#Tally Authorized Training Center

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 A Palestinian family is besieged in their home by the Zionist occupation army, while occupation tanks and warplanes fire shells and bomb the surrounding neighborhood, terrorizing the remaining residents as Israeli drones buzz overhead. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DAY 266 OF ISRAELI GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP: ZIONIST ARMY ADVANCES FURTHER INTO AL-SHUJAIYA, OCCUPATION ARMY BOMBS CIVILIAN TENTS, FUEL AND MEDICINE SHORTAGE COSTING LIVES AS AMBULANCES NO LONGER OPERATE, GALLANT PLANS FOR "DAY AFTER" GENOCIDE ENDS, SLAUGHTER OF CIVILIANS CONTINUES

On 266th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 47 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 52 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Zionist entity's Defense Minister, Yoav Gallant, has discussed plans for the "day after" the war in Gaza ends, speaking with his American counterparts to present a new plan that would see the besieged Gaza Strip divided into 24 districts and occupied by a number of Arab countries, to will be directed by the United States.

Gallant 's plan looks to form a committee staffed by the United States and "moderate" Arab countries, who would oversee an international occupying force including soldiers from Egypt, Jordan, the United Arab Emirates, and Morrocco.

The Arab-American occupying forces would be overseen by the United States, who would be responsible for security in the Gaza Strip, including logistics, as well as command and control, while gradually, a Palestinian force would inherit responsibility for the security of Gaza.

Gallant has supposedly worked out an agreement with the Americans that would see Palestinian security forces undergo special training through a U.S. aid program.

The plan reflects the current position of the Israeli occupation's security establishment, despite occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu's, public statements rejecting the idea.

Gallant 's plan would be implemented in several stages, beginning with the northern Gaza Strip and working its way south as conditions allow.

"Galant envisions 24 active administrative districts in Gaza," reporting in the Washington Post writes, "however, in the US, they are pessimistic about the possibility that the program will soon expand to many regions."

American officials say they support Gallant 's "day after" plan, but Arab countries have rejected the idea unless the Palestinian Authority is directly involved, an idea previously rejected by the Occupation's Prime Minister.

The participating Arab states also say they want a "political horizon" for the establishment of a Palestinian state, which has also been rejected in Netanyahu's public statements.

In other news today, Friday, June 28th, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine (UNRWA) is once again warning that Palestinian citizens of the Gaza Strip are in "dire need of healthcare", explaining how only a small number of health centers are currently operating in the Palestinian enclave.

A recent post by UNRWA to the social media platform X cautioned that a shortage of fuel and medicine is taking a severe toll on emergency services, stressing that safe and sustainable access to aid can be delayed no longer.

Similarly, the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) has raised concerns over the lack of security in Gaza, while Israeli military movements and attacks in Gaza's south remain a major obstacle to humanitarian operations, adding that several Israeli attacks have targeted the Al-Mawasi area of central Gaza, where thousands of Palestinian families have saught shelter.

OCHA says its partners working on the ground in Gaza have warned of power outages due to fuel shortages, which continue to endanger the lives of critically ill and wounded Palestinians, and also hampers efforts to respond to the multitude of crises in the Strip.

The UN humanitarian agency also said it continues working to respond to the crises in potable drinking water supplies, which continue to shrink under the relentless attacks of the Israeli occupation army on Gaza's infrastructure, including water wells.

The Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) has also issued dire warnings that 18 ambulances have now been put out of service, a full 36% of their fleet, as a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing closure of the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings, leading to a lack of fuel and rendering PRCS's ambulances inoperable.

In a statement published on Thursday, PRCS said that it "has not received its daily share of gasoline through the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) for about eight days, which covered only 6% of the operating capacity of ambulances, due to the Israeli occupation preventing the entry of fuel into the Strip."

"Before receiving the amount of gasoline allocated to the association stopped, the amount received had declined to reach only 3% of the daily need for ambulances," the statement added.

PRCS also warned of a decline in its ability to provide ambulance and emergency services in the coming days due to the fuel shortage, while the Israeli occupation continues its closure of the southern border crossings, ongoing for the last 52 days, explaining that "the quantities of fuel entering through the Kerem Abu Salem crossing do not meet the needs of the medical and relief sectors."

The Palestinian Red Crescent Society went on to appeal to the international community for "urgent intervention" to reopen the Rafah crossing, and to allow the free flow of humanitarian aid, and fuel in particular. With the hope being to avert a complete collapse of Gaza's health system as hospital electricity generators stop working, and as ambulances run out of fuel, and while water desalinization plants and drainage networks fail.

Meanwhile, in other news, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued its genocide in the Gaza Strip, advancing into the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood of Gaza City, while occupation bombing and shelling hammers residential homes, public infrastructure, tents of the displaced, and civilians in the streets.

On Friday, June 28th, neighborhoods east, southeast and southwest of Gaza City suffered under extreme bombardment, while intense clashes between the Palestinian resistance forces and the occupation army raged in the city, and as occupation forces intensified their bombing and shelling of sites in the city.

The violent clashes and endless bombardment meant that local paramedic and civil defense crews were unable to reach the sites of dead and wounded Palestinians, leaving them trapped under the rubble with their injuries to die.

Resistance forces with the Al-Quds Brigades, belonging to Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), confirmed they detonated an Israeli military vehicle with explosives, while ambushing and engaging Zionist forces on Talat al-Muntar and its surroundings, east of the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood.

The Israeli occupation army announced the injection of the 98th Division into the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, where the forces carried out a military operation in the east of Gaza City over the last day, while Israeli military aircraft conducted continuous airstrikes in conjunction with the occupation's ongoing artillery shelling.

The Zionist army also continues its targeting of the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, using armored vehicles and Merkava tanks to shell citizen's homes, in conjunction with the bombing of Israeli fighter jets.

As the Israeli occupation forces advanced with tanks and armored vehicles into Al-Shujaiya, the Israeli air forces bombed ahead of their ground forces, causing several massacres.

Local medical sources in Gaza reported receiving the bodies of dozens of civilians who were killed, along with others who were wounded, in the bombardment of Al-Shujaiya after several raids of the neighborhood.

The Palestinian Red Crescent reported that its crews had responded to more than 30 wounded citizens, declaring the majority of victims to be women and children.

Another assault by Israeli drones and aircraft targeted residential buildings in the Al-Daraj neighborhood, also east of Gaza City, along with the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of the city, resulting in several casualties.

According to local civil defense and paramedic crews, the bodies of at least 7 Palestinians have been recovered since dawn in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood of Gaza City, while the decomposing bodies of four citizens were recovered from the Nabulsi area of the Sheikh Ajlin neighborhood, southwest of the city.

One citizen was also killed when a Zionist drone targeted a clinic in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

At the same time, the Israeli occupation forces launched attacks on the tents of displaced Palestinian families in the Rafah Governate, resulting large numbers of casualties.

According to Anadolu News Agency, at least 11 Palestinian civilians were killed, and more than 40 others wounded, after the Israeli warplanes bombed the tents of the displaced in the Al-Mawasi area, west of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

The Israeli occupation's war crimes continued when a Zionist army drone bombed various locations near the Al-Shawka municipality, east of Rafah, killing two Palestinian citizens and wounding a number of others.

Simultaneously, Israeli soldiers fired live bullets towards a gathering of civilians on Al-Rashid Al-Sahili Street, west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of two Palestinians and wounding several others. The dead and wounded were transported to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in the city of Deir al-Balah.

North of Gaza, Zionist artillery detatchments shelled the Sheikh Ajlin neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City, with no casualties reported in the strike.

Israeli fighter jets bombarded, at dawn today, residential homes in the central Gaza Strip, while also bombing civilian tents west of Rafah, killing 4 Palestinian citizens, include a woman and a child.

In another atrocity, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential house belonging to the Abu Qunais family during raids on Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, after which, local residents and civil defense crews managed to recover the bodies of three citizens, including a child, from under the rubble of their home.

Several Palestinians were also wounded after occupation artillery shelling pummeled the regional junction, southwest of the city of Khan Yunis, south of Gaza.

Meanwhile, Israeli occupation aircraft bombed residential buildings in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing four civilians and wounding at least 16 others who were taken to Al-Awda Hospital in Al-Nuseirat.

Further bombing by occupation fighter jets targeted the town of Al-Zawaida, in central Gaza, killing a number of Palestinians and wounding even more, while a young man was killed, and another wounded, after Zionist sniper fire targeted the men in the vicinity of Al-Alam roundabout, west of Rafah City.

IOF fighter jets also bombed a residential house in the vicinity of the Al-Baraka area in the city of Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza, leading to the deaths of two civilians, including one child, while two others were killed in a bombing of a house on Al-Bi'ah Street in the same city.

In yet another war crime, Israeli occupation forces directly targeted Civil Defense personnel in their workplace in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing three employees and wounding a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll stands at 37'765 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 86'429 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 28th, 2024

(Death toll and figures for June 27th, 2024; No updated figures for death toll were provided on today's date.)

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[duckprintspress]

In honor of the 54th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots – June 28th, 1969 – Duck Prints Press is thrilled to share with you how we’re celebrating Pride Month: with queer stories, of course!

Introducing our Pride 2023 Bundles: two collections of short stories, one general imprint, one erotica, each priced at a discounted $19.69, with all purchases benefiting two wonderful queer charities selected by the authors of the stories in the bundles: The Ali Forney Center and the Transgender Law Center.

We’ll be donating roughly 35% of the proceeds from these bundles to charity – the Press is donating 10% off the top, and many of the authors chose to donate part of their royalties as well, bringing the totals to approximately 40% of the list price of the erotica collection and approximately 35% of the list price of the general imprint collection.

How This Works

you buy one or both bundles between now and July 28th, 2023.

we tally up all the proceeds earned and do some math-e-magic to figure out how much we’re donating!

we divide the charity share in half right down the middle and, within the first week of August, we donate raised money to the Ali Forney Center and the Transgender Law Center; then, we post the proof we’ve done so.

you get fantastic stories!

we all get that happy, glowy feeling of knowing that money has been well-spent on fantastic causes!

About the Press

Duck Prints Press is a queer-owned indie press, founded to publish original works by fancreators. We’ve been in operation for over 2 years, and in that time we’ve worked with well over 150 creators to publish four anthologies and almost 70 other stories, from shorts to novels, and we’ve got more on the works (our fifth anthology is Kickstarting RIGHT NOW, as a matter of fact!). The vast majority of our creators and their creations are queer/LGTBQIA+ (maybe even all, but we don’t out anyone and we don’t ask demography because, frankly, it’s none of our business).

20 of our authors have chosen to include their short stories in one or both of these short story bundles, and these 20 and others nominated charities, then voted to narrow it down to these two! Participation in these bundles was entirely voluntarily, as was choosing to donate shares of royalties, which about a third of the authors have opted to do.

About the Charities

Note: These charities are not affiliated with the Press, do not know we’re doing this fundraiser, have not endorsed this in anyway and are, as such, utterly uninvolved in this beyond being the beneficiaries of our efforts! Text is from the websites of each charity and is being used under fair use laws.

The Ali Forney Center was founded in 2002. Committed to saving the lives of LGBTQ+ young people, our mission is to protect them from the harms of homelessness and empower them with the tools needed to live independently. A 24-hour program, The Ali Forney Center never closes its doors. We provide more than just a bed and food for those in need — from initial intake at our drop-in center to transitional housing and job readiness training, we provide homeless LGBTQ+ youth a safe, warm, supportive environment to escape the streets [of New York City].

Transgender Law Center is the largest national trans-led organization advocating self-determination for all people. Since 2002 we’ve been organizing, assisting, informing and empowering thousands of individual community members towards a long-term, national, trans-led movement for liberation.

About the Bundles

(this is getting long, so read more...)

We’re offering two bundles: one containing 14 stories from our general imprint, the other containing 11 stories from our erotica imprint. For all the deets, you’ll need to visit the page for each story, but here’s an overview…

Titles in the General Imprint Charity Bundle:

A Mutual Interest by Alec J. Marsh

The Problem with Wishes by Annabeth Lynch

Let the Solstice Come by D. V. Morse

Warmer Lights by Era J. M. Couts

An Odd Gathering of Peculiar Cats by J. D. Harlock

Dead Man’s Bells by Nicola Kapron

Widow’s Black by Nina Waters

twin flames by nottesilhouette

A Shield for the People by Puck Malamud

Much Ruckus by R. L. Houck

Bubble, Bubble by Sage Mooreland

Settling Down by Theresa Tanner

Best Friends AND… by Tris Lawrence

To Fill My Cup by Violet J. Hayes

Approximately 35% of the $19.69 list price of this bundle will go to the charities.

Titles in the Erotica Imprint Charity Bundle:

Pas de Deux by Aeryn Jemariel Knox

Study Hall by Alec J. Marsh

A Safe Place to Land by boneturtle

Clerical Error by Dei Walker

In the Moonlight by E. V. Dean

We All Need to Get By by Lyn Weaver

The Fated Prince by Mikki Madison

Lust by Nina Waters

No One Right Way by R. L. Houck

Easier Than Expected by Samantha M. Piper

Urchin Juiced by Xianyu Zhou

Approximately 40% of the $19.69 list price of this bundle will go to the charities.

What are you waiting for? Come get some great stories, support a queer-owned business this Pride, and benefit two fantastic causes. Win-win-win situations don’t get much better than this!

These bundles will only be available for one month, so don’t miss out. Visit our webstore between now and July 28th and get yours!

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA’s TESS spots record-breaking stellar triplets

Professional and amateur astronomers teamed up with artificial intelligence to find an unmatched stellar trio called TIC 290061484, thanks to cosmic “strobe lights” captured by NASA’s TESS (Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite). 

The system contains a set of twin stars orbiting each other every 1.8 days, and a third star that circles the pair in just 25 days. The discovery smashes the record for shortest outer orbital period for this type of system, set in 1956, which had a third star orbiting an inner pair in 33 days.

