel over Tatty’s shoulder, their eyes moving between their Majors and the CO. 

“You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?” Chick asked, his face scrunched into a half-grimace as he leaned into the group. “We fill up one of our forts with as many 500-pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler’s hidey-hole.”

The grin on Johnny’s face fell, and he tilted his face to the floor with slightly pursed lips for a moment before returning his gaze to Harding. His forced smiles and strained banter only added to the underlying tension in the room. Ruth’s fingers tightened around Hope’s hand, seeking reassurance as Chick continued.

“I’m sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker.”

Bubbles grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, now who’s flack happy?”

The second the words left John’s mouth, Ruth’s heart plummeted, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She held her breath waiting for what would happen next.

What happened in the last few minutes to change his attitude completely?

All the officer’s went silent, shooting each other worried looks while Bucky and Harding stared at each other.

“Who?”

“You are,” John nodded, his expression bearing no trace of any amusement.

Harding smirked, “You are.”

“No, you are,” Egan leaned forward, thwacking Harding’s chest with his hand. “Sir.” 

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as the atmosphere became even more tense, the room seeming to hold its breath. Gale quickly glanced over at Hope, his eyes filled with concern, much like the rest of the officers. The blonde beside her didn’t notice Buck, unable to tear her eyes away from John, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of an outburst.

The Major and the Colonel stared at each other until a smirk broke out on Chick’s face and he chuckled, the rest of the group following suit when the tension eased.

“Mmm, Single fillies. Come on, boys. Let’s get the lead out!” Harding smirked, taking a drag from his cigar, and left the party with Red trailing behind him.

The officers dispersed out onto the dance floor, leaving John, Gale, Hope, Ruth, and Benny at the bar. 

Gale turned to catch Hope’s eye, his face saying ‘hold on while I talk to him’. Hope nodded in agreement, catching Ruth’s arm and leading her away from their men. 

“What about John?” Ruth looked hastily over her shoulder for him, meeting his conflicted eyes momentarily, but Hope pulled her on. 

“Gale’s going to talk to him, it’ll be okay. They’ve been through a lot, remember? It’s bound to catch up with them all at some point, and we just need to be here to help them if they fall.” Hope led her back to the table, sitting her down and placing the glass of ginger beer in front of her. 

Hope hated watching Ruth’s worried eyes keep darting back toward the boys, but she knew that her own eyes kept drifting back to Gale’s. If this evening had taught her anything, it was that life was more precious than they could ever realize, and each moment should be cherished. 

They needed a distraction from their anxieties, and Hope blurted the first story that came to mind.

“Do you remember that day when you were new to the Grove and you walked in on Frank naked?” 

The blonde’s cheeks immediately heated up as she buried her head in her hands, “How could I forget? I’d only known the man for three days.”

Hope laughed too, “Well, it could be worse. On my first day on base, he nearly ran me over with a jeep. That was before he realized I was on his plane. He bought me a beer that same evening to apologize.” 

Ruth laughed, imagining a younger Hope giving Frank hell for trying to run her down. 

“We had a medical technician on our plane with us back then. Joseph was his name. He was a right pretty boy…thought he was the bee's knees but I soon told him otherwise.” 

Ruth chuckled, knowing Hope probably gave the poor boy hell. It was strange thinking back to when they first came to the Grove, the airbase that had quickly become their home and safe haven. 

“It seems like a lifetime ago that I met you, Hope. I thought you hated me at first.”

“Oh, I didn’t hate you…I just thought you weren’t going to make it,” Hope replied honestly, feeling slightly guilty about how she’d misjudged her best friend. “You soon proved me wrong though, Rue. You’re a good nurse.” 

Hope looked up as Gale approached them, smiling brightly at her while John still stood near the bar still looking quite somber. Ruth stood up, quickly excusing herself as she made her way over to the bar, resting her hand against John’s arm.

“Hey,” she whispered, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand and tug him to the door.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she finally asked when they excited the club into the English night, her voice soft with concern.

John pursed his lips and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features before he shrugged. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

“John,” Ruth urged, her voice hardening as she gave him the look that always made her students squirm in their seats. 

