#and had the chance to resume its previous operations

[puhpandas]

every day I think about how the elevator situation was literally the trolley problem, a famous moral dilemma for being impossible to choose either option and people still see Gregory experience that in ruin and believe he should die

[pareidoliaonthemove]

A New Policy

Part Two: VIP (Very Important imPosition)

(And since Tumblr is being a pain and I can't find Part One here, you can find it here on AO3).

Apolline Morel looked up as the door gave its discreet chime.

And swore.

She had been the Invoicing and Reception Operative at Tracy Industries’ prestigious Custom Transport Paris office for the last seven years, and had seen all sorts of eccentric – and rich – persons come through the door, and by far Francois Lemaire was the worst of the worst.

She and her colleagues had often dreamed and schemed about refusing the obnoxious idiot service, and they had initially been overjoyed at the thought that they had official permission from the highest authority – Scott Tracy, CEO and homme de rêve – to do so. Until they realised that they would have to tell Lemaire that they would not sell whatever it was he wanted.

To his face.

Apolloine, as had all her colleagues, had consoled herself that the chances of having to actually do so were remote. After all, the Blacklisted persons had all been notified that they would no longer be served by Tracy Industries businesses, non?

Non; or at least, Lemaire hadn’t got the message. Apolline’s heart sank as the man burst through the secondary doors, a damned hovercamera flitting around him, and his wife – Madeline – trailing behind him, with the air of a woman who knew she was about to witness a train wreck and was helpless (and disinclined) to stop it.

“And here we are, at our first stop towards adventure! The luxurious offices of Custom Transport Paree” – Apolline rolled her eyes as his English-language monologue made a point of over-emphasising the proper (that is, French) pronunciation of the city – “where the best designers and technicians will spare no effort – and I will spare no expense – to ensure that I, Francois Lemaire, will be in comfort as I forge yet another world first! The first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

Apolline remembered his previous ‘expedition’ to Everest. It had taken three sherpas to carry the man’s cheeses to the top of the mountain. The outcry from the amount of rubbish that had been left on the top of the mountain – not just holy, but considered an actual goddess – had been the final straw that saw the Nepalese severely restricting access to the mountain. Never mind the idiocy on the descent that saw the man trapping himself and three sherpas in an ice cave. With a yak.

Lemaire’s monologue ended with a flourish as he presented himself to the desk. The holocamera drifted out for dramatic wide angle. “I am Francois Lemaire. Adventurer. Explorer!”

A pointed cough from behind him. “Oh, and this my biographer, Madeline Lemaire.” A vague handwave behind him.

“Your wife.” It was muttered, and not meant for Apolline to hear. Apolline met the woman’s eyes, and was surprised when she smirked. “Give it to him good” was mouthed silently.

Apolline didn’t have a chance to acknowledge Madeline, Lemaire had resumed speaking. “And I have come here today, to Custom Transport Paree to order the construction of a car that will enable me to be the first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

He struck a pose, clearly expecting some kind of accolade or ovation.

Apolline smiled at him, tightly. “Does Monsieur have an appointment?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “I am Francois Lemaire,” he repeated. “Explorer? Adventurer? World Famous? First person to visit Halley’s Comet? I brought the Solar Wind off you people!”

Apolline typed into the computer, as she tried to figure out how to handle this. “Francois … Lemaire …”

The computer beeped before Lemaire could list more ‘accomplishments’.

Apolline looked at the display. Apparently Lemaire had also brought a bathyscape, Artic snowcrawler, and submersible from them as well.

Across the client file display in big, violent red letters was the words ‘Account Closed. Blacklisted’. Apolline’s eyes widened. Management wasn’t taking any chances here, were they?

She took a deep breath, and went for broke. “I am sorry, Mr Lemaire, it appears you do not have an appointment, and that you no longer qualify for a client file.”

Apolline had once been visiting friends in Sicily when Mount Etna had undergone it’s biggest eruption in recorded history. The effects of the volcano had nothing on Lemaire’s reaction.

“I AM FRANCOIS LEMAIRE!!!” he screamed. “I AM WORLD FAMOUS!!! I AM RICH!!!! YOU CANNOT REFUSE TO BUILD MY MOUNTAIN CLIMBING CAR!!! I WANT IT!!! AND YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!!!”

Apolline got to work on the computer as the man continued his tantrum. DM channels; where was … Ah, here. Blacklist: Situation. She started typing rapidly.

Name: Apolline Morel

Section: Invoicing and Reception, Custom Transport Paris

Details: Francois Lemaire arrived office, no appointment, demand construction of ‘mountaineering car’ to be ‘first person to drive up Mt Everest’. Became hysterical on being told no longer qualifies for client file. Request assistance.

She hit send and eyed the time display discreetly inlaid into the desk’s surface. Response within ten minutes, the memo and training packages had said. Well, she’d be testing that promise out today.

She didn’t think she could stand more than ten minutes of this.

They were seven and a half minutes in and Apolline hadn’t seen evidence of Lemaire drawing in a breath as his high-volume tirade continued non-stop. Behind him, Madeline was disinterestedly examining her nails as the holocamera zoomed around the room erratically, closing in and out from Lemaire and careening around in circles, apparently controlled by Lemaire’s hand gestures, his wild gesticulation had sent it haywire.

She was just about to try again to speak when in the ceiling a previously unknown holoprojector flared into life.

Lemaire was finally silenced as everyone in the room stared in shock as a hologram – a very high quality, almost solid appearing hologram – of Scott Tracy appeared standing behind the desk, next to Apolline, as large as life, and almost as physically real.

Mr Tracy turned to Apolline. “Ms Morel,” he said, smiling slightly at her. “I am sorry that you have had to deal with this. Please, take an extended lunch break – with full pay.”

Apolline quickly swiped her employee card at the terminal, logging her out of the system and securing the terminal, and she stood, fighting the urge to curtsy to her employer.

“I am sorry to have bothered you, Mr Tracy. Thank you for your assistance. If you need me, I shall be in the employee lounge, sir.”

Scott smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, Ms Morel. Please take your time.”

He turned back to Lemaire as Apolline backed away, awed to be in the presence of the legendary Scott Tracy, even if said presence was a holographic one.

In the background, Madeline grinned at her, and gave her a discreet ‘thumbs up’ – Apolline smiled back at the woman, and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her.

Holographic Scott Tracy had turned his attention to Lemaire as Apolline ordered the elevator to take her to the second floor. “Now, Mr Lemaire, I believe there are some matters we need to clear up…” was the last thing she heard as the elevator doors closed.

It seemed like every member of Custom Transport Paris’s staff was crammed into the employee lounge.

Apolline barely had time to register this fact when Andre, her manager, seized her by the arm. “Apolline, are you all right? It must have been awful, dealing with that terrible man!”

“I’m fine. But what’s everyone doing here?”

“Word got around that Lemaire was here. We all wanted to see what would happen when you refused him service.”

Apolline snorted. “Thanks. Nobody thought to help me?”

“I think you had plenty of help, without us.” Andre gestured at the security hologram of the lobby and reception desk on display in the centre of the room.

Apolline stared. A holographic Lemaire was scowling at the equally unimpressed holographic (double-holographic?) Scott Tracy. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“After you left Mr Tracy ‘reminded’ Lemaire that he had been blacklisted, and no Tracy Industries companies would serve him.” Andre started.

“And Lemaire kicked off about how that it was illegal,” snickered Juan, one of the designers.

Andre glared at him. “Mr Tracy’s just finished going through the legal details of why and how that is allowed,” he continued. “Mr Tracy either has a very thorough knowledge of business and customer service law, or he has been very well briefed, very quickly.”

“Shhhh!” someone hushed from near the hologram. “It’s starting to get good!”

Everyone pushed closer to the hologram, those in front sitting or kneeling down to allow a better view for those in back.

The tiny Lemaire was pouting, “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, nobody died! Anyway, if the car that your company provides fails, you run International Rescue. You can stop people dying because your company provides inferior products.”

There were outraged gasps around the room. Most of the designers were casting longing looks at the door with clenched fists, but were being held in place by their friends from other departments.

Lemaire kept going. “Is that why you started International Rescue? So you can play the hero when your substandard products fail and put people in danger?” He was attempting to poke the hologram in the chest with his fingers. “You put me in danger! I could have got back from Halley’s Comet if your company had given me a safe spaceship.”

Scott Tracy’s eyes blazed. “MISTER Lemaire. I must warn you that, as per the signage, for security purposes the premises integrate security cameras, and that what you are saying is slander.” A hand appeared from behind Mr Tracy, disappearing into a red and black checked sleeve, and lightly touched his shoulder. Muttered words and Mr Tracy made a visible effort to calm himself, before speaking again and the hand disappeared.

“Mr Lemaire, your stated purpose for commissioning a quote ‘mountain climbing car’ is to ‘drive up’ Mount Sagarmatha–”

“Um, No! I’m going to drive up Mount Everest! I said that VERY clearly. Mount EVER-REST.”

“Mount Sagarmatha, and after your disastrous previous ‘expedition’ – and the numerous crimes you commited during that time–”

“What ‘crimes’? Now how’s slandering who? I committed no crimes!”

Mr Tracy stared. “You mean other than making false statements to gain your climb permit? Fraudulently claiming you had climbed other 8,000ft peaks? Fraudulently claiming you had appropriate insurance. Mistreatment of the Sherpas you hired? Interfering with burial sites?”

Lemaire shuddered. “I was not going to share a camp site with corpses,” he declared. “After all that fuss they made about ‘polluting’ the mountain, you think they’d clean up the corpses. Health hazard, that is.”

“Mr” – and there was no mistaking the disdain in that title – “Lemaire, Mount Sagarmatha is a recognised burial ground. It is dangerous to try and remove from the mountain anybody who cannot realistically be saved. What you did – pushing the bodies off the mountain – was a crime. And as such, the Nepalese Government deported you and banned you from ever returning to their country again.”

Lemaire waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not going back to Nepal. Why would I want to? Much better to drive up Mount Everest from Tibet. The route is all planned.”

There was a sigh. “In any case, other than approved helicopters at both North and South Face base camps, no mechanised vehicles are permitted on Mount Sagarmatha or Mount Chomolungma. Even Thunderbirds are forbidden under normal circumstances. As per our agreement with both the Nepalese and Tibetan Governments, International Rescue do not respond to calls from the Holy Mountain, other than at the request of the governments.” The disembodied hand returned, resting comforting on Mr Tracy’s shoulder.

Apolline shuddered. How many calls for help from dying mountaineers had they been forced to ignore? He heart ached, but she realised that the phrase ‘Holy Mountain’ was how Mr Tracy reminded himself that his help, there on a literal goddess, was not appropriate.

Lemaire sniffed. “Nobody will deny me. Nobody turns away the money I can pay. I’ll drive up Mount Everest. I’ll be the first person to do it, and the world will be watching.” He turned away. “And I’ll make sure everybody knows that Tracy Industries refuses to serve customers.”

Suddenly Lemaire spun back, again stabbing fingers at Mr Tracy’s holographic chest. “And don’t get any ideas about stealing my idea! I’ll sue you into poverty if I find out you’re even thinking about driving up Mount Everest before me!”

Lemaire turned again and flounced out of the building, the holocamera faithful tailing him, with Madeline reluctantly behind. Scott Tracy’s hologram remained, standing in front of the reception desk, hands on hips and frowning at the retreating ‘explorer’

In the employee lounge, people erupted into cheers and catcalls at Lemaire. There were backslaps and hugs all around.

All of which fell to awed silence as the hologram of the reception lobby disappeared to be replaced by the lifesized Scott Tracy. An eyebrow went up at the packed room, before he spoke. “Ms Morel?”

Apolline stepped into the holograms reception field – although she suspected from his reaction that when Mr Tracy accessed it, the reception field was greatly expanded – assisted by a push from Andre. “Yes, Mr Tracy?”

His eyes raked her, assessing, “I wanted to make sure you were alright after your … unpleasant … experience earlier.” His eyes darted around the room. “And I must say, I am very pleased to see you so ably supported by your colleagues.”

Mr Durand, the General Manager, stepped forward. “Please forgive us, Mr Tracy. Mr Lemaire has in the past been an unpleasant person for many of our staff to deal with. When it became apparent that he had returned, despite his Blacklisted status, many people hoped for the satisfaction of seeing him turned away.”

Mr Tracy nodded, thoughtfully. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.” A pause. “And, to further reassure you all, the recording of Mr Lemaire’s statements here today will be forwarded to the Nepalese, Tibetan, and Chinese Governments. If anyone is foolish enough to supply him with the vehicle he is trying to purchase, he will be stopped before he can get anywhere near the mountain.”

There was a general murmur of approval throughout the room, and Mr Tracy frowned again. “Mr Durand, you said that Mr Lemaire has been unpleasant do deal with in the past. Can you please forward to an elaboration on that to my email? And sometime in the next fortnight, please provide a list and broad details of any comparable clients. It appears we need to educate some of our customers as to how to behave politely in public.”

The General Manager nodded, as another murmur of appreciation went up around the room. Mr Tracy turned back to Apolline. “Ms Morel, I am deeply sorry that you had to deal with that outburst earlier. If you feel you need it, please do not hesitate to take time off. I will make sure you receive full pay for any time.”

Apolline gathered herself. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr Tracy. I am perfectly all right. I do not need any time away from work. And it is I who should apologise to you. I am sorry that I disturbed you to deal with this matter.”

Mr Tracy smiled easily. “No apology necessary, Ms Morel. I am afraid we did expect something like this when we instigated the Blacklist, it’s why we set up the Blacklist DM. The people we have been forced to refuse custom are … not known for their social skills, and tend to operate with little regard for safety and the welfare of others.”

Apolline bowed her head. “Then I am sorry that you have to deal with them, Mr Tracy. Hopefully, this will be the last time.”