“Thanks to the compact, edge-on configuration of the system, we can measure the orbits, masses, sizes, and temperatures of its stars,” said Veselin Kostov, a research scientist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, and the SETI Institute in Mountain View, California. “And we can study how the system formed and predict how it may evolve.”

A paper, led by Kostov, describing the results was published in The Astrophysical Journal Oct. 2.

Flickers in starlight helped reveal the tight trio, which is located in the constellation Cygnus. The system happens to be almost flat from our perspective. This means the stars each cross right in front of, or eclipse, each other as they orbit. When that happens, the nearer star blocks some of the farther star’s light.

Using machine learning, scientists filtered through enormous sets of starlight data from TESS to identify patterns of dimming that reveal eclipses. Then, a small team of citizen scientists filtered further, relying on years of experience and informal training to find particularly interesting cases.

These amateur astronomers, who are co-authors on the new study, met as participants in an online citizen science project called Planet Hunters, which was active from 2010 to 2013. The volunteers later teamed up with professional astronomers to create a new collaboration called the Visual Survey Group, which has been active for over a decade.

“We’re mainly looking for signatures of compact multi-star systems, unusual pulsating stars in binary systems, and weird objects,” said Saul Rappaport, an emeritus professor of physics at MIT in Cambridge. Rappaport co-authored the paper and has helped lead the Visual Survey Group for more than a decade. “It’s exciting to identify a system like this because they’re rarely found, but they may be more common than current tallies suggest.” Many more likely speckle our galaxy, waiting to be discovered.

Partly because the stars in the newfound system orbit in nearly the same plane, scientists say it’s likely very stable despite their tight configuration (the trio’s orbits fit within a smaller area than Mercury’s orbit around the Sun). Each star’s gravity doesn’t perturb the others too much, like they could if their orbits were tilted in different directions.

But while their orbits will likely remain stable for millions of years, “no one lives here,” Rappaport said. “We think the stars formed together from the same growth process, which would have disrupted planets from forming very closely around any of the stars.” The exception could be a distant planet orbiting the three stars as if they were one.

As the inner stars age, they will expand and ultimately merge, triggering a supernova explosion in around 20 to 40 million years.

In the meantime, astronomers are hunting for triple stars with even shorter orbits. That’s hard to do with current technology, but a new tool is on the way.

Images from NASA’s upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will be much more detailed than TESS’s. The same area of the sky covered by a single TESS pixel will fit more than 36,000 Roman pixels. And while TESS took a wide, shallow look at the entire sky, Roman will pierce deep into the heart of our galaxy where stars crowd together, providing a core sample rather than skimming the whole surface.

“We don’t know much about a lot of the stars in the center of the galaxy except for the brightest ones,” said Brian Powell, a co-author and data scientist at Goddard. “Roman’s high-resolution view will help us measure light from stars that usually blur together, providing the best look yet at the nature of star systems in our galaxy.”

And since Roman will monitor light from hundreds of millions of stars as part of one of its main surveys, it will help astronomers find more triple star systems in which all the stars eclipse each other.

“We’re curious why we haven’t found star systems like these with even shorter outer orbital periods,” said Powell. “Roman should help us find them and bring us closer to figuring out what their limits might be.”

Roman could also find eclipsing stars bound together in even larger groups — half a dozen, or perhaps even more all orbiting each other like bees buzzing around a hive.

“Before scientists discovered triply eclipsing triple star systems, we didn’t expect them to be out there,” said co-author Tamás Borkovits, a senior research fellow at the Baja Observatory of The University of Szeged in Hungary. “But once we found them, we thought, well why not? Roman, too, may reveal never-before-seen categories of systems and objects that will surprise astronomers.”

TESS is a NASA Astrophysics Explorer mission managed by NASA Goddard and operated by MIT in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Additional partners include Northrop Grumman, based in Falls Church, Virginia; NASA’s Ames Research Center in California’s Silicon Valley; the Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian in Cambridge, Massachusetts; MIT’s Lincoln Laboratory; and the Space Telescope Science Institute in Baltimore. More than a dozen universities, research institutes, and observatories worldwide are participants in the mission.

IMAGE: This artist’s concept illustrates how tightly the three stars in the system called TIC 290061484 orbit each other. If they were placed at the center of our solar system, all the stars’ orbits would be contained a space smaller than Mercury’s orbit around the Sun. The sizes of the triplet stars and the Sun are also to scale. Credit NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center

[perfectcomputer2]

Perfect Computer Education Tally Training Institute In Ahmedabad (+91 82646 39365)

How to Build Your Career with Perfect Computer Education Tally Training Institute in Ahmedabad

Perfect Computer Curriculum Ahmedabad's Tally Training Institute is a notable option for anyone seeking to build a prosperous career in computerized accounting. This esteemed institution has a reputation for creating highly qualified individuals and for its unwavering commitment to quality. You'll embark on a revolutionary learning adventure at this institute thanks to well-created curricula, state-of-the-art facilities, and a group of knowledgeable faculty members. Students learn both the academic knowledge and the practical skills necessary to succeed in computerized accounting using Tally software in this course.

The Perfect Computer Tally Training Institute in Ahmedabad If you are interested in finding a Tally institute in Ahmedabad or any specific information about "Perfect Computer, such as conducting online searches, checking local directories, asking for recommendations, and contacting the institute directly if you have more specific details. This will help you gather more information about the institute, its courses, and its reputation in the field of Tally training.

Everything You Need to Know About Tally Certification in Ahmedabad By Perfect Computer Education

Tally Certification programs are typically offered by authorized training centers or institutes to provide individuals with the necessary skills and knowledge to effectively use Tally software for various business processes. These programs can vary in duration and content, but they generally cover topics such as

The Tally program and its functions are introduced.

Account creation and management for the company.

Create and maintain ledgers.

Inventory control.

Transactions and voucher entry.

Implementation and compliance with the Goods and Services Tax (GST).

Creating financial statements and reports.

Perfect Computer's computational power facilitates complex data analysis, allowing accountants to uncover insights, trends, and anomalies in financial data for better business planning.

Learning to Account with Perfect Computer Supports Business Growth by Handling increased Transaction Volumes and Maintaining Accurate Records Without the Need For Extensive Manual Intervention.

If you Have Any Questions or Inquiries, Please Visit Our Website at https://perfecteducation.net/ For Assistance, You Can Contact Us by Telephone at +91 82646 39365 or Send Us an Email at info@perfecteducation.net We Look Forward to Addressing Your Queries and Providing the Information you need.

[itdeskindia-blog]

Tally ERP Course Training Institute in Jaipur 

Tally ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning) is a popular accounting software widely used by businesses for managing their financial transactions, inventory, and other business processes. If you are interested in learning Tally ERP, there are various ways you can pursue a course in it. IT Desk India offers the best Tally ERP Course in Jaipur by a Tally experienced Trainer. Our Instructors are working in Tally ERP 9 and related technologies. You can learn the course in the following option you have:

·         Online Tutorials: You can find numerous online tutorials and video courses that teach Tally ERP. Websites like Udemy, Coursera, and LinkedIn Learning offer a wide range of courses on Tally ERP, catering to different skill levels, from beginners to advanced users.

·         Tally Authorized Training Centers: Tally Solutions, the company behind Tally ERP, has authorized training centers in many cities. These centers offer comprehensive training programs conducted by certified trainers. You can visit the Tally Solutions website to find the nearest authorized training center in your area.

·         Local Training Institutes: Many local training institutes and educational organizations offer Tally ERP courses. These institutes may provide classroom-based training or a combination of online and offline learning methods. You can search for such institutes in your locality and inquire about their Tally ERP course offerings.

·         Books and Self-Study: There are several books and study materials available that cover Tally ERP. You can purchase books from online platforms like Amazon or visit your local bookstore to find resources that suit your learning style. Self-study allows you to learn at your own pace, but it requires self-discipline and motivation.

When selecting a course or learning resource, consider factors such as your current knowledge level, the depth of the course material, reviews and ratings from other learners, and the reputation of the training provider or author.

Remember that Tally ERP is regularly updated, so it's important to ensure that the course or learning material covers the latest version to stay up to date with the software's features and functionalities.

#Tally course #Tally Course fees #Best Institute for Tally ERP #Top Institute for Tally ERP 

[beardedmrbean]

(JTA) — Authorities in Berlin are investigating two attacks on Jewish train riders reported on the same day last week, amid a rise in the number of reported incidents of antisemitism in that city.

In one incident that took place Sept. 13, Ariel Kirzon, the Orthodox rabbi who leads the community of Potsdam, a Berlin suburb, said he was speaking Hebrew on a cell phone outside a commuter rail station when a man pushed him and insulted him with anti-Jewish slurs, calling him a “schrecklicher Scheissjude” (terrible f—ing Jew).

Kirzon said his 13-year-old son, who was with him at the time, is now fearful about living in Germany and the family is considering sending him to the United States to live. “I have traveled the United States very often, been to all the big cities,” the rabbi, who is affiliated with the Chabad movement, told the BZ tabloid. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me there.”

Later the same day, a 33-year-old man was verbally attacked and beaten in the S-bahn commuter train, Berlin police announced. The attacker reportedly used anti-Jewish slurs, and proceeded — together with another man — to beat the victim around the head and upper body. Another passenger tried to protect the victim, who then got off the train, while the perpetrator remained on board. The victim’s physical injuries were not serious enough to warrant treatment, police said.

Both cases are under investigation by the State Security Service, and the victims have filed charges. In at least Kirzon’s case, investigators said they have secured surveillance video of the station, but the perpetrators remain at large.

The reports come amid a rising tally of antisemitic incidents in Berlin, according to the Research and Information Center on Anti-Semitism, a German watchdog organization, known as RIAS. The group documented 1,052 incidents in 2021, including 22 physical attacks; more than half of the reports involved online antisemitism. The totals in 2020 and 2019 were 1,019 and 886 respectively.

The nationwide statistics have Jewish leaders worried, as well. Germany’s most recent report on annual antisemitic crimes nationwide, released in May, noted a nearly 29% increase in such crimes in 2021 over the previous year. It is based on statistics reported in May by the Federal Criminal Police Office, Germany’s equivalent to the FBI.

Since reporting the attack against him last week, Kirzon has called for more security to be provided to his community in Potsdam. Police patrol the synagogue on holidays, but he would like officers present during the rest of the year, too, according to German news reports.

Kirzon, who emigrated to Germany from Ukraine 10 years ago, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he experienced an antisemitic incident in 2019 while walking at night in Berlin during the Passover holiday: Four men, who were carrying bottles and were apparently drunk, hurled “the worst” anti-Jewish slurs at him in Russian, he said. There was no physical attack in that case, he told JTA in a phone interview Monday.

“They looked to see how I would react, and I pretended I did not understand Russian,” he recalled. Kirzon reported this incident to RIAS but not to the police. “I kept on walking, because I already have experiences in Ukraine, also with drunkards.” He said he knew someone who was seriously injured after defending himself.

He said there have been no arrests in the latest case; the police have not contacted him since Thursday, when they took the jacket he had been wearing as evidence.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Oh, no, the Shepherds have been hit by a strange spell, and everyone's been turned into dogs! What breed is everybody? (Trouble's definitely a golden retriever, right?)

Hi there, this question was actually asked and answered here like two years ago! However, some of my choices made me go "wtf was I thinking" so I'm going to take a little moment to revise!

Blade: Saarloos Wolfdog

Saarloof wolfdogs are basically German Shepherds crossed with wolves and then crossed back again. They're not super cuddly, aloof with strangers, avoidant of uncertain situations, but extremely loyal to their chosen "pack" and described as kind dogs, which is why I think this breed fits Blade well!

Trouble: German Shepherd (better yet, Golden Shepherd, aka German Shepherd-Golden Retriever mix)

While Trouble's friendly (sometimes dumb-seeming) nature and aesthetics bring to mind a golden retriever, I actually think he has more edge and ferocity and protectiveness in him, so I think German Shepherd's working nature and tenacity suits his personality better!

Tallys: Afghan Hound

This dog is described as "one of the most ancient breeds of dog in existence, they are dignified and independent... they can be affectionate with their families, but not typically with people they don't know" and can be perceived as cool or aloof. That feels like Tallys to me!

Shery: Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

These dogs are known to be super sweet, affectionate, and cuddly indoor pets and companions, so they seem just right for Shery! I also feel like the ears really matches her hair, so I'm going to run with it lol!

Riel: Shiba Inu

I also pondered Alaskan Husky or Australian Shepherd for him--basically, I could see any hyper-intelligent dog breed that has an excess of energy and a need for high mental stimulation before they're like "I MUST WORK" and start driving themselves crazy! That's him to a tee, and while he might not start Screaming the way shibas and huskies are known for, he definitely has that streak of drama! They are also described as the most "cat-like" of all dogs, which is why I think Shiba Inus are a great fit for Riel!

Chase: Finnish Spitz (or Schipperke)

Known to be among the most "fox-like" dog breeds and easily recognizable due to their flame-like coats, Finnish Spitzes are described as "highly energetic, easily bored, and extremely talkative," considered chatty and perceptive companions that will keep you apprised of everything happening in your surroundings. While extremely loving and playful, they require firm training because of their independent nature and easily distracted dispositions: they're liable to bolt and chase after any distraction that happens to catch their attention unless you keep them focused, and can sometimes even ignore your instructions in favor of whatever they want to do instead. Totally sounds like Chase to me!

Schipperkes are very similar in personality and a close runner-up!

Red: Border Collie

Said to be among the most intelligent, inquisitive dog breeds, I think the Border Collie is a great fit for Red because, while handsome and charismatic, it's also described as "one of the most challenging dogs to live with. His superior intellect, combined with his intensity and obsessive zeal for working, are his most impressive features – and also the ones that make him unsuitable for most homes. This sharp-eyed, quick-thinking, fanatical workaholic has been bred for hours of endless action and work, and he can outsmart authority figures from time to time." That's Red for you!