And her tone…it was only used when dealing with problem students, the ones who lied directly to her face when she already knew the truth.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”

“What was that, then?” Ruth pressed, refusing to let it go. She needed to know exactly what was wrong…needed to help him in whatever way she could.

But how could he tell her the truth?

He could go down the next day and it would be like he never was there in the first place. Gone like the 230 men they’d lost.

How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she could lose him in the blink of an eye?

That he could lose her just the same?

That he couldn’t write another life-shattering letter to a boy’s family?

His nervousness to confess his feelings was replaced with guilt, anger, and frustration that compounded in his chest, creating a volatile mixture that was bound to explode. 

“Nothing,” he insisted, his tone growing defensive. “Like I said.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Ruth pleaded as she grasped his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know-”

The flood he’d been trying to hold back finally broke, and his voice raised just a fraction as he pulled his hand from hers. “Damn it, Ruth. I said I’m fine!”

The sharpness of his tone caught the woman off guard, and she recoiled slightly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m just trying to help,” she whispered.

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the dance, leaving Bucky standing there in the chilly night. His hands moved to his hips as his chest heaved, the anger slowly leaving his body and morphing into guilt as his mind replayed her baby blues shining with tears and the tremble in her voice.

He was supposed to be a better man, someone worthy of her, and what did he do at the first chance?

Despite the mix of emotions within him, Johnny knew she was only trying to help, only trying to be there for him, and he’d raised his voice at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before following after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing open the door and stepping inside, the sounds of the party filled Bucky’s ears, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the band played ‘Blue Skies’. His eyes scanned the bustling club and caught a glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

John hesitated where he stood in the middle of the club, lost and unsure of what to do next. He knew he needed to talk to her, to make things right, but he also didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. Frustratingly running a hand over his mouth, he caught sight of Gale on the dance floor where he swayed slowly with Hope. Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced in the direction Ruth had gone over Hope’s shoulder. With a nod of his head, he silently urged Johnny to go after her. 

It was the push that he needed to make a decision.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the bathroom door and knocked, his knuckles rapping against the wood gently. “Ruthie, can I come in?”

His heart sank when he heard sniffles from inside.

“Please,” John murmured softly, his voice barely audible through the door.

A few seconds ticked by and he was about to ask again when the door clicked open, giving him a view of her reddened and splotchy face. Ruth backed up, allowing him to slowly push in the door. She stood before him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, barely meeting his gaze as her eyes remained on the floor. John silently stepped into the room and closed the door behind him gently, muffling the sounds of the party outside.

They stood there silently for a few moments until Ruth finally looked up at him, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her softly into his chest, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, doll. So sorry.”

Ruth stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m not mad at you. I just,” he sighed against her hair. “I hate myself for making you upset. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

She lifted her head from his chest and broke her silence, her voice wavering. “Then talk to me.”

John stared at her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair gently as he thought of a way to explain what he felt…the weight he felt on his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ruth,” he muttered, his face tilting to the ground.

“I don’t care,” the nurse answered quietly, reaching up and gently lifting his face to meet her teary gaze. "Just…just please don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence as Bucky nodded to himself with his lips pulled into a tight line. When he finally found the words, his voice was barely audible as he fought to keep his composure. 

“You heard Crank earlier. We’ve lost so many boys, and I-,” he cleared his throat, looking over her shoulder at the wall while fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ruth’s heart broke at his confession, and she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to her, their foreheads pressing together.

“John, you are going to get through this. We are going to get through this,” Ruth whispered. “I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. You can talk to me, alright?”

He released a shuddering breath against her face, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he savored the feeling of her warm touch. The three words he’d been meaning to say all night danced on the tip of his tongue but refused to pour from his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I-”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. You make me so happy, Johnny.”

Bucky raised his hand to cover her much smaller one on his cheek as he sent her a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You…you mean everything to me, Ruth. Everything. And I’m so sorry for talking to you like-”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

John immediately obeyed, tilting his head to connect their lips softly, their worries fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Ruth’s hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss with an eagerness he’d never seen from her before. He fought against every instinct in him urging him to take things farther, but she deserved more than that…they both did.