Mr Tracy sighed. “I doubt it, Ms Morel. Unfortunately, other companies will build what he wants because they cannot afford to turn away commissions. And they will wash their conscience by saying it falls to others to ensure the rules he will break are upheld.”

Someone else spoke up then. “Do you really not rescue people off of Mount, uh –”

Mr Tracy smiled. “The highest mountain in the world? It does get rather confusing about the name issue, but it was only fifty years ago Nepal and Tibet agreed on the official height of the mountain. And as for agreeing on an official name … Well, miracles do happen.” Then he sighed. “And yes, as I told Mr Lemaire, unless we get official requests from the appropriate governments, we do not respond. It is part of the agreement International Rescue has with the Council of World Governments that allows us to operate. We wouldn’t park a Thunderbird in a church, we will not park one on the mountain. Everyone who climbs the mountain does so knowing the risks, and they must accept the consequences.” He seemed to wilt, “It’s hard, but we must do it.”

A klaxon sounded, and a voice announced, “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Mr Tracy glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to his employees speaking rapidly. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go. But thank you again, Ms Morel for your sterling work in a difficult situation, and thank you, everybody, for your support of your colleagues. It’s always a pleasure to see people who work together and look after each other. Mr Durand, I look forward to working with you to ensure our people are treated correctly. Tracy Island out.” The hologram fizzed and blinked out, the view of the empty lobby returning.

“Wow.” Apolline didn’t realise she had spoken until Andre placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do as Mr Tracy says, Apolline, take some time. I’ll take over the desk for the rest of today.”

Apolline shook herself, and went to speak, but she saw the rest of the company nodding at her, encouragingly. She reconsidered. “Thank you, Andre. I think after this morning a break from reception will be welcome. I will work on invoicing today, if I may.”

Andre glanced at Mr Durand, and they both shrugged. “If you feel that’s best for you, Apolline,” he said.

Mr Durand nodded. “And before everybody returns to their work, may I please request that you provide me with details of past … unpleasant encounters, both with Mr Lemaire and other clients, as Mr Tracy requested. Hopefully we will be able to prevent further such displays.”

The room broke up, Apolline snatching her lunch from the refrigerator before joining the huddle of Invoicing and Reception staff returning to their backroom offices. As she joined in with her own stories of horrible customers, she felt a sense of pride. Not just in herself, but in her colleagues – her friends. Coming to work was still a pain many days, but Tracy Industries went out of its way to treat its people well.

And today proved how far out of its way it would go.

Notes:

I MAY have been fantasising a bit about employers who actually care about and support their employees.

I may also have been catching up on some reading / viewing and had a convergence of Mt Everest (name used for simplicity) related 'texts' (most of which is 'Dead Lucky: life after death on Mount Everest' by Lincoln Hall) - and I now understand MORE about the logistics of doing so, and understand LESS about why anyone would be so insane as to wish to do so.

I hope everyone has employers and colleagues as supportive as Apolline has.

[dandelionh3art]

Netanyahu just sacked Yoav Gallant, Israel's Defense Secretary (with hints he may soon fire the IDF Chief of Staff and the head of Shin Bet, Israel's mighty secret police), and this is an excellent opportunity to say something about Netanyahu's role in the great scheme of things.

Two things I have been saying consistently for the past year: Israel will only escalate, and this is its demise.

I want to add one very crucial layer of meaning to this, regarding Netanyahu's role in exposing fully the face of liberal Zionism.

One of my earliest posts going viral on this platform was a retweet of an image showing the impressive size of big anti-Netanyahu protests. I said something like: don't be fooled. Everyone you see in this picture will put on their IDF uniform tomorrow and resume their role in the genocide.

And I was proven so unbelievably right. No conscientious objection was registered in Israel throughout all this. Zero.

And that's what I refer to as Netanyahu's role, in this context. He leaves those people no cover. No shred of deniability or dignity. They are exposed fully,

-

You see, that demographic, made up predominantly of Ashkenazi elites, had a million trillion chances to say no. To change course. They never did.

They always chose to walk hand in hand with their supposed political rivals - the religious rightwing crazies. Always. A-l-w-a-y-s

-

They could have said 'enough' when it was clear Israel did not mean to pursue the two-state solution, and was using the time it was given by falsely pretending to work at it to deepen and expand the apartheid and the settlements. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have said 'no!' when Jewish terrorism in the West Bank, and the occupation, became more and more violent and crazy. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have, should have, refused after the march of return with its abominable mass sniping of innocent people. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have voiced serious doubts and issued serious demands after, or during, previous Gaza operations - each gradually more murderous and fanatical. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have stopped after the first week of genocide. The second. The third. The first month.

The first 1000 dead children.

The first 10,000.

The first attack on a hospital.

The ISIS-like destruction of Al-Shifa.

They had endless reasons and causes to say 'My conscience does not allow me to do this anymore'.

Instead, they continued providing pilots to carpet bomb the entirety of Gaza, and economists and statisticians to handle the starvation, the prevention of medical care, and the ethnic cleansing, spokespeople to defend it, generals to plan it, computer scientists to streamline it, and elite soldiers to mask it as daring military activity.

-

Step by step. the mass murderer, may his soul rot in the deepest dungeon of hell for all eternity, peeled every maska and facade they ever had, going with them on a mutual journey of demonic insanity, straight to hell.

Now no one can back out anymore. They have made it all the way through to the other side of humanity. There's no going back.

Netanyahu does not need to even fake-cater to them anymore. So no residual sanity will be allowed to remain. He knows they can't escape anymore. They are forever mired in his psychopathy and craven bloodlust.

-

As I wrote a day or two ago: Israel is facing its mightiest foe in Iran after having its reputation thoroughly ruined, and with its population no longer able to hide under the slightest but legitimacy. And its elites already know they have been defeated, humiliated, and devoured by Zionism's absolute worst incarnation. They are going to war under the banner of a demon, fully unmasked, and they know it, and can't do anything about it anymore. They are just as bad and evil as he is, and he is the worst of humanity.

Alon Mizrahi

[ukragroconsultua]

Black Sea Grain Corridor: Rerouting Global Grain Trade & Pricing

Author: 

Maksym Kharchenko, Logistics Market Analyst UkrAgroConsult

November 19 was the expiry date of the first stage of the “grain deal.” On November 17, the Infrastructure Minister of Ukraine announced the extension of the deal for another 120 days. Nevertheless, most sales remain on hold until the situation is clarified.

Grain market had a chance to see a "trial version" of the deal’s termination on October 29, when Russia announced its withdrawal from the agreement. However, the Big Odesa ports kept loading ships, and the Joint Coordination Center in Istanbul continued its inspection work. So, 14 vessels carrying almost 430 K mt of grains, oilseeds and processed products left the Odesa ports between October 30 and November 1. The UN and Turkey, taking advantage of the absence of the Russian federation, increased the number of inspection teams to 10, thanks to which the Joint Coordination Center inspected 46 vessels with 1.7 M mt of Ukrainian agricultural products on October 31 alone. As a result, the queue of both outgoing and incoming vessels waiting for inspection in the Bosphorus was reduced to 147.

The short-term refusal of Russia to participate in the “grain deal” once again made us think about the future prospects of agricultural exports from Ukraine. The above-mentioned practice shows that the deal may be terminated at any moment, which suggests UkrAgroConsult to consider two scenarios for further exports – optimistic and pessimistic ones.

Optimistic scenario: the “grain deal” will be extended each time after the expiration of 120 days

How will this affect prices?

The deal’s extension will push up demand from major importers and consequently lead to stronger domestic demand from Ukrainian exporters. So, domestic prices will likely grow.

Increasing supply from Ukraine will pull down global prices.

However, it nevertheless should be kept in mind that importers will likely wait for a certain period after the beginning of the “grain deal’s” new term, though this period will not be as long as it was in August.

How will this affect exports?

The temporary absence of Russia’s representatives during the inspections showed that these inspections can be accelerated. This suggests that the rate of port capacity utilization could be raised. Provided the “grain corridor” continues to operate successfully and in case of further gradual liberation of Kherson region, Mykolaiv and Ochakiv could be added to the list of the ports operating under the deal.

At the same time, the workload of railway transport remains high. While, for example, some 200 grain railcars per day crossed the border in March, this number reached 560-580 during the port blockade in July and then lowered to roughly 500-520 railcars in September after the rise in sea exports.

How will logistics change?

The gains in Ukrainian exports thanks to the grain corridor were as follows:

+1.66 M mt in August

+3.93 M mt in September

+3.92 M mt in October

Unless the Mykolaiv region ports are added to this agreement, exports through the grain corridor in the coming months will end up around 4-4.5 M mt. The exact forecasts will strongly depend on the pace of vessel inspections.

During Russia’s short-term withdrawal from the deal, the Joint Coordination Center in Istanbul accelerated inspections, giving hope for an increase in exports in November compared to previous months. But after Russia had resumed its participation in the inspections, the vessel queues resumed as well.

So, now the maximum export potential under this scenario is 7-8 M mt of agricultural products, which is to satisfy the market and solve the problem of exporting carryovers from the previous marketing year.

How will it affect the agricultural sector as a whole?

Uninterrupted shipping by sea will allow Ukraine to maintain the gained pace of agricultural exports and, consequently, its farmers will be able to earn money for 2023 spring planting.

In addition, agricultural exports generate the inflow of foreign currency into the country and thereby help stabilize the exchange rate and the overall economic situation.

Pessimistic scenario: the “grain deal” will be terminated due to any factor (the 120 days will expire with no extension of the deal, the port infrastructure will get shelled etc.)

How will this affect prices?

The termination of the deal will cause a rise in world prices and a fall in domestic. However, these movements will not be so significant as at the end of February because a more or less established system of exports through the land borders and small Danube ports is already in place.

How will this affect exports?

The monthly volume of grain and oilseed exports will shrink to at most 3.5 M mt, provided the energy system is functioning normally. If the impossibility to export by sea gets aggravated by further shelling of critical infrastructure, monthly shipments will continue to decrease.

How will logistics change?

If for any reason the deal is not extended, Ukraine will have the following routes left:

Exports by rail and road through the western borders

Exports through the small Danube ports

Ukraine has significantly improved the alternative ways of exporting agricultural products since the beginning of Russia’s full-scale aggression. Below are only the latest projects:

Nibulon's Izmail terminal will supply Europe with up to 300 K mt of grain per month. The construction began in June 2022 and the first stage was completed as early as in September.

Ukrainian Danube Shipping Company has launched the “Danube Grain Route” project for delivering agricultural products by barges from a Danube river port directly to large sea vessels off Romania’s port.

Under this scenario, the maximum export potential will decrease to 3-3.5 M mt, which may entail problems with the storage of this and next year’s crops.

How will it affect the agricultural sector as a whole?

The share of logistics costs in the commodity price will increase again, the profit margin of farmers, which is still low, will keep falling. The foreign currency revenues will remain at a low level, and inflation in the country will continue growing. Farmers will not receive enough money for next year’s spring planting and the planted areas will reduce. The agricultural sector of the economy will shrink. It will take at least 3-5 years to restore previous production volumes.

Conclusions

1. The grain corridor is vital to Ukraine’s agricultural sector and its economy as a whole. Very serious talks are ongoing with the participation of international partners. And, in order to slightly reduce the risks, the grain deal’s extension for as long as one year and the inclusion of the Mykolaiv ports are being discussed. The question is what Russia is bargaining for in return, and whether the parties can agree to these demands.

2. Russia's trial withdrawal from the deal and its very quick return showed that the positions of the international community are strong, and it can essentially work without Russia’s participation. However, in this case, the risks of shelling increase. This concerns not so much the ships of the ports, but rather the port infrastructure and ships at the berths. The approach of new ships for loading becomes a problem since neither shipowners, insurers, nor the crew themselves is often prepared for such risks.

3. The termination of the grain deal will lead to another wave of global price growth, but the market will react less and less because these risks are already so much built into the price. For example, after Russia’s short-term withdrawal from the deal, the Chicago corn price grew by 2.5% and then fell by 2.6% after the return. At the next performance of this kind, the reaction will be even smaller.

4. Possible domestic price decrease will no more be a slump either, since the prices of major grains are already below the break-even point. Rather, it will affect the amount of corn left in the fields and spring planting. The farmer has already turned on the saving mode: to preserve the existing grain and refrain from new monetary investments, including planting.

5. Grain production will shrink to the volume needed for domestic consumption and overland export (55-60 M mt). Expensive logistics, when the cost of transportation has already equaled the cost of the product itself, will lead to an even more pronounced shift of production and processing to Ukraine’s western border. At the same time, farms in the southern and eastern regions will have to change their activity profile.

6. In western Ukraine, such regional changes will give rise to or enhance an existing trend towards setting up clusters/holdings/associations/companies, each comprising several fields of operation, i.e. cultivation, storage, processing, and transportation. Similar clusters will emerge in the rest of the country, but they will be small and focused on the domestic consumer. For example, flour and butter making, bread baking, meat production, and processing to meet regional demand.

UkrAgroConsult offers its expertise on the changing markets, covering the Black Sea, as well as the global agri trends. With a head office in Kyiv, Ukraine and newly launched in Central Europe, Montenegro we effectively source and deliver the first hand data and analytics. 

The company provides independent market coverage and own vision of the ongoing large-scale changes and those, highly likely in the short and medium term. UkrAgroConsult analysts assess various market scenarios, as well as new opportunities and threats for traders, farmers and investors.

We are sure that quality market information and analysis now is a fundamental factor for effective decision making, search for new solutions and collaboration to promote global agribusiness and food resilience. 