Ayla: Azawakh

An ancient dog breed originating from the desert, Azawakh dogs are described as proud, independent, and suspicious of strangers. They love to run so much that they can't be trusted not to take off and just keep on running. They are lean, athletic dogs built for speed, and they are protective of their chosen families, notoriously difficult to rehome because they only bond to their households once or twice: you must be willing to make a lifelong commitment in getting an Azawakh, because they shut down very easily, especially in the face of change. They do not play well with young kids or small animals, since they're used to being employed as fierce hunting dogs. Very Ayla-like to me!

Briony: Brittany

Known as the smallest of the "gun dog" breeds, Brittany dogs are described as friendly, bright dogs full of energy and with a very sweet, social disposition. They are eager to please and are happiest with people, but tend to be underestimated when it comes to rough-housing or hunting skills due to their small size. They are described as having "endless energy and stamina" as well as a love of cuddling, and they love the water, which is why I think they're a great fit for Briony!

Lavinet: Poodle

I chose poodles because they "thrive on praise and positive attention; are quite smart and can easily pick up on your moods, sometimes even mimicking them; are outgoing and extraverted; their intelligence can result in stubbornness and occasional disobedience; they have natural empathetic qualities and a natural ability to engage with people; thrive in large, active households and love being the center of attention; require a lot of attention and hate to be alone." Sounds like Lavinet to me!

Halek: Great Pyrenes

Great Pyrenes dogs are gigantic, white-coated mountain dogs bred to deter sheep-stealing wolves and other predators on snowy mountaintops. They are mellow companions who tend to be either placid or downright lazy, noted for their immense size and power but "usually exhibiting a Zen-like calm. However, they can quickly spring into action and move with grace and speed to meet a threat." Enough said!

Prihine: Daschund

These tiny dogs are often underestimated due to their small size, but they are lively, clever, extremely tenacious, and brave almost to the point of rashness: they are "tough enough to take on a badger" but affectionate towards loved ones. They can keep you on your toes and can be extremely stubborn, and are said to have personalities too big to fit their petite demeanor, with a very "big-dog bark" for their size. Totally Prihine to me!

Croelle: Caucasian Ovtcharka

Caucasian Ovtcharkas (also colloquially referred to as "Russian bear-hunting dogs") are ferocious, fearless, assertive, strong-willed and headstrong dogs that require extremely strong leadership to keep them in line. They are prone to aggression (since that's what they're bred for) and can attack other dogs that they perceive to be threats, refusing to accept strangers and not prone to being friendly to most people in general. While loyal and hard-working dogs, they will occasionally challenge their owner's authority through staredowns, making them a difficult to impossible choice for newer owners. They will never stop fighting threats, able to take down wolves and even bears in an effort to protect their masters.

Thanks for your question!

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Sweater Casualties

Pairing: Poe Dameron x GN!Reader (Established Relationship)

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 849

Author’s Note: This is inspired by this week’s Writer Wednesday challenge from @autumnleaves1991-blog​. This is my first (published) attempt at Poe Dameron. 

Summary: Your favorite sweater becomes a casualty of Poe’s good intentions. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

Poe knew something was up the minute you stepped through the door of your shared quarters. Your shoulders were slumped and your eyes dulled by exhaustion. As a communications officer, he knew your job was draining, especially as the cold war with the First Order grew hotter by the second. Being a pilot was exhausting too, but in all the opposite ways. He loved every second of the thrill he got when he was out flying on missions, and that made it all worth it. You, on the other hand, spend your days with your feet planted firmly on the ground of the base, fretting about the lives of every one of your charges in the air, talking them through the mission, good or bad, and trying to plug as many holes in the dam as you could from your station in the command center. Sometimes days were better than others, but he knew it was hard on you taking care of everyone else all day. 

“Hey, honey! I’m so glad you’re back. BeeBee and I missed you today,” Poe greeted with as much optimism in his voice as he could manage, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek. The pout on your face remained unchanged as you mumbled a greeting of your own. 

“I would ask how your day was, but…” He trailed off, gesturing to you vaguely. “I think I can guess.” 

You were already pulling off your uniform top and tossing it towards the laundry basket. 

“Tallie didn’t tell you already?” You asked distractedly as you began changing your clothes. 

“Tell me what?” Poe wondered. He knew good and well what you were referring to, but he figured it was best to let you tell him yourself if you wanted to talk about it. 

“Blue squadron’s mission didn’t go well,” You told him. “Tallie’s ship had a massive fuel leak. She almost didn’t make it back to the base.”

“But she’s fine, right?”

“She’s fine now. It was just… a really, really long day,” You replied, letting out a huff of frustration as you sifted through your small closet. “Wait, Poe, do you know where my sweater is?” 

You glanced around the room, searching for the missing item. 

Poe let out a deep sigh. The sweater in question was a knitted fashion atrocity, but one that you loved dearly. Ever since he’d known you, he had rarely seen you without it. The worn, familiar fabric was like your security blanket, and today it looked like you really needed it. 

He cleared his throat, launching into his explanation reluctantly. 

“About that… Honey, I know you’ve been feeling really stressed lately, so I tried to tidy up around here. Make the bed, clean the ‘fresher and all, so that you could come home and relax… I even traded Snap for some of those aromatherapy patches you like,” Poe admitted. “Anyway, I thought I would take care of all of that laundry we’ve let pile up these past couple of weeks while I was at it, and, er… Well…” 

He held up the raggedy sweater, now half the size of what it had been this morning. 

“Poe… You didn’t…” You shook your head, your mouth slightly agape. You looked positively crestfallen as you took in the sight, making his heart drop into his stomach.

“Who knew you couldn’t put bantha wool in the ultrasonic cleaner, right?” He chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was reluctant to meet your eyes, so he kept his gaze trained on the sad lump of wool in front of him. “Where did you get this thing again? Maybe we can find another one–”

“My grandmother knitted that sweater for me,” You pointed out. Poe cringed, nodding guilty. 

“Maybe we can stretch it back out, then? Leia had a couple of suggestions, but we would need a bottle of Trillium soap and a couple of laundry droids. Or, you know, if that doesn’t work you could always pass it down to our kids someday— Actually, I think it might even fit BB-8– Or we could–”

“Poe—“ 

“I know, I know. I’m so kriffing sorry. I promise, the next time I’m off-planet, I’m going to buy you a replacement– the softest, ugliest one I can find.”

“But–” 

“I know it won’t be the same as the old one, but—“

“Poe Dameron, please shut up and stop apologizing.”

Poe was caught off guard by the sound of soft laughter bubbling up from your throat.

“You… You aren’t mad?” Poe questioned, his eyes going wide as he looked at you hopefully. You shook your head ‘no’, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him into a tight hug.

Despite being saddened by the loss, the knowledge that Poe had just been trying to alleviate some stress made your heart melt. As exhausting as your job was, coming home to someone as caring as Poe always made the weight on your shoulders just a bit lighter, even if your favorite sweater had become a casualty of his fumbled attempt to look after you.

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @maythxthirstbxwithyou @artsymaddie @heythere-mel​

Poe Dameron Taglist: @freeshavocadoooo @rosequartzwriting @fangirl-316

[imaginesbymk]

“There is no Goodbye.”

The Pacific One Shot

Summary: Nothing is more ironic than Eugene breaking up with you just for the sake of sparing you the heartbreak if he were to die at war. But when he’s lucky to return home to Mobile, his first mission is to find you. Will Eugene be able to win you back before someone else does?

Pairing: Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader

Non Requested

Tags: angst/breakup, swearing, smoking, drinking, mentions of an ethnic slur + mentions of war violence

Word Count: 3,016

Author’s Note: song inspiration for this oneshot is wait by m83!!! i totally recommend this song cos its so beautiful!! pls give this a like/reblog and maybe some feedback!! <333

YOU were sick of crying in your pillow every night. You were aware of how puffy your eyes must have been by now, you acknowledged your friends who called and visited, checking on you, but not even that helped soothe the heartache in you. His name just kept echoing in your mind and replayed, finding their way into your sleep. You wished you hated Eugene Sledge, but deep down in your heart- you just couldn’t.

Three knocks came on your bedroom door. “Y/n, your food’s getting cold,” you heard your mother from the other side.

“I’m not hungry.” You couldn’t remember the amount of times you’ve used that as an excuse to stay where you were, depressed and heartbroken. 

Eugene broke up with you on a Sunday night. You two were dressed for the occasion; a dinner party was held at a grand convention center that was known and popular by several Alabamians. You wore the necklace Eugene got you as a gift, and you loved showing it off. In fact, you wore it every day to remind yourself, your family and your friends that Eugene Sledge was the love of your life. 

Later you noticed how strange he was acting the whole dinner, how quiet and tense he got so suddenly. His hand would slip away whenever you held it while walking, or when they were held under the table. It was like he was trying to hold something back, like a cat catching his tongue. Then, you found him outside, leaning against the stairway. 

“What is it, Eugene?” 

He paused every time he looked at you, how it pained him to say what he needed to say. Whether it was now or never, he leaves for the train in a couple of days.

“Wait a minute, Eugene,” You remembered your body turning cold as ice, but not from the night breeze. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Oh how you wished he was kidding, but the look on his face read that he wasn’t in the slightest. He was joining the marines corps, despite his heart murmur and his father and brother encouraging him to go to college instead. He flunked out of his classes on purpose just to enlist, and since only God knows what fate lies ahead, he felt it was best to put a stop to the relationship.

It wasn’t your right to be angry about his choices sometimes. He was in his twenties now, old enough to make up his mind. He was fighting for everyone’s freedom, after all, which is probably the bravest thing Eugene is doing. However, you didn’t understand why. Eugene was a believer, he believed in God and miracles. He asked God to send him a miracle through prayer in his own time, and they were answered in the form of you. So why couldn’t he believe in the stable relationship you both can still have even when he’s off to fight?

As expected, you didn’t take it too well. Right there, you broke down in front of him. Eugene walked over and reached his hand out to touch your shoulder, but you shoved him away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. You angrily ripped the necklace off of you and threw it at him before running off in tears. He never chased after you.

You dared not to go back inside the dining hall where your family and friends were, as well as his, so you walked home by yourself without waiting for anyone to catch up with you. He was going mad, you bet. Enlisting in the marines was one thing, but calling it quits on your relationship?

That was the last time you saw Eugene. He didn’t wait to see if you would turn up at the train station, begging him to have a change of heart. He never saw you there, and he boarded the train to California.

What were you more upset about: the love of your life dumping you, or the chances of the love of your life dying?

THE year was now 1945, and Eugene sat in the passenger seat in Sid’s mobile when he picked him up from the station. 

The Japanese surrendered, and the boys back at the islands held a celebration with drinking, bonfires and loud music. Eugene, Snafu and Burgin sat on the rocks, watching the night sky, contemplating their return to home.

Victory Day was now nighttime, Eugene blew out smoke from his pipe, counting the stars. His tiny bible that was pocketed in his dungarees was pulled out, using the distant lit fires as a light to read through the tallied marks from the book of Genesis to Thessalonians, then out came a piece of paper that fell onto his lap. 

He picked it up and unfolded it, taking another puff from his pipe. Eugene reads the first two words. 

Dear y/n

The letter was never delivered to you because it was a letter Eugene had never sent, in fact it was never finished. He never got his first sentence down as they were ordered to get their gear ready to move down Okinawa. He never wrote a letter to you at all for the rest of his time serving, because he knew he wouldn’t be receiving one back.

Snafu slapped him awake one night and told him to shut up because he kept saying your name in his sleep. Eugene sounded desperate and panicked when he said it, too, and if the volume increased, it would have given away their spot. The marine was lucky it was a slap in the face rather than a bullet to the skull. 

The next day, Snafu asked Eugene for two things: a light, and who “y/n” was.

“She was my girl,” Eugene handed a lighter to Snafu to light his cigarette.

“Was.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her at home just for a man in uniform to come to her door to tell her I’ve been KIA.”

“Shit, so you dumped her?” Snafu grins. “Should of given her to me, Sledgehammer.”

Eugene didn’t laugh. It was an inappropriate joke, no surprise coming from Snafu himself. He sat in the filth in silence, his bloodied and dirty hands holding your gold necklace that you threw at him. He brought it with him to war, and kept it as a bookmark in his Bible.

Eugene’s home was the same as he had left it, he knew that when Sid pulled up at the long pathway at the gates. Georgia cottage was indeed a sight, and Eugene loved it so much as a child. It was spacious with nature and trees to walk his dog, a forest down the road to go hunting and fishing with his father, a meadow where he would take you on a warm day.

Sid sat in the parked car for a few moments, Eugene hadn't started walking to the front door just yet. “I visited her,” Sid broke the silence. “Just like I promised.”

Eugene had to ask, “How is she?”

“I was starting to think she had forgotten about you... that was until I showed up at her door,” he replies. “It was tense, but she’s doing all right.”

Eugene nods, smiling a bit. He trusted his best friend to check up on you for him. At least you were doing fine, according to Sid’s words. "No crying?”

“She don’t cry no more. I introduced her to Mary Houston and invited her to my wedding- if that’s alright with you.”

He chuckled, making a face. “Why would I not be? It’s your wedding, you greaser.”

“Well one, and you should probably take my word for it, Y/N still hates your guts,” he said. “And two, whether or not she speaks to you at all on my wedding day, at least I’ll have you there as my best man.” Sid noticed the look on his best friend’s face. “There’s the O.O.M ball coming up. Y/n’s gonna be there.”

He smiles at him. “See you later?”

“Welcome home, Eugene.” And he drives off, prompting Eugene to reunite with his parents.

[x]

SHOWING up to the O.O.M ball immediately made you feel bummed. You showed up without a date. You shouldn’t have the right to feel bummed, anyway. You turned down any guy that had asked you. You could have said yes, but something in your heart was telling you no, and you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

Sighing, you suddenly didn’t feel like going to the bar for a second drink, and you just didn’t like waiting until your friends weren’t with their dates to go up to talk to them, so you found yourself heading outside to the front. It’s not like you could escape the guests, as tables and chairs were set outside occupied with more people, and even more people standing around and chatting with their friends.

You leaned over a tree where you felt like no one could see you for approach, being able to hear the loud music from the inside. But for what? You could just leave and say you felt sick. What were you waiting for? 