As they pulled away from the kiss, they remained wrapped in the other’s arms, their breaths mingling in the air between them. John’s gaze softened as he looked into Ruth’s eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He noticed the remnants of tears still clinging to her lashes, her eyes red and puffy, and his hand raised to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’m getting a weekend pass to London,” he said breathlessly, nervously peering down at her. “Come with me.”

Ruth grinned and pecked his lips again softly. “I’d want nothing more.”

In that moment, with Ruth in his arms, John Egan vowed London would be the place…would be the time he’d confess his love for her. 

How he couldn’t imagine life without her.

London…it would be the place that everything changed.

Monday, September 20th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 0700 HRS: 7 AM

Hope let out a long sigh as the C-47’s wheels left the runway in one swoop, rising above the airstrip and leaving the base far below them as they climbed into the clouds. Frank talked quietly to Bill in the cockpit, and both girls couldn’t help but smile at their pilot's antics. He was a good pilot, but as a mentor, he was a hard task-master, and Bill was being put through his paces. Ruth pulled John’s latest letter from her pocket, rereading his words with a small smile.

September 17th My Ruth, Hey, slugger. I hope you’ve had a good few days. Have your runs been okay? Has Frank been nice to you? You know I won’t hesitate to rough him up if not. I have been unable to keep my mind off of you…as usual. Schwarz developed the pictures from the party yesterday, and I’ve found myself staring at our photo for longer than I’d like to admit. You’re just so beautiful…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…have I told you that? Schwarz also gave each Buck and Hugh individual pictures of them with Hope. I’m pretty sure Buck is sending copies of the letter he’s writing from his bunk. You’ll find one of us in this envelope, as well. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as I do. I keep my copy in my breast pocket, next to my heart so you’ll be with me everywhere I go. When I start to spiral, I just look at you and your smiling face, and I remember what all this is for. Every day I ask myself how I got so lucky that you landed on my base out of the hundreds scattered around England, and after months of wondering, I still have no explanation.  All I know is that I kiss the lucky cross around my neck every time I leave and come back from a mission, thanking Mrs. Virginia Morgan that I made it back to the ground…back to you. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t take it back, Ruthie, but I promise to keep it safe until you’re ready to.  I can’t wait to take you to London, doll. Did your CO approve your leave? I can try to pull some strings if she doesn’t. Maybe I could give her a call and use my charm to convince her? What do you think? Stay safe up there for me, alright? Yours Completely, John Egan P.S. The Yankees swept the Athletics in their series, keeping their 9-game win streak alive. We’ve got the American League in the bag! What do I always say? The Yankees always end on top! Remember that, doll. You’ll be hearing it a lot after we win the World Series next month.

Both women received letters from their Majors late the night before and immediately wrote their responses, promising to send them the following morning. But when they were called up for a run before dawn, both dashed to the post room before hurrying back to ‘The Angel.’ 

“So how is the hotshot then?” Hope asked with a grin, amused by Ruth’s embarrassed expression, her pale cheeks blushing deeply. 

“How do you know I call him that?” Ruth asked curiously, but Hope just shook her head with a chuckle. 

“Ruth, you've read his letters out loud enough times when I’m around that I’ve basically read them myself.” The blonde nodded slowly, half listening to Hope and the other half of her too engrossed in John’s words as she reread them again. After a few moments, she looked up from the letter.

“I wrote to my parents about John the other day,” Ruth called out over the engine’s whine, a fond smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.”

“What all did you tell them?” Hope asked with a raised brow.

Ruth’s innocent smile turned into a mischievous smirk as she chuckled to herself. “Well, my Mama always reads the letters, so I wrote the basics for her to tell my Dad and Jamie, but gave her all the details.”

“John’s right,” she laughed. “You are a sneaky woman.”

Shrugging, Ruth pulled out the picture he sent from her pocket, her heart fluttering as she studied it, tracing the lines of John’s face on the small photo. She was glad to finally have a piece of Johnny to carry around with her, being able to whip it out whenever she missed him or just wanted to see his handsome face.

The plane rocked from side to side as they gained altitude, and the large metal bird flew ‘through the ‘gate’ as Frank liked to call it as she moved to full throttle, soaring up into the clouds. 