[docgold13]

365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

January 5th - Hawkeye / Clint Barton

Clinton ‘Clint’ Barton was the son of Harold Barton and Edith Barton.  He grew up working in his father's Butchers shop in Waverly, Iowa with his older brother, Barney.  Their father was abusive, especially when he drank.  Harold’s drinking eventually cost him his life along with his wife when both died in a car accident. Clint and Barney were sent to numerous foster homes; while running away from one of them, they encountered and joined a traveling circus where the pair worked as roustabouts.

While a member of the circus, Clint was trained by the original Swordsman and by the renown archer known as Trickshot.  Clint possesses a sense of aim that borders on the uncanny and he excelled at archery at a truly amazing degree.

Clint later found the Swordsman embezzling money from the carnival. Before he could turn his mentor over to the authorities, Clint was beaten by The Swordsman and left for dead as the cad skipped town.  Clint's relationship with his brother and Trickshot soon deteriorated as well.  

Clint adapted his archery skills to become a star carnival attraction, a master archer called ‘Hawkeye, The World's Greatest Marksman.’ He spent time as a member of Taboldt's Circus. Later, Barton witnessed Iron Man in action, and decided to try and emulate the hero by donning a colorful costume and employing his archery skills to fight crime. However, during his first public appearance, Hawkeye was mistaken for a thief by police. The Black Widow, at the time a Soviet agent, met Barton by chance and enlisted him as her partner. Together they clashed against heroes such as Iron Man and Spider-Man on several occasions.

Life as a criminal was poorly suited for Clint.  He ended up approaching The Avengers and told them of his desire to reform.  Iron Man sponsored his membership on the team and Hawkeye, along with Captain America, The Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver formed a new iteration of The Avengers .  At first regarded as less formidable than the previous roster, the new team soon proved themselves against the likes of Kang the Conqueror and Doctor Doom.

Hawyeye remained a member of the Avengers for many adventures.  At one point, he used Hank Pym’s size-altering ‘Pym Particles’ to operate as the hero ‘Goliath’ before resuming his role as Hawkeye the Archer.  He was forced out of The Avengers when the government acted to limit its roster.  Soon thereafter, Hawkeye briefly joined The Defenders before going on to found the West Coast branch of The Avengers.  During this time, Clint met, fell in love with and ultimately married Bobbie Mores, the fellow hero known as Mockingbird.  

At some point following their marriage, Mockingbird was abducted and replaced with a Skrull sleeper agent.  That agent was killed in action when the West Coast Avengers went up against Mephisto.  The West Coast Avengers broke up shortly thereafter and Hawkeye ultimately found himself leading the group of reformed superheroes known as The Thunderbolts.  

After once more joining The Avengers, Hawkeye was seemingly killed during the Disassembled event when he sacrificed himself to bring down an attacking Kree dreadnought.  While Hawkeye was believed dead for many months, he had actually been transported elsewhere by The Scarlet Witch’s hex powers and he began working in secret as the shadowy figure known as Ronin.  

Following the Secret Invasion story arc, Barton was reunited with Mockingbird, learning that the woman he had believed had been killed was actually a Skrull imposter.  The two shared a brief romance but ultimately decided that they were better off as friends than husband and wife.  

During the time in which Barton was acting as Ronin, the young archer Kate Bishop had taken up the mantle of Hawkeye.  Kate proved more than capable in the role and, when Barton ultimately resumed his role as Hawkeye he decided that he and Kate could share the mantle.    

The physical abuse Clint endured at the hands of his father left him partially deaf; a matter that has worsened over the years.  He uses hearing aides to assist him in the field and has learn American sign language and become quite apt at reading peoples’ lips when they speak.  

Actor Jeremy Renner has portrays Hawkeye in the MCU movies, initially appearing in the first Thor film.  Hawkeye first appeared in the pages of Tales of Suspense #57 (1964).  

[windowhateswildworks]

important feral update (text copied from the server) (its actually good this time so WHEEE)

Greetings Feralians,

The first big news is that this update is rather different from our previous releases.

Ever since we launched Feral into Early Access last year, we’ve heard from thousands of players who answered our call to step up and help us decide how this game should unfold. We’ve heard amazing story ideas and yes, read your fanfic. We’ve seen the ingenious concepts you’ve created for new Creatures and NPCs to join the world. And most of all, we’ve read and pondered and debated your ideas for what players should actually DO in Feral.

As often happens with Early Access games, bug reports were pouring in alongside your ideas. WildWorks is a small company, and finding the right balance between fixing bugs, delivering new features, optimizing for mobile, and responding to player requests is always a challenge. We pushed hard internally to deliver the mobile version of Feral close to the desktop release, and in retrospect perhaps that divided attention prevented us from implementing your suggestions as quickly as we might have otherwise.

That’s why we’ve decided to step back from Feral feature development for a time, and regroup. Our vision for Feral isn’t exclusively ours any more — the player community owns that vision as much as we do, and we need to adjust Feral’s roadmap to match our capabilities with your expectations.

So we’re taking things back to the beginning in Feral. While we slow things down, we’re going to huddle up with you and ask that you keep the ideas, bug reports, and feature requests coming. We need you at the table with us as we plan the way forward for the world of Feral and the community that has come to call it home. It’s important that we get this right.

FAQ:

Does this mean Feral is shutting down?

No. Feral isn’t going anywhere.

The mobile and desktop versions will continue to operate as they have been. There will still be Seasons, but for now the Challenges and rewards will mostly draw from the content released in Seasons 1-6, giving new players a chance to unlock items they may have missed.

So it’s just a repeat of the first six Seasons?

Not exactly. There are some important differences that you'll notice in this update:

-Most of the original Challenges have been redesigned, and there are some new rewards to unlock, including more free Star Fragments.

-Creatures, body mods, and Sanctuaries have all been moved into the newly designed Astral Shop to allow any player to unlock the content they want without having to wait for it to arrive in a Season Pass.

-The price for the Premium Pass is dropping to 500 Star Fragments.

Will you be fixing bugs during this period?

Yes, but slowly, and not everything that gets fixed will be visible to players. There is some behind-the-scenes infrastructure work that needs to be done to support Feral, and those changes may not be obvious to the community.

What does this mean for Animal Jam and other WildWorks games?

For the past two years, a lot of the Animal Jam development team has been pitching in to help accelerate Feral's development. That team has now resumed their full-time focus on Animal Jam, and AJ players can expect to see a LOT of improvements, bug fixes, new features, security upgrades, and new content in the coming months. And when Feral development resumes, it won’t need to borrow resources from other projects: AJHQ will stay 100% focused on AJ.

To sum up, Feral's development will be slowed as we take a step back to reassess the sort of game it needs to be, alongside our players and community. This will take time—and work!—in order to be realized. In the meantime, the world of Feral will continue to function as it always has, and some new content will continue to arrive in shops and within the Season Pass.

-That all said, there's still an update to be had, so here's what we have in store!

Early Access 1 Content Returns: Play through the Season Pass to unlock content from the first Season of Fer.al, plus new rewards including free Star Fragments!

-Decals Are Back: The Decal and Creature Size features are back and functioning for all players, so unleash your creativity!

-Astral Shop Improvements: The Astral Shop has gotten an overhaul that makes it easier to browse through content, like past Creatures, Sanctuaries, and exclusive new items!

-Environment Updates: Sparks now spawn into City Fera on a new landing platform, and you can take a seat or take a selfie on new benches across Feral's cities.

Brand new Clothing, Furniture, and Dyes!

What about an extension of Season Six?

There were some unforeseen technical difficulties which prevented us from extending the season. We sincerely apologize for this inconvenience. We also wanted to release this new update which contains improvements to the Astral Shop, new clothing, furniture, and dyes, bringing avatar customizations back for all players, and fixing previous issues reported. We also know there were bugs with some of the challenges that prevented you from progressing in the pass, so we're going to grant 500 Star Fragments for those that purchased Season 6 and weren't able to complete it due to bugs. Please DM me your fer.al username and we will credit your account within a week. Thank you for your patience and stay Fer.al! @Fer.al Newsletter

[buckysgoldenheart]

Unexpected: Bucky x Reader oneshot

Notes: I can 100% guarantee that this is poorly edited despite my efforts, but I hope you guys like it anyway. I wrote the bones of this story a couple years ago, but decided to edit and finish it while I work on the series fics I have yet to finish.

Summary:  A guest (Y/N) shows up at the tower with a suitcase and a letter looking for the world’s favorite captain. What she didn’t expect, was two super soldiers at the end of her journey instead of one.

Unexpected:

Bucky had just changed into his black tee and sweatpants, ready to head down to the gym to work out with Steve. He went straight to the kitchen for one of his early morning breakfast protein shakes to find Steve already there speaking with Tony about the last mission.

“I’m just telling you it could have gone a bit better if we kept the twins more organized.” Steve spoke in his demanding tone.

Tony replied “They’re twins, capsicle, aren’t they always organized with their magical twin telepathy or whatever?”

“You know, you could do without the sarcasm for one day.”

“Well then you wouldn’t be nearly as in love with me, now would you, Cap?” Steve only scoffed and pushed himself back from the counter. “Don’t worry” Tony winked “I won’t tell Sharon.”

Bucky had had enough. “Can’t you too cool it with the flirting for just one day? Its 7 am. I haven’t even eaten yet.”

Steve turned to reply to his friend but was interrupted by the sound of the elevator opening. The three men turned their heads to the doors pulling back revealing a young woman. She had to be in her early twenties. She stepped forward and pulled her suitcase behind her, observing her surroundings before finally seeing the men before her.

“Oh, Hello.” She spoke. Steve, Tony, and Bucky just stared. When they all remained silent, she said, “Does one of you speak, possibly?”

Tony was the first to come to his senses and walked around the counter to the girl. “And who are you?”

“Um, I’m here to speak to your captain over there. I have this…” she said, before rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a small folded piece of paper and handed it to Tony, who unfolded it and read it twice over before walking back over to Steve and Bucky.

“Do you, by chance, have a sister?” He asked Steve.

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

Steve sat on the couch with the Bucky, Tony, and the girl around him in awkward silence, waiting for him to speak. Tony was the first to put a crack in the dead air. “Are you sure you had a sister?”

Steve turned his head to Tony to give him a look that could only question his idiocy, yet Tony remained unfazed. “Yes, Tony I’m pretty sure. However, ‘had’ is the operative word…” Steve turned his gaze back to the girl whose eyes were locked with Bucky’s “…but that was back in the forties. She was five when I went into the ice, and if she had a daughter later, that kid would certainly be much older than twenty-years-old by now.

“Twenty-three.” The girl piped up, finally tearing her eyes away from the dark, moody super soldier.

“Like it matters.” Tony murmured.

“Listen, kid. Twenty, Twenty-three. It makes zero difference. You say you’re my sister’s kid, but logic says that impossible, so you’re going to have to explain everything to me right now, from the top.” Steve ordered her like the captain he was.

“Ok, I can do that.” The girl readjusted herself in her chair and brushed her fingers through her hair. “My name is Y/N. I was born on (Y/B-Day). My mother adopted me when I was fifteen after my foster mother contacted her about my abilities. I went to live with her and she aimed to train me, but she died before she could. She wrote the note for me to give to you when I saw fit. She said that if I ever wanted extended training then you’d be the guy to go to and you wouldn’t turn me away because you are family.”

“When did she die?” Steve asked.

“Four years ago.”’

“She was alive all this time and didn’t contact me? Why? She obviously knew where I was.”

“I asked her that a million times. All she ever said was that you had a new life now and didn’t need your old one holding you back. I thought it was a stupid reason, but whatever.”

“You mentioned some abilities?” Tony asked, diverting the conversation.

“Yes.”

“Which are?”

“I can move metal with my mind.”

“Ohhh no.” Tony said, shaking his head quickly. “You better not also be able to read minds, because we’ve already got one of those freaky-deaky chicks, so you’ll have to join another super hero team.”

“Why would Ellen adopt you because of these abilities?” Steve spoke.

“For a while, Mom was kind of well-known for taking care of people with special abilities. She said that was in the early two-thousands. She went by the name Moira Katz. She ended up adopting me much later.”

Steve rose from his chair and rubbed his face, his mind clearly full of emotions warring with one another. “Look, for now you can stay, but I have to verify this information. It all has to add up. You can have a room. Bucky will show you where.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate this. You have no idea.”

“Fine, but if I find you lied then you’re out.”

“Deal!”

Moments later, Bucky stood and pulled Y/Ns suitcase toward an empty room with her in tow.

“You really believe all this?” Tony questioned.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but the note was in Ellen’s handwriting. No doubt about it.”

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

 Bucky propped Y/Ns suitcase up against the wall adjacent to the bedroom door. Y/N uncrossed her arms and reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for bringing up my bag. I think I’m going to take a rest. Long day, ya know?”

Bucky stood there, eyes cast down at his shoes and grabbed her elbow before she could retreat behind the door. “Did you really think you could get away with acting like we don’t know each other?”

Y/N huffed out a deep breath and Bucky lifted his eyes to meet hers. She pulled her arm out of his grasp and crossed them in front of her chest. “C’mon Bucky, it was just a couple of nights, two months ago. I didn’t know that you were an avenger. It’s not like I knew you would be here of all places. Let’s just forget it and move on. I need Steve to help me and him knowing my past involvement with you would not do me any favors.”

She turned to leave, but Bucky grabbed her back to him by her waist and placed his lips on hers. Initially, Y/N resisted, but as Bucky’s arms tightened around her waist, her lips opened, and she melted into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he lifted her up, holding her firm against his body. Bucky pushed Y/N against the wall and she felt him hard against her inner thigh. Just as she quietly moaned, he pulled back from her and set her on the ground.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, her frustrated tone clearly contradicting her body’s response to him kissing her.

“We aren’t done.” Bucky said as he stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Bucky—" Y/N started, but her protest was interrupted.