Several years had gone by since he left, and nothing about you has changed. Your hair grew a bit after a slight trim, and so has your wardrobe. Your dress was pretty expensive, and no one complimented it. You just needed someone to come up to you and say- 

“You look beautiful.” 

You spun around, knowing that Southern accent all too well. Not a lot of alcohol was consumed, so asking yourself if you drank too much that you started to see and hear things was out of the question. How did he know where to find you? How was he able to sneak up on you like how he used to as a surprise? He’d always do that, then pick you up and spin you around with joy. But this time, he stood in front of you, gazing at you like a painting.

Your vision started blurring.

“Y/n?” he thought you were having a stroke in front of him, and he reached out his hand. “Y/n?”

“Gimme a minute.” You breathed heavily, gripping the tree for support. Maybe you were about to faint in shock. After picking up your senses, you were able to respond. “Eugene,” you said softly. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “In the flesh.” You really couldn’t believe it. Maybe you were seeing and hearing things. But he was here. Eugene Sledge was really here, standing before you, and not a scratch on his face. His hair was fixed, too, and you could tell he was now in greater shape.

“How was...” you felt like you shouldn’t ask for so many reasons. “I mean, you made it. You’re home.”

“At last,” he answered, placing his wooden pipe in his mouth. “What are you doing all the way over here? Your date’s probably searching all of Mobile for you.”

“I don’t have a date,” you shook your head. “I mean, I came alone. I didn’t bring anyone.”

“You too?” he blew out smoke.

“Yeah. Um-” all it took was for you to breath in and crunch your nose from the awful stench of nicotine that everyone was so used to. “Since when did you start smoking?” 

He shrugged. “Since I killed my first Jap. Helps me calm down.”

"Well... I’m talking to you and you’re blowing smoke right in my face.”

Eugene nodded, taking the pipe out. “Sorry. How have you been?”

“Good.”

Eugene furrowed his brows. “That’s it? Just good?”

“I mean, what else would you expect me to say?”

“You’ve completed your education, you’re engaged, you and your partner are buying a house?”

“Jesus, Eugene. It’s way too early for that. I can’t even drive.”

“I’m kidding. I can only assume you’re in complete shock. I can’t say I’m not surprised,” Eugene says. “I can also assume you hated me as soon as you threw the necklace I gave you right at me.”

“And I still hate you.”

He looks at you, scoffing. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” you folded your arms. “You dump me and leave to join the marine corps, I wrote you a letter on your birthday and you never wrote back, every time I see your parents at the market they look at me like I’m the face of death. You shouldn’t have come here, I was doing just fine.”

“Really?” Eugene raised his eyebrows. The nonsense coming out that mouth. If only Eugene could kiss them shut. "All right. Heard you spoke with Sid.”

“Yeah, and? He invited me to his wedding."

“And he asked me to be his best man. So you might as well hold in your punch until the wedding is over.”

Your blood started to boil. Maybe you haven’t changed, but the war did indeed change the hell out of him. This attitude he carried wasn’t impressing you one bit. “What the hell’s your problem?”

“My problem? I’m trying to have a conversation with you, y/n.”

“And you’re acting as if I’m the reason you dumped me.”

“I had my reasons,” he spoke back,

“Damn you, Eugene Sledge!” you slapped him repeatedly on his chest and shoulder. “Damn you for hurting me like that! Damn you for not writing to me! Damn you for leaving me!”

You cried out, as he simply stared and did his best to restrain your arms away from hitting him once more. 

He never spoke a word until you calmed down. Then, you realized... “Oh God, Eugene. I’m so sorry,” you gasp. “I would never lay a hand on you.”

“A Jap tried to kill me with a bayonet,” Eugene said. “I kinda had that slap coming.”

You let a tear fall down your cheek, and you looked down so Eugene wouldn’t be able to notice, but he was smart enough to know. “Baby... it’s okay. I’m here now.” He pulled you close and held you. You haven’t felt his touch since that night. You were overcome with the nostalgia during the happy times, and even the sad times. He would hold you like you were gonna slip right out of his hands.

“I’ve missed you so much, y/n. There hasn’t been a night where I haven’t dreamt about you, where I would die, or where I would watch you marry a man who doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“Eugene... you broke my heart and just stomped on it like mud.”

“And you had every right to be hurt, but that was never my intention, I just did what I thought was the right thing.” He played with the curls in your hair and kissed you softly on your temple.

It wasn’t like it was a last minute decision. Regardless his heart murmur was there or not, he wasn’t going to stay home and attend classes. Breaking up with you wasn’t last minute, either. 

“I guess I should have been more understanding,” you admit, leaning back against the tree. 

“I spent nights trying to come up with what I was going to say, and when I was planning on saying it. I used to worry about the murmur, if I’d remember to feed Deacon, or telling my Mother about my plans for the future.”

“You weren’t sure about any of those things, Gene.”

“Seeing your face that night made me realize I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love you,” Eugene shook his head slowly. “I was definitely sure about that.”

���Loved,” you correct him.

“No, y/n. Love. I still love you, more than the stars reach the apex of this goddamn universe. I don’t think I’m ever gonna stop loving you. You’re really the answer God has given me after endless nights of praying for something good.”

“Then why didn’t you write me?”

“I had to find a way to move on. If it distracted me from fighting, I would have been as good as dead. Something in me died from the war, but the feelings I have for you are still here.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit. “I love you more, Eugene.”

“So I hope it’s not too late to ask this,” Eugene said. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N, are you seeing anyone?”

You shook your head.

He raised his brows. “So for nearly four years, you haven’t been seeing anyone? Not one fella?”

“I tried to. I mean, I kept thinking you slept with a nurse.”

“Women weren’t even in my corner of the pacific, and nurses were there to do their jobs. Besides,” Eugene smiled. “I’d rather come home to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known in Mobile.”

“Mary Houston?”

Eugene laughs. “I was talking about you. At least you’re humble.” He laughed harder when you started playfully slapping him on the chest repeatedly again. “Hey! But there’s no one I’d rather be with. I’m willing to start over, maybe pick up where we left off.”

“I would love that.” 

Eugene reached in his tux pocket, pulling out the golden necklace you loved wearing. “I believe this belongs to you.” He walked behind you, and began wrapping the necklace around your neck, clipping the lock together in place. “Y’know, after throwing it right at my face?”

“Sorry,” you blushed. “Don’t ever do that again; saying goodbye.”

“There is no goodbye.” He turned your head to face him using his finger under your chin. “There never was, just the old hello.”

You smiled again. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He pulls you close to him. “Is that all right?”

“You can kiss me whenever you feel like it, Gene.” And you wouldn’t mind it one bit.

“Yes, ma’am.” And he leans in, kissing you almost a dozen times now, the overcoming nostalgia of the good time hitting once more. “And once I’m done kissing the daylights outta you, I’m bringing you inside. It’s been a while since I’ve danced with the love of my life.”

the end

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 1

I’m not quite sure how to begin.

I’m not typically one for journaling but it would appear to be part of the gig, as it were. I found this book—the one I’m writing in, heavy and musty and leather-bound—sitting on the table when I arrived, open to a blank page. There are at least a thousand pages filled before it, and no matter how many blank pages I flip past this one I can’t reach the back cover without closing the book entirely.

Mòrag told me things that present themselves for investigation here tend to be worth exploring, and if my gut tells me what’s right not to stray from its guidance. But I’m getting ahead of myself—you don’t even know who I am.

My name is Fionn Gill, and I’m a witch. I know, I know, but I don’t get into all that “warlock” “wizard” shit. It’s just a way to separate and belittle the same practice based solely on the gender of the practitioner, in my opinion. My specialty lies in potion-making, though I’m not very experienced. I’ve really only just finished my training—I’m from Huntsmanland and they’re not nearly as magically-inclined there as they are in High Rannoc. This is the first part of the country I’ve visited other than my tutor’s homestead and I must say, it hasn’t made the most stellar impression.

My tutor Edith received a letter stating that services would be required in the town of Greenmoor, and since the letter didn’t specify her services, she sent me to take care of it. I don’t know if she expected it to be an indefinite position, but here we are.

I didn’t bring a lot with me—just enough for the journey. It was about all I could carry walking. I arrived in Greenmoor with just about the clothes on my back, hoping they had an apothecary of their own so I could get this over with.

I’ve never really been one for small towns, and nor do they have much love for me. I’ve always thought I was meant for adventure—movement, action, peril, all of it. Small town life just feels so… stagnant. Nothing changes, no one grows or changes or has anything interesting to talk about. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Not to mention the natural suspicion of outsiders. I could see it on Mòrag McKinney’s face, even as she greeted me at the edge of town in her official capacity as mayor. Her hair was done up in a huge bun of thick braids on top of her head—a hairstyle with a formality at odds with her armored clothing.

She seemed surprised when I told her I was the witch. That’s not uncommon—like most intellectual and healing work, witchcraft is traditionally the domain of women. Even in the relatively forward-thinking country of High Rannoc, I tend to get some variation on ‘oh, how progressive!’ when I tell people my vocation. Often if you get a man doing witchcraft, his neighbors will whisper certain things about him. My neighbors back home were whispering those things about me anyway, so that wasn’t much of a hurdle to me.

Mòrag (she insisted I call her by her first name once we’d been properly introduced) gave me a brief tour of Greenmoor. It is, to put it lightly, tiny. I’d estimate a population around fifty. Near everyone has a job that serves an internal function to the community, with maybe the exception of the innkeeper. There are blacksmiths, miners, a carpenter, a tanner… she didn’t indicate any artists or poets or anything of that sort to me, which was disheartening. Even when I thought I would only be here briefly, I was hoping to enjoy the finer things the locals had to offer. The closest this town comes is a library, but I sorely doubt they have any kind of collection of works by local authors.

Mòrag pointed out all the magical resources in town, and some of them impressed me—the lunar tower and ritual circle in particular looked useful. She did not show me any apothecary, and following her aforementioned advice, I took that to mean there wasn’t one. Can’t wait to go out and experience the joys of foraging in the wilderness myself.

Once we’d gone through the entire village, she showed me to the cottage where I’ll be staying. It’s a little ways away from the town proper, down a walking path through some trees. It’s little more than a one-room thing, with only the washroom closed off from the rest of the space. The walls and door are made of dark wood, and the outside still has bark attached in many places. The roof is sloped and overgrown with moss and ivy. Inside the main room there is a bed, a large set of shelves which ought to have reagents and potion-making materials on them but are mostly bare, and a table on which this book sits. The washroom has a tub and a latrine—no plumbing to be found. Out back sits the remains of a garden, only one plot of which looks salvageable. A ways back into the trees there’s a creek. Most of the rest of the clearing is in the early stages of becoming overgrown, with trees and bushes and flowers starting to stretch themselves out and remembering how to be wild.

Mòrag told me the witch who was here before me was a bit of a recluse. No one in town knew very much about her, and she seemed to prefer it that way. They came to her for her healing potions and never made it past small talk and kept inviting her to parties and festivals even though she never attended. And then one day nearly everyone in town woke up with a gift from her—the farmers received her animals, the barkeep her ferments, the innkeeper and bakers her crops. As the townspeople tallied their gifts they realized it amounted to nearly everything she owned. They went together to her cottage to ask her why she’d given it all away, and found her cottage—this cottage—empty. The ensuing search turned up no body, no note, not a shred of evidence to speak of. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. As the townsfolk talked and wondered what had happened, they quickly realized no one knew her well enough to provide any real insight. They couldn’t even come to a consensus on what her name was.

They had quickly moved on to discussing the more pressing issue: the town was lacking a healer. The general store owner had worked with my tutor Edith in years prior (Edith loved to tell stories of the time she spent pursuing the culinary arts). Thus, the letter and thus, my presence.

Mòrag told me she hoped I might be more engaged in the community than my predecessor. I decided to refrain from telling her not to get her hopes up, and instead expressed my confusion: I’d thought this was a single gig, that I was to heal someone of their illness and then leave.

She disabused me of that notion with rather more intensity than I think was warranted.

She told me that unless my predecessor reappeared, I was all they had. She said Edith had spoken highly of my abilities in her return letter (I doubted that—Edith never spoke highly of anyone). She told me I would receive a base pay of 20 silver per cure to start, and that if I did the townsfolk well and they grew to like me, they’d most certainly be willing to pay more. She told me that the folks of Greenmoor were good people, even if they were a bit disaster-prone and some of them could make good use of a little more common sense.

And, well, how do you say no to that?

When I asked where I would be getting my materials, she told me the areas surrounding Greenmoor were rich in natural resources. So it will be as I feared. I’m glad I brought my off-road boots.

Mòrag left me to get settled in and I immediately took stock. There are no reagents on the shelves (of course not! Why would there be?), but I did find a cauldron, mortar and pestle, and a copper alembic (which is used for distilling)—so at least once I have the reagents I’ll be able to do some basic cooking with them. I also found a small leather-bound book with vague descriptions of some of the areas surrounding the village. I should be able to cross-reference it with my notes on the environments where useful reagents can be found to make searching for materials a bit less painful.

I pulled a matted tangle of weeds out of the garden plot, but it looks like whatever was planted underneath already shriveled away to nothing. Well, at least the land’s clear now.

One thing that I knew I’d need if I was going to be able to handle this was a familiar. I’ve never been one for conjuration but in this case it’s an unfortunate necessity. I was supposed to be getting one within the next few weeks at Edith’s anyway, and I already knew the process. You’re supposed to have a more experienced witch observe your first time, but that’s just academic formality—there’s nothing actually dangerous about the process.

I found what looks to be a quarter cran basket (was my predecessor into fishing…?) under the bed, and set out around the property collecting small rocks and flowers and toadstools that had the right kinds of vibration. They were for use in the ritual, but also collecting them was a good start to cleaning the property up. Because if I’m going to be living here, it cannot stay looking like this.