“Stop being a clot,” Frank hissed to Bill, flicking a few switches in the cockpit with a long sigh, “You know what you’re doing kid, but shit, try using your head sometimes okay?” 

“Yes Sir,” Bill nodded shyly, turning his attention back to the plane's control panel. The girls smiled at each other, listening to the two men bickering in the cockpit

“Where do you think the boys are right now?” Ruth asked, looking up nervously at Hope. She always worried when she thought of where their men could be. The thought of them in harm's way made her sick to the stomach. 

Were they flying like girls were? Were they in danger? 

Hope slouched in her seat as the plane leveled out, “I don’t know, Rue. I’d like to think that they’re at Thorpe Abbotts. Hugh’s probably getting into some sort of trouble or terrorizing poor Harry Crosby. John is probably having some coffee with his whiskey about now at breakfast.” This caused Ruth to laugh lightly at the thought of John’s usual morning routine.

“What about Gale?” 

Hope took a little longer to reply this time. “I think Gale would… well I don’t know. He’s probably either eating breakfast with John, walking Meatball, or he’s with his baby.” 

“His baby?” Ruth sputtered, cocking her head and looking at her friend for the answer.

“His Fort, ‘Our Baby’,” Hope laughed, watching as Ruth nodded, understanding the men’s attachment to their Forts. She guessed they all felt the same way about their own plane, although Ruth thought if she never had to fly again it would be a blessing. 

The pair soon fell into silence, both organizing their mussette bags for the hundredth time, as if they hadn’t checked all their supplies pre-flight. Hope moved up to the cockpit to check in with the pilots while Ruth moved along the racks of supplies, laying out fresh blankets on each cot, humming an Artie Shaw song to herself as she went.

“How’s it going up here, boys?” Hope leant over Frank’s shoulder, watching as the cloudy sky unfolded before them. 

“Can’t complain,” Frank replied plainly. “I think Billy Boy here is getting the hang of things at last.” The young pilot grinned at the compliment and Hope couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled her chest. They’d had several copilots training with Frank, but Bill was definitely the girl's favorite. 

Looking back out the window, Hope pointed towards the dark clouds erupting ahead of them. 

“Hey Frank, what’s that up ahead? That’s not what I think it is…right?”

“That, my dear Hope, is flak fire,” he said regretfully. “Looks like we’re heading to the movies. I suggest you girls grab a seat…Ruth may want a blindfold for this next part.” 

Hope swallowed, nodding quickly before rushing back to her seat. Bill talked quickly to Frank in the cockpit but remained calm, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through before. 

Ruth’s fearful eyes widened as Hope explained what Frank had told her before swiftly strapping herself into her seat. Her mind raced at all the terrible outcomes that could occur. 

What happens if they go down? 

What would happen if they just blew up over Germany? 

She tried to put on a brave face but she knew Hope would see right through it, she always did. 

The plane swerved as flak erupted around them, swooping and diving as the black clouds and wuffs from the Ack-Acks flew wildly around them. Hope and Ruth were thrown around in their seats as the plane swerved, flack bursts shaking the bird. They were very grateful that they always secured all their supplies and stretchers down pre-flight.

Hope’s fingers dug into the metal seat and her eyes closed as her stomach flipped in circles with each turn. She’d not had any issues with her motion sickness since her training, but the urge to vomit up her breakfast only grew as the bile rose in the back of her throat. 

Ruth opposite from her was as white as a sheet, her already pale face now the color of a corpse with her lips set in a thin worried line. Her teeth clenched tightly together and her eyes squeezed shut as flack pierced through the plane's fuselage above her head. 

“Shit!” Ruth shrieked, covering her head with her hands.

“You okay, Rue?” Hope shouted over the noise of the war around them. A glossy-eyed and panting Ruth only nodded quickly in response.

Bullets ripped through the riveted sheets of the fuselage with a series of metallic pings, piercing through easily and sending metal flying into the cabin like confetti. With the chaos surrounding them, Ruth barely noticed when a piece of shrapnel flew past her face, just grazing her temple. Flak fire continued to blast in the air surrounding the skytrain and the noise was deafening to everyone inside. 