“And it wasn’t a couple of nights, it was a week and a half, and I’ve thought of you every day since.” Bucky looked down and straightened his shirt out then locked eyes with Y/N once again. “Have a nice night.” Then he turned on his heel and walked down the hall without looking back.

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

THE NEXT DAY

Bucky walked out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen with plans of making a protein shake for his morning workout, again. When he turned the corner, Steve sat at the counter with his head in his hands, staring at the piece of paper in front of him. Bucky sighed. No workout for now.

“Hey Steve.” He said as he walked up behind his friend and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “You look a little down.” He joked. Steve looked up at him with an expression that stated he clearly wasn’t amused, then slid the paper in Bucky’s general direction. As he picked it up, Bucky glanced back at Steve who resumed his previous position, then looked down at the information in front of him.

“She was telling the truth, then,” he said nonchalantly. Steve rubbed his face with his palms. He looked like shit. “Have you been up all night?”

“Wouldn’t you have been?” he responded, fully expecting Bucky not to answer. “Tony came back late last night with the results and I’ve been staring at them for…” he paused and looked at the clock. “Five hours.”

“Look Steve, I know it’s a weird day at Stark Tower when some kid comes up to you demanding training, but—”

“Buck, that happens every day with the new recruits.” He sighed.

“Still haven’t exactly caught on to the concept of sarcasm, huh?” Bucky smiled. Steve stood up, pushing the stool back at the same time.

“Bucky, do you even realize what this paper says? It says my sister was alive. If that were true, Ellen would’ve come found me, I just know it. The story this kid has is not adding up. I don’t care about the evidence; anything can be forged. She might not even have abilities, for all we know.” He said, his own words knocking him into action as he stormed around Bucky, straight for Y/N’s room.

“Steve, come on.” Bucky called before turning to go after him. When he caught up, Steve was already banging on the door hard enough that it was surprising his fist didn’t go right through it. “Steve...” he started, but he lost his breath the minute Y/N opened the door in her tiny shorts and tight tank that prominently displayed her breasts. When she saw it was Steve, she grabbed her silky robe off the hook to her right and wrapped it around her. She looked up after securing the ties and caught Bucky’s gaze for half a second before quickly moving her attention back to Steve.

“Good Morning.” She smiled lightly, which did nothing to soothe Steve’s frustration but did everything to remind Bucky even more of why he needed this girl.

“You need to prove yourself now, or you’re out!” Steve ground out harshly. “Come with me.” He grabbed Y/N’s arm and dragged her down the hall with him, not giving her any other choice but to obey. She looked to her left and locked eyes with Bucky who shot her back a wink which was returned with an eye roll.

She was pulled back into the living room where Tony and Pietro sat on opposite couches; Pietro flipping through the tv channels and Tony yelling at him to just pick one already. They stopped their argument when they saw Steve drag Y/N behind him to the center of the room before letting her go and stepping a safe distance back from her. “Go on.” He said.

“What’s happening?” Tony asked, looking from Cap to Y/N and back.

“We need to see her abilities.” Steve demanded.

Tony rolled his eyes and directed his next question only at Y/N, “Having a good morning, Sweetheart?’

“Oh, just the greatest.” She huffed back, arms crossed in front of her chest. Tony looked at Steve with a slight smile on his face.

“Capsicle, that right there, was a perfect example of sarcasm. She’s already more useful than you expected her to be.”

“Be quiet, Tony.” Steve bit back before looking again to Y/N. “Do it.”

Y/N sighed and began to lift her land when it was seized by Pietro. “Hello, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure. Pietro Maximoff.” He smiled and winked before placing his lips on the back of her hand.

Y/N retuned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you, but believe me, I already know who you are.”

“What!?” Bucky yelled. “You know who he is, but you didn’t know who I was?!” Y/N turned her head to look directly at him along with the rest of the room. Bucky nearly blushed at his outburst, realizing he might have just raised suspicion as to his relationship with her, but they all turned back around as if it didn’t happen.

“He tends to overreact when someone isn’t aware of his fame and beauty. Try not to take it personally, Y/N.” Tony joked. Bucky rolled his eyes and Y/N continued her conversation with Pietro.

“A friend of mine is originally from Sokovia. She follows your ‘career’ very carefully and is a huge fan. I think she talked about you almost every day.”

Pietro lifted the corner of his mouth. “All good things, I hope.” He said with a lustful look in his eyes that Bucky had seen directed at one too many women, and he was well aware of what it meant.

“Ok, Ok.” Bucky said as he moved between Y/N and Pietro, breaking their hands apart. “Let’s get this over with. Just do your thing or whatever it is that you do.”

Y/N shot him and angry glare. “Fine!” she snapped then closed her eyes and took one deep breath before opening them again. They had turned neon green. She lifted her right fist in front of her face and extended her index finger. The men all stared at her, waiting patiently for her to do something. In the blink of an eye, Y/N’s finger moved sharply to left and a barbell flew towards them from the gym, shattering the glass wall separating the rooms, and hitting Bucky hard, pinning him to the floor by his neck. He tried to pry it up, but it wouldn’t budge until Y/N dropped her hand and closed her eyes, returning them to her natural color.

“Another glowing-eyed chick.” Tony said. “I knew it.” He smiled as Bucky shoved the barbell off him and righted himself, brushing dust off his shirt. Y/N smirked at him and he frowned back. “Well clearly she isn’t lying about that bit.” Tony said as he rolled his eyes in Steve’s general direction. “I’ll go discuss this with Bruce. You’ll meet him later Y/N. Good job kid.” He said before turning on his heel and heading toward the stairs.

Pietro was gone before he even finished mumbling something about telling the girls, and Steve had disappeared right along with him, leaving Y/N and Bucky alone in the living room.

“So,” He started as he walked towards her. “I didn’t exactly know you could do that. You didn’t have to be so rough with me, beautiful.”

Y/N turned to face him. “How could you know? We just met last night.” She said with a hard, straight face, ignoring his second statement all together.

Bucky half-chuckled. “Oh, come on. You know I won’t ever let you forget me…or how we met.” His eyes gleamed as he reached up and cupped her cheek, stroking its soft skin with his calloused thumb.

“Get off!” she said, slapping his hand away from her.

He grinned, full and satisfied. “Fine. But there’s no need to be hostile, doll face.”

They were both silent for a moment. Her arms crossed and eyes cast down to the floor. Bucky smiling, more than happy to be looking at her beautiful face.

“Well” he said, breaking the silence and looking down at his shirt, “It seems that your little stunt got my shirt all dirty when you pinned me to the floor.” In truth, there was not a speck on it, but Bucky was never one to pass up an opportunity. He grasped his shirt from the back of the neck and slowly pulled it over his head, the muscles in his arms contorting underneath his beautifully tanned skin. “I really need to wash this.” He smirked as he watched Y/N’s eyes quickly flick to his chest before returning to the ground, but she said nothing.

Bucky reached for her chin and lifted it until they locked eyes, their faces an inch apart. “You can pretend all you want that you don’t care for me too. But, when you run out of energy keeping up with that little lie, I’ll still be here.” He took a last lingering look at her plump lips, slightly parted, before letting go of her and withdrawing. He turned and walked away from her without looking back. “I’m very patient man, Y/N,” he called back as he climbed the stairs.

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

ONE WEEK LATER

 She dodged one arrow, then another, then spread her fingers of her right hand before quickly making a fist, shattering the third one a foot from her face.

“Good.” Tony said. “Again.”

They continued this exercise four more times until Clint shot six arrows at her at once. Y/N slowly closed her eyes and snapped her fingers sending out a strong force that sent Clint flying back and hitting the wall while forcing Tony to step back a few paces to steady himself. Clint groaned and moved to get up. “Alright, ok, that was good. You’re getting good at that.” He cracked his neck and brushed himself off. “That one was good. That one hurt.”

Tony looked his direction and crossed his arms in front of him. “What, did you break a hip? Getting too old for this?”

“No older than you.” He said as he bent back to crack his back.

“Ouch. You know, I’m not completely made of stone.” Tony replied sarcastically.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Clint said as he stretched out his arms.

Y/N chucked to herself. “I’m sorry, Clint.”

“Nope, No problem. I’m just gonna go take a rest.”

“Walk it off, Grandpa” Tony yelled after him, receiving a mumbled ‘Fuck you’ in return. He turned to Y/N. “You still up for some more, kid?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.”

“Ok, good.” Tony looked at his watch. “Alright, give me a minute. I have to go meet Pepper in ten. I’ll send someone down, OK?”

“Yep.”

“Good. You did good today, sweetheart. In a few days, we are gonna have Wanda down here to help out.” He replied before smiling and exiting the room.

Y/N slowly paced around for a few minutes before she moved to the back wall to get a drink of water, bending down to grab the bottle from her bag. Then, she heard the door shut and footsteps come in her direction.

“What a view.”

Y/N shot up and turned in time to see Bucky starring at her ass before he quickly looked up, met her eyes, and smiled, his arms folded in front of his chest. She groaned. “Of all the Avengers, he had to send you?”

Bucky chuckled and gave his shoulders a light shrug. “I volunteered.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.” Then she stepped around him to grab her bag and head out the door as quickly as possible. “I’m not in the mood for this.” She mumbled.

“If you leave because of me, it’ll look weird to the others. Tony said another hour and if you stomp up there all pissed in front of them, they’ll know somethings up between us.” He said as she reached for the door handle. Y/N dropped her hand and turned to face him.

“There isn’t anything ‘up’ between us.” She replied angrily.

“Yes, there is.” He quickly returned with a huge smile across his face.

“No there--ughh!” Y/N balled her hands into fists. “Why are you like this!”

“I thought you would have figured that out already.”

Y/N huffed. “Bucky, I’m not getting into this right now. If Tony says I have to train for another hour and I’m stuck with you, then lets just get it over with.”

“Anything you want, doll face, but don’t think I won’t enjoy myself.” He said as she dropped her bag back against the wall.

They faced each other ten paces apart.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t plan to go easy on you in any way.” Y/N started.

“Like you ever do.” Bucky smirked.

She ignored him completely and tightened her ponytail. “Are you ready?’

“Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

“How was that flirting?”

“Oh, I just figured you had your own way of doing it.”

“I do, but you’ll never see it.”

“Pretty sure I already did see it. Don’t you remember?” Y/N let out an annoyed groan and shot her hand out towards him, sending her metal water bottle in the direction of Bucky’s head, but his arm snatched it out of the air before it could reach him. “Aww, c’mon, doll,” Bucky mumbled in disappointed as he got into place. He threw the bottle to the side and ran a hand through his hair before looking back at her. “Ready when you are.” He smirked.

They readied themselves and before Y/N knew it, Bucky was charging for her. She quickly closed and opened her eyes to her green neon orbs, and put her hands up above her head, fingers spread, then tightened them in a fist before quickly throwing them down in front of her, one crossing over the other. Within half a second, two ceiling beams slammed into the ground in front of her in the form of an X, shielding her from Bucky. He smirked and reached his metal arm up to one of the beams, pulled it from the ground and threw it to the side before advancing toward her. Y/N stepped back as he neared her, searching around for something to throw at him. There wasn’t enough metal.  She threw the water bottle again only for him to side step and watch it fly past his face. “C’mon doll face, give it up.” He smiled, looking back to her.

She continued to look around until it dawned on her. Bucky’s metal arm wasn’t flesh. How was that not the first thing she thought of? Y/N reached her hand straight out in front of her and felt her power latch on to his arm. Slowly, she seeped it through the individual joints of the metal and stretched them apart, creating gaps between each panel. Bucky tried to regain control, but Y/N only got stronger and it was as if his arm was no longer his own. He saw her huff out a breath and before he knew it, he was flying, lifted solely by the metal attached to his body.

Y/N held him there, dangling in the air for a second before she moved her arm to the left in one sharp motion, sending Bucky in the same direction, but it was more powerful than either of them expected.

As he hit the wall, Bucky’s head slammed against the concrete with a sickening crack and he felt his vision go dark. Immediately, Y/N closed her eyes and snapped them back open to their natural color just in time to see Bucky fall hard to the ground. “Bucky!?”

She ran over to him and got on her knees beside him. “Bucky? She shook him hard by the shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “Bucky wake up! Bucky, please!”

When he refused to move, Y/N ran to the intercom on the wall and screamed for Steve or Tony or Pietro. Anyone. Then, she ran back to Bucky’s side and rested his head on her knees. She only noticed she was crying when her tears began to fall into his hair as she brushed the locks back from his face. She was so distracted that she didn’t even notice Tony and Steve slide up next to her. Steve looked down at her, a mixture of emotions on his handsome face. “What did you do?”

“Steve…” Tony said, knowing the sight of the captain’s best friend knocked out would spike his temper.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t control it.” Y/N sobbed, moving her eyes from Steve’s face back to Bucky’s unconscious one. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just leave,” he groaned.

“Steve. I—I didn’t…” she tried, before Tony spoke up.

“Best to just listen to him right now, kid. We’ll take care of Barnes.” He lightly smiled. “Go on.”

Y/N stood as tears continued to fall down her cheeks and took one long look at Bucky before turning and heading for the door. When she was out of sight, she ran to her room, slammed the door behind her, and began to sob again.

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

THE NEXT DAY

Y/N’s eyes were unbelievably red after crying through the night. She couldn’t believe what she had done. She didn’t mean to, but for a split second she lost control of it. And now this man, a man that for whatever reason cared about her and never gave up after she repeatedly brushed him off, was hurt.

She was distracted from her thoughts at the sudden knock. Slowly, miserably, she rose from her bed, wiped the tears from her cheeks and walked to the door. When she opened it, Wanda was on the other side.

“Hello.” The witch spoke.

“Hi, Wanda. How are you?” Y/N replied and felt bad that her tone lacked any sincerity.