I took the basket into the woods near the creek and laid its contents out in a circle as wide as I was tall. Before I placed each one down, I held it for a moment and asked it to help me with my task. Then, I sat in the center of my circle and closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Clearing my head has never been my strong suit, but I’m usually able to fudge the process enough to do what needs doing. This time took a bit longer than usual but eventually I managed. I felt my energy (spirit, consciousness, whatever) radiating out from me, pink and orange and bright and loud, first to the edges of the circle and then beyond. All of it asked a single question and listened for the answer.

The response came from much closer than anticipated, when I felt something small hop onto my knee.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a frog staring back at me, blinking lazily and making small, guttural noises. Her back was green and rough and slimy. One of her eyes was milky, pointing vaguely off to the left, while the other gazed straight at me. The tips of her toes (three on each foot) edged closer to brown than the rest of her body.

Having clearly presented herself, she now asked if my gut said we would be good partners.

I’ve named her Ailean.

And now here I am, writing all of this down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this every day. Whoever reads this may have to settle for a few times a week. With that said, I do think I’d like to go back and read what my predecessor wrote. Maybe it’ll give a clue as to where she’s gone, and help me escape this position sooner. She seems to have been quite the prolific writer—getting through her logs could take months, especially if the townsfolk keep me particularly busy with their various woes. I’ll have to start reading sooner rather than later.

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on my door. It hasn’t even been a full day and I might already have my first customer. I’ll finish this later.

⇦●〇●⇨

[libsterslobsters]

Celebration Day

Summary: Bucky and the Reader's long-awaited wedding day is just around the corner. The only trouble is, with Pepper Potts serving as wedding planner, it's a little more elaborate than either of them had imagined. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands and create your perfect out of what's around you.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced!Reader

(Reader sees bits and pieces of the future at random, understands all languages, and is also a super soldier)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Author's note: As always, the reader's name is never mentioned so that this can be read as a self-insert, but when I write this character, I imagine her as a Violet. Also, the song at the end of the fic can be anything you like, but I wrote it with Unforgettable by Nat King Cole in mind.

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

“Whoa.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but as he takes in the huge stone building that, according to Pepper, they’ll be getting married at in two weeks’ time, he’s almost certain his eyes have gone as big as his fiancee’s. What the actual fuck? They could fit a small army inside this place.

“Is this the right place?” He’s half-way hoping she’ll say no, it was a big joke, but with a grimace, she nods.

“That is, if she sent us the right address. If not, it’s pretty remote here….” She trails off, biting at her lip.

“Does Pepper know that between the two of us, we can count the number of people we call friends on our fingers-”

“And the ones we’d actually want around to watch us make a life-long commitment to each other is even smaller? Yeah, I mentioned it.”

That’s what he was afraid of. Despite having been through some of the most intense situations known to man (fighting Thanos, anyone?), as he pulls the door closed behind him, his palm starts to sweat. Logically, he knew giving Pepper the go ahead to plan as she saw fit without any input from either of them (she did insist on footing the bill after all, so being particular would be ungrateful) meant that things would get more elaborate than he’d feel comfortable with, but this is completely out of hand.

“I’m starting to think that waiting until two weeks before the day of to take a look at things may have been a mistake.”

He chooses not to add his two cents to that (a fucking huge one, on both their parts). It turns out to be the right decision because, a huge bouquet of… are those lilies… in her hands, Pepper emerges from a side door.

“Good, you both found the place.” Yeah, it was kinda hard to miss. It’s a literal castle! “Isn’t it just beautiful?” The high-powered executive is gushing in a way that’s usually reserved for the first time seeing a great work of nature, like the Grand Canyon or possibly Niagara Falls. Not… whatever the hell this is.

“It’s very eye-catching.” The grip on his hand increases to where it’s almost painful, and he glances over at her. “Right?” In other words, don’t just stand there. Say something.

“Yeah. It’s…” Huge. Kind of reminds him of a medieval palace that would have a secret torture chamber down bellow. Decadent, but not in the “This is really great chocolate cake” kind of way. “...really something.” If that look is anything to judge from, he’s definitely in the dog house tonight… which, oddly enough, means the dog will probably spend the night cuddled up to her on his side of the bed.

Fortunately, Pepper seems not to have noticed that he’s less than enthusiastic about her choice of venue (either that, or she’s assumed that ‘vaguely unsociable’ is just his natural state), because she beams at the woman on his arm.

“Of course, it’ll look much different the day of. There will be floral arrangements in every window and…” She goes on, but he’s stopped listening, too busy trying to calculate how many people can fit in this auditorium alone.

“Any questions?” Pepper peers between both of them. He should really read the room and say no thanks, it all sounds great, but he actually is wondering about something.

“Yeah, I have one. What’s the final tally on the guest list looking like?”

“We’re standing at around 500.” 500… does he even know that many people? Scratch that; between the two of them, do THEY know that many people?

“Wow.” He glances at the woman next to him. Yeah, that’s a fake smile if he’s ever seen one. “That’s quite a turn-out.”

Pepper says something else, but he doesn’t hear it past the buzzing in his ears. It’s only when he feels a tug on his hand that he realizes they’re supposed to follow Stark’s widow out of the room.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, she turns to him, wearing a worried frown. “You okay there, Buck?”

He nods. “Yeah, but is it too late to go with your idea? Just go to the courthouse and sign a paper?”

She sighs, a rueful smile on her face. “I think that ship has sailed. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She deserves the best, and if Pepper has anything to do with it, this wedding will be just that. He can deal with it. It’s just for a few hours, after all.

“Does this mean I get to pull out the ‘I told you so’?” It’s a joke, meant to lighten the mood. He knows this, so he takes the bait.

“Yeah, Doll. You get a free pass.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“How’s it coming?” She’s honestly not sure how to answer Shuri’s question. In traditional “Say Yes To The Dress” fashion, her female friends are all gathered outside the dressing room doors waiting for her to step out in the gown Pepper had designed specifically for her. The only trouble is, she’s never felt more out-of-place in her life.

It’s a beautiful dress, highlighting every single positive aspect of her body. The shade of ivory works well with her skin tone, and the material is cool against her skin. She looks exactly like a picture from a bridal magazine with her hair still styled from a trial run of that and makeup earlier today. Perfect… but not like herself.

Shaking her head, she tells herself she’s just not used to looking so formal, and pushes open the door.

Wanda, Morgan, Nakia and Shuri make appropriate noises of approval as she steps into the room. Pepper is smiling, a hand pressed to her mouth and tears rolling down her face. Only Okoye looks less than pleased.

“You look so fierce.” Shuri informs her, rushing forward to adjust her train.

“A total knockout.” Nakia nods.

“You look like a doll!” She chuckles at the four-year-old’s exclamation. It’s very sweet, probably the best compliment she’s ever gotten. Plus, she’s starting to feel like a doll.

“Okoye?” The general eyes her up and down, expression unchanging.

“How are you planning to fight in that dress?”

Wanda and Pepper freeze, unsure of how to react, but Nakia laughs and Shuri rolls her eyes.

“It’s her wedding day, General. She isn’t fighting anyone.” Shuri exclaims between giggles.

“This is an American wedding. The most physical thing they do is dance.” Nakia adds.

“Until the wedding night, that is.” And now she’s trying not to snicker at the princess’s innuendo.

The rest of the appointment is a blur. A tailor checks and rechecks the measurements, pinning up whatever he deems too long or large, letting out anything too constricting. Girl talk ensues and the champagne flows. By the time they go their separate ways, each with a bridesmaid’s (or in Morgan’s case, flower girl) dress in their possession, she’s the only one who’s not at least slightly buzzed.

She should really head home. It’s late in the afternoon, and she’s still got papers to grade. However, she finds herself driving in the opposite direction of where she lives. After today, she needs some time to herself, away from anyone else and the possibility of unintentionally seeing their future.

At a red light, she stops and dictates a voice-to-text message, informing Barnes that, “It’s going to be a late one. Stopping by a few places on the way home. Let me know if you want me to pick up something.” The reply comes thirty seconds later. “Take your time. Text me when you’re on your way. Stay safe.” This wedding may not be exactly what she’d pick for herself, but the man she gets to spend the rest of her life alongside certainly is.

She drives aimlessly for a while, no destination in mind. Finally, she decides that while she’s out, she may as well kill two birds with one stone. Pepper mentioned that they’re still lacking the “something old” from ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue’. She considered joking that the groom is over a century old so they’ve got that covered, but as an antique store appears on her right, she decides to go in and see if anything catches her eye.

A bell rings as soon as she steps inside, and although she can’t see anyone, a voice calls out from the center of the store to, “Shout if you need anything.” It’s a hodgepodge of various items, most in disrepair, all covered in a blanket of dust. She comes across a coin in the display counter minted in 1917 and is about to ask if she can get a closer look at it (there’s something about a sixpence in a shoe if she’s remembering correctly), but that’s when she sees it.

The wedding dress is clearly vintage, more than likely an original. As she takes a closer look at the tag, she sees that it reads “hand sewn, 1942”. The price is marked $25 dollars, a good deal even if it were in disrepair. Instead, she can’t find a thing wrong with it. It’s almost as if someone unearthed this in the back of a closet, perfectly preserved, and thought, “Here’s a way to make a quick buck.” For a moment, she allows herself to dream of how she’d look in it, but as the salesperson appears, she pushes that daydream to the side.

“May I see the nickel from 1917, please?”

With one last longing look at the dress, she pays for her purchase, and leaves the store behind.

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s not unusual for him to have nightmares. Most times, he can tell that what’s going on around him is a dream, not real life, and wake himself up. Not tonight, however. It all feels too real, not one of his usual dreamscapes, so that he’s stuck reliving a scene from earlier in the day.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Coming out of the pet store on his way home with a few bags of dog food (not to mention more toys than the mutt really needs because, despite himself, he’s a sucker for their tripod of a dog), he got recognized. There was the flash of a picture being taken to his right, and when he turned, a man holding a smartphone asked, “Hey, you’re that Winter Solder guy, aren’t you?” In reality, he pretended not to have heard and kept walking, and that was the end of it. In his dream, he’s driven all the way home, only to be cornered as he’s stepping out of his car and activated by HYDRA.

“Longing-”

“Stop.”

“-rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak-”

“Not again. Please.”

“-furnace. Nine. Benign-” As the HYDRA agent speaks, he realizes that she’s in the room with him. Oh no.

“Get out of here! Run!” He tries to warn her, but she just smiles at him, and although he can’t hear what she’s saying, he can see her lips forming the words, “I love you.”

“-One. Freight Car.”

“No!” He bolts upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. It’s only when the chill of the night air makes him shiver that he realizes it was just a dream.

“Whoa.” He’s still trying to catch his breath when he feels her hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay, Bucky. Take some deep breaths. That’s it.” He used to be embarrassed whenever this would happen, especially if he managed to wake her up in the process. But since Thanos, all of that has gone by the wayside, and it’s a common occurrence for her to wake up screaming and flailing also.

Practice makes perfect, so it’s only a few moments before his breathing returns to normal and he feels his heart regain it’s rhythm. He turns to her to apologize, but stops short.

“You were already awake.” She nods.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. My mind’s too busy.”

“Busy with what?” As he asks it, he settled back into bed, turning on his side to face her.

“Are we just gonna ignore that you had a nightmare?” He nods

“For now, yeah. It’s still too fresh.” A look of understanding settles on her face. He’s eternally grateful that she’s not one to push him into talking before he’s ready.

“I can’t stop thinking about the fucking wedding.” He snickers at her profanity. “Five hundred people, Buck. Five hundred! I don’t even know that many people, much less like them.” It’s like she’s read his mind.

“All of them staring at us…” She shudders. “It’s silly, but what if I have a vision and instead of saying “I Do” I say, ‘Watch your head!’ or something else just as stupid?”

“Then you’ll be doing better than me.” Her brow furrows in confusion. “I keep having this recurring dream that we get around to the vows and I forget how to talk. Then I look down and realize I’m not wearing pants.” That reminds him… “You still haven’t told me how trying on the dress went.”

She sighs.

“It was an experience.” That can’t be good.

“Didn’t it fit?”

“Oh, it fit.” She nods. “Like a glove.” Then what’s the problem? “It’s a beautiful dress, and I really appreciate all the effort Pepper put into it, but…” Oh. Now he thinks he understands.

“It’s not quite what you imagined.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“No, but then again, I never imagined my wedding dress because I never imagined getting married.”

“But you still want to, right?” He shouldn’t ask that, but there’s a niggling fear at the back of his mind that she’s realized she doesn’t want to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

“Of course I do.” They’re facing each other, crumpled sheets between then, and she reaches out to caress his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Barnes, nightmare wedding or not.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the air vents circulating a cool breeze through the bedroom. Then she asks,

“Did you ever imagine it? A wedding or getting married?” It’s not something he’d easily admit to most people, but he nods.

“Yeah, I did. Back before the war.”

“Tell me about it.” She closes her eyes, and he can’t help but feel a slight wave of excitement that he gets to see her like this forever.

“It wasn’t like I spent a lot of time daydreaming about it, but…” It was just one of those natural things, a given in life; you get a job, find a girl, get married, and settle down to have a houseful of kids. When the war started, he saw so many of his friends go ahead and tie the knot with their girls before they shipped out, and he took it for granted that one day, he’d do the same thing.

“I guess I figured on having Steve there, standing up with me.” Of course, now Steve is an old man, physically as well as chronologically. He’ll be there of course. Even serve as the best man. However, it looks a little different than he imagined. “It’d probably be small, because we weren’t dirt poor, but we weren’t exactly rich either. Friends and family.” She nods, eyelids still lowered. “Didn’t put much thought into decorations or clothes, but I imagined walking out with her on my arm, whoever the girl ended up being-” Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a woman as incredible as this. “-and dancing together after it, then heading back to our house, just the two of us.”

“It sounds-” She yawns, and he knows she’s nearly asleep. “-perfect.”