How could anyone think strategically in these conditions? 

“OH FUCK!” Frank’s voice shouted from the cockpit as he leaned over to Bill, “Stay with me, kid.” Bill’s lifeless body lay wide-eyed staring straight ahead, his young face frozen, expressionless. “DAMMIT!” 

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Hope called out as she unbuckled herself and stumbled from her seat, edging her way towards him. 

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Hope! What are you doing?!”

She simply sent her a worried glance, seeing the blood trickling down Ruth’s cheek before disappearing from view, and the blonde stared at her in disbelief. When another burst sent burning hot metal through the plane’s fuselage around her, Ruth’s eyes clenched shut, her head bowing as she mumbled a prayer for them, her hand instinctively reaching up for her usual comfort… her necklace….her lucky necklace that now hung around the neck of John Egan.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

In the cockpit, Frank didn’t turn to face Hope when he spoke, his eyes trained on the incoming fire from the Messerschmitts flying in all directions around them. 

“We have been fucked by the fickle finger of fate and today is not our day. We’re down to one engine and she isn’t sounding too healthy. We’re littered with holes and,” he paused, his throat constricting as he motioned to the young boy who lay dead beside him. “And the Krauts…they got Billy.” 

The plane juddered and smoke poured from the remaining engine with a horrendous screech as Frank took a steadying breath. The next words to leave his lips sent a shiver down Hope’s spine. 

They were the ones every airman, flight nurse, and pilot prayed they’d never have to hear…

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down!”

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[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 7 || 541 Words || Read on Ao3 —

4 December 1979

Muted footsteps, muffled shouts. 

The fuzzy sounds mix with the darkness that’s come over him. Moments ago, he remembers feeling too much. Now, he can hardly feel anything at all.

Cold earth beneath his back, a trickle of warmth trailing down the back of his neck—he can feel that. Make sense of that. But that’s where it ends.

He can’t identify the voices or pinpoint where the footsteps are coming from or going to. He can’t, honestly, remember his name at this moment. 

His face feels empty, and he remembers—briefly—that there should be glasses there. Maybe that’s why everything looks so dark and blurry, or maybe they’re not open at all.

The confusion is making him tired, and adrenaline is draining fast from his body. He sinks into the cold earth—his eyes definitely closed now. Whatever commotion going on has moved away and is nothing more than a faint, distant hum.

Visions swim before his eyes as the adrenaline leaves him—a young boy (him, he thinks) zipping around on a broomstick, aging parents cheering from the ground; four boys bent over an elaborate scroll of parchment, speaking excitedly to one another; a girl with deep auburn hair and lively eyes, hands on her hips; the same girl, tucked under his arm as they walk through ornate stone hallways.

Lily, he thinks, realization suddenly dawning on him. Sucking in a breath, pain rips through his body, and he hisses.

Lily’s before him again, her eyes wide and worried as she stands in the doorway—their doorway—earlier this morning as she sees him off for a mission. He remembers whispering comforting reassurances to her, a hand coming to rest on her flat stomach as he kissed her. A secret shared by the two of them for now, but something that will inevitably become public; already so precious.

Several staggered cracks of Disapparition break through the heavy, murky fog of James’ brain and fully snap him back to reality.

The stakeout in Norwich. The ambush.

James blinks and can barely make out the sickly gray of the naked tree limbs above him. It’s all blurry—his glasses must’ve been knocked off sometime during the fight. His wand—where is his wand?

Feeling the ground below him, he stretches his arm out and is again met with blinding, full-body pain. He’s cold, and again registers the warm trickle of blood—his blood—flowing down his neck. 

Shit.

Lily swims into his vision again and it gives him a surge of motivation. Letting out a stream of curses, he continues to feel around from his wand from where he lays on his back, trying to conserve all the energy he can and doing his best to block out the pain.

Finally, his fingers brush polished wood, and he lets out a delirious laugh of gratitude. Knowing what comes next won’t be pretty, he squeezes his fist around the handle of his wand, giving him the strength, courage, and fortitude to focus. 