“I’m ok, but I’m more worried about you. Are you ok?”

Instantly, the tears returned. They were uncontrollable and Wanda pulled Y/N into a hug before leading her over to the bed and sitting down next to her.

“I don’t know how it happened. I hurt him.” Y/N explained through her sobs.

Wanda rubbed her back in return. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“What if he never wakes up?”

“Believe me, that man will wake up. He never seems to die.” Y/N was silent. There was nothing else to say. She had never felt so bad in her entire life. “I think you should go see him. He’s in the lab. Dr. Cho is fixing him up, monitoring his vitals. You being there, it may help.”

“How could me being there possibly help?”

Wanda smiled softly. “Y/N, I’ve seen his thoughts. I know his feelings. I promise you, it would help.”

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

Y/N gasped when she saw him lying there. If he wasn’t barely breathing and the sound of the heart rate monitor was not beeping incessantly, he would’ve looked dead, and the tears started back up. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and didn’t even hear Dr. Cho tell her she would give the two of them a minute before leaving the room.

Tentatively, Y/N neared him and reached out a hand to stoke his cheek, her thumb moving back 'and forth in soft motions along the cheekbone. “Oh God.” She whispered to herself. “Bucky.” she softly sobbed. “I am so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.”  Y/N moved her hand to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Please, wake up. I just…I can’t imagine not seeing you again.” She inhaled a quick breath and sniffled. “I’m sorry I acted like I don’t care about you too.” She muttered and then made the decision to lean down and kiss his forehead. She closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against her lips. Then, she moved her kiss down to his cheek, to the tip of his nose, before placing them fully on his plump lips. He didn’t kiss back. She knew he wouldn’t, but it didn’t surprise her one bit to realize how much she wished he would. When she rose, she looked down to his hand and touched it with her own before slowly stepping away and turning to go back to her room.

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

LATER…

Y/N was in the kitchen getting some water when Bucky Barnes walked into the room. She looked up at the sound of footsteps and turned to see who it was. Her eyes went wide at the man before her and her hand stopped in the middle of bringing the glass to her lips. She said nothing; there was nothing she could think of to say, so he was the one to do it first.

“So, I hear you like me.” He smirked, rather arrogantly.

“What? Who told you something like that?” Who could have known? She never told anyone. She never planned to. Sure, she told Wanda she felt bad about hurting him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she liked him.

He looked back at her, causally walking towards her before stopping a few feet away. “You did.”

“No, I most certainly did not!”

“Yes, you did. But in all fairness, you didn’t think I would hear you.”

Shock took over her face as she realized what he was talking about and she panicked to find the right words. “You were unconscious!”

His faced scrunched a bit, knowing she wouldn’t like the truth. “Not exactly.”

“What!”

He raised his hands in defense. “It was Wanda’s idea, not mine. I mean, you did knock me out, but I woke up a couple hours before you came to talk to me. Wanda suggested the idea, and I was game for anything that would get you to let your guard down.”

“WANDA!!!” Y/N screamed. The rest of the tower could probably hear her, but in that moment, she didn’t care one bit. “I am going to kill that witch!”

Wanda rounded the corner ten seconds later but stopped in her tracks at the sight of the couple before her and the anger on Y/N’s face.

Her eyes moved to Bucky, her face full of annoyance. “You weren’t supposed to tell her!”

“Should I have lied to her instead?”

“YES!”

“Oh yea, because that’s a strong foundation for a good relationship.”

Y/N interrupted their banter. “Shut up!” She said before turning to her ‘friend.’ “Wanda, you tricked me!”

“Only a little bit, but what was I supposed to do, Y/N? You’re too stubborn for your own good. He”, She said, pointing to Bucky, “would pine over you for the rest of his life and you would be too scared to admit that you want him too. I told you I read his thoughts and I did, but I also read yours. They are one and the same. So, just get over it and be happy, damn it! You both need it, you both deserve it. Life is too fucking short, for fucks sake.” Y/N slowly exhaled the breath she had been holding after the witch’s quick outburst. “Talk! And if I see either of you leave, I’ll start throwing things.” Then Wanda left, leaving them alone.

Y/N turned to Bucky and he smiled at her with a triumphant grin. “This changes nothing.” She said and began to walk away. Let Wanda throw things. Y/N could move things with her mind too!

As she brushed by him, Bucky grabbed Y/N’s arm, spinning her around and making eye contact. “Yes, it does.”.

“And what makes you think so?”

“Are you kidding? Y/N, Wanda just laid it out for you. You like me just as much and I think you have since we slept together. I was on that mission for a reason and, apart from infiltrating one lousy building, I think that reason was you.”

She chuckled, highly annoyed. “So, Bucky Barnes believes in fate.”

“You bet your cute ass I do.”

“Ridiculous.” She mumbled.

Bucky groaned. “Just shut your mouth and let me kiss you.”

Before she knew it, his lips were on hers with his hands on her cheeks. His lips were soft, and Y/N couldn’t stand it. If he never kissed her again, she could have easily lived her life in blissful denial, but now that he had, she was fucked.

She placed her hands on his chest before sliding them up into his hair and pulling him closer. He moaned and slipped his arms around her waist before lifting her off her feet entirely.

“I told you we weren’t done,” He whispered between their lips as he supported her ass so her legs could wrap fully around him.

“I know,” Y/N whispered back, slightly irritated at how right he had been. But this was inevitable, she knew. He was inevitable.

And so, moments later, when her eyes turned softer and truly shown with the lust and honesty inside them, Bucky smiled, nudged his nose with hers and connected their lips again.

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @alyssiamking @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @tessvillegas @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @stringgeek13 @notmyfault404 @quotemeow @jjamesbbarness @stangirl4eva @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @youreahandsomedevil @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf @stevesaidabadlanguageword @picapicapicassobaby @lokilvrr @private-bucky-barnes

[introvertguide]

The Apartment (1960); AFI #80

The next film on the list that we reviewed was the one of the last black and white films to win best picture, The Apartment (1960). The film actually held the title of last B&W Best Picture winner for 50 years until The Artist came along in in 2011. Along with Best Picture, the film was nominated for 10 Oscars and won Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Art Direction, and Best Editing. The film also won Best Picture from the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs, the Director’s Guild Awards, and the Critic’s Circle Awards. Truly a great synthesis of acting, directing, cinematography, music, and story, this movie is one of the lesser known greatest films of all time. I have more to say about this film, but I want to go over the story in all of its excellence. But first...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS COMEDY HAS LEGITIMATE SURPRISES AND SUBJECT MATTER THAT WOULDN’T FLY TODAY!!! TRULY A GREAT FILM THAT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!! I STRONGLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT INSTEAD OF JUST READING THE STORY LINE!!!

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

An opening run of establishing shots with a voice over by the main character lets the audience know that he is a drone accountant at a giant firm with little chance to move up in the world. C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) is a lonely office drudge at a national insurance corporation in New York City. He has lucked out and found a way to leverage his home in order to climb the corporate ladder. Baxter allows four company managers to take turns borrowing his Upper West Side apartment for their extramarital liaisons, which he manages with a detailed schedule. Baxter has not seen any movement, but he is constantly offered the promise of a promotion since he is a “team player.” 

One of the serious down sides of this ploy is that his apartment is in constant use and the bosses are making a mess and drinking all his liquor. C.C. has no place to go some nights so he stays and works late. Because C.C. is constantly going in and out and people can hear women in his apartment, he is starting to develop a different kind of reputation with the other tenants. While unable to enter his own apartment when it is in use, his neighbors assume that their neighbor is a playboy bringing home a different woman every night.

C.C. is able to get glowing performance reports from his four managers and he is able to submit them to the personnel director, Jeff D. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), in hope of a promotion. Sheldrake promises to promote him, but demands that he also receive use of the apartment for his own affairs, beginning that night. As compensation for such short notice, he gives Baxter two theater tickets to The Music Man. After work, C.C. asks Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), an elevator operator in the office building, to go to the musical with him. She agrees but goes first to meet with a "former fling," who turns out to be Sheldrake, and let him know there will be no more meetings. When Sheldrake dissuades her from breaking up with him and promising to divorce his wife for her, they go to the apartment as poor Baxter waits forlornly outside the theater.

Later, at the company's raucous Christmas party (there is dancing on the tables and the lamest strip tease of all time), Fran is told by Miss Olsen (Edie Adams), Sheldrake's secretary, that Sheldrake has also had affairs with her and other women employees. Later at Baxter’s apartment, Fran confronts Sheldrake with his lies. Sheldrake maintains that he genuinely loves her, but that he has no intention of splitting up with his wife. He then leaves to return to his suburban family as usual and Fran is so depressed that she finds sleeping pills in the apartment bathroom and attempts suicide.

Baxter learns through finding a dropped hand mirror that Fran is the woman Sheldrake has been taking to his apartment, so he goes to a bar and lets himself be picked up by a married woman. When they arrive at his apartment, he is shocked to find Fran in his bed, seemingly dead. He sends his pick-up away and enlists the help of his neighbor, Dr. Dreyfuss (Jack Krushen), to revive Fran without notifying the authorities. I should not laugh, but it is pretty funny that the doctor goes straight to slapping Fran in the face to wake her up. The actors did not hold back; he is slapping her in the face really hard, so much so that you can tell her cheeks are reddening even in black and white. Baxter makes Dreyfuss believe that he was the cause of the incident and, scolding his neighbor for his apparent philandering, Dreyfuss advises him to "be a mensch, a human being."

As Fran spends two days recuperating in the apartment, C.C. takes care of her, and a bond develops between them, especially after he confesses to having attempted suicide himself over unrequited feelings for a woman who now sends him a fruitcake every Christmas. While they play a game of gin rummy, Fran reveals that she has always suffered bad luck in her love life. As Baxter prepares a romantic dinner, one of the managers arrives with a woman. Although Baxter persuades them to leave, the manager recognizes Fran and informs his colleagues. Later confronted by Fran's brother-in-law, Karl Matuschka, who is looking for her, the managers direct Karl to the apartment out of jealousy. At the apartment, Karl's anger at Fran for her behavior is deflected by Baxter, who again takes responsibility. Karl punches C.C. (and interviews with Lemmon revealed that the punch did land), but when Fran kisses him for protecting her, he just smiles and says it "didn't hurt a bit."

Sheldrake learns that Miss Olsen told Fran about his affairs, so he makes the poor choice of firing the woman who knows of all his dealings, and she retaliates by meeting with Sheldrake's wife, who promptly throws her husband out. Sheldrake believes that this situation just makes it easier to pursue his affair with Fran. Having promoted C.C. to an even higher position, which also gives him a key to the executive washroom, Sheldrake expects Baxter to loan out his apartment yet again. Baxter gives him back the washroom key instead, proclaiming that he has decided to become a mensch, and quits the firm.

That night at a New Year's Eve party, Sheldrake indignantly tells Fran what happened. Realizing she is in love with Baxter, Fran abandons Sheldrake and runs to the apartment. At the door, she hears what sounds like a gunshot. Fearing that Baxter has attempted suicide again, she frantically pounds on the door. Baxter answers, holding a bottle of champagne whose cork he had just popped in celebration of his plan to start anew. As the two settle down to resume their gin rummy game, Fran tells C.C. that she is now free too. When he asks about Sheldrake, she replies, "We'll send him a fruitcake every Christmas." He declares his love for her, and she replies, "Shut up and deal."

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

This film is one of the most praised movies of all time, but it is not one of the most generally well known. This is probably due to the subject matter, although It’s A Wonderful Life also deals with suicide and is one of the America’s most popular family films. The problem is most likely that extra marital affairs by big company management as a normal thing was highly frowned upon. With the whole #MeToo movement, it seems that this kind of philandering culture might very well have been a known problem for decades. A movie based around the premise that office managers need a nice place to have sex with secretaries and elevator girls would not have been acceptable under the Hays Code. This is also the second film on the AFI list where Fred MacMurray plays a bad guy before being the understanding patriarch on My Three Sons and the first person honored as a Disney Legend in 1987. Fun fact, MacMurray was an uncredited extra in a film called Girls Gone Wild in 1929.

Billy Wilder knew that this was going to be a divisive film due to content, but he also had the confidence that everything would work out following the massive success of his previous film, Some Like It Hot. Wilder had considered a film based on adultery back in the 1940s but was unable to get funding at the time due to the Hays Code. The film was also based on a real life Hollywood drama in which an agent was shot by a producer over an affair (in which a low level employee apartment was used) as well as a friend of a co-writer who returned home to a dead ex-girlfriend following a break-up. 

It is amazing to think that this film is described as a comedy. There are office politics in which mid-level managers use local celeb status to take advantage of their subordinates. There are half a dozen cheating husbands that string along their affairs. There are characters so hurt that they would rather die than deal with what is done with them. There are raging parties at work where everyone gets massively drunk and dance on the desks. Women are treated like objects that either need to be protected with violence or thrown away. And yet the film is legitimately fun with characters that are worth rooting for.

Some of the success rides on the fabulous acting of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and the witty dialogue written by I.A.L. Diamond. In fact, the dialogue and limited characters feels a lot like a stage play, which come to fruition in the form of Promises, Promises on Broadway by Burt Bacharach, Hal David, and Neil Simon. Dealing with real sets and locations, however, resulted in some colds and sickness since the actors were really out in the New York snow. Some other realism in the film came from both lead actors taking blows for the film: Shirley MacLaine got proper slapped by the doctor and Jack Lemmon was really punched by the brother-in-law.