It does to him too, but over time, things change. Even if it sounds nice, a 1940’s shindig probably wouldn’t cut it in today’s busy world with it’s easy access to perfection. Still, a huge chunk of him wishes he could just steal her away and make their promises to each other in private. That makes him wonder: what did it look like when Steve and Peggy got hitched? He supposes he can ask soon enough. Steve’s arriving tomorrow after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You need any help in there?” Steve thinks about shooting back that he may be old (well, ancient is probably more accurate at this stage) but he can still manage to put on his pants without help, thanks. Instead he just answers,

“Nope. Just giving you a few extra minutes to primp before I come out and embarrass you by pulling off this suit better than you do.” As he pulls on his jacket, he hears Bucky laugh.

“Whatever you say, punk.”

He’s lived a full life, made plenty of other friends. However, he still hasn’t clicked the same way he does with the jerk from Brooklyn, even if said jerk is now seventy years younger than him.

“Alright, I’m done making myself pretty. Get out here, old man.” Chuckling, he pushes open the changing room door and joins Sam and Bucky.

“I don’t know what you two are bragging about.” Sam grins and straightens his tie. “Clearly I’m the best looking person here even without being hopped up on super soldier mojo.”

Bucky fakes a frown and elbows Sam.

“Remind me again why you’re invited to my wedding?”

“Because the bride likes me.”

“No accounting for taste.”

“Clearly, since she’s marrying you.”

Even though it’s obviously a joke, Steve internally winces. He’s already half-way expecting to talk Bucky down off the ledge at least three times in the next two days, convince him that yes you you are good enough for this girl, no I don’t think she’s making a mistake entrusting her future to you. Back in the day, he was the shy one with a lack of self-confidence. After everything HYDRA did, it’s his best friend who believes he’s unworthy of a second chance at life.

However, throughout most of the morning, there’s absolutely no sign of the impending breakdown. Steve’s nearly convinced that he’s guessed wrong, that there won’t be any fires to put out when, on the drive back to his hotel room, it happens.

“Can I ask you something?” He can’t really read his best friend’s facial expression since the other man is driving, facing straight ahead, but if the tension in body language is anything to judge from, this isn’t going to be a casual conversation.

“Sure.”

“Were you nervous before you and Peggy tied the knot?”

He nods.

“More like scared shitless.” It wasn’t the fact that, for the rest of their lives, they would be tied together, not just emotionally but legally as well. If anything, he was nearly giddy with excitement over that part. “All those people with their eyes on you and your dearly beloved? Don’t tell anyone, but five minutes before I had to be in place, I was in the bathroom losing my lunch.” Bucky snickers, and even he chuckles at the memory. “But I got through it because it was her. She was what I wanted at the end of the day. I would’ve gone through with it in front of a million people or in a broom closet. It didn’t matter. Everything except Peg was just trappings.”

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the trip. On Steve’s part, he’s mentally reliving the day he married Peggy Carter through his memories. In fact, he’s so busy reminiscing that he doesn’t realize the car has stopped moving and they’re parked outside the hotel until his name is called for what must be at least the third time.

“Sorry.” He smiles apologetically. “It’s just a side affect of getting old: you spend a lot of time stuck in the past and forget about the present.”

“It’s okay.”

He reaches to open his door, but before he can-

“Do you have anything going this afternoon? Maybe need to take a nap or something?” This time, he doesn’t swallow down the sarcastic comment that springs to mind.

“Yeah, right after I finish rubbing liniment on my joints, I’m gonna go down to the old folks’ home and play bingo, maybe yell at some kids to get off my lawn. That is, unless you have something else in mind.”

“Well, I was gonna go interrupt my girl’s day and ask her if she’d go down to the courthouse and elope with me since we’re both dreading the trappings, but it sounds like you’re busy, so…”

It’ll smart later, but he tags the back of his best friend’s head.

“Go get your girl, jerk. Just tell me when and where to meet you.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a nap?”

“Respect your elders!”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s elbow deep in clothing (when the hell did they acquire that many tshirts between them), attempting to make a dent in the number of things they still have to pack before next week’s move-in date, when she hears the apartment door open. That’s weird. He’s not supposed to be home until later in the day. It’s unnecessary, a reflex at this point, but she feels for the hidden knife she still keeps on her at nearly all times. It’s most likely not an intruder, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The funny thing about living with someone is that the little things about them, details you never forced yourself to pay attention to, become ingrained in your memory without you realizing it. In this case, she recognizes the speed and heaviness of the footfalls, and that’s what makes her lower her guard.

“In the bedroom.” He hasn’t asked, but it’ll save him from looking through each room that comes before this one. And, if he’s home this early, they’ll probably have something to discuss.

“Hey.”

As she repeats the greeting back to him, she studies his expression. A smile, small but genuine. Also… nervous? That’s strange. She’s gotten good at reading the tiny tells that are still there behind the perfect, unflappable mask, but usually it takes her a lot longer to crack the code. Something major is going on.

“How’s the packing coming?” As he asks, he picks up a shirt (one of his, although it’s not folded) and tosses it into a box.

“It’s coming along fine. Do you want to talk about it some more or dive into why you’re home so early?”

“That depends. Do you already know what I’m gonna say?”

She shakes her head. No visions so far, at least not about this.

“Then I guess I’d better quit stalling.” That doesn’t sound good. “So, about the wedding.” For a moment, she’s worried he’s calling it off, that he’s decided he’d rather not spend the rest of his life with her. But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have mentioned it last night when they were both lying there unable to sleep, discussing things? “Is it safe to say we’re both dreading it? Not what comes after, but the part where five hundred of our closest friends stare at us?”

Her lips curl into a smirk.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe there’s a way to avoid it and still get the job done. Something more like what we talked about last night. You were awake for that part, right?”

Barely. In fact, she remembers her final thought before drifting off being, “I wish we could do things that way.” Still…

“Pepper’s put so much effort in. People are traveling, have already made arrangements-”

“So we still show up on Saturday, but behind the scenes, we would’ve already made things official. Maybe gone to the courthouse like you wanted to, just us and Steve? One other person if you had anyone in mind, since there need to be two witnesses?” It’s an appealing idea. The marriage license is still sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for them to sign on the day of. In theory, all they need to do is make an appointment and show up with their two witnesses. In practice…

“Hypothetically speaking, when would we be doing this?” Immediately, the small sign of nervousness melts from his face.

“This afternoon at four thirty, since that’s the only time before Saturday they had available. Hypothetically.”

She pretends to think about it, but can’t hide the smile that sneaks across her face.

“Then it’s a yes.” Now they’re both smiling like idiots. Taking his offered hand, she rights herself and circles her arms around his neck.

“So we’re really doing this, huh?” His arms wrap around her, and now they’re so close, she can feel his heart beating.

“Looks that way.” She leans up, closing the gap between them and presses her lips against his.

It’s tempting to just stand there, making out like teenagers, but eventually, she has to back away. It’s comical how startled he looks (that and slightly flustered).

“I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“What?”

She snickers. “I don’t know much about weddings, but I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to see me ahead of time. Bad luck and all.”

“Wouldn’t want to risk that.” With one last peck, he lets her go. “Do you want me to head out and give you the apartment, or-”

“No, you stay. I actually have some errands to run.” Not saying another word (otherwise, she’ll end up gushing about how she can’t to start their life together), she grabs her keys from the nightstand and heads towards the door.

Once she’s in the car, a memory from the other day of that 1940s wedding dress sitting in an antique store comes back to her. There wasn’t a size on the label, and the material might be too fragile for her to even get it on her body. But it was so… perfect. It’s decided: she’s going in search of it. If it fits her, yay! If it doesn’t work out, she’s still got enough time to stop in at a department store and purchase something else.

The whole thing is slightly absurd. She peals into the antique store and, after eyeballing the dress, purchases it without so much as trying it on. Then, stopping at a fast food place, she undresses in a bathroom stall and pulls on the dress. The material is slightly musty from all the years of disuse, but it goes on easily. As she peers at herself in the bathroom mirror, a giggle rises from deep inside her. For the first time in this whole process, she feels like a bride.

She’s still dressed in the vintage white gown when she steps inside the first florist’s shop she comes across The woman behind the counter gives her a strange look, but doesn’t ask any questions as she sells her the simple bouquet of violets with a few pieces of greenery. She knows she must look odd, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s flying too high. Maybe that’s the reason why, as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup, still in her car, she tucks a few of the flowers into her hair. There. That’s better.

She spots his car in the parking lot, so she knows he’s already there. That’s when the nerves hit her. This is it. They’re actually doing this. After today they won’t just be to people sharing an apartment (among other things); they’ll be husband and wife. She’s ready. God, is she ready. But the enormity of it is intimidating. What if she’s not a good wife? What if he’s expecting her to be the perfect domestic goddess (that’s absurd, she knows, but rationality just flew out the window)? Or on a more practical level, what if he doesn’t like how she looks? There’s only one way to find out. Slowly, hands shaking, she pulls open the courthouse door.

Steve’s waiting for her just inside the building. Apparently, he takes traditions very seriously, because when she asks where Bucky is, he just shakes his head. “He’s here, but you’re not gonna see him until you’re in the room, about to sign the paperwork.” She’s not going to fight it (after all, she’s the one who brought up separating in the first place), but she does still have a question.

“Steve, can I ask you for a massive favor?”

“Sure.” Here it goes.

“I know there’s not a real aisle, but would you walk me inside?” He may be seventy years older than he was when she met him, but the smile is still the same.

“Yeah. I’d be honored to do it.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s not sure what the connection is between being so nervous you’re ready to climb the walls and the urge to pace, but regardless, that’s what he’s doing. The clock in the office where he’ll be exchanging vows with the woman he loves more than he ever thought was possible reads four twenty-nine. One minute left, give or take. One minute, and then the rest of his life begins.

The seconds hand seems to move incredibly slowly, but finally, it reaches it’s destination. On cue, the door opens, and all the breath leaves his lungs. Here she is.

It’s not the way he’d imagined it as a kid. Steve’s not at his side. He’s considerably older, rougher around the edges. They’re in a courthouse instead of a church. But as a kid, he also didn’t imagine anything that can compare to her.

It goes without saying that she’s beautiful; that’s always the case. But all the old stories are true: there’s something about seeing her in a white dress walking towards him just before they promise to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives that makes her shine like never before. She’s not just beautiful. She’s brilliant.

“Hey.” Right. He need to say something.

“Hey. You made it.”

She chuckles and pushes back a stray tendril.

“Yeah, well I had a date I was really excited for, so I rearranged my schedule.”

Before he can say anything else (he’s not sure what, because frankly, all thoughts except “I love you” have disappeared), the door opens and a man in a business suit sticks his head out.

“Is everyone here?”

He looks at her for confirmation.

“Everyone that needs to be.”

“Then right this way.”

He’s not aware of much that is said during the ceremony after they join hands, too busy memorizing what she looks like so he’ll never forget. This is definitely one of those moments you want to carry with you the rest of your life.

They stick to the standard vows. He takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife to have and hold from this day forward, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish ‘til death do them part, and vise versa. As he slips the ring on her finger, he catches her eye and mouths a silent, “I love you.”, which she repeats back as she slides on his wedding band.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” That’s it. This is real. They’re married. “You may kiss the bride.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

After the paperwork is signed, they agree to go and have dinner. Steve’s come all this way, and something seems right about celebrating with his oldest friend. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to make a reservation so, still dressed in their formal clothes, they slide into a corner booth at a local diner. Nothing important is said; it’s mostly laughter and inside jokes between a group of friends. By seven o’clock, he’s dropped Steve off at his hotel and is on his way back home.

The apartment is mostly packed up at this point. The only things left are their clothes, a few kitchen and bathroom essentials, and their bed. Even the record player she gave him as a birthday gift has been shipped off to the townhouse they’ll officially move into sometime next week. But, he thinks to himself as he lets himself in, the great thing about going to sleep in 1945 and waking up in the 2000s is that while his taste in music may not have evolved by much, technology has. Which means-

“Hey, stranger.” She’s still wearing the dress, their dog sitting next to her on the bed with his head in her lap. It would be a crime to let that go to waste.

“Come here.” He motions for her to join him, and as soon as she stands, starts scrolling through is phone.

“What are you doing?” The confusion melts from her face as the first few notes of the song fill the room.

Holding out his hand, he asks, “May I have this dance?”

A soft smile crosses her face as, nodding, she folds herself into his arms.

“You can have every dance.”

Two days from now, they’ll stand in front of five hundred people, most of whom they've never met before, and make their vows once again. It'll be uncomfortable and even a little jarring, but it won’t matter. Steve's right: it’s all trappings. What’s real is now; the beautiful woman in his arms, his wife, and the life they’ll build together. It’s not what Bucky imagined all those years ago as a naïve kid in Brooklyn. This is far better.

[newstfionline]

Friday, May 7, 2021

60 years since 1st American in space: Tourists lining up (AP) Sixty years after Alan Shepard became the first American in space, everyday people are on the verge of following in his cosmic footsteps. Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin used Wednesday’s anniversary to kick off an auction for a seat on the company’s first crew spaceflight—a short Shepard-like hop launched by a rocket named New Shepard. The Texas liftoff is targeted for July 20, the date of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic aims to kick off tourist flights next year. And Elon Musk’s SpaceX will launch a billionaire and his sweepstakes winners in September. That will be followed by a flight by three businessmen to the International Space Station in January.

The U.S. birthrate is falling; other countries have faced the same problem (Washington Post) With the U.S. birthrate declining for the sixth year in a row and undergoing its largest drop in nearly 50 years, according to provisional data released Wednesday by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the United States is facing a dilemma with which many wealthy nations in Europe and Asia have long grappled. Instead of trying to ramp up immigration, some governments have tried subsidizing fertility treatments, offering free day care and generous parental leave, and paying thousands of dollars in cash grants to parents. But there’s little evidence that these policies have been effective on a large scale. South Korea, for instance, spent roughly $120 billion between 2005 and 2018 to incentivize having children, but its birthrate continued to fall. Singapore began offering new child-care subsidies, more-generous maternity leave policies and grants for new parents that today amount to $7,330 per baby. But those interventions didn’t reverse the trend: Singapore currently has the world’s third-lowest fertility rate. And Japan, Russia, Estonia and other nations have similar problems.