If he stays here, he dies. Splinching—because he is going to splinch himself, of that he’s certain—at least gives him a chance. Gives them—him, Lily, their child—a chance.

Another deep breath and an agonizing flick of his wand and he’s gone with a crack in the night.

[call-mi-jinx]

Dave Lizewski X Reader - Social Suicide (Part 3)

summary - you’re were failing calculus so your teacher gives you a tutor, dave lizewski.

warnings - 18!dave, 18!reader, bitch!reader (not anymore thoooooo), reader standing up for herself, I have no clue what else pls tell me if I missed anything!

Main Masterlist Dave Lizewski Masterlist Series Masterlist

dave lizewski x popular!reader

part 1 part 2 part 4

Three days. Three days it’s been since Dave came to your window. You’ve been talking a lot more. He helped you with calculus on Sunday, completely ignoring everything else to help you.

It’s now Tuesday, you and Dave are sat in the library. He’s helping you with chain rule at the moment. You finally understand most of it because of him.

You were sat in a peaceful silence, mainly because Dave made you do a few questions to see where you could improve. Until you see a figure in the corner of your eye coming towards you both.

It was Haley.

“Y/N? What the fuck are you doing with this nerd?” Her voice is laced with disgust. You fought to roll your eyes.

“I told you ages ago, he’s tutoring me in calculus.” She rolls her eyes and groans. She shoots a glare at Dave before grabbing my arm and taking me away from the table we were at.

“Just because that bitch teacher says he has to tutor you doesn’t me he actually has to! Look at him! Just flash him your tits or promise a date and he’ll do all the work for you.” She whisper shouts at me. I roll my eyes at her and scoff.

“How big-headed are you? Dave is a nice guy. He’s really helped me. And Miss Norwich isn’t a bitch. She’s an amazing teacher.” Haley scoffed. I never actually realised how annoying she was.

“Oh my god… you’ve turned into one of them! You’ve turned into a nerd! I can’t associate with you anymore. The girls are going to hear about this!” I laugh in her face as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t care Haley. I can’t believe I was ever friends with you. You’re a selfish, self-absorbed, big-headed, whiny bitch! And if the girls are the same I don’t want to be friends with them either.” I turn around and head back to the table where Dave is and flip Haley off in the process.

When I get back to the table where me and Dave were sat and he is still there. Thank god. I sit down next to him and sigh, putting my head in my hands.

“What’s wrong? What did she say?” Dave leaned closer to me, placing a light hand on mine. It feels warm. Nice.

“Well she’s not my friend anymore let’s just say that.” I chuckle sarcastically. Dave rubs his thumb against my hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you just wanna pretend it never happened?” I don’t even answer for a few seconds. Just staring into space.

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry about it Davey.” I give him a small smile then reach for my pen and continue with the questions that Dave has given me.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Wednesday.

I haven’t heard a word from any of the girls since yesterday. They probably agreed with Haley. I’m fine with that.

I’m sitting in the library again with Dave, Todd and Marty. Dave introduced me to them yesterday. They seem pretty nice. The three of them are talking about comics and I’m doodling in my notebook.

I’m too into my own world that I don’t see Riley and Naomi come up to us at the table. I look up and internally groan. I really fucking hope they aren’t going to verbally batter me or something.

“Y/N, Haley told me and the girls everything and I just want to say…” Riley looks at Dave, Todd and Marty before continuing. “I still wanna be friends. I really don’t care that you hang out with these guys. I never cared. I only care if you’re happy or not.” A wave of relief washes over me. I always liked them three. They were always super chill.

“Thank you Riley. I’m glad at least you have a brain.” I laugh and she does too. She asks if she can sit with us and we all agreed.

Luckily it was free period so we had around 45 minutes left. Everyone started talking and I realised Riley started taking a liking to Todd. They’d be cute together.

Riley looked over to me and I gave her a knowing grin. She mouths “shush” to me and we both giggle. As time passes, we all start joking with each other.

I’m just sitting listening to everyone talking until I feel Dave take my hand into his. My whole body tenses, heat rises to my cheeks and I feel like im breaking a sweat.

I look at Dave and he’s talking to everyone like nothings happening. The thoughts in my head are going at a million miles per hour.