A stand out aspect for me in this film which I talk up quite a bit is the cinematography. I have used many screen grabs from the film and used them as my avatar. I identify with the feeling of being used for something which made a mid manager look good while allowing them to do bad things. In fact, I am sure that everyone has felt like a Baxter at some point, and it is great to see him stand up for himself. Here are a couple of screen grabs (besides the top photo above) that I have used:

That lonely man in the middle of countless empty desks, that look of frustration when others are using your things to live a better life than you, and that time that love makes utility become fun and gadgets seem pretentious. It is very easy for me to get lost in how much I love this film. It has been far and away my favorite find from the AFI Top 100 between when I first saw the film in 2014 and now.

So, should the film be on the top 100 list? It has the awards and the history along with being a fantastic film. Of course it belongs on the list. Would I recommend it? Yes. This film is the type that makes people like me want to go through lists like this. I had never heard of the film in 2014 and it floored me how good it was. Each time I watch I appreciate it more, and the whole film project becomes well worth my time and effort. This film is so good, it affirms my life choices. I invite and implore you to check it out for yourself.

[tomsandal]

A Cup to go

a/n: brought to you by me asking what should i write and Pap answering "coffee shop au or whatever people write about these days"

characters: červená kapota, tom sandál, leva p. pneumatika (background), tobi polobotka (background)

warnings: none

words: 4,6k

The Luxorn cup

Part of the Artanar sterling silver tea and coffee set, originally belonging to a bygone Liechtenstein royal family and currently one of the most expensive antiques in the world. And that is for a good reason. The set is decorated with accents of gold and embellished with an array of rubies, garnets and red opals, with a large fire opal as its centrepiece.

All of that makes it shiny enough to make any respected lawbreaker want to get their hands on it.

It comes as a surprise then, that this piece of treasure is not sought after very much. That is, because it just so happened, that many years back this set was being transported across the pacific to a highly acclaimed auction when it mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again in the light of day.

That is, until now.

Word has been going around the streets of a certain long lost cup set piece. A hint here, a suggestion there and suddenly there is even a rumoured location. Location in the shape of a very unassuming coffee shop.

In front of which stood a certain red-clad thief.

Červená Kapota scanned the storefront of the shop from the other side of the street. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The outlet was painted in cheerful pastel colours with their display boards full of saccharine sweet words written in excessive loops and currently accomodating a fair share of customers inside. She got to give it to them, if this all truly is just a front for a criminal organisation, then they did a mighty fine job with it. What a cheeky plan though, simply hide a cup in a coffee shop and everyone is none the wiser. Well, except her obviously.

That's why she is here in the first place.

A week ago she applied for a job there, with a plan to assimilate with the staff and find out where the famed teaware was hiding and swoop it right under their noses. Easy job, just in and out, a deserved rest after her painstaking previous venture. So she didn’t need to worry about ruining her current streak of successful heists.

And luck seemed to be on her side.

Earlier that day Kapota received an email from the store owner, informing her that her application was accepted and to show up to the interview at -about now- o’clock, actually. She looked up from her watch and with a last glance at their display windows, she made her way inside.

The door opened with a cute little jingle and the heavy coffee aroma hit her right in the nose. Disoriented for a second, she quickly surveyed the place before proceeding to the counter with confident steps. Once there, an employee with a high ponytail and cherry drop earrings looked up at her and fixed her with a trained smile.

“Hello and Welcome dear, you are here for the interview, right?” the barista addressed her cheerfully.

“That would be me, yes”

“Good, good. Your resume passed with flying colours and the manager will see you now.”

Of course it did, I am no amateur after all. This will be a piece of cake.

“Now if you would please follow me to the backroom, the other person is already there so yall can get right to it”

...

The what

Before Kapota had any time to voice her confusion, the aforementioned barista led her to the back of the shop, knocked on a door at the very end of the hallway, gave her a reassuring smile and left her to her own devices.

Upon hearing “Enter.” from the other side, she took a deep breath and opened the door, peering inside.

The manager sat behind a desk with two other seats in front of him.

The one on the right was empty. But the one on the left was already occupied.

Said occupant was sitting back leisurely with one hand hanging over the backrest and a head full of loud purple hair.

oh...

oh no.

Kapota cursed inwardly when the person turned around, and it did in fact turn out to be the very same guy she was expecting, coincidentally also the actual last person she would want to see right now at this very moment in this very office.

Once he turned around and took a look at her, his face turned to a brief expression of surprise but he shook it off quickly and in its place was a beaming smug grin that could be mistaken for a friendly smile by anyone else, but she knew better.

“You!” she growled and pointed at him accusatory.

“Hii Red” he simply shot back with a wink.

The audacity. What a no-good, infuriating, pompous peac-

“Ah miss Redd! Come, come. Take a seat please.” interrupted the manager, quite rudely, her train of thoughts.

“So..” he continued as she sat down, “I take it that you two have met before, is that right”

Her workmate turned his attention back to said man and with his million-dollar smile, he answered “Oh! yeah, yeah, we go way back, chums pretty much”

“Just coworkers,” she shot back.

“professional associates☆”

“acquaintances at best.”

“You wound me”

“Good.”

“ow-” “-So as I see it,” interfered the manager (yet once again), “this situation turned out as well as it could have! Since it seems that both of you are acquainted with each other already, there won't be any reason for any petty rivalry out there.” they glanced at each other, wearing the same expression, “because, you see, well we, unfortunately, have only one spot on the staff free. And you might be wondering, what now? There is two of you. Well, both of you will simply go out there and will show us if you got what it takes and I’ll pick who will be staying at the end of your shifts”

when neither of them said anything he just shooed them away with his hands and finished with “that would be all thank you, ask Marcy to give you your uniforms and run-down of the place.”

As they were getting up, she looked back at her involuntarily gained companion and suppressed a sigh. It's not that she disliked the guy that much, but with the nuisance incarnate Tom himself here, there wasn’t a single chance of this going according to plan.

///

So far so good, thought a certain Tom Sandál to himself, while picking scattered porcelain shards from the floor.

It’s already been an hour since he has been reassigned to a server instead of a barista and this is only the first cup he broke! Going strong here!

When they started their shifts, he was the one they picked first to go work behind the counter, which they regretted soon enough and pulled him from there. Yeah so he may or may not know actual nothing on how to make a decent cup of coffee or operate any of their machinery but he tried his best, and it's not like Kap lasted in that position that much longer than him when they put her there to replace him. Admittedly she actually took to it a bit better than him and managed to make it work for her, which comes as a surprise in all regards since he was pretty sure that she didn’t like coffee one bit. Suspicious.

Speaking of suspicious, he’s also pretty sure she tried to poison him twice at least in her reign behind the counter, which yes, justified, but still.

He was being a cheek and ordered a cup for himself since there weren’t many people in and there wasn’t much to do. When he got his cup, instead of the typical caramelized nutty smell of a coffee there was something he couldn't quite place but very much out of place and on top of that there was a cream poured art in the shape of a skull in the foam. When he looked back at her with a quirked eyebrow in a silent question she just smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Never has he been this torn in making a decision. Prove a point or stay unpoisoned, choices, choices.

He didn’t dare drink it in the end.

But it was close.

The second time he did it, because yes of course he pulled it twice, he - definitely intentionally and according to plan not just a mistake thankyou- switched orders around and his poisoned cup of coffee ended up with a customer.

After that Kapota has been stripped of her coffee-making privileges and demoted to a server. So now they are both on the same playing field, only needing to look out for nudges from the other one when they are balancing a particularly high stack of tableware.

Tom finished sweeping all the stray bits of porcelain from the floor and dumped them in a bin.

A Job well done, I deserve a cookie.

And with that, he in fact pulled out a cookie from the front pocket of his apron.

Tobi swinged by the shop earlier to drop off his lunch, and also to make fun of him, but they also brought the said cookies so all is forgiven.

Munching on a cookie, he turned to the task at hand and got back to picking up cups and plates from empty seats.

When he was at his third table, with a decently sized cup tower in hands, something behind him caught his attention. Turning slightly, he saw his ol pal Kap standing over a table next to a seated customer with wavy dirty blond hair and a kind smile. The surprising part was that they seemed to be in the middle of a civil conversation.

“Well I be damned” he murmured to himself and leaned towards them.

Kapota of all people being able to make friends that fast? He was almost proud. Unless of course, it i-

/crash/

...

Aaaand that makes it a cup number two.

///

“I don't know… just give me the speciality of the house”

“Leva please I've literally worked here for two hours just pick”

///

Getting inside the head office and swiping classified documents unnoticed has been laughably easy.

When no one was looking, Kapota sneaked off to the backrooms and after confirming that the air was clear, slipped inside the now empty manager's office. With the soft click of closing doors behind her, she quickly scanned the room to see what she could work with. A computer, a corkboard, a card file cabinet and a large painting. Knowing that she was on borrowed time, she quickly proceeded with the task at hand. First, she inspected the corkboard, since it was closest to the door. A quick inspection showed that this was a dead-end, nothing more than useless paper junk and employees of the month, as she partly expected. On the other hand, the computer being also a dead end was a surprise. She searched through it back and forth and yet there was nothing relating to the cup or any nefarious activities, to be frank, there was hardly anything on the computer in general. Not good. Next, she probed the painting, an abstract piece with a decorated frame, hopefully hiding anything of use behind it. She gently lifted it off the wall and to her growing disappointment found only a bare wall hiding behind it. She took a peek at the back of the canvas, hoping to find at least some helpful note tucked to the frame, but all that was there was scribbled “dedicated to S.M., who wont pick up my calls”. She frowned and put the painting back a bit crooked.

“Looks like we’ll have to do this the old fashion way”, she said to herself as she made her way towards the card file cabinet and cracked her knuckles.

Bills, order lists, inventory stocktaking, employee files, folders upon folders of junk. Not looking good so far. She kept thumbing through the folders some more when finally a word caught her attention. “Combination safe”. The document itself was quite chaotic and all over the place, but Kapota gathered the meaning of it loud and clear. There was a safe somewhere in the building, with the combination to it scribbled charitably at the bottom of the page. Not only that, but it wasn’t just any safe that would hold the company’s earnings or anything. No, this was apparently the manager's own personal secret safe. That was about to swiftly change, sharing is caring after all.

She stashed all the folders back and turned to leave the place with her newfound goal. Though when she was across the office something made her scramble in place and dive under the desk. Something that was very unmistakenly footstep sounding, which was confirmed by the creak of the door seconds later.

Glueing herself to the inside of the desk, she held her breath and willed the person to just turn around and leave. This was far from the first time she was in a situation like this but it was nerve-wracking all the same. Few tense moments passed by and the person finally moved towards the desk.

I am a shadow the shadow is me you don't see me you cant see me you wont-

The person sat a paper cup upon the desk and promptly left.

Few more moments passed until the footsteps fully faded and Kapota finally let out the breath she was holding and quickly made her escape from the office.

///

The place consisted of the main room, with a second story of sorts that overlooked the bottom floor, an adjacent kitchen and back hallways that led to the aforementioned office, storeroom and a door to the back alley.

The main room and kitchen were currently a no-go. Can’t snoop around if everyone is pestering you to work and questioning everything you do. The second story was just filled with plants and didn’t offer any seatings for customers so it should be devoid of anyone, but you could also see there from the main room, so snooping there right now is risque as well. So that left Kapota with the office, storeroom, hallways and the back alley for all she knows.

Since the office was already checked, she proceeded to go through the storeroom next but came out empty-handed as well.

So now she was crawling along a wall in the middle of a hallway, prodding the wall for any secrets, step after step.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock kn-/

“I didn’t expect this place to have a boogeymen problem when I applied, they should probably do something about that before things get out of hands”

She didn't even look back, she knew perfectly who that was.

“Don’t you have tea to serve or something”

“I'm pretty sure its coffee and same goes to you”,

“Cool, cool”, she pinched the bridge of her nose “but we can’t both be missing, so go back or you’ll blow my cover.”

“Good”

what a prick.

She decided to not grace him with a response and just went back to her wall scrutiny.

She only managed to cover a few more meters of the hallway before Tom broke the silence again.

“So... why are you creeping in the shadows in the first place”

Now she looked back at him with a smile.

“Let’s just say that the higher-ups have been liberated of a certain safe intel”, she responded lightly before turning back to the wall.

Behind her echoed a commending whistle accompanied by “As expected of the resident sneakster” and then the hallway was filled with the sounds of her work yet once again.

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

“It's just a shame that my sources say something different”

/knock/

...

“Sources?”

“Oh you know...” he drawled with an audible grin “just chit chat here chit chat there with my dear coworkers, really bonded ykno”

“What, How did you make them trust you and spill so quickly, we haven’t been here longer than a few hours.”

“You’d be surprised what people will tell you for a cookie ;]”

Kapota, now fully facing Tom, just blinked for a few moments before gathering her thoughts.

“So hypothetically if i handed you a metaphorical cookie at this very moment could you disclose with me what this great source of yours said.”

“Well then hypothetically, I heard through the grapevine that mr bossman is quite particular about his flowers. Everyone says they look very fake up close but weirdly enough, everyone is also strictly forbidden from touching them or moving them even a centimeter from their spot, lest they wilt”, he finished with a dramatic sigh, before switching his expression to a mischievous smirk and continuing, “So of course i am currently on my way to dig through the dirt and see if there are hidden goodies”

Kapota thought about it for a while, it was very far-fetched, but not implausible. But it still didn’t fully add up and left loose ends…

“Alright flowerboy, but then explain why there were documents talking about spicy little secret safe that the manager is keeping to himself.”

Few beats of silence passed between them before they both exclaimed at the same time.

“The safe is hidden by a flowerpot!”

They were both wearing matching grins, which upon realization promptly morphed into matching glares.

What now.

...

“Alright thanks for the company, but it's time for you to return to the floor now. scram”, Kapota started pointedly and shooed him away with her hands.

“As if!” shot Tom right back. “You wouldn’t even know where to go if it weren’t for me.”

“First of all, I would get there eventually! And secondly, we can’t both disappear from our shifts, people will get suspicious and we will get easily spotted!”