Protest road blockades halt Colombian coffee exports, federation says (Reuters) Road blockades connected to anti-government protests in Colombia, which marked their eighth day on Wednesday, have halted shipments of top agricultural export coffee, the head of the grower’s federation said. The protests, originally called in opposition to a now-canceled tax reform plan, are now demanding the government take action to tackle poverty, police violence and inequalities in the health and education systems. Twenty-four people, mostly demonstrators, have died. “We are stopped completely, exports are stopped, there is no movement of coffee to ports nor internally,” federation head Roberto Velez said in a phone interview.

20 dead in Rio de Janeiro shootout (Reuters) At least 20 people, including a police officer, died on Thursday in a shootout during a police operation against drug traffickers in Rio de Janeiro’s Jacarezinho shanty town, O Globo newspaper reported on its website. Two passengers on a metro train were also wounded in the shooting in the northern Rio neighborhood, the newspaper said.

Gunboats and blockade threats as U.K., France clash over fishing (NBC News) The U.K. and France were engaged in a naval standoff on Thursday as a long-simmering dispute over post-Brexit fishing rights escalated in the English Channel. France deployed two maritime patrol boats to the waters off the British Channel island of Jersey, its navy said, after the British Navy dispatched two of its own vessels to the area late Wednesday. The dueling moves came as a flotilla of French fishing trawlers sailed to the Jersey port of St. Helier to protest over fishing rights. The French government has suggested it could cut power supplies to the island if its fishermen are not granted full access to U.K. fishing waters under post-Brexit trading terms. Clément Beaune, the French secretary of state for European affairs, told AFP on Thursday that Paris will “not be intimidated” by the British. On the other side of the Channel, British Prime Minister Boris Johnson pledged his "unwavering support" for the island after he spoke with Jersey officials about the prospect of a French blockade. Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands with a population of 108,000, is geographically closer to France than Britain. It sits just 14 miles off the French coast and receives most of its electricity from France via undersea cables.

Ukraine wants aid, NATO support from Blinken’s visit (AP) U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken met with his Ukrainian counterpart in Kyiv Thursday, telling him that he was there to “reaffirm strongly” Washington’s commitment to Ukraine’s “sovereignty, territorial integrity and independence.” Blinken also assured Ukrainian Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba that the U.S. was committed “to work with you and continue to strengthen your own democracy, building institutions, advancing your reforms against corruption.” By visiting so early in his tenure, before any trip to Russia, Blinken is signaling that Ukraine is a high foreign-policy priority for President Joe Biden’s administration. But what he can, or will, deliver in the meeting later with President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is unclear.

India hits another grim record as it scrambles for oxygen supply (AP) Infections in India hit another grim daily record on Thursday as demand for medical oxygen jumped seven-fold and the government denied reports that it was slow in distributing life-saving supplies from abroad. The number of new confirmed cases breached 400,000 for the second time since the devastating surge began last month. The 412,262 cases pushed India’s tally to more than 21 million. The Health Ministry also reported 3,980 deaths in the last 24 hours, bringing the total to 230,168. Experts believe both figures are an undercount. Eleven COVID-19 patients died as the pressure in the oxygen line dropped suddenly in a government medical college hospital in Chengalpet town in southern India on Wednesday night, possibly because of a faulty valve, The Times of India newspaper reported. Hospital authorities said they had repaired the pipeline last week, but the consumption of oxygen doubled since then, the daily said.

Israeli opposition leader Yair Lapid gains chance to form government, oust Netanyahu (Washington Post) Yair Lapid, a former news anchor and leader of Israel’s centrist opposition, was picked to negotiate a new governing coalition Wednesday, opening the possibility of Israel getting its first government not led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in more than a decade. President Reuven Rivlin tapped Lapid to make the next attempt to form a government one day after Netanyahu failed to assemble a parliamentary majority after 28 days of effort. Under Israel’s system, Lapid also has four weeks to craft a power-sharing plan. If he falls short, the president could open to the process to any member of the Knesset or call for Israel’s fifth election since the spring of 2019. Lapid will face a stiff challenge in trying to find common ground among the range of anti-Netanyahu parties elected in March. As a bloc, they would control enough seats to secure a majority. But ideologically, they range from the far right to the far left of Israel’s political spectrum. They also include Israeli Arab parties that traditionally play no part in supporting governing coalitions but that may be needed this time.

Instagram fuels rise in black-market sales of maids into Persian Gulf servitude (Washington Post) The advent of Instagram in recent years has helped create an international black market for migrant workers, in particular women recruited in Africa and Asia who are sold into servitude as maids in Persian Gulf countries. Unlicensed agents have exploited the social media platform to place these women into jobs that often lack documentation or assurances of proper pay and working conditions. Several women who were marketed via Instagram described being treated essentially as captives and forced to work grueling hours for far less money than they had been promised. “They advertise us on social media, then the employer picks. Then we are delivered to their house. We are not told anything about the employers. You’re just told to take your stuff, and a driver takes you there,” said Vivian, 24, from Kenya. Domestic servants sold on the platform described encountering threats, exploitation and abuse. The agencies which marketed them, meanwhile, made thousands of dollars. In response to a request for comment last month, an Instagram spokesperson asked for the list of accounts identified by The Post so company officials could investigate. Instagram has since deleted these accounts.

Nonuplets: Woman From Mali Gives Birth To 9 Babies (NPR) A Malian woman has given birth to nine babies, in what could become a world record. Halima Cissé had been expecting to have seven newborns: ultrasound sessions had failed to spot two of her babies. "The newborns (five girls and four boys) and the mother are all doing well," Mali's health minister, Dr. Fanta Siby, said in an announcement about the births. Professor Youssef Alaoui, medical director of the private Ain Borja clinic in Casablanca where Cissé gave birth, said the babies were born at 30 weeks. The newborns weighed between 500 grams and 1 kilogram (about 1.1 to 2.2 pounds), he told journalists. The clinic has deployed a team of around 30 staff members to aid the mother's delivery and care for her nine children.

Nigeria reels from nationwide wave of deadly violence (The Guardian) Nigeria’s president Muhammadu Buhari has come under mounting pressure from critics and allies alike as the country reels from multiple security crises that have claimed hundreds of lives in recent weeks. An alarming wave of violence has left millions in Africa’s most populous country in uproar at the collapse in security. Attacks by jihadist groups in the north-east have been compounded by a sharp rise in abductions targeting civilians in schools and at interstate links across Nigeria. Mass killings by bandit groups in rural towns, a reported rise in armed robberies in urban areas and increasingly daring attacks on security forces by pro-Biafran militants in the south-east have also all risen. In April alone, almost 600 civilians were killed across the country and at least 406 abducted by armed groups, according to analysis by the Council on Foreign Relations. The violence has left much of the country on edge and Buhari facing the fiercest criticism since he took office.

[gldngrl7]

Motherland: Fort Salem

Character Round up.

Where to begin?

Let’s start with the three members of The Bellweather Unit....

Abigail Bellweather

Abigail carries the weight of Family greatness upon her shoulders. Back and back her ancestresses have distinguished themselves as powerful witches and her mother Petra will never let her forget it. Petra reminds Abigail that the first Bellweather witch to fight for her country did so as a slave, no less, and that she owes it to her to be all she can be. (It’s unclear in this alternate history how or when slavery ended). Abigail is determined to be a leader, though her leadership skills are untested and leave something to be desired when we first meet her. She’s arrogant and as a “High Atlantic”, she’s exceedingly privileged. But when her cousin Charvell is murdered by the Spree at her own wedding, Abigail becomes the last of her matriline of child-bearing age. She is tough and no-nonsense and isn’t about to let anyone get in the way of her ambitions.

Abigail has mad hand-to-hand combat skills and is scary with the scourge. I guess she’s a Blaster, but unlike with the others, her specialty isn’t made clear.

Tally Craven

Tally Craven is human sunshine and I love her. She’s like if Kaylee Frye and River Tam (Firefly) had a love child.

Like the others, we meet Tally on Conscription Day, but in sharp contrast to Petra’s pride when Abigail answers the call, Tally’s mother is begging her not to. All of Tally’s aunts (four of them) died in combat and she is an only child, making her the last of her line. Her mother has gone to great pains to secure a dispensation for her only child. But Tally can’t see the reports on the Spree and look away, it’s just not how she’s built. So when the call comes, she speaks the oath and goes to Salem with wide eyes, determined to be of service.

Tally was raised on a “Matrifocal Allotment” near Sacramento, which means she was raised entirely separate from men (“No dudes. Like...ever.”) She comes to Fort Salem a virgin and perhaps more naive about the world. But don’t mistake her sunny disposition, open heart, and naïveté for being a pushover. She’s not about to allow herself to be manipulated and she’s not afraid to call you out when you break the rules or disappoint her. Not even if you’re a legendary General.

Tally is a gifted Knower who doesn’t require the use of a scry (a reflective surface) to see things. Early in training she far outstrips the other recruits in this ability.

In the beginning as they find their way, Tally is the glue that holds the unit together.

Raelle Collar

Raelle Collar is the kind of recruit that makes everyone look twice. She was raised in the Chippewa Cession by her civilian father, her only knowledge of military life coming from the few letters she received from her deployed mother.

Raelle is the last of her matriline. Are we sensing a pattern here?

Anyway...apparently it’s a big, fat no-no to water down your witch blood with civilian blood, but Raelle’s mother did it anyway and was punished for it by being repeatedly deployed to hot zones, far away from her only child. A year ago, she was deployed to a hot zone under the command of Petra Bellweather and never returned. Raelle blames Petra for her mother’s death and enters Fort Salem resigned to her own death. Not surprisingly, she’s nonplussed to find herself assigned to the same unit as the daughter of the woman she blames for her mother’s death. Expected tensions arise especially when she shows little respect for military protocol or even for those in her unit.

In the first episode we see that Raelle is a gifted Fixer who uses non-canon “Christo-pagan” Bible phrases to heal her charge. The cost is that she must take a part of the affliction into herself.

Within days of arriving at Fort Salem, she meets Scylla Ramshorn. The attraction is immediate and she quickly falls for the beautiful, vivacious recruit who seems to share her penchant for flouting the rules.

Though Raelle may appear tough and “street-wise” on the outside, her center is soft and gooey. All too quickly she completely loses herself to the relationship, frequently choosing her own desires over the needs of her unit. It isn’t long before Scylla becomes her Achilles Heel.

The others:

Scylla Ramshorn

When first we meet Scylla Ramshorn, she’s murdering thousands of people while wearing the smiling face of someone else.

She is Spree, and we come to learn she’s tasked with gaining the trust of her mark, Raelle Collar - which she does with alarming skill and speed. Raelle falls in love with her, practically at first sight. Scylla manipulates her throughout, frequently forcing Raelle to choose between her and her struggling unit. She even goes so far to crash a High Atlantic wedding to abscond with Raelle (Per her orders).

Scylla is a Necro — gifted in the many uses of the dead, including questioning them for intel. I’m sure it’s no accident that Scylla’s gifts center around death, while Raelle’s are rooted in life and life-giving. There’s a definite yin/yang to their relationship, which may, in part, be why they’re drawn to one another.

As they grow closer, Scylla appears to reciprocate Raelle’s deep feelings, but she’s been nothing but deceptive from the off, so there’s little hope of this ever being a healthy relationship at this time. Especially when Raelle inevitably learns and accepts this painful truth.

I’m sure there’s a redemption plan here and I wish the writers luck with that. It’s hard to see anyone redeemed of mass murder in any way other than total self-sacrifice. For now, her first instinct seems to be deception, even when she has a chance to come clean with Raelle she just tells her not to believe what they say. Which in itself is a big red flag.

General Sarah Alder

Alder is 300+ years old. What? She is the original author of the Accords. The Crosser of The Delaware and leader of an untold number of battles. How is this possible?

Though not explicitly explained in the show, I did some digging and learned that in this timeline some Native American tribes had knowledge of works that could extend life. And so they traded that knowledge in exchange for a large swath of land now known as The Cession. To its east, the original colonies and those that were settled at the time. To the west were states that would come later. Unclear, but presumably The Cession is its own sovereign nation, although its witches must serve. Not sure how that works.

TBH I’m not sure where Alder stands. She talks a good game about ending the Spree, but all her tactics against them seem to fail time and time again. I mean even a broken clock is right twice a day, amirite? The law of averages says that a 300+ year old military commander would luck into winning a few battles. But no. So here I am wondering if Alder has had enough of winning wars for civilians that are perhaps less grateful than they should be, and maybe she’s the architect of the Spree, running it all from behind the curtain, so to speak.

I could totally see this being the ultimate twist. She proves in later episodes that she’s not averse to crossing lines witches are forbidden to cross by law.

Anacostia Quartermain

Sergeant Quartermain is as by-the-book as they come. Orphaned as a child when her parents were killed in a car accident, she was raised in Fort Salem as a fosterling. Orphaned witches don’t go into the federal system, they are raised at FS by male caregivers. She grew up very close to General Alder and to this day maintains a tight relationship with her.

She’s the quintessential Drill-Sergeant-with-a-heart-of-gold, complete with the soft spot for those under her command. Disciplined with her work, she is not a witch to be trifled with.

Not to mention, she’s breathtakingly gorgeous.

If you’re looking for your next quarantine binge and have acces to Freeform or Hulu, you should definitely have a watch. Especially if you’re looking for something unlike anything you’ve ever see before

[perfectcomputer2]

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[crue-sixx]

For Family

Title: For Family

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary:  The reader is a hit-man for the mob.  The boys get into more trouble than they can handle.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptive violence, making a murder look like a suicide

Note: Italics mean it was in the past

It all started when you were ten years old, the sweltering heat of an Arizona summer sun was hot enough, but you being left in the car with the windows up and doors locked while your mother, Darla was trying to score more drugs for her and her moron boyfriend  Lucas.  Said moron was waiting outside the car, making sure you couldn't get out and ruin the deal was laughing at you.  Sweat was pouring down your face and you could feel yourself grow weaker every passing second. You eventually passed out, sounds of a skirmish reverberating in the back of your mind.