Before I could do or say anything, the bell rang for our next class. Everyone got their things and now we’re all walking to our classes together. I had History, Dave and Marty had English and Riley and Todd has Art.

“Marty, I’ll uh… I’ll meet you in class I’m going to walk Y/N to class.” Marty just gave him a thumbs up. I look over to Riley and she gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I giggle as I turn around to look at Dave.

As we both walk to my class, there’s a silence between us. One question has been running through my head though.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on with you? And why you came up to my window in that suit?” You whisper the last part, knowing that he wants to keep it a secret.

“I’ll tell you everything tonight. I’ll come over to your house around 5 o’clock?” We finally reach my classroom, but before I go in a completely turn my body to face him.

“My house, 5 o’clock on the dot, no later. Got it?” He nods with that same goofy smile on his face which I’ve grown to love.

“Okay, see ya Davey!” I instinctively kiss him on the cheek and walk into my classroom. As I sit down I realise what I just did.

What the fuck?

[girlactionfigure]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐞𝐰𝐬.

I'm sick and tired of Candace Owens and her likes that are obsessed with framing Jews behind every problem that they had over the years. While we all love the Christians and while most Christians are real friends of the Jews, I think this has to be said again and again. So let's review some history and some facts.

1/ Early Christian Era: 

Hostility towards Jews began as early as the 4th century when Christianity became the Roman Empire's official religion. Emperor Constantine's policies, later codified in the Theodosian Code, restricted Jewish rights. Jews were barred from public office, synagogues were destroyed, This set a precedent for future Christian rulers to marginalize Jews.

2/ First Crusade (1096): 

As the Crusaders marched to the Holy Land, they massacred Jewish communities in the Rhineland (modern-day Germany). Known as the Rhineland massacres, thousands of Jews were killed in cities like Worms, Mainz, and Cologne. The violence was often enabled by Crusader preachers who framed Jews as enemies of Christianity. Many Jews chose martyrdom over forced conversion, a theme that would reappear in later persecutions.

3/ Blood Libel Accusations (12th century - today): 

The first known case of blood libel occurred in Norwich, England, in 1144, when Jews were falsely accused of murdering a Christian boy, William of Norwich, for ritual purposes. These accusations led to widespread violence and massacres, including notable cases in Trent (1475) and Damascus (1840). Blood libel myths fueled antisemitism, resulting in the torture, execution, and expulsion of Jews across Europe.

4/ The Black Death (1348-1351): 

As the plague ravaged Europe, killing millions, Jews were scapegoated and accused of poisoning wells. Pogroms erupted across the continent, with entire Jewish communities in cities like Strasbourg being annihilated. In some areas, Jews were burned alive, while in others, they were forcibly converted or expelled. Despite papal condemnations of the violence, local authorities and priests encouraged and some even participated in the massacres.

5/ Spanish Inquisition (1478-1834): 

The Inquisition targeted conversos, Jews who had converted to Christianity, suspecting them of secretly practicing Judaism. Tomas de Torquemada, the first Grand Inquisitor, led a brutal campaign of torture and execution. The Alhambra Decree of 1492, issued by Ferdinand and Isabella, expelled all Jews from Spain, forcing over 200,000 to convert or flee. This expulsion ended centuries of Jewish cultural and intellectual contributions to Spain.

6/ Expulsions in Europe: 

Over centuries, Jews faced expulsion from numerous European countries. England (1290) saw the Edict of Expulsion under King Edward I, forcing Jews to leave and seizing their property. France (1306 and 1394) saw similar expulsions, as did various German states. These expulsions often followed periods of economic exploitation and violence against Jews, stripping them of property and wealth and forcing them into exile.

7/ Ghettos and Restrictions (16th-18th centuries): 

In many European cities, Jews were confined to ghettos, segregated neighborhoods with curfews and restricted economic opportunities. The first ghetto was established in Venice in 1516. In Rome, Pope Paul IV established the Roman Ghetto in 1555, enforcing strict segregation. Jews in ghettos faced overcrowding, poverty, and social isolation, with limited rights and constant threat of violence.