“Well I’m going now and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“But I was here first!”

“I didn’t ask!!”

They held each other's glares. No one was blinking.

“Listen...” began Tom cautiously. “This is getting us nowhere, how about we decide the old fashion way”

Kapota squinted at him as he proceeded to rummage through his pockets and made a small sound of realization when he held out a small coin for her to see.

“A coin flip”

“Exactly”

“I swear Sandals if you say something like ‘tails i go get the loot, heads you go back serving’ i swear i will-”

“Nononon non ok nothing like that I swear just tails you get to go, heads i get to go?”

“... In that case that we could do yeah”

“Nice, nice, so can we blink now?”

“I suppose so”

“Neato”, the staring ended with that and Tom brought his free hand to his eyes.

“I have one condition for it though”, continued Kapota as she rubbed her sore eyes as well.

“I don't want your “showman hands” anywhere near that flip, so no catching or hand slapping and possible rigging of yours will be going on.”

“Fair I suppose, so I just flip it and let it clatter to the ground you say?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of me doing the coin catching.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then floor shall be our judge”

And with that the deciding flip was flipped, the metal gleamed in the shabby ceiling light and filled the whole hallway with anticipation.

As if in slow motion it turned

once

twice

thrice

and then it swiftly fell down and right in the gap between floor panels and clattered to a layer underneath them.

No one moved.

…

“I don’t think I have another coin”, piped quietly Tom.

“The floor is our judge”

“pardon?”

“The floor is our judge.”, repeated Kapota, now a bit more loudly. “We have to find out what the judgement is.”

“What does that, huh? So we are going to tear the floor apart to see what it landed on, or?”

“Yes.”

“...well, lets get to work then, shall we”

///

For anyone wondering, it takes one broken floor plank and a baffled employee to be demoted to a floor sweeper.

///

“That could have gone better”, murmured Tom to himself.

He and his floor vandalizing accomplice were currently stashed in the back of the main room with brooms in hands. Far enough to not be in the way but close enough to be watched over.

Thankfully they weren’t immediately thrown out when they were ungracefully caught with bits of flooring in their hands. He managed to, fortunately, swiftly sweet talk them out of their predicament so now they weren’t personnel suspicious of criminal activity but just two idiot clowns. And while yes, not being thrown out or arrested was sweet indeed, this outcome was not that ideal either. But what's done is done.

So Tom just leaned back against the wall and lamented.

“All that work and we haven’t even found out who won in the end.”

He would have continued to wail some more but a swift bonk to the head from his partner in crime stopped his next lament and instead he just let out a hiss of pain. He looked at her questioningly, because what was that for, but he only received a nod and tipping of her broom (that had been used for the bonkage moment prior) towards the dustpan in his hand. Upon further inspection, it turned out that his wall leaning, while effective for dramatic effect, also tipped over his dustpan and now most of it was back on the floor.

“Ay ay kaptn’ im I am on it Im on it..”, he muttered as he crouched down. “You could have informed me a bit more gently though. I will have a bruise for sure and we’re stuck here for a little while longer and you’re not exactly the one I would want to kiss it better” He dodged from her range with a cackle as she raised the broom threateningly once more.

They continued to sweep peacefully, each in their little corner.

“So… buddy..”

A humm of acknowledgement.

“What do you think are the odds of us being able to scamper off to grab the goods”

To that Kapota chuckled and responded with a small smile. “I think we have better chances of getting promoted than them letting us go anywhere out of their sight”

“drat”

“I second that”

Kapota then proceeded to lean on her broom tiredly.

Not the best of napping places, thought Tom to himself. He should probably be a good friend and provide her with somewhere more comfortable to rest. Like, the floor, for example. And by ‘provide’ meaning deliver a swift kick to her broom as a payback for the bonk. But he decided to be the bigger man and opted to not go through with it and let her be.

For about ten seconds.

///

So this was it.

They were seated again in the bossman’s office just like the many hours before that, except now they were waiting for the big reveal. Which one of them will get the spot and with that a chance to try again the next day. He wasn't delusional and knew neither he or Kap made a great first impression, but now it all comes to who was more of a disaster. He hadn’t looked to his right, but knew his competition next to him was as tense as he.

The manager finally decided to speak.

“Well, how do I put this.” Doesn’t matter, just put it out somehow please. “You have both shown that you are very passionate and prepared to put your all into this and I must commend you for that. But the thing is. Well… after a long evaluation, um I have decided that unfortunately neither of you get the job”. He paused for a short moment before briskly continuing so they couldn't get their two cents in. “It wasn’t an easy decision”, he coughed slightly, “but some, hm, alarming factors pushed me to make this decision. Thank you for your time, it was lovely having you here but I would kindly request of you to take your leave now. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”

///

Tom climbed the last few stairs leading to his door and with a jingle of keys promptly entered inside.

“heeyo I’m home”, he called as he closed the door behind him. In response, he got a muffled “Welcome home” from the kitchen and soft pitter-patter of little feet. Soon enough accompanying the patters was a grey cat-shaped furball striding towards him. He picked up said fuzz and nuzzled it in greeting.

“Hewwo Bean did’cha miss me little buddy?” cooed Tom at the cat which bapped him swiftly in the nose as a response.

“That is not his name and you know it.”, replied a scolding voice from the kitchen.

Tom just laughed and made his way to his dearest with a purring bundle of fluff in his arms. Tobi was standing at the counter, donned in a green sweater and hair in a bun, seemingly finishing putting away whatever it was they were using beforehand. Tom hopped onto the counter next to them.

“I won’t get a hewwo?”, they said over their shoulder.

“in this economy? We’re all out, sorry”

Tobi just smiled and after putting away the last glass they turned to Tom and put their arms around him and mr. Socks and planted a little kiss on their boyfriend’s brow.

“Care for a cup of coffee after a long day?”, they inquired mischievously.

“Don’t ask me anything like that in the next few months and I might find some leftover hewwo stock somewhere.”

Tobi chuckled and murmured in his hair “How generous. Should I put the kettle on instead? Care for a spot of tea perhaps. ”

“That would be absolutely perfect thank uu”

Tom might not have gotten his hands on the famed Luxorn cup, but a cup of tea from his partner seemed even better at the moment.

///

Kapota was standing at the doorstep to her apartment building, wanting to savour the pleasant crisp air for a while longer before going inside. She got here only now, even though she got kicked out of the coffee shop a few hours prior already, but Leva brought her along to their little personal pity party of sorts, to cheer her up. And don’t take her wrong, she had fun and was actually feeling better even though the plan was a bust, because Leva just had that effect on people, but she was exhausted and looking forward to going home and crashing down. So with a last deep breath, she entered the building and began her climb up the many stairs.

After her conquer of the staircase she unlocked her door and entered the comfortable familiarity of her apartment.

“Hey everyone I’m home.”, she called and back replied bubbling water and an oxygen pump whirring.

She put away her coat and shoes and made her way toward her fish tank, grabbing a box of fish food on her way there. She then proceeded to greet all of her bushnosed babeis. All very beautiful. Very powerful.

Once they were all accounted for and fed, Kapota all but fell to her armchair next to the fish tank. Letting out a content sigh, she burrowed down in the soft plush and relaxed. This was fine. This was nice.

She could hardly even remember what she was so bummed out about.

Oh yeah wait. Stupid gaudy cup. Who needs it anyway? She has plenty of cups right here.

So who cares that the heist was unsuccessful, at least she messed up Tom’s plans as well so he’s gone home empty-handed with her, and that's in her books just as much of a success as actually getting the prize.

And with that, she drifted off.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (2)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon | Prompt in Chapter 1 link

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I kinda enjoyed my weekend a bit too much that I must have overstayed by break 😅 it’s always a busy work week for me so I allowed myself to relax. I’ll try to pick up the pace from here on out though! ☺ And I can see this fic has gotten a few of y’all’s attention >;3

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, physical & psychological torture

Also in AO3

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 | Masterlist

2 of ?

THE DAY OF THE COUNTERATTACK

The operation proceeded as planned.

All of you have been preparing for this since the fall of dusk that night.

You had help in hitching a ride from the temple ruins in the jungle to Ulfin. Some rebels drove landspeeders, but only until you got to the city walls that shielded it from the wilderness. Cal caught you by the arm before you regrouped with the detonations team.

“Hey, see you later?”

You smirked, “Yeah, like always.”

Despite your recurring nightmares and anxiety, Cal aided in keeping those inhibitions at bay and encouraged you enough that everything will go as planned. It was worth pondering why his worries were transferred to you ever since you had those nightmares—but you swore to yourself that it wouldn’t happen, you will not allow it.

You and your group were equipped with live trackers—your signatures will appear as blips to the assault division’s, including Cal’s, radars. The redhead constantly stared at your signature marked with your name’s initial, it moved at a natural pace on the radar but something troubled him as they crept through the fortress like scrap rats.

“They’re close to the reactor chamber,” Cal reported to his team.

“Good, they should be going down there and sticking those claymores in a matter of minutes,”

“Come on, [Y/N]…” Cal mumbled through the grit of his teeth.

The destination was the base—the location of the main reactor chamber—and you were carrying your share of the explosives. The leader made it transparently clear of who goes where and which goes to whom. You had to navigate your way through a metal maze—and while doing so, you’re memorizing your path in which will also be your way out—until you found the enormous pillar brimming with electricity and energy.

Your eyes were filled with the light of the energy at the very base of the reactor. You could only imagine just how catastrophic the explosion will be and how far the blast radius can reach. You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to your stomach upon the sight of the reactor pillar.

“Don’t be intimidated, little spark! Once you paste those bad boys up, this reactor will pale in comparison to their punch!”

“It’s not that…” you mutter, supposedly to the boisterous female partisan, but you kept it to yourself as she would not comprehend what you’re sensing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” You thought to yourself, and it’s got something to do with the plan.

The rest of the fighters approached their designated pillars, producing the explosives from their packs and then adhering them to the metal surface. Meanwhile, the adult rebel noticed you hesitating.

“Well, come on, kid, we don’t have all day!” the older lady coaxed.

Eventually, you took your own claymore and attached it on the pillar’s base. You set off the timer for 30 minutes, enough for everyone to get out of the chamber safely and regroup with the ones in the surface. In the middle of your configuration, the weird feeling you detected became stronger—only you had their senses spiked. Your abrupt turn caught the woman’s attention, she shot you a quizzical look, your eyes surveyed the entire reactor chamber… until you spotted a shadow perched on the beam above her head.

“Kid, are you okay?”

“LOOK OUT!!” you screeched but it was too late.

The shadow had made its presence known—the watcher descended from the high beam with ease and drove his crimson saber straight into your companion’s spine, killing her instantly.

“NO!!!”

All of your other companions were on high alert as soon as they heard your first cry. They set their blasters to kill, all barrels pointing at the enemy fully clad in jet black armor. Without a doubt, this was an Inquisitor—everything about him was a dead giveaway from the helmet down to the saber. You brandished your own while the rebels surrounded the Inquisitor, inept to comprehend the sheer power of one individual.

“Well, hello,” the Inquisitor cooed in a singsong manner, tilting his head as he spoke. It appeared that he had his eye on you, for you were the only one standing out amongst these rebels.

“You’ll pay for what you did!” you growled.

“Oh, this?” he nudged the body with his boot. “Sorry, but we all have our accidents once in a while, eh?”

You found his remark revolting. Not once, not even in a single inch, did you remove your eyes from him. From what you can tell, you sensed that he is elusive—he’s made a good example of that before he made your fellow rebel a landing cushion for himself and the other end of his lightsaber.

“You’re quite young for a Jedi, a youngling during the Purge no doubt,”

“What do you know about me?”

A throaty chuckle was your reply; he positioned himself in a stance, as well as his saber, in the offensive.

“Perhaps, you could show me,” invited the Inquisitor.

It was he who made the first move. He cut through the wind like a dart, swift and sure, until you broke his lunge with a block. You prepared yourself for impact, but you didn’t expect it to be this heavy! You’ve found yourself caught in a frenzied dance of blades, waving and swinging your saber at the Inquisitor who’s keenly refusing you a chance of a jab at all.

This new enemy in the lines, the shadowy Second Brother, was a blade in the dark.

You’ve got to hand it to him—he is very stealthy and acrobatic, he almost makes it impossible to catch up to him. Not even the sharpshooter of your team can land a mark, let alone graze his armor, as the Second Brother leaps from one parapet to a platform and so on.

Spinning in place as you followed his movements was an old tactic to tire you down, that much you’re certain, and he was impressed that you read through his plan. He didn’t linger from his high ground too long; for someone of a heavy stock, he appeared and moved as light as a feather while he’s perched on the safety banister of the platform. Holding out his dual-edged saber in one hand, he tucked his knees and sprang off from his perch, darting through the wind again towards you.

You prepared yourself again for another heavy landing. Little by little, you determine his attack pattern: he prefers confusing his enemies visually by leaping from one surface to another—like a Kowakian monkey-lizard—and when he’s in an optimum position, he’ll buckle for a heavy, dart-like attack as he bolts through the air, propelled by the take-off caused by the balls of his feet.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” his voice rung muffled through his helmet as he strains his weight against yours, making you some sort of anchor.

Compared to him, you’re half his size and strength, but you didn’t let that intimidate you. You destroyed his stance by kicking him in the knee, straightening his leg from its tucked position, and follow it up with another foot to the stomach. The pain was tolerable, nonetheless, he wordlessly commended your courage and boldness.

“A thorny one, too!” he cackled.

You turned to the rebels.

This fight was obviously a trap for you and the rebels to lose time. Despite the compromise, you urged everyone that the plan must pull through.

“Switch on the timers now!” you ordered for everyone as you held fast against the Inquisitor.

As soon as you gave the order, one of the rebels sprinted towards his reactor, stretched out a hand as he ran so his fingers could at least touch the button…

Until the Inquisitor extended his arm, aimed at the scampering rebel, and essentially seized the man’s capability to move—leaving his fingertip just a mere inch away from the button to start the countdown.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the Inquisitor chirped in a mocking, singsong tune. “You wouldn’t wanna ruin the fun, now would you?”

Using the Force, you break off his connection with the man and drew his attention to you. Apparently so, ruining his own sick definition of fun is something one must not do—not even a Jedi.

You fixated your eyes on him, you watch him slowly crane his head from the rebel to you—obviously vexed by your interruption—and so he lowered his arm, subsequently releasing the rebel. His throaty growl prevailed the low-pitched machine hum of the reactors.

Bemused at you, he snarls, “Thorny one, indeed.”

“Careful not to prick yourself then!”

The Second Brother liked your snark. The two of you resumed the whirlwind of blades as the rebels took advantage of the preoccupied Inquisitor and made a run for the explosives already glued to the pillars.

“[Y/N], COME ON!” another rebel vigorously swung his arm in the air, repeating a beckoning gesture at you as he let the rest of the partisans scale the ladders and make their escape.

“JUST GO, I’LL FOLLOW!!” you cry while struggling in the block against the Second Brother.

“Are you sure about that!?” he shifts more of his weight against you, in an attempt to make you fumble and finally give him a window to attack.

The rebels make their way out of the reactor chamber with less than thirty minutes ticking behind them. Engaging the Second Brother has cost you ten minutes already. A shortcut was made, courtesy of the bombardment caused by the skirmish on the ground. They pass through the obliterated hallway with a hole in the wall, a few Stormtroopers’ bodies strewn across the floor, and a row of busted turrets.

Back on the ground, Cal is the singular crutch that gave the rebels the advantage they so desperately want and need. This is a large playing field, and so he had the equal amount of room to practice, experiment, enhance, or improve. Cal was confident as he deals more hits in the vanguard along with the rest of the rebels in the front; eventually, he had to fall back from the bulk of the action as he felt something wrong.

“Bee-boop?”

“I’m not hurt, BD… I sensed something… quite bad,” Cal panted, clutching his chest as he struggled to calm his breathing.

He shook it off and fished out his compact radar from his pocket. His eyes followed a cluster of red blips moving in the same direction—which is south in his perspective—though, he spotted your blip which remained in the reactor chamber. He stared at the red dot, your red dot, pondering why it has remained in the same location or only moving in what ought to be just paces in real life. He clenched his teeth hard enough for this molars to grind against each other. He puts away the radar and returns to battle.

Where are you, [Y/N]? What are you still doing there?! He thought to himself as he cuts down the trio of Stormtroopers aiming at him.

Meanwhile, you’re still busy with the Second Brother; there seems to be no end to his energy—still acrobatic and swift as the first time he made himself known. Another clash and long intertwine of your blades, he finally saw through you—in your eyes, lit by the contradicting colors of your weapons—and discovered the determination slowly transmogrifying into desperation.

“Ahh,” he purred, and then chuckled. “Now I see what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You know nothing, you treacherous oaf! Nor will you ever!”

“There it is!” he voluntarily withdrew from the clash of blades, evading your overhead strike, and gestures with his arms thrown open to the sides as if he had an epiphany.

He pointed the end of his saber to you.

“There’s that darkness, you’ve buried it so deep within you… but now it has emerged,” he tauned.

“Keep quiet!”

Out of frustration, you charged and lunged at him. A reckless move in the heat of the moment.

The Inquisitor had no problem whatsoever in deflecting you; he’s confident that he has attained the upper hand of this duel—now that he’s spotted a weakness in you that you’ve unintentionally let out.

This collision of blades was the most intense than the ones that came before it. You could almost see his sinister grin through the plate of his mask as your sabers—a dramatic contrast of color and of virtue—illuminate your faces.

“Let me…” he hissed and slowly brought his one hand from his hilt to your forehead. “Shine a light in that darkness.”

[newstfionline]

Friday, August 6, 2021

US plans to require COVID-19 shots for foreign travelers (AP) The Biden administration is taking the first steps toward requiring nearly all foreign visitors to the U.S. to be vaccinated for the coronavirus, a White House official said. The requirement would come as part of the administration’s phased approach to easing travel restrictions for foreign citizens to the country. No timeline has yet been determined, as interagency working groups study how and when to safely move toward resuming normal travel. Eventually all foreign citizens entering the country, with some limited exceptions, are expected to need to be vaccinated against COVID-19 to enter the U.S.

Big tech companies are at war with employees over remote work (Ars Technica) All across the United States, the leaders at large tech companies like Apple, Google, and Facebook are engaged in a delicate dance with thousands of employees who have recently become convinced that physically commuting to an office every day is an empty and unacceptable demand from their employers. The COVID-19 pandemic forced these companies to operate with mostly remote workforces for months straight. And since many of them are based in areas with relatively high vaccination rates, the calls to return to the physical office began to sound over the summer. But thousands of high-paid workers at these companies aren’t having it. Many of them don’t want to go back to the office full time, even if they’re willing to do so a few days a week. Workers are even pointing to how effective they were when fully remote and using that to question why they have to keep living in the expensive cities where these offices are located. Some tech leaders (like Twitter’s Jack Dorsey) agreed, or at least they saw the writing on the wall. They enacted permanent or semipermanent changes to their companies’ policies to make partial or even full-time remote work the norm. Others (like Apple’s Tim Cook) are working hard to find a way to get everyone back in their assigned seats as soon as is practical, despite organized resistance. In either case, the work cultures at tech companies that make everything from the iPhone to Google search are facing a major wave of transformation.

At least 10 dead as van carrying migrants crashes in Texas (AP) An overloaded van carrying 29 migrants crashed Wednesday on a remote South Texas highway, killing at least 10 people, including the driver, and injuring 20 others, authorities said. The crash happened shortly after 4 p.m. Wednesday on U.S. 281 in Encino, Texas, about 50 miles (80 kilometers) north of McAllen. A surge in migrants crossing the border illegally has brought about an uptick in the number of crashes involving vehicles jammed with migrants who pay large amounts to be smuggled into the country. The Dallas Morning News has reported that the recruitment of young drivers for the smuggling runs, combined with excessive speed and reckless driving by those youths, have led to horrific crashes.

Turkish wildfires are worst ever, Erdogan says, as power plant breached (Reuters) Turkey is battling the worst wildfires in its history, President Tayyip Erdogan said on Wednesday, as fires spread to a power station in the country’s southwest after reducing swathes of coastal forest to ashes. Fanned by high temperatures and a strong, dry wind, the fires have forced thousands of Turks and foreign tourists to flee homes and hotels near the Aegean and Mediterranean coasts. Eight people have died in the blazes since last week. Planes and dozens of helicopters have joined scores of emergency crews on the ground to battle the fires, but Erdogan’s government has faced criticism over the scale and speed of the response. In the last two weeks, fires in Turkey have burnt more than three times the area affected in an average year, a European fire agency said. Neighbouring countries have also battled blazes fanned by heatwaves and strong winds.

Sri Lanka’s financial problems (Foreign Policy) Sri Lanka is threatening to become South Asia’s economic weak link. It’s mired in a severe debt crisis, and its budget deficit exceeded 11 percent of GDP during the last fiscal year, which ended in March. The country’s foreign reserves can only pay for three months of imports, prompting Colombo to cut back on many foreign imports, including turmeric, a staple product. Fitch Ratings has warned default is a real possibility. Sri Lanka’s woes stem in great part from a floundering tourism sector. Tourism typically accounts for at least 5 percent of GDP, and some estimates even put the figure at 12.5 percent. The sector’s troubles began before the coronavirus pandemic, when suicide bombers killed at least 290 people in churches and hotels in April 2019, keeping visitors away. But the pandemic still dealt a giant blow. A 2021 assessment found tourist arrivals between January and April fell nearly 100 percent from the same period in 2020.

Australia to spend $813M to address Indigenous disadvantage (AP) Australia’s government on Thursday pledged 1.1 billion Australian dollars ($813 million) to address Indigenous disadvantage, including compensation to thousands of mixed-race children who were taken from their families over decades. The AU$378.6 million ($279.7 million) to be used to compensate the so-called Stolen Generations by 2026 is the most expensive component of the package aimed at boosting Indigenous living standards in Australia. Prime Minister Scott Morrison said the compensation was a recognition of the harm caused by forced removal of children from families.

Israel launches airstrikes on Lebanon in response to rockets (AP) Israel on Thursday escalated its response to rocket attacks this week by launching rare airstrikes on Lebanon, the army said. The army said in a statement that jets struck the launch sites from which rockets had been fired over the previous day, as well as an additional target used to attack Israel in the past. The IDF blamed the state of Lebanon for the shelling and warned “against further attempts to harm Israeli civilians and Israel’s sovereignty.” The overnight airstrikes were a marked escalation at a politically sensitive time. Israel’s new eight-party governing coalition is trying to keep peace under a fragile cease fire that ended an 11-day war with Hamas’ militant rulers in Gaza in May.

‘Winning a medal doesn’t make him Jewish’ (Washington Post) When gymnast Artem Dolgopyat stepped off the podium as only the second Israeli to win an Olympic gold medal, he triggered one of Israel’s many cultural tripwires: It quickly emerged that the country’s newest sports hero is banned from marrying his fiancee here because he is not considered Jewish enough by the rabbis who control Israel’s marriage law. Immediately after Dolgopyat took top honors in the men’s floor exercise, his mother took the chance to complain that Israeli religious law is keeping her engaged 24-year-old son from tying the knot because only his father’s side of the family is Jewish. Marriage law is tightly controlled by Israel’s Chief Rabbinate. And for generations, couples who are of mixed religions—or who are atheists, gay or inadequately Jewish—have been forced to marry outside the country. Dolgopyat’s training schedule has made that impossible, said his mother, Angela Bilan. “I want grandchildren,” Bilan said Sunday in an interview with Israeli radio.

Talking to strangers (Atlantic) A hefty body of research has found that an overwhelmingly strong predictor of happiness and well-being is the quality of a person’s social relationships. But most of those studies have looked at only close ties: family, friends, co-workers. In the past decade and a half, professors have begun to wonder if interacting with strangers could be good for us too: not as a replacement for close relationships, but as a complement to them. The results of that research have been striking. Again and again, studies have shown that talking with strangers can make us happier, more connected to our communities, mentally sharper, healthier, less lonely, and more trustful and optimistic.

But tanks make such handy snowplows... (BBC) A German retiree was fined nearly $300,000 by local authorities on Tuesday following the discovery of a World War-II era tank in his basement along with other items of the period, including a flak cannon and multiple machine guns. The Panther tank was removed from the man’s property in 2015, a job that took 20 soldiers almost nine hours to complete. The unnamed 84-year-old might have been able to hold on to his tank and the rest of his collection—which must now be donated to a museum within two years, according to Tuesday’s ruling—had he kept it a better secret. “He was chugging around in that thing during the snow catastrophe in 1978,” Heikendorf Mayor Alexander Orth told reporters.

[grim-faux]

4 - Committed to Survival

Rather fix the camera in its hoister now, I’d wait until I wasn’t around the water.  The path out of this place felt long and oppressive, the sharp smell of mildew at this point drilling a painful ache in my head.  I shut the mesh door behind me and trudged up the stairs to the first landing, where a tolerable light source awaited.

MKULTRA program, CIA document no. 190691, p. 1, excerpt  To: File  Subject: Hypnotic Experimentation and Research, Febuary 10, 1954  On Wednesday, 10 Febuary, 1954, hypnotic experimentation and research work was continued in Building 13 of the Mount Massive Preserve in Colorado using the following subjects.

  <material abridged> 

1. A posthypnotic of the night before (pointed finger, you will sleep) was enacted. Misses Jackson and Pierce immediately progressed to a deep hypnotic state with no further suggestion.  Miss Pierce was then instructed (having previously expressed a fear of firearms in any fashion) that she would use every method at her disposal to awaken miss Jackson (now in a deep hypnotic sleep), and failing this, she would pick up a nearby pistol and fire it at Miss Jackson. She was instructed that her rage would be so great that she would not hesitate to “kill” Jackson for failing to awaken. 

2. Miss Pierce carried out these suggestions to the letter including firing the (unloaded pneumatic pistol) gun at Jackson and then proceeding to fall into a deep sleep. After proper suggestions were made, both were awakened and expressed complete amnesia for the entire sequence. Miss Pierce was again handed the gun, which she refused (in an awakened state) to pick up or accept from the operator.  She expressed absolute denial that the foregoing sequence had happened.” In the least my little souvenir was interesting.  Hypnoses to cure fears, or force a person to perform a desired function.  I read files on this but the fancy didn’t strike me, people liked to read those sorts of articles but I wasn’t prime on reporting them. I left the file on the landing and made the ground floor.  I exhaled a breath of relief to see my surroundings unchanged, whether good or bad.  At least the big fucker had left most of the building intact.  I made my uneventful trek back to the Security room, I didn’t like the idea of a gaping hole behind me at this point, but I wasn’t about to prop that heavy metal door up with that little rolling chair. Call me lazy, I just wanted to get the doors open and put a fuck lot of distance between here, and the remnants of my healthy psyche.  I wasn’t going to be normal after this, alright? The terminal looked like it would still function, some of the monitors seemed to be spazing out from the abrupt shut down.  The main root, system controls, was up and ready to go. I managed to type in the first half of Security before someone crashed into me from behind, I didn’t even hear them enter.  I tried to push back and throw them off but they had braced a knee into the back of my leg, the edge of the terminal bit into my bruised thigh.  I already knew who it was even before he braced his arms over my chest, pain rippled up my