It was the sound of shattering glass that momentarily woke you from your heat stroke induced stupor, a big fat man with greying hair carrying you to a cool place.  "To the hospital, Henri" the man said to the driver and the smooth motion of the car eased you back into a deep sleep.  When you awoke, you were in the hospital getting fluids and the fat, aging man sitting beside you with all the love of a father in his eyes.

"Hello, Little One" he greeted in accented English  "I am Enrico Gatto.  From this day, I will be your father" he kissed your hand and you nodded in respect and accepted his hospitality with grace.  "What is your name, Little One?"

"Y/N, L/N" you answered weakly.

"No" the old man shook his head "From this day, you will be Gatto.  My daughter" you didn't argue with him even if you could.  You had heard of the Gatto crime family and what they'd do to anyone who disrespected them.  You'd much rather live by their rules than end up in a filthy, battered orphanage with the thousands of other parent-less bastards the family left in their wake.

Your eyes were getting heavy again, and when you felt the gentle caress of his hand on your forehead, he said "Rest now, when you are well again, your training begins..."

In the world of 1981 at twenty years of age you were already the most successful hit-man in the Gatto family.  Your father had ordered you to go to Los Angeles and keep an eye on his biological son there, and if he acted against the family to take him out. For the past ten years of your life, you were trained in business practices, hand-to-hand combat and all the different ways you could fuck with people's minds and lives.  Only a select few of The Old Man's men knew your real purpose there, and they reported directly to you the goings on of the son, Gino.  The only person you answered to was Don Enrico himself.

But to keep up appearances of being a shy, weak damsel in distress, you were told to dress modestly, keep your head down and your nose out of drugs, and use your former name when people asked about it.  Other than that, you could do whatever you want.  But if you ever saw a crow with a messenger pouch on its leg, you had to drop everything and do exactly as the note said, then send the bird back with a white rose petal stuffed in the pouch to tell The Old Man that the job was done.

In your spare time, you rented out a shitty apartment in a filthy building where the renters directly below you were always loud and rehearsing their rock music.  To be completely honest, you knew next to nothing about rock music at all-the only music the Old Man would allow was opera.  The first time you heard them play, you had an epiphany-you actually liked their kind and went down to ask if you could listen to them.

The drummer leaped over his drum set and ran up to you, with a big grin on his face "Fuck yeah you can!"

The bassist and guitarist looked at each other in utter annoyance, the consternation clear on their faces.  Finally the bassist said "Okay, just be quiet and sit on the couch.  You're so lucky you're cute" the guitarist just rolled his eyes.

"Fuckin' teenagers and their fuckin' hormones..." he grunted.

The singer eased his way over and sat down on the couch next to you and said "Hey, cutie!  I'm Vince what's your name?"

You internally rolled your eyes at the word "cutie", you hated pet names like that and if you ever got the chance you would teach this blonde surfer punk some manners.  "I'm Y/N, L/N.  I live right above you!" you added the most annoying valley girl giggle you could muster, to which you saw the guitarist's eye twitch in rage.

When the other three heard where you lived, they kind of looked down in mock shame.  "Sorry" the drummer said "our rehearsals and parties must be so loud it's hard to think up there..." he extended his hand and said "I'm Tommy!  Nice to meet ya!" you shook his hand firmly.

"Nikki" the bassist said, raising his hand and a weak smile.  He seemed to be warming up to you slightly.

In a barely audible voice the guitarist added "Mick" without as much as looking up.

"We're playing at the Whiskey A Go Go tonight!  You should come!" Tommy said and added "we always have parties afterward!  Come to that too!"  It was as if the tall young man was one of those 'Love at first sight' assholes.

"That sounds great!" you said in excitement "What time do you go on?"

"10:30" Nikki said, not at all perturbed at the addition of another fan. 

"Cool!" you then saw a crow with a message pouch in the window, not skipping a beat you checked your watch and said "Shit I'm going to be late for work!  See you later!"

They all waved good bye, some more enthusiastic than others.  You went back to your apartment and opened the message.  Only a single word was written on it "Gino".  You swallowed it right away,  and prepared for a fun time.   You hated that prick ever since The Old Man bought you back to his house.

You knew by now, the few men who knew of your whereabouts had their orders to subdue Gino and wait for you to get there.  They would chloroform him during breakfast and keep him drugged until nighttime. 

When he woke up, you were the first person he saw.  "You have been a bad boy, Gino" you said in a condescending tone "Prostitution and drug trafficking?  Really?"

"Hey!  I'm bringing in cash for the family!" he protested, but with great satisfaction you swing the butt of your handgun across his face, blood spurting from his nose and mouth.

"You know the Old Man's rules" you said "No hookers, no drugs and no kiddies" you cocked the gun, rolling the bullet in the chamber and placing the gun to his temple "When you get to Hell, Gino tell em Y/N sent you" and pulled the trigger.  A reddish pink cloud erupted from his skull, brain matter and bone littered the floor of the warehouse.

You were wearing latex gloves of course, and put it in Gino's dominant hand.  You then placed a typed suicide note at his feet.  When you called it into the police you stripped from your work clothes and tossed them into a burning trashcan along with the gloves.  Underneath you were wearing a tank top and Daisy Duke shorts, waking towards the Whiskey.  One of the other guys had already sent the crow back to The Old Man with the white rose petal.

You came in the middle of a song, the whole place was rocking out and you were genuinely having a good time when the song ended and Tommy saw you front and center. Apparently it was the last song of the night and he ran up and hugged you like you were old friends.  You were taken aback but you returned the gesture, saying "Sorry I was so late!  I was stuck at work!"

"What do you do that takes more than eight hours?" Mick asked suspiciously.

"I work at a nursing home as a house keeping lady" you said, having procured a name tag from Sunnyside Nursing and Retirement Home, complete with your name, picture and job title.

"That's cool, sweetheart" Vince said, another tack on your tally for utterly beating the shit out of this blonde bimbo.

"It's a job" Mick smiled softly, finally taking a liking to you.

"So let's go to that party you were talking about" you winked at them, and they all smirked with knowledge of what they were about to partake in.

When morning came, you were crashed on their couch wearing one of their shirts.  The smell of burning eggs wafted to you and made you cough.  "Who taught you how to cook?!" you shouted as you opened the widow to get the smoke out.

"Julia Child" Mick answered sarcastically, as the toast began burning as well.  "Eat, I wanna talk to you" he slowly sat down across from you.

"It's black" you said "I'm not eating that" you pushed the plate away in disgust.

"Fine" he scoffed but then got serious "Your last name, my sister married a man with that same name" your stomach dropped from its place into your feet.

"What are you getting at, dude?" you asked.

"What are you're parents names?"

You wouldn't answer him, feeling yourself getting tense "I don't like talking about them"  the one thing that got under your skin quicker than anything else was talking about HER.

Mick did his best to try and stop you physically but his physical limitations stopped him from doing more.  "I might be your uncle" he said quickly.  A million thoughts came flooding your head, clouding your judgement.  You were about to say something, but the training you received from the Old Man kicked in so you just walked out in a huff.

You still hung out with the younger members all the time but Mick kept his distance, though from his facial expression it was rather painful for him to see you.  A few weeks went by without hearing from the Old Man, but one day a crow with a message tapped on your window.  You let it in, petting it's head.  The message was some random druggie business associate of the Old Man's, who apparently didn't pay his monthly protection fee and narc'd on the Old Man.

You sighed and got his address from the note where you were also instructed to make him suffer.  But imagine your surprise when you opened the door to find some of the Old Man's fingermen with the dude right here in the apartment.  One of the Old Man's most important lessons was to never bring your work home with you.  Its like shitting where you eat.  You don't do it.

It was late on a Saturday night, the party was raging downstairs with its loud music, people so fucked up that they could barely walk so nobody would notice.  You immediately knew what was going on.  Some men loyal to Gino wanted revenge, but if you were to die today, you wouldn't go without a fight.  You reached for your handgun but shot were fired before you could even get a round off.

Bits of plaster went flying through the air, the impact making the paper thin walls crack and see into the apartments next door.  You dove behind your couch for cover, praying that it was thick enough to stop the bullets.  Sounds of people running and screaming from the whole floor flooded your hearing and you were bought back to your training-imagine an aria.  Soon you couldn't hear anything but said aria, and your focus was reached. 

Almost as if you were a robot, you pulled your gun and fired five shots, three hitting the targets and two missing.  Now that the playing field was more evenly matched, you saw that the remaining two were trying to re-load.  You took the opportunity to push forward the heel of your palm and break a nose, then you grabbed the elbow and immobilized the whole arm.  The man cursed as you performed a perfect hip throw and locked his arm in an arm bar.  With a swift jerking of your hips, you heard a sickening snap as bone went through the skin.

The other guy had re-loaded and a slug went into your hand.  You let out a scream of rage as you rolled the guy with the broken arm on top of you so he could take the bullets meant for you.  You then heard a shotgun blast and everything went quiet.  You pushed the man off you to see Nikki, Vince and Tommy in stunned silence while Mick was expertly holding the smoking shotgun.

"What the fuck..." Nikki started but you shut him up.

"Quiet asshole" you barked, all of your false sweetness now gone.  You peeked out of your window and saw three more cars with armed mobsters pull up and run into the building.

You pushed past them yelling "If you dipshits have enough sense, you'd hightail it out like I am!" you hauled ass down the back stairs and into the alley.  You knew that if they found you here, that your other hideouts were likely compromised as well.  You were about to dash to a manhole and into a sewer when someone pulled you back.  On instinct you ducked and threw the person over your back and rolled into a camel clutch, stretching the person's back beyond what is humanly possible and grasping the head.  The mixture of blonde hair and incoherent screeching of cuss words let you know it was Vince. 

You let him go and said "If you're gonna follow me then hurry up!" you easily lifted the manhole cover and slid it aside, climbing down.

Tommy grabbed your hand and pulled you up "Not without a fucking explanation!" the footsteps were getting closer, shouts of :FIND HER!" were heard.

"If you REALLY want to get blown to hell today then by all means, stay here but I have no intention of dying!  Let me go!" you roared to him.

"NO!" he yelled back, pulling you up.  You pulled a bowie knife from your belt and slashed his hand with it, he reflexively let go and you dropped into the most foul smelling liquid you'd ever inhaled.  You took a few limping steps and vomited.  You heard splashes when more people came down the ladder, and you honestly thought you were done for.

You were shocked when Nikki and Tommy hoisted you in between them and began walking.  You were soon on the very edge of town when you three emerged from the sewer, all smelling like a fucking toilet.  "We're here..." Nikki said, letting his side down and knocking on the door "Marty!  Get the iron ready!  I got a gunshot victim!"

Marty was a pimple faced teenage medical master, having graduated as a doctor at age 12.  He was also a stoner who would take people who didn't have insurance and treat them in his little shack.  He was 18 now so it was his very own home, one that his parents couldn't leech off of.  "Got it!" he helped the others bring you in and laid you down on the floor.

"Jesus what happened?!" Marty said as he was applying some ointment to your scratches you got when bullets whizzed by your head.

"Fuck if I know!" Nikki said "We were having a party when we heard her" he pointed to you "fighting with a bunch of guys then gunshots and people running" when the iron was good and hot, Marty sat you up and handed a dirty dish rag to Tommy.  The tallest young man in the room knew what he had to do, he got behind you and gagged you.

The pain of burning flesh was something you felt before as part of your training but it was always so painful.  As soon as the hot iron came down on the raw, bleeding meat of your hand, you let out a muffled scream and for the first time in years, you l"et tears fall down your face.  Tommy kissed your hair and said softly "It's okay, Y/N...only a little longer..."  when they let you up, your good hand swung out and punched Marty right in the face.  He fell back and cursed you, his eye already swelling.

Nikki turned you so he could look directly at you and said "What the ever loving fuck is going on Y/N?"

"I'm a hitman for the Gatto crime family" you told them plainly.  "The Old Man adopted me when I was ten after he killed my mother and her boyfriend" you were beyond pissed now and looking for blood.  You got up, but a jolt of pain from your legs prevented you from moving.

Nikki and Tommy pushed you back down and said "You're not going anywhere.  You need to heal up and get better before you get revenge" Marty was now icing his eye and about ready to wrap your burnt hand.

"Why are you admitting this freely?" Nikki asked.

"My fuckin' cover's been blown, my apartment's shot to shit and if I cant get in touch with the Old Man, he'll come up here and look for me.  That puts you all in danger too" you said.  "Get me the phone..."

Marty was hesitant, but after looks from the others he relented,  You called and explained the situation to the Old Man, and he promised to come get you the next morning.  He did as he promised and got you in the car, looking as disappointed as a father scolding a wayward child.  "What's the matter?" you asked, taking out a cigarette.

"You've failed me, Little One" he said as he pulled out a revolver and handed it to you.  "Take your own life to atone for your transgressions, or I will torture you when we get back to Arizona..." his voice was full of malice and you simply put the gun beside you and looked directly at him.

"You dishonor your family by refusing a direct order?" he was growing incredulous as you stared him down.

"Family? No" the driver turned around and put a bullet in Enrico's head without a word "You? You bet your ass I would"  the blood pouring out of his nose and mouth was like a fountain, staining his upholstery an ugly burgundy

"Nice shot, Uncle Mick" you smirked as you admired his handiwork.

"That's Pumpkin" he replied.  "You get your love of firearms from your mother's side of the family" you laughed at that.  You knew when you talked to the Old Man on the phone the day before, from the sound of shock in his voice that he was the ones who sent those men to kill you, not people avenging Gino. 

The others met up with them back at the apartment and you apologized for playing them like cheap banjos, to Vince and Tommy for injuring them.  "So how did you change drivers without the Old Man noticing?" you asked them.

Nikki chuckled "I've got some buddies in the mob too.  I called in a few favors people owe me" that was all that he'd say about the subject and you knew better than to ask.

You turned to Mick and said "It seem like we have A LOT of catching up to do..." you decided that you'd let him in your life if he wanted it.

"That we do Pumpkin" he smiled warmly "That we do"