8/ Russian Pogroms (19th-20th centuries): 

The assassination of Tsar Alexander II in 1881 sparked a wave of violent pogroms against Jews across the Russian Empire. These state-sanctioned attacks involved looting, arson, and murder, with entire villages destroyed. The May Laws of 1882 further restricted Jewish rights, driving mass emigration to the United States and Israel. Pogroms continued into the early 20th century, culminating in the Kishinev Pogrom of 1903, these pogroms were influenced by various social, economic, and political factors, they occurred in a predominantly Christian society where antisemitic attitudes were pervasive and pushed by local priests, and a lot of Christians participated in the violence.

9/ Context on Christian Persecution Claims: 

While millions of Christians have faced persecution over the years, those claiming they are the most persecuted group are misleading. Let’s look at some numbers:

- 1800: Approximately 22% of the world population was Christian, around 200 million out of 900 million.

- 1850: Christians made up about 28% of the world population, roughly 350 million out of 1.2 billion.

- 1900: The proportion increased to 34%, with 560 million Christians out of 1.65 billion people globally.

- 1950: Christians constituted about 35% of the global population, approximately 800 million out of 2.3 billion.

Today, around 31% of the world's population identifies as Christian, approximately 2.3 billion people out of 7.8 billion. Given these numbers, it's clear that while Christians have certainly faced persecution, the idea that they are the most persecuted group does not hold up. It's like saying the world is the most persecuted world—statistically inaccurate given the substantial and growing global Christian population. 

This context does not diminish the real suffering that many Christians have endured, especially in certain regions and periods. However, the Jewish experience of persecution stands apart due to its intensity, persistence, and the often racially motivated nature of the oppression. Jews, a much smaller group historically, have faced systemic efforts aimed at their complete eradication, from medieval pogroms to the Holocaust. Their persecution involved not just religious but also racial and cultural dimensions, leading to centuries of marginalization, violence, and genocide.

10/ Conclusion: 

The history of Christian persecution of Jews is a strong reminder of the consequences of intolerance and bigotry. While it's important to acknowledge and appreciate the many Christians who have stood by Jews as true friends, we cannot ignore the dark chapters where Christian societies and authorities played a significant role in the suffering of Jewish communities. 

By understanding these historical contexts, we can better appreciate the resilience of the Jewish people and the importance of standing against all forms of hatred. Let's ensure that history does not repeat itself by fostering an inclusive and compassionate future. It's time to move beyond misplaced blame and work together to combat antisemitism and bigotry in all its forms... 

𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 ��𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐬: 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 

[and-her-saints]

Do you happen to have any resources on mysticism? I’m writing a short paper for one of my classes, and I want to bring in some outside sources <3

depends on what branch/type! i'm the most well-versed on Catholic mysticism, of course. so, that's what i'll share.

i illustrated Shannon K. Evans' new book: "The Mystics Would Like a Word." (out now!) It's about St. Thérèse of Lisieux, St. Catherine of Siena, St Teresa of Ávila, St. Hildegard of Bingen, Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe. i think it's a brilliant intro to mysticism that also ties the practice to modern day. besides, these women are the quintessential mystic girlies within Catholicism, so you could look into them.

For St. Thérèse specifically, you could look into her autobiography, 'Story of A Soul'. For St. Teresa of Ávila, it could be 'The Interior Castle.' For Julian of Norwich, 'Revelations of Divine Love.' For St. Hildegard, her Scivias or her songs... etc. etc.

a dear buddy, W, has the podcast 'St. Anthony's Tongue" and it specializes in this topic particularly. i'd definitely recommend looking through his podcast and show notes.

since it's a small paper, you might find good sticking to a single mystic. mysticism is so so broad and found across many spiritualities, approaches, religions and cultures. you could also compare and contrast the experiences of two different mystics.

for "lesser-known" mystics, i think St. Gemma Galgani's or Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz' experiences could also be a fascinating subject for essays on mysticism.

(i'm too much of a lesbian to mention men who were mystics. they are uninteresting, in my opinion. the only ones i think i like are St. Francis of Assisi and, in small doses, St. Ignatius of Loyola)

if you need any sources that are even more specialized later on, let me know! i'd be happy to help! best of luck!!!!!!