#What Was The Battle Of Monongahela

[pittsburghbeautiful]

Battle of the Monongahela

Battle of the Monongahela The Battle of Monongahela, a pivotal engagement during the French and Indian War, served as a crucible for military evolution. On July 9, 1755, British and colonial troops faced off against French and Native American forces in a clash that would have profound reverberations. The outcome of this battle not only shaped the course of the war but also had lasting…

[ledenews]

Erik Huey Visits Coals Mines for New Album 'Appalachian Gothic'

Erik Huey, aka Cletus McCoy, co-founder of The Surreal McCoys, is releasing his debut solo album, Appalachian Gothic, on January 20, 2023 via Appalachian AF/CEN/The Orchard. While the McCoys were a cowpunk, outlaw country outfit known for their originals and creative mashups such "Whole Lotta Folsom," Huey dug closer to home for the songs and stories on his debut, mining his own history — he's descended from four generations of West Virginia coal miners — for the album. "Eric "Roscoe" Ambel (producer/guitarist) and I wrote "The Devil Is Here In These Hills" for what we thought might grow into 2-3 songs that could be used in a soundtrack — a future TV series based on historian James Greene’s incredible book about the West Virginia Coal Mine Wars called The Devil is Here in These Hills," Huey says. "As soon as Eric played the opening riff on his Dulcitar, it was like a doorway opened that revealed the entire album. "My father, grandfather and great grandfather (who came over from Ireland) were all coal miners in the Monongahela Valley and I wrote this song before I’d even finished that book," Huey says. "So many immigrants from Ireland, Scotland, Italy and Eastern Europe—along with African-Americans from The South—came to mine coal in Appalachia, and this song is an attempt to tell their story and the story of the generations that followed in their footsteps." On his first solo album, Huey takes a nostalgic deep dive into the Appalachia of his WV youth while wrestling with the contemporary realities of a hardscrabble region that’s been left behind in many ways. While Appalachian Gothic explores darker themes and raw subject matter such as the legacy of coal mining and the ravages of the opioid crisis on songs like “The Devil is Here in These Hills,” “Dear Dad," “The Appalachian Blues,” and “The Battle of Uniontown,” it also taps into a defiant streak of optimism on twangy upbeat rockers like “Winona” and the pro-union anthem “Yours in the Struggle.” Huey mines the Classic Country seam of the '60s and '70s on the rollicking “You Can’t Drink All Day” and the torchlit two-stepper “That’s What Jukeboxes Are For,” a duet with alt-country chanteuse Laura Cantrell, then roams into Spaghetti Western territory on the eerie “Death County.” He taps into his inner punk rocker on the swampy and lustful “Lucy”—songs he co-wrote with Ambel (the pair cowrote roughly half the songs on the LP). In a similar vein, Erik’s chugging cover of John Cooper Clarke’s “A Heart Disease Called Love” nods to The Ramones and is highlighted by the jump-blues baritone saxophone of Steve Berlin (Los Lobos). Appalachian Gothic was recorded at Cowboy Technical Studios in Greenpoint, Brooklyn and produced by rock 'n' roots guitarist Ambel (Bottle Rockets, Jimbo Mathus, Yayhoos, Sarah Borges). Along with Eric Ambel on guitar, musicians include Jeremy Chatzky on bass and Kenny Soule on drums, with additional appearances by Keith Christopher (bass), Andy York (guitar), Neil Thomas (accordion), Cody Nilsen (pedal steel), and drummer Phil Cimino. Guests include Steve Berlin and Laura Cantrell. Coming of age during the early years of punk rock, Huey got into music via on-ramp of The Blasters, X, Jason & The Scorchers, The Beat Farmers, and Mojo Nixon, then wandered upstream along the Hillbilly Highway until he unearthed a couple of old cassettes by Johnny Cash and George Jones — artists he’d first heard as a kid riding along in the cab of his Uncle Jack’s 18-wheeler. Hearing these artists pulled him back to his musical roots. “This record is a love letter to Appalachia,” he says. “Like so many West Virginians, I had to eventually leave the place where I grew up. As the locals say, I had to ‘get out to get ahead,’ which created a lasting sense of exile. So this album is a homecoming of sorts. It’s a realization that although I spent my life tunneling out, those rugged hills kept calling me home.” Read the full article

[kom-poetry-channel]

All right, all right, I'll translate the patriotic doggerel and get it out of the way!

I was, actually, working on translating some fairly serious poetry when this minor verse of Kipling's came to my attention and insisted on taking up all the lyrical parts of my brain. I ended up translating it out of sheer self-defense just so I could be thinking about some other words than "England's sword unsheathed / put half the world to flight". Kipling wrote this literally as schoolboy history, for "A School History of England", but for all I call it 'doggerel' you can't say he didn't put his best effort into the thing; that repeated bitter "not while" is really quite memorable. One hopes nobody in the Foreign Office in, say, 1956 (or 1941, or 1947, or 1973…) had learned their Atlantic history from the book and allowed it to influence their attitude to the hegemon. Churchill's quip, about the US always doing the right thing after all alternatives have been tried, comes to mind; but he was in school twenty or thirty years too early for the "School History". Kipling's opinion on the colonial rebellion may have been widespread among the British elite - indeed for all I know he got it from his own schoolbooks. At any rate the position that the colonies had been defended at extreme expense and the colonials ought to pay was the core of the whole conflict, and Kipling naturally takes the strongest version of the English side of the dispute. Adam Smith, contemporary to the rebellion, took the opposite side that if the colonies couldn't be made to pay, they should rather be made independent - in which case, presumably, they'd be paying for their own defense whether they liked it or not. But Smith was an economist and thought of incentives and efficiency; Kipling was a patriot and thought of loyalty and duty. Economics be damned, the colonials had a duty to the Crown and ought to pay for the Royal Navy the same as every other subject; and by the evidence of the first two verses, he's genuinely angry, more than a century later, that they chose otherwise.

The switch from that anger to the elegiac calmness of "After" is a little startling; in the "School History" these verses were separated by the narrative text describing the war, and Kipling may not have thought of them as being two parts of the same poem. It does seem that being angry brought out his best effort; "worshippers at Freedom's shrine" is heartfelt if sarcastic, "too busy to think of war" is conventional.

The illustrations for "Before" are mostly paintings of scenes from the Seven Years' War (presumably the specific conflict Kipling had in mind, with "Frenchman gone from the North" and "shattered Spain"); in order, they are:

"Half the world to flight" - scenes from the most famous battles in each major theatre: climbing the cliffs to the Plains of Abraham, advancing with fixed bayonets at Minden, and following Clive into the attack at Plassey.

"New-built cities" - contemporary map of the English colonies.

"Pole to Line" - Battle of Quiberon Bay by Richard Paton.

"Did not quit her then" - Washington at Monongahela, organising the rear guard after Braddock's disaster.

"Foes were driven forth" - Battle of Quiberon Bay, the Day After by Richard Wright.

"Frenchman from the North" - capitulation of Montreal.

"Clean-swept oceans" - Bombardment of El Morro Castle during the Capture of Havana, Raphael Monleon.

"What they owed" - Join or Die, showing eight colonies as pieces of a snake.

Norwegian text:

Før

Ikke mens Englands sverd påny drev halve verden på flukt ikke mens nybrøten bygd og by pustet bak hennes tukt ikke mens England til forsvar ga hen gull, og skip, og blod - disse Frihetens svorne menn: da var de henne tro!

Ei før hver uvenn fra kysten fór og England vant deres sak ei før franskmannen rømte fra nord og spanjolens rike lå vrak ei før på ryddet og trygget hav intet fiendtlig flagg å se husket de Frihetens strenge krav og tok til motet for det!

Etter

Snø ligger tykt over Valley Forge isen på Delaware men de som falt her for kong George de bryr seg aldri mer.

Ikke skjønt kusymra smått om senn bryter ut der solstrålen når og knuffende kråkereir kunngjør igjen at vårt England på ny har vår.

De rører seg ikke for smeltet fonn eller isen som tiner i fjorden; og de som falt for Washington ligger like stilt i jorden.

De rører seg ikke når blomsterflor fordriver furuskogs dis, og i alle steinete beiter gror akeleie og filtkongslys.

Hver for sitt land, i åpen strid, kjempet og møtte sin død; og den gode jord, fri for hat og nid, dekker dem i sitt skjød.

Hun har ingen tid til menneskers hær; mot vinter og is hennes slag; og se, de årlige blomstene er hvor de var i fedrenes dag!

Gullris hvor beite mot skogen lir når kongslysets blomst har falt fra og sumak-løv som høsten gir fargen til blodet de ga.

[cheat-river-8y]

cheat river mod menu 0MVR%

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 The Cheat River is a mile-long tributary of the Monongahela River in eastern West Virginia and southwestern Pennsylvania in the United States. Via the Ohio River, the Cheat and Monongahela are part of the Mississippi River watershed. The magnificent Cheat River flows from five major tributaries, known as the “Forks of the Cheat”, which originate in the rugged Monongahela National Forest. Located in Albright, in North Central West Virginia, the Cheat Canyon section of the Cheat River is West Virginia's premier springtime Class V whitewater run. The Cheat River is amazing! This river canyon is full of great rapids and we loved the guides on our trip. I can't stress how important it is to go with. The Cheat River in West Virginia is again a haven for whitewater rafting and smallmouth bass fishing after years of Clean Water Act funding. The Shavers Fork is acknowledged as the starting point of the Cheat River and emanates from the crest of Cheat Mountain at 4, ft, making it the highest river in the Eastern US. From Parsons, the scenic Cheat flows nearly 78 miles past the historic river towns of St. The Cheat River flows north throughout its entire length. The complete watershed spans an impressive square miles, and the river is one of the longest un-dammed waterways in the eastern United States. It does not appear that there were significant permanent native american villages in the Cheat River drainage, this is probably due to the steepness of the terrain and the harshness of winters. European settlers and trappers roamed the basin starting in The famous cornerstone, The Fairfax Stone, was placed in indicating the divide between the headwaters of the Potomac River and the Cheat River. The Dunkards, a religious sect, were the first Europeans to settle on the Cheat River, in , they established a village where present day Camp Dawson is located near Kingwood, WV. This combination of resources led to the creation of some of the earliest iron industry in the US contributing greatly to the armaments of the war of , cannonballs made along the Cheat River were used in the Battle of New Orleans. The iron industry along the lower reach of the river supported roughly 3, settlers, with the epicenter being at Cheat Neck, the site of current day Cheat Lake, a few miles above the confluence with the Monongahela. The Cheat River watershed is considered a biodiversity hotspot, a portion of it became a West Virginia Natural Area in In fact, land use within the watershed is dominated by forest, at a stunning More than ten endangered, threatened, or globally rare species occur in the Canyon, including the flat-spired three-toothed land snail, which exists nowhere else on earth. The other rare fauna that are hiding out in the hollers include Cheat Mountain salamander, Indiana bat, and the West Virginian northern flying squirrel. The Cheat River above Pringle Run Narrows takeout is an active fishery, boasting a lively small mouth bass population in addition to catfish and rainbow trout. Several Cheat River tributaries maintain native brook trout populations. The size of the watershed and lack of dams has made the Cheat River famous in whitewater circles because of the highly variable flows. One day the flow may be less than cfs, and the next day it will bee 10, cfs. To place in context, rafting river levels are between 1. Here are the top 3 Cheat River Historic Crests. The flood of , known as the Election Day flood, decimated the lower Cheat Valley. The first known descent of the Cheat River by a whitewater enthusiast happened in when John Berry, led a group that took 2 days to descend what we now call the Cheat Canyon. The whitewater rafting industry on the East Coast started on the Youghiogheny River, one drainage to the north in , shortly thereafter in , the Cheat River rafting industry began. The Cheat rafting industry went from nothing to 40, rafters in just 10 years, all of this activity took place during the 8 weeks of April and May. This breathed some serious life back into the Appalachian back water of Albright, WV pop. The Cheat River is best known for rowdy spring rafting on the Cheat Canyon when flows are highly variable due to spring rains. The variable flows mean that a smaller raft may be used to accomodate lower flows, yet still provide a big water feel and an amzing day in a wildreness canyon. Check out Cheat Canyon rafting trips. The amazing whitewater playground that is created by more than miles of whitewater in the Cheat River drainage became a magnet for diehard paddlers and innovaters in the whitewater sport. Along the banks of the Cheat the following companies have impacted the sport world wide:. More than miles of steep and small creeks that are boatable by experienced kayakers exist above the main stem of the Cheat. Do not be alarmed if you are driving around this beautiful country and what casually resembles a pool toy goes launching off a 15 foot water fall. Below are the primary and accessible to the public sections of whitewater that make up the main stem of the Cheat:. The watershed is still very sparsely populated due to the rugged character of the mountains that the river carves through. The cutting of the river has established very steep walls pretty much down to the rivers edge. The flood of also contributed greatly to the decline of these towns when homes were destroyed in the river corridor. In the late s, whitewater paddlers on the Cheat River noticed the water quality degrading. Acid mine drainage AMD was discharging from abandoned mine lands and active coal mines into the river. AMD occurs when water, oxygen, and bacteria come into contact with pyrite, a mineral that is often associated with the Upper Freeport coal seam. Every year, more rocks in the river were stained bright orange. Right now over miles of streams in Appalachia are polluted by AMD from abandoned mine lands. In the spring of , polluted water from an illegally-sealed major underground coal mine blew out the hillside and poured into Muddy Creek. The huge release of mine water entered the main stem of the Cheat River just upstream of the Cheat Canyon. The the river ran orange for miles. The resulting discharge impacted not only the Cheat Canyon, but also lowered the pH in Cheat Lake to 4. A second blowout in further made the problem worse. American Rivers, Inc. The mine blowouts forced the issue into the public eye. Concerned citizens and stakeholders organized Friends of the Cheat FOC to begin to address the problems resulting from over a century of coal mining. By , signatories included more state and federal agencies, academia, conservation groups, and local governments. Meeting quarterly and chaired by Friends of the Cheat, the ROP task force coordinates and initiates projects throughout the watershed. Millions of dollars in projects have been implemented since , including water monitoring programs, water quality assessments, and reclamation projects. Now the Cheat is off the list of endangered rivers, whitewater rafting trips are running, and fish are making a comeback. Stoneflies are a species of insect that indicates a healthy marine ecosystem. The festival takes place the first weekend of May, come show your love for the Cheat! You can donate to Friends of the Cheat. Come on out in the spring to experience this amazing corner of the world and to witness the resilience of nature up close and personal. Throughout the summer, following rain events, we sometimes are fortunate enough to be able to operate improptu raft trips to take advantage of river levels, join our Adventurers Club to be in the know. Cheat River History — Then and Now. Here are the top 3 Cheat River Historic Crests 1 Towns of the Cheat River The watershed is still very sparsely populated due to the rugged character of the mountains that the river carves through. Parsons, WV population located at the confluence of the Forks of the Cheat Rowlesburg, WV population a former railroad town and site of a Civil War skirmish Albright, WV population epicenter of the whitewater community in the valley Point Marion, PA population located at the confluence with the Monongahela Coal Mining Legacy of Appalachia In the late s, whitewater paddlers on the Cheat River noticed the water quality degrading. Now- Tags: cheat river , environment , west virginia , whitewater rafting.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[lightdancer1]

Today as a series of posts on history, three occasions where Indigenous American military might proved superior to that of their enemies

No small part of the reason for emphasizing this is that there is a bit of a racist conceit (by a bit I mean a Godzilla-sized mass of racism) about how Indigenous American cultures were somehow easily conquered and reshaped by imperialism on this side of the Atlantic. In truth, the cultures fought by European imperialism outside the very first contacts first went through plague and its devastating effects that reaved down a vast majority of their people. Then the shellshocked survivors of a catastrophe that can only be described as post-apocalyptic had to fight the juggernaut of Anglo-American imperialism on top of that.

In spite of the manifold disadvantages that this imposed as a starting point, and in spite of successful US (and Spanish) efforts to try to restrict the spread of firearms as a technology, Indigenous Turtle Island and its South American counterparts could and did fight back and fight back very hard at times and defeated European and US armies on their own terms in the kind of war they preferred.

The Battle of the Monagahela, fought in the vicinity of today's Pittsburgh (and indeed for Pittsburgh in the most literal sense) is one of them. British General Braddock marched into the interior of what was then the British colony of Pennsylvania in the eyes of the British Empire, and the easternmost frontier of Louisiana in the eyes of the French (yes, colonial Louisiana spanned the Ohio-Mississippi-Missouri triad in the eyes of the French, though they barely had troops enough for most of the Indigenous people to notice or care).

This battle also exposes a particular flaw of military history, specifically the blend of racist and colonialist assumptions that the European way of war and European means of using technology were innately superior. Braddock fought a model campaign of linear warfare in ancien regime style, straight out of the age of Fontenoy. He did this against Indigenous cultures who used terrain and their own adaptations of gunpowder and muskets to neatly smash his army to bits.

One of the survivors of the defeat was a certain Virginia colonel whose earlier misjudgments had contributed to the second defeat of many in his military career. His name was George Washington, and it was his polishing the turd that was the Monagahela that let him salvage the dents the first battle at Fort Necessity made in his reputation.

[yanderepuck]

I love history and learning, so share some facts about your home city or the city you currently live in.

No specific amount of facts, just what you think of

I'll start

We use to supply the most steel in the world. During WWII the Allies got 95% of their steel from Pittsburgh

Rosie The Riveter was actually made by someone from Pittsburgh who actually went to my College, Art Institute of Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh has a Scottish spelling but a German pronunciation.

Our main amusement park, Kennywood, and many of the surrounding neighborhoods were battle grounds of the French and Indian War

Heinz!!! The ketchup, the mustard, the everything! It is all Pittsburgh made and honestly we can't stand any other ketchup. I was happy to see it in London

We are also known as Three Rivers since the Allegheny, Ohio, and Monongahela come to a point downtown, which is where Fort Duquesne was.

Mt. Washington is where George Washing retired to.

We apparently have the most bridges in the world?? The small walking bridges in venice do not count

Air is still very polluted from the Steel Mill days, but not as bad. Before when you would step out you were covered in soot, you had to take an extra pair of clothes with you

We talk in stUPID PITTSBURGHESE AND PEOPLE SAY "YINZ" AND I HATE IT

Today we are mainly known for our sports, we are the only city were all of our teams are the same colors, Black and Gold

[thiswasinevitableid]

What about #1 with induck? :3

I decided to make this part of three of “oh no I called the hero and I like him” and “where’s the hero when I need a hug.” But you can also read it as a stand alone.

1: How to make a plot villainous enough to attract they attention but tame enough they won’t get hurt 

Indrid stares at the screens, flipping between images and notes, dismissing them one after another. 

The scheme needs to hit just the right balance. 

It’s been a month and a half since The Green Knight, alias Duck Newton, snuck into his hideout to comfort him after his body and mind betrayed him by making him sad.

They’ve spoken not a word about it to each other. And Duck has once again reverted to only fighting Indrid with another member of the Pine Guard present. Duck kissed his forehead when he left that night, Indrid would bet his entire fortune on it. But Duck won’t even banter with him during battles. 

He’ll barely even look at him.

Does he revile Indrid so greatly that any affection between them must be made up for by a double measure of disinterest and mild disgust?

Indrid has thrown everything he can think of at him; if Duck sees him as a villain, then he will be a villain. He will fight, he will scheme, he will swear revenge. No matter how often he thinks of the way Duck fit against him, a puzzle piece in strange picture of this life. How his fingers itch to call him each night.

Even as he runs through his inner monologue he knows he's oversimplifying the matter.

You see, it’s not strictly true Duck hasn’t spoken to him. There have been no face to face talks or phone calls, that is a fact. But if one were to look at Indrid’s personal phone, one would find a text chain that is mainly images. Birds, trees, sunsets, a cat. 

The most he gets for context is:

Thought you might like this

Made me think of you. Don’t know why.

And, on the ones of moths

Look, it’s a cousin. 

And an even more recent one of an ice cream cone

Tried that Gelato place you liked. You’re right, it’s fucking baller.

Indrid replied blue moon, excellent choice.

He did not add that the flavor is mellow, sweet, and a bit strange, just like the man himself. 

He’d considered orchestrating a run-in at that shop, since Aubrey Little’s Instagram suggests Duck has been going there often with his friends. But Indrid has no doubt Mrs. Nyguen would ban him if he started a fight in her shop. 

Instead, he’s narrowed down his plot options to two: an art heist, or breaking into the mayor’s mansion. 

He has had his eye on that one Gauguin….

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

Indrid limbers up in the entryway of the museum. Between his powers and technological abilities, the main security was easy to disable. And there is a route to the post-impressionist gallery that will keep him clear of the more heavily secured rooms.

He pads across the tiles to the entrance of the traveling Monet exhibit. 

And sticks his foot into the path of the motion sensor he knows is there, setting off an alarm. 

He continues forward, setting off more alarms as he goes. Its when he’s in the modernist exhibit that the wisps of unease floating through his system coalesce into a form.

No security guards have appeared. He planned to disarm them and knock them out, and they should be here by now.

A glimpse at the futures gives him just enough time to turn and see a shape stepping into the arched doorway behind him.

“I was wondering if you’d turn up.” A clipped, cold voice muses as the figure produces a small remote, clicking it once to shut off the alarms. He recognizes the reflective white glasses when the figure grins at him. 

“The Flame. I, it can’t be, how did I-”

“Not see me coming? I don’t know, little brother. But at a guess it’s because you’ve lost your touch. Which would be of little concern to me, had your carelessness not just alerted our enemies to our presence here. So I will be need to be certain you cannot cause such issues in the future. Not to mention, one fewer villain in the city means one less person to stop me from taking  total control of the underworld.”

Indrid narrowly avoids a blast of white light, diving into the annex to his right. He doesn’t retaliate, activates his wings and shoots straight up through the skylight instead.

He’s not ready to fight the Flame. He’s never been ready. Not when they were children, training together. Not when they were sparring partners. Not when he’d finally had enough, when he saw just how much The Flame enjoyed hurting people. 

That’s why he ran from him in the first place. 

Landing on the roof, he considers his escape routes. Where is his nearest hideout, where is is his defensive equipment, where-

A small, clear orb hits the toe of his shoe. Even as he throws his arms around his eyes, he knows it won’t be enough. The light is blinding, bleaching his eyes as he crumples to the bricks beneath him. The next phase of the disorienter kicks in, high pitched tones drowning out his ability to hear anything, save for The Flame’s voice.

“You’ve become such a disappointment, little brother. First you abandon the life we trained for, your constitution too weak to handle the realities of our profession.”

“You, you speak as though I haven’t spent the last several years a prominent villain in my own right.”

“You’ve thrown in with some two-bit thieves and blackmailers, perhaps an eco-terrorist or an anarchist superhero when the mood struck. And you’re soft. The Indrid I knew would never hesitate to kill his rival by any means necessary. You’ve spared the Green Knight so many times I lost count.”

“You spied on me.”

“Of course. I, unlike some people, know how to scope the hero/villain layout of a town before making my debut. Good god, brother, you must have used your powers to determine your enemy’s name and true identity by now.”

“What I do with my powers is no business of yours.” He kicks a leg out in the direction of The Flame’s voice. The fear flooding his mind, scanning the futures for escape, means he fails to see the weapon before it connects with his shoulders. 

The scream of pain as electricity courses through him goes unheeded. The Flame does it a second time, and Indrid collapses, limp, on the ground. 

“Goodbye, little brother. So nice of you to lend my grand entrance into the city’s awareness an extra victim.”

Indrid loses consciousness to the sound of sparks. 

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

“Ned, can you get us closer?” Aubrey yells from her position on the wing of the hovercraft, “I need to be more in a closer range to control something this big!”

“I will do my best, but if the wings begin melting I reserve the right to get us the hell out of here!”

“There any way I can help, Lady Flame?” Duck leans over the passenger side of the craft, looking down at the blazing rooftop for the origin of the fire. 

“Grab me if I lose my balance?”

“Will do--oh, fuck! There’s someone down there. Aubrey, can you clear me a patch, right there, so I can jump down?”

“I can” the first half of the fire dies out when Aubrey makes a fist, “but that roof can’t be stable at this point.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Aubrey circles his arm twice, and a landing pad appears around the figure. He leaps from the craft, hits his mark right by the body’s feet. The smoke is still thick, even with Aubrey’s intervention, so he squints as he gathers the figure into his arms. 

“Don’t worry, we’re getting you out of here--ah! Oh come the fuck on!” He yells to no one in particular as the roof gives out beneath him. 

Landing on his knees, he’s relieved to find the fire never made it inside , though smoke did. In the flickering orange and spinning red and blue from the nearby emergency vehicles, he shifts the body in his arms, looks down with clear eyes for the first time. 

“.....Indrid?”

Nothing.

Indrid’s chest is corpse-cold in spite of the fire when Duck puts his ear against it. There’s a heartbeat there, a faint flutter that’s the most beautiful noise to ever grace his ears. 

Duck turns to the portraits on the walls, “what the fuck do I do now?”

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

The first thought in Indrid’s mind is: pine?

As he noses the soft pillowcase, still half-dreaming of coastal woods and a campfire, his eyes blink open. 

The room is dark, unfamiliar. Thick curtains cover the windows, thicker blankets coat the bed in which he’s laying. 

Cautiously, he pushes the covers aside and eases his feet onto the ground. His glasses are waiting for him on the bedside table, and his reflection in the closet mirror shows his thin frame covered in black sweatpants and a large shirt that reads “Devils Lake State Park.”

Hell has a sense of humor, it seems. A sense of humor and a very rustic decorating style. 

He opens the bedroom door, poking his head out into the dark hallway. Moves slowly, half from the stiffness between his shoulder blades from where The Flame hit him, and half from apprehension of what’s at the other end of the hall. 

The answer turns out to be anticlimactic; a living room, with a kitchen off to one side. 

Maybe the flames and sulfur are waiting for him outside the front door.

Or maybe he’s not dead, maybe someone rescued him. 

No, that second option is ridiculous. 

“Mew?”

“AH!” He jumps as a black, scruffy cat bumps into his shin. 

“H-hello there, little friend, do you happen to know where I am?”

“Mew.” The cat hops onto the back of a nearby chair, and he pets it hesitantly. 

“My, you’re soft. Soft and familiar. Where have I seen you bef-, oh, oh my, it can’t be. He wouldn’t.”

The front door opens and Indrid grabs the cat protectively, spinning to face whatever comes through it. 

“Mornin.”

“It, it is your house.” Indrid stares at Duck, the cat wiggling free of his hold and bounding over to greet her owner.

“Uh, yeah.” Duck slips off his canvas sneakers, grocery bags slipping on his arms as he bends to pet the cat, “where else would it be?”

Indrid looks at the room around him more carefully; the poster for the Monongahela forest, photos on a shelf showing Duck with family and friends, the ranger had hung by the front door. 

“In retrospect, it was a tad obvious. But in my defense, I assumed I was dead and in hell.”

“Geez, my decoratin ain’t that bad.”

“Nono, I’m sorry, I mean-” he stops when a grin cracks Duck’s face, and is managing a smile in return when his back spasms and he grips the chair to keep from falling.

“Shit, you okay?” Duck sets the bags down and hurries over to him. 

“Yes. I, the weapon the Flame used, the side effects can be felt for over a week. It also scrambles the futures in my mind for several days, which tends to make me dizzy.”

“Fuck, that sucks. Uh, I got some Tylenol and other medicine and shit while I was out, wasn’t sure what you’d need, and, uh, don’t usually have it in the house on account of bein super tough. You should probably eat before you take anythin though.”

“Yes, good idea. I, uh, I don’t want to impose, I, I can get something on my way home.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh.” Duck scratches his arm, ashamed, “no, you can’t. You ain’t in any shape to travel, or to be on your own for longer than a few hours. I brought you here so I could look after you somewhere safe, where whoever hurt you couldn’t find you.”

“That’s very kind, Duck, but all the same I should go back to my hideout.”

“Also you’re under house arrest.”

“Excuse me?!” Indrid leaps up, then immediately sits back down, dizzy. 

“Look, when the police saw who I rescued, they kept clamorin for me to turn you over, or to send you to a hospital who would do the same as soon as you opened your eyes. I just...couldn’t do it. So Ned talked ‘em into a deal. You’d stay under house arrest with the Pine Guard, and we’d look after you while also makin sure you couldn’t start nothin.”

“So I’m going to live here. With you.” Indrid tries to sound resigned instead of excited.

“Yep. But, uh, if you need a break or change of scene, or we ain’t gettin along, even though it sees like we been doin a better job of that lately, you can stay with someone else. Aubrey’s place has a real nice garden, and Mama’s is real fortified and cozy-”

“Duck, I want to stay here. I am sure the others are lovely once you get to know them but, well, I trust you. I, you have seen me in vulnerable moments and did not harm me. You didn’t even mock me. I feel safe with you. Also, your cat likes me.” He points to where said cat is now kneading his leg, purring happily. 

“That is a point in your favor. Here, I’m gonna go put away groceries and get some pizza bagels heatin up. You just take it easy right here, okay?”

“I can manage that. But, before you do, please answer me one thing?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you stop fighting me one on one?”

Duck sighs, sitting down so the cat is between them, “I wish I could say it was some strategy or because I wanted to be better at keepin the city safe. Real reason is, I was gettin fonder and fonder of you. I didn’t know what I’d do if we were alone, and not knowin scared the fuck out of me.”

“I see. Was it so alarming to feel affection for me?”

“Wha-no, no, what I meant was that I was afraid I wouldn’t want to hurt you but you’d still want to hurt me, or I’d want to do things with you that you didn’t want but felt like you couldn’t stop me, or, just, any combo of things where conflictin feelins lead to trouble.” 

“Oh.”

Duck stares at him for a moment, waiting for him to say more. But nothing comes. Indrid wants to confess, but he can’t figure out what, exactly, the confession would be. The shorter man’s face falls for an instant, before he smiles again. 

“Guess we’re roommates now.”

“Roommates. Yes.” Indrid wracks his brain for what he knows about how two people live in a space, something he has not done since he ran all those years ago.

When that fails, he draws on his nights in front of the T.V for clues.

“Do I need to label my food? Or hang a sock on the door?”

“What?” Duck giggles

“Those are roommate things!”

“You’re right, you’re right” Duck holds up his hands in surrender, still giggling, “You don’t gotta label food, and no need to hang a sock if you need privacy; that room you’re in is the spare bedroom. Mine’s just across the hall. We can figure out chores and things as we go; might make you clean the bathrooms to make up for all the punchin.”

“That is more than fair.” Indrid smiles.

“There it is.” Duck murmurs.

Indrid cocks his head.

“That smile. You’re happy one, not your evil one. Make’s you look so fuckin stunnin.”

He disappears into the kitchen before Indrid can decide on being flattered or flustered. Settles on both, rolls onto his back on the couch, pulling a large, plaid blanket down onto himself, fuzzes with the pillows to find a position that doesn’t hurt. 

The smell of processed cheese and cheap marinara fills the house as Duck walks in with something hidden behind his back. 

“You might need this while you’re nestin up on the couch.”

He produces the mothman pillow from Indrid’s hide-out, which the villain grabs, wrapping his arms around it.

“Kinda had to give away your hideout. Sorry. They’re gonna bring more of your stuff over later, but they let me put together a box of things you might need right away. Grabbed your toothbrush and such too.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s replies, muffled against the pillow. “Duck, I, I don’t know how, what am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to repay you?”

“You don’t got to. Yeah, there’s some things you could do that’d make both our lives a whole fuck of a lot easier. But Indrid?” He kneels down so they’re face to face, cups the back of Indrid’s head, and it’s tender and warm and Indrid presses into the gesture, desperate for more. 

“Long and short of it is I’m so fuckin glad you’re alive.” 

The chapped lips on his cheek can’t be written off as a dream this time. Duck turns his face gently by his chin to kiss the other and Indrid whimpers.

The timer dings.

“That’s lunch ready. I’ll go grab it, we gotta some calories into you, you been out for nearly whole fuckin day.” He stands, pauses, then reaches forward to trail a thumb on Indrid’s left cheek and down to his lips.

“Don’t you go anywhere.”

Indrid kisses the pad of the thumb before nipping it once, “Not a chance. You are stuck with me, Duck Newton.”

Duck grins, “Think I can handle that”

[iburneddownadennysonce]

I made something important

INT. CRYPTONOMICA DAY

(BARCLAY, DANI, AUBREY, and KIRBY are sitting around a table staring down at their hands somberly. As a soft violin and twinkling music begins to play, BARCLAY opens his mouth to sing.)

BARCLAY: One day more!

Another day, another destiny.

This never-ending road to Calvary;

These men who seem to know my crime

Will surely come a second time.

One day more!

(The camera shifts focus to DANI, who continues.)

DANI: I did not live until today.

How can I live when we are parted?

BARCLAY: One day more.

(AUBREY and DANI stand and walk towards each other as they sing, clasping one another’s hands as they continue.)

DANI and AUBREY: Tomorrow you'll be worlds away

And yet with you, my world has started!

(At this point, KIRBY has gotten out of his chair and walks towards the back of the building. The camera cuts to KIRBY unlocking a door, revealing a room full of niknaks stolen over the years.)

KIRBY: One more day all on my own.

(The camera cuts back to AUBREY and DANI holding hands and whirling sweetly about the room.)

AUBREY and DANI: Will we ever meet again?

(Cuts back to a trucking shot of KIRBY walking past several shelves full of various priceless objects. KIRBY ignores them all and continues on his mission.)

KIRBY: One more day with him not caring.

(AUBREY and DANI continue to flirt and whirl about together.)

AUBREY and DANI: I was born to be with you.

(Camera cuts to a close up shot of the Narf Blaster sitting on a satin pillow on a table. KIRBY reaches down and grabs it from where it sits.)

KIRBY: What a life I might have known.

(Back to DANI and AUBREY, who have come together in an embrace.)

DANI and AUBREY: And I swear I will be true!

(Camera cuts to a shot of KIRBY silhouetted in the doorway as he delivers his last line.)

KIRBY: But he never saw me there!

(KIRBY closes the door, locking the frame in darkness)

EXT. JUNKYARD NIGHT

(The shot transitions to HOLLIS followed by KEITH walking through darkness towards the camera, slowly coming into the light as the music builds to a more triumphant, rebellious sound.)

HOLLIS: One more day before the storm!

KEITH: Do I follow where she goes?

(Camera cuts to a trucking shot as KEITH and HOLLIS walk past other members of the Hornets sitting on the hoods of cars or on their bikes, all eyes trained on the pair.)

HOLLIS: At the barricades of freedom.

KEITH: Shall I join my brothers there?

(HOLLIS climbs into the roof of a car, where their dirt bike waits for them. They straddle the bike and brandish a spiked baseball bat.)

HOLLIS: When our ranks begin to form

KEITH: Do I stay; and do I dare?

(HOLLIS raises their bat into the air as the camera cuts to a sweeping shot of the backs of all the Hornets, all atop their bikes, each brandishing various improvised weaponry.)

HOLLIS: Will you take your place with me?

(The Hornets all rev their engines and cheering is heard mixed with the sounds of the group continuing the song in chorus.)

HORNETS: The time is now, the day is here

HOLLIS: One day more!

INT. DUCK’S APARTMENT.

(The camera cuts to a close up shot of a hook sword being sharpened against a sharpening stone. It then cuts to a medium shot of THE CHOSENS. DUCK, MINERVA, LEO, and SARAH sit or stand around a table strewn about with papers. Each are preparing for battle but are focused on something offscreen.)

INDRID (OFFSCREEN): One day more to revolution,

We will nip it in the bud!

(The shot cuts to INDRID, who is standing in front of a wall of paper and red yarn. He points to each part individually while continuing.)

INDRID: We'll be ready for these schoolboys,

They will wet themselves with blood!

HOLLIS (VO): One day more!

INT. SECRET HUNTING CLUB.

(The shot cuts to a panning shot of MUFFY and WINTHROP as they prepare to go to war themselves. The two polish various rifles and dress in a bizarre mixture of furs and camouflage hunting equipment. Both are smiling and appear to be having a great time, not necessarily taking this as seriously as the rest of the cast has been up to this point.)

WINTHROP: Watch 'em run amuck,

MUFFY: Catch 'em as they fall,

MUFFIE AND WINTHROP: Never know your luck when there's a free for all,

WINTHROP: Here's a little 'dip'

MUFFIE: There a little 'touch'

MUFFIE AND WINTHROP: Most of them are goners so they won't miss much!

EXT. SYLVAIN

(The citizens of Sylvain each step out of their house and gather around the crystal in the middle of town. As they sing, they step shoulder to shoulder, all staring at a certain spot offscreen)

SYLVANS: One day to a new beginning

Raise the flag of freedom high!

Every man will be a king

Every man will be a king

There's a new world for the winning

There's a new world to be won

(Camera cuts to a backshot of the SYLVANS staring up at the oncoming Quell. They belt their last line triumphantly, dwarfed by swirling darkness.)

SYLVANS: Do you hear the people sing?

INT/EXT. CRYPTONOMICA NIGHT

(The camera cuts to a closed door that opens revealing THE CHOSENS, KIRBY, INDRID, AUBREY, DANI, BARCLAY, THACKER and JAKE. All of the inhabitants turn to look at the doorway. It cuts to the reverse shot showing VINCENT to have been the one to open the door.)

VINCENT: My place is here, I fight with you!

(DUCK draws BEACON and raises it to the sky in triumph.)

DUCK: One day more!

EXT. MONONGAHELA FOREST NIGHT

(This is a high octane montage consisting of the group running through the woods, the Hornets tricking on dirt bikes, the hunting club serving up ass to various monsters, several magics being being dished about, and other things that make your heart race and your anus clench.)

AUBREY: I did not live until today.

BARCLAY: One more day all on my own!

AUBREY: How can I live when we are parted?

THACKER: We will join these people's heroes

We will follow where they go

We will learn their little secrets,

We will know the things they know.

DUCK: One day more!

AUBREY: Tomorrow you'll be worlds away

KIRBY: What a life I might have known!

AUBREY: And yet with you my world has started

HOLLIS: One more day to revolution

BARCLAY: We will nip it in the bud

VINCENT: We'll be ready for these schoolboys

MUFFY: Watch 'em run amok

WINTHROP: Catch 'em as they fall

MUFFY and WINTHROP: Never know your luck

When there's a free-for-all!

EXT. AMNESTY LODGE

(Cuts to a backshot of the group coming upon the vacant Amnesty Lodge. Then it cuts to a close up quartershot of THACKER staring up st the sign offscreen.)

THACKER: Tomorrow we'll be far away,

(VINCENT steps into frame next to THACKER also staring at the sign.)

VINCENT and THACKER: Tomorrow is the judgement day,

(The entire cast gathers in a group dwarfed by the Amnesty Lodge’s entrance sign. They all sing up to the sign.)

CAST: Tomorrow we'll discover

What our God in Heaven has in store!

(The WEST VIRGINIANS turn towards the camera.)

WEST VIRGINIANS: One more dawn

(The SYLVANS turn towards the camera.)

SYLVANS: One more day

(The camera cuts to show the entire CAST gathered under the sign, all facing the camera and singing in unison. They all strike up a stance that looks like they’re prepared for war.)

CAST: One day more!

(THACKER climbs atop a boulder behind the group, brandishing the West Virginia flag tied to his walking stick. He waves it over the heads of the CAST as the song comes to its close.)

[ladyfl4me]

i’m honestly not satisfied with duck’s ending! i do not believe a man who loves the monongahela as much as he does, who knows everyone in town and genuinely cares about the dumb shit they get up too, who has a little sister he loves and whos town he protects just got fucking decimated... would go to brazil&date the woman who was his teacher for 35 out of 36 episodes! maybe its just me but ducks in his 40s i don’t think he’d suddenly just up and... basically skip town idk! srry 2rant in ur inbox

don’t worry, you’re good! i honestly felt some dissonance there, too, like. i understand why justin thought sending him to brazil was a good idea. as a recent anon that @ moschicanes got pointed out, the baptist really jumped out because he also sent jane to honduras doing mission work. so like. as someone who’s really outside the christian community/sphere, i’m coming from a place of extreme inauthority, but i’ve come to the assumption that it’s ingrained in justin to want to send a character to a foreign place in need, because of his background. and esp because a plant-based nature restoration goal is very very very much in Duck’s purview.

but… what about the home front? what about the damage done to kepler during the battle? what about his friends and family, people he’d known for decades, recovering from the disaster? why not help them too (unless he did before leaving and i forgot about it lmao) and stay, and help rebuild? as the TVTropes page for TAZ Amnesty brings up, Kepler is down in the fucking dumps economically at the start of the podcast. And duck cares enough about his town and the place he lives that he “believes that the town can market itself based on the area’s natural beauty.” that’s a duck who wants his town to thrive, and would love it to thrive based on a thing he cares deeply about.

the duck at the end of the podcast doesn’t seem to care about his hometown in the same way anymore. it’s as he’s eager to leave the place behind, eager to branch out and go elsewhere. and that could be called character development, if you’re so inclined. i can make an argument for it. maybe it makes sense that now that duck knows his place in the universe, he is using his power to change things for good and put some life into the world. maybe him expanding his boundaries beyond the borders of his hometown, for the first time in his life, is a good thing for him. rebirth and starting life over can happen at any age.

i don’t know. i’m not balls to the wall excited about duck’s decision to go to brazil, but i see why they thought it was a decent end to his arc. but like. going to brazil with minerva really wasn’t necessary, i don’t think. it almost seems like it came out of loneliness, because let’s face it - ned was dead, aubrey was on another planet, most of his friends except juno were off doing other things, and it makes sense that duck would latch onto one of the last people left in his corner. but it didn’t have to be that way. were we found family baited like a friend of mine says???? maybe so. idk this is very very very stream of consciousness right now but that’s the energy i’m getting. basically you’re right and i totally understand where you’re coming from on all of it

[clericduck]

To Warm A Soul

Pairing: Indruck

Words: 1694

Warnings: Almost hypothermia, death mention (doesn’t actually happen), self deprecation 

Indrid did not anticipate getting caught in the storm, but here he is. He cannot move because of the cold, but if he doesn't move, he might die. Luckily for him, Duck shows up, and Duck is warm in more ways than one.

READ ME ON AO3!

Indrid was cold- well, he always was cold, it was his last name after all, but this was a different kind of cold. Bone and brain numbing, he couldn’t quite figure out where he was, and the visions in his head had all gone to static. Not surprising, his future vision wasn’t the most effective in the cold. All he could remember was the snowstorm hitting, and vaguely noting that he wasn't gonna make it home in time before he went in a sort of torpor. Ah. That provided a bit more context. He was curled up under a tree, snow clinging to his hair, wrapped in the thin jacket that he had thought would be enough, but had ended up being very, very wrong about. Gosh, he probably wasn't going to be able to make it back to his trailer until after it had warmed up, and he wasn't sure when that was going to be. But he was was probably gonna die out here if he didn’t at least try. Well, he was very much fucked, it seemed.

Weakly, he tried to cry out. His voice barely worked. A soft “help-- anyone?” was absorbed into the vast snowy emptiness of the Monongahela. Slowly, as every nerve in his body protested against the movement, against fully waking up, he made himself sit up, resting his head against the broad trunk of the tree he had slept under. He wished he had telepathy. But no, he had stupid future vision that didn't even work half the time. Fuck this, man. He was gonna die of hypothermia, all because he had chanced a trip to the lodge to catch up with old friends. Barclay had offered to drive him back, but of course he refused, because the chances of him freezing to death were lower were Barclay getting them both killed on some black ice. Well, they had been when he left. Stupid, stupid, stup-

“Indrid?”

He was pulled out his pre-death pity party by a familiar voice. He looked up, and through his red glasses, he saw the familiar ranger, bushy eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Indrid, what the hell are you doing? You’re covered in snow-- God above, did y’all sleep out here?” Duck approached him hurriedly as Indrid tried to offer a reassuring smile. It probably didn’t come off as reassuring as he wanted, because Duck just grew more concerned.

“Can- fuck-- can you talk? Stand? Walk?”

Indrid sighed to himself, mustering up the scraps of energy he had left to speak again.

“My- My apologies- I am-- very c-cold. I can- I can talk. Don’t know-- about the rest.”

His shoulders slumped when he finished talking, and a panicked looked flashed across Duck’s mismatched eyes.

“Right- fuck, cool. Okay. Uh. Can- fuck- can I like, pick you up? I’m gonna carry you to my truck to get you warmed up. Is that okay?”

Indrid nodded. He didn’t care how, he just needed to get out of this cold. Duck scooped him up with a surprising amount of gentleness for such a clumsy, brawny man, and Indrid could already feel Duck’s body head radiating off of him. Vaguely, he curled closer to the warmth, not caring that Duck probably thought that was weird. That was a problem for future Indrid to deal with. Duck carried him through the snowy pines, to his familiar truck.

“Hey, Indrid, I'm gonna have to set you down for a sec to open the door, that alright?”

Indred hummed an affirmative, and Duck set him down gently on the hood of the forest green pickup, and he immediately felt the lack of Duck’s body warmth, shivering a bit as Duck quickly opened the door of his truck. He picked Indrid back up before setting him down in the passenger’s seat. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, the first thing he did once he started the car was turning up the heat to full blast.

“So uh- Do you want me to drive you back to your trailer?” Duck said, glancing over at Indrid. He hummed another affirmative as the warm air started mercifully blasting his face. Duck didn’t start driving immediately-- instead, he took off his coat, probably because it was going to get too hot for him in the car, Indrid thought-- and gently laid it over Indrid. Oh. It was warm-- and smelled like pine needles. The warmth in his face was from the heater, obviously. Yeah. Another problem for future Indrid to deal with.

“Sorry, thought it might help since I’m pretty warm-- I shoulda asked first.” Duck said sheepishly.

“No-- no. Fine. Warm.” Indrid confirmed.

Duck started driving, and Indrid realized it was much easier to concentrate now that he was starting to warm up. Every once in a while, he would catch Duck sneaking a glance at him. Probably just making sure he was okay. Yeah. That had to be it.

When they got back to the Winnebago, Duck looked back at Indrid, before getting out and walking around to the passenger side, opening the door.

“You think you can walk now?”

“Uh-” tentatively, Indrid moved his legs. They seemed to move alright, but the question was whether they could support his weight. A quick check of his future vision told him that said future vision wasn’t clear enough yet for that to be a reliable guess. Well, guess he’d have to find out the old fashioned way. He scooted to the edge of the seat, and Duck held out a hand to help support him. He took the coat that Dack had draped over him and draped it over his shoulders, trying to sap the last bits of warm from it as the heaters lost the battle with the cold air coming in through the open door, and then took ducks hand as he exited the car--

And then immediately fell forward into Duck, face burying in his chest as Duck’s other arm wrapped around him to support him.

“Okay-- guess that’s a no then?” Duck said, concern and amusement lacing the twang of his accent.

“Sorry,” Indrid mumbled into his chest. The warmth of Indrid’s cheeks was just from the body heat radiating from Duck’s chest. That was it.

“You’re fine. I’m gonna carry you into the trailer then, that okay?”

“Yeah.”

After a bit of shuffling, Duck finally scooped Indrid back up into his arms. He carried him over to the trailer and paused.

“It’s unlocked,” Indrid mumbled.

“Why?”

“Thought I was gonna be home sooner.”

Duck nudged open the door with his foot before turning and catching it with his back.

“Damn it’s hot in here. Did you leave your fucking space heaters on while you were gone?”

“Again. Didn’t think I would be gone long.”

Duck set Indrid gently down on the couch, and all Indrid could do was lutch Duck’s coat closer to him as he waited to warm up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Duck moved to the kitchenette of the Winnebago. Indrid waited quietly as he defrosted, waiting for the tv static in his head to calm itself. Duck searched through his cabinets for- something. Indrid couldn’t tell what, but, he did hear a little noise of triumph when he found it that made Indrid’s heart squeeze a little-- wait. No. Stop that, not this again. He cannot be falling for Duck. No. Duck didn’t like him like that. He’d looked, there were next to no timelines where Duck liked him back. If only he could remember which timeline that was-- no. He wasn’t gonna manipulate Duck into liking him, that would be beyond disgusting.

A soft whistling jerked him out of his thoughts. He looked over at the kitchen and-- Duck had the kettle on. Damn, Indrid forget he even had a kettle. He generally didn't really make tea. He didn’t think he even had any tea bags. He was about to tell Duck this, when the ranger pulled a small box out of of one of the pockets of his uniform. He opened it, and put a tea bag into a mug he had set onto the counter. Duck carried tea with him all the time. That was. Cute. No, it wasn’t, shut up Indrid.

“Hey, I hope you like herbal tea, all I really got,” Duck called from the kitchen.

“That’s fine. Just put some sugar in it, if you could?”

“You got it.”

Soon enough, Duck brought over the mug of hot tea, sitting on the couch after handing it to Indrid. Subconsciously, Indrid leaned into Duck. It was because he was warm, Indrid told himself as he closed his eyes for a moment. Just because he was warm.

“Just because I’m warm eh?” Duck teased, and Indrid’s eyes flew open, panic seizing his chest.

Had he said that out loud?

“Indrid?”

“I- uh. I’m so sorry. You. You probably don’t like me like that sorry I just made this really weird--” Indrid started to pull away, he immediately started missing Duck’s warmth , but Duck’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked over at Duck, and even through the red tint of the glasses, he could tell that Duck’s cheeks were definitely a darker color than the rest of his face.

Duck mumbled something that Indrid couldn't quite hear, or more accurately, couldn’t quite believe.

“I’m… sorry?”

“I said,” he watched as Duck took a deep breath, “I said I like you too, Indrid.”

The way Duck said his name made his heart do that thing again, but this time, it didn't cause him to panic. Duck liked him, and he said it without changing his story thirty times so. He couldn't have been lying. Still, Indrid searched his eyes for any hint of deceit, but found only nerves. And so he put the mug of tea that he had been clutching like a lifeline on the table in front of the couch, and closed the gap between him and Duck, catching his lips in a kiss. He found that he had never felt warmer than in that moment.

[youbusiness2025]

If you are trying to find the best audit company in Pittsburgh for your local business, the Best Accounting Firm in Pittsburgh for Your Small Business below are five definitive realities about the city and five excellent methods to find the audit company there that ideal satisfies your local business demands.

Pittsburgh-- The Most Comfortable City In The U.S. Pittsburgh is Pennsylvania's second-biggest city, a populace of 311,647. The 7 county area bordering the city boasts a populace of 2,354,957.

Allegheny Area, which includes Pittsburgh, is without a doubt the largest and most flourishing.

In these seven regions, there are over 1,000 audit companies, 40% of which remain in Pittsburgh. Over half of them cater to small businesses.

In 2005 and again in 2009, The Economic expert placed Pittsburgh the leading most livable city in the USA.

In 2007, Pittsburgh asserted the primary area in the Places Rated Almanac.

In 2010, both Forbes Magazine as well as Yahoo! had Pittsburgh at the top of their listings. Entrepreneur Magazine placed Pittsburgh as one of the very best for business owners.

Pittsburgh-- The City Of Bridges.

Pittsburgh is the globe record owner for bridges with 446 of them included entirely within the city limits.

These bridges go across the Allegheny River from the northeast and also the Monongahela River from the southeast to form the Ohio River and the Midtown location of the city referred to as the Golden Triangle.

They link the city to the four locations bordering it, namely the North Side/North Hills, the South Side/South Hills, the East End and also the West End.

4 interstates (I-376, I-279, i-579 and also i-79), recognized to Pittsburghers as the Parkway East, the Parkway West, the Parkway North and also Crosstown as well as two major expressways (Route 28 and Course 22) connect 237 boroughs as well as 202 areas with each other and with Downtown Pittsburgh.

The majority of the larger audit firms serving Pittsburgh's significant companies remain in Midtown Pittsburgh.

Nonetheless, practically all of the audit companies serving the city's ever-growing local business population lie in the locations north, south, eastern and also west of the city.

These companies offer small businesses in Pittsburgh and Allegheny Region as well as likewise supply their services to the various other six counties that compose the Greater Pittsburgh Area.

The local business bookkeeping firms in these areas have deep-seated connections to the area, the people and the businesses living there.

Best Accounting Firm in Pittsburgh for Your Small Business

Pittsburgh-- A City Transformed. Thirty years back, Pittsburgh was an unclean, smoky steel town, called the Steel City, due to its predominance as a mighty steel-making center.

When that industry fell down and also Pittsburgh shed its manufacturing base, its blue-collar workers, and business titans like Westinghouse, Gulf Oil, Koppers and also Rockwell International, the city encountered its initial recession in more than a century.

To its debt, though, the city transformed like none other in the country and also emerged twenty years later on as a growing white-collar city.

Today, Pittsburgh is still a steel city.

United States Steel, the 10th largest steel business in the world, is headquartered there.

Allegheny Technologies, a world-class steel maker, has 8 manufacturing plants in the area.

The city still employs 7,000 steel employees as well as one more 12,000 in the primary metals market. Though the area shed 100,000 manufacturing tasks in the last three decades, that sector is still among the greatest factors to the region's economic situation.

What altered is just how diversified that market is currently.

Sophisticated businesses in life sciences, robotics, information technology and study have actually signed up with ranks with 8 Fortune 500 businesses.

Healthcare, education, research, monetary solutions and entertainment/tourism are the recently arising sectors that are driving earnings and work for the region.

One of the fastest-growing areas supporting the city's change to a white-collar economy is accounting.

This is particularly real as the city remains to move far from sector to solution as well as modern technology.

Much of the recently arising companies across all fields of the regional economy are small businesses.

Though there are already over 400 accounting companies in Pittsburgh as well as Allegheny Area alone servicing those services, that number raises drastically as you move into the various other 7 regions bordering the city.

Pittsburgh-- A City Of Growth. The local economic situation mirrors the country's economy as it remains to battle the recession.

Nonetheless, the area has gotten on much better than the majority of areas in the country and is positioned for substantive development in 2011.

Economists from the city's largest financial institutions anticipate that the Greater Pittsburgh Area will include 13,000 new jobs this year.

Unemployment is anticipated to drop listed below 8 percent as larger companies begin to work with and also newly established businesses begin to expand. Added hiring will certainly also appear as brand-new companies situate there.

New IT companies to support the growing research activity

The College of Pittsburgh Medical Facility, the city's biggest employer, is presently in a hiring mode. Retail titans like Cock's Sporting Product and also General Nutrition Facility (GNC) are growing. Google now runs a 40,000 square foot office in Pittsburgh and just recently announced plans for expansion.

Marcellus Shale natural gas will be a significant factor to the neighborhood's economic situation.

The Cultural Arts, consisting of movie manufacturing, continues to blossom and dozens of new information technology firms are emerging to support the growing research activity at the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie-Mellon University.

Most of the new companies being created in the area are small businesses supporting these major industries remains to bloom as well as lots companies arising College

business location small companies.

As the location grows, these organizations will certainly expand too and also their requirement for more specialized accounting services will become significantly evident.

Presently, accounting professional companies in the Pittsburgh area deal 18 various kinds of accounting to small businesses, income tax obligation accountancy and project accounting to name a few.

Pittsburgh-- The City Of Champions. Pittsburgh is house to 3 major league franchises-- the Pittsburgh Pirates, the Pittsburgh Steelers as well as the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Two of those teams have enhanced the city with championships, the Steelers winning six Super Dish titles and also the Penguins winning three Stanley Cups.

Thanks to the inventive idea of a cherished Pittsburgh sportscaster and also his Awful Towel, the Steelers have actually given Pittsburgh fans the factor to proclaim their hometown satisfaction by just waving their Terrible Towel.

This marketing icon singlehandedly created Steeler Nation, a brotherhood of loyal fans across the country that has quietly and selflessly raised millions of dollars for a local charity in Pittsburgh.

This hometown pride, this brotherhood, this spirit of generosity is championed in almost advertising and marketing symbol developed Country devoted followers nation and also elevated numerous bucks regional home town league kindness nearly every community and community in the Greater Pittsburgh area.

Pittsburghers are proud, laborious, charitable as well as friendly people.

Many of them have actually stayed in their hometown for years and also have developed numerous small companies to support their households, their neighborhoods and also the city they call home. Accounting companies throughout the area have their origins in these exact same areas as well as have actually handled to successfully assist and sustain these organizations as well as the local communities and also organizations they offer.

These small organizations continue to thrive since of their efforts.

With the excellent working expertise of the city, its economic climate as well as its people, you can quickly locate the accounting firm in Pittsburgh that ideal satisfies your small company demands. Right here are 5 sure-fire means to assist you do that.

Pay attention to your area and the location of the accounting office you choose to work with

Pay attention to your area and the place of the bookkeeping firm with whom you select to work. Pittsburgh is a big urban city with over 400 neighborhoods and areas as diverse as the people living there. These neighborhoods and communities are what make Pittsburgh unique and it is important that you find an accounting firm that knows these places and the businesses that reside there. Pittsburgh is also a city area as well as a community distinct and also is essential audit company recognizes and also live , like several various other huge cities in the country, tormented with traffic jams, building delays and also negative weather condition. These problems cause mayhem when driving in and out of the city at any time throughout a normal service day. Don't waste time driving completely across the community to meet with your accounting professional. Besides, if your audit company is close to you, they should be willing ahead to your place of business.

[mebwalker]

An Update: French and Indian War

An Update: French and Indian War

Lt. Col. Washington on horseback during the Battle of Monongahela — Régnier 1834 —ooo— Dear readers, I had to rearrange my post on the Battle of Jumonville Glen. I added quotations I could no longer find when I finished writing on the Jumonville Skirmish. No one saw what happened, so reports vary. Yet we have a general depiction. No, I did not rewrite my post. I moved paragraphs up and down and…

[thehistoryaficionado]

George Washington

On February 22, 1732 in Popes Creek, Virginia, British America, George Washington was born to Augustine Washington and Mary Ball Washington. He had three (3) brothers: Samuel [1734-1781], John Augustine [1736-1787] and Charles [1738-1799]; two (2) sisters: Betty Washington Lewis [1733-1797] and Mildred [1737-1740]. From his Father's first marriage, George had three (3) half-brothers: Butler [1716-1716], Lawrence [1718-1752] and Augustine Washington Jr. [1720-1762]; one (1) half-sister: Jane [1722-1734].

In 1759 Washington married the widow Martha Dandridge. While George never had any children of his own, he did gain two (2) stepchildren through the marriage: John Parke Custis [1754-1781] and Martha (Patsy) Parke Custis [1756-1773].

On December 14, 1799 (aged 67) in Mount Vernon, Virginia, U.S., George Washington died from Epiglottitis. He was laid to rest in the Washington Family Tomb (38°42'28.4"N 77°05'09.9"W) in Mount Vernon, Virginia, U.S.

George Washington held five (5) offices during his lifetime. The first office he held was as a Member of the Virginia House of Burgesses [July 24, 1758 - June 24, 1775]. His second as a Delegate from Virginia to the Continental Congress [September 05, 1774 - June 16, 1775]. Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army [June 19, 1775 - December 23, 1783] was the third. Washington's fourth office was as the 1st President of the United States [April 30, 1789 - March 04, 1797]. The final office that he held before his death was as the 7th Senior Officer of the United States Army [July 13, 1798 - December 14, 1799].

George Washington was, and remains, the only President never to be affiliated with a political party.

From 1752-1758 George was a Colonel in rhe Colonial Militia. He was part of the Virginia Regiment. He was a General and Commander-in-Chief in the Continental Army from 1775-1783. He was a Lieutenant General in the United States Army from 1798-1799.

In 1976 George Washington was promoted posthumously by Congress to the rank if General of the Armies.

During the French & Indian War, George fought in: the Battle of Jumonville Glen, the Battle of Fort Necessity, the Baddock Expedition, the Battle of the Monongahela, and the Forbes Expedition.

During the American Revolutionary War, he fought in: the Boston campaign, the New York & New Jersey campaign, the Philadelphia campaign, and the Yorktown campaign.

Washington also fought in the Northwest Indian War and the Whiskey Rebellion.

20 Interesting Facts About George Washington:

· His formal education ended at age 11 when his father died, resulting in Washington only having a grade school education.

· At the age of 16 he became a land surveyor.

· He led a disastrous military skirmish that sparked a world war (The Seven Year War) at the age of 22.

· Washington's first love, Sally Fairfax, was the wife of one of his best friends and patron, George Fairfax.

· Despite all the myths, did not have wooden teeth.

· Washington wasn't always a great general, but he was an excellent spy master.

· When Washington stepped down from Commander-in-Chief, he did not want to run the country.

· He drafted his "Circular Letter to the States" in the summer of 1783. (This letter detailed what he believed it would take for the American experiment to succeed.)

· Washington was a father figure to many, but never had any biological children.

· Washington was bereft when his 17 year old step-daughter, Patsy, died of an epileptic seizure.

· Washington was really into his animals.

· He was the first mule breeder.

· Washington gave the hunting dogs that he bred endearing names such as Sweet Lips, Venus, Trulove, Taster, Tippler, Drunkard and Madame Moose.

· He was cagey when it came to his religious beliefs.

· Washington had a complicated relationship with slavery.

· He supported abolition in theory, he never tried it in practice.

· Washington was a tough man to kill.

· At various points he had diphtheria, tuberculosis, smallpox, malaria, dysentery, Quinsy, carbuncle, and pneumonia.

· He survived nearly drowning in an ice-clogged river and the burning and massacre of Fort Necessity.

· Washington survived having two horses being shot out from under him and four bullets passing close enough to pierce his clothing - all in one battle.

[historybehindassassinscreed]

In Game:

Christopher Gist was an American explorer, surveyor, and frontiersman. He was also a member of the Templar Order and during the Seven Years' War, he was the first mate aboard Shay Patrick Cormac's ship, the Morrigan.

In 1751, Gist was recruited into the Templar Order by Colonel George Monro and was set with the task of exploring the colonies and forming relations with the indigenous people settled there to secure alliances. In 1753, Gist accompanied George Washington to deliver a message to the French forces, demanding that they leave the Ohio County, sparking the French and Indian War. During the war, Gist continued to fight at Washington's side, as both men had become involved in the Braddock Expedition.

While investigating the presence of Assassin gangs in New York during 1756, Gist was captured and was set to be hanged at Fort Arsenal. Gist was saved, however, by the arrival of Shay, who was sent by Colonel Monro to help. After retaking the Morrigan from gang members, Gist asked Shay if he needed a first mate, which Shay accepted, and the two set course to Albany.

After Shay's official induction into the Templar Order by Haytham Kenway, he worked closely with Gist to eliminate the Colonial Assassins and their influence in the colonies. Gist succeeded in this, resulting in a purge of the Brotherhood. This led to a complete absence of Assassin influence in the colonies for nearly fifteen years until Ratonhnhaké:ton rebuilt the order.

In Real Life:

Christopher Gist was born in 1706 in Maryland as one of six children to Richard and Zipporah Gist. Little is known of Gist's early years. He received some schooling as well as formal training as a surveyor, possibly from his father who helped plat Baltimore, Maryland. This is evident in how he wrote and drew maps later on in life.

By 1750, he was living on the Yadkin River of North Carolina, and was married Sarah Howard (the date is unknown), with whom he raised five children.

Gist was chosen by the Ohio Company to explore the country of the Ohio River as far as the Louisville area, and he carried out an examination of the territory in 1750. Upon returning to North Carolina, Gist found that he found that his family had fled to Roanoke because of frequent attacks at the hands of Native Americans. He rejoined them but went west again in the summer of 1751 to explore the Pennsylvania and western Virginia country south of the Ohio River and between the Monongahela and Great Kanawha rivers. About 1753 he settled briefly in the Pennsylvania wilderness near what is now modern day Brownsville.

(Image source)

In the winter of 1753, Gist returned to the Ohio Country, only this time with George Washington, both set with the task of negotiating with the French military forces. The French had built Fort Duquesne near Shannopin's Town to stop the English from settling in Ohio Country. Negotiations failed, but during the trip Gist managed to save Washington's life on two separate occasions.

During the summer of 1754, Washington, Gist, and a detachment of Virginia militia attempted to drive the French from the region. The French quickly defeated the Virginians at the battle of Fort Necessity on July 4th, 1754. Gist also was present the next year when the French and their Native American allies managed to defeat General Braddock's combined force of British soldiers and Virginia militiamen.

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In 1756, Gist traveled around in eastern Tennessee among the Cherokee. He was there to attempt to seek allies for the English and their colonists during the French and Indian War. After this trip, little is known of his whereabouts. He died three years later, possibly of smallpox, in either South Carolina or Georgia.

Sources:

http://biography.yourdictionary.com/christopher-gist

http://www.ohiohistorycentral.org/w/Christopher_Gist

http://www.mountvernon.org/digital-encyclopedia/article/christopher-gist/

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July 9, 1755: Washington's leadership at the Battle of Monongahela helped save the remnants of Braddock's army and Becomes Legend 

“In the spring of 1755, a column of 2,100 British Regulars and 500 colonial militia commanded by Major General Edward Braddock, set out from Virginia to advance upon and take the French stronghold at Fort Duquesne. Braddock's column faced the daunting challenge of moving their men and material over the rough, densely wooded Allegheny Mountains.

George Washington accompanied Braddock's column as an aide-de-camp to the general. Washington, who knew the terrain well, was recovering from a terrible case of dysentery as Braddock's force reached the Monongahela River ten miles from Fort Duquesne. In a wooded ravine on the far side of the river, Braddock's leading force of 1,300 men was suddenly attacked and defeated by a smaller French and native force on July 9, 1755 at the Battle of Monongahela. During the attack, most of the senior British officers, including Gen. Edward Braddock were killed or severely wounded. With panic in the air, George Washington quickly rode into the fray and helped to reestablish some amount of order. During the savage fight, Washington had two horses shot out from underneath him and his coat was pierced by four musket balls. Washington's cool leadership helped many of the surviving soldiers to effectively escape the onslaught. Fifteen years after the battle, the chieftain of the Indians Washington had fought sought him out and gave this account to Washington of what had happened during the battle: "I am chief and ruler over my tribes. My influence extends to the waters of the great lakes and to the far blue mountains. I have traveled a long and weary path that I might see the young warrior of the great battle. It was on the day when the white man's blood mixed with the streams of our forest that I first beheld this chief [Washington]...I called to my young men and said...Quick, let your aim be certain, and he dies. Our rifles were leveled, rifles which, but for you, knew not how to miss--'twas all in vain, a power mighter far than we, shielded you...I am come to pay homeage to the man who is the particular favorite of Heaven, and who can never die in battle."

Despite the British loss of 977 killed or wounded, Washington was lauded as the "hero of Monongahela" by Virginia Governor Robert Dinwiddie and was given the rank of colonel in command of the 1,200 man Virginia Regiment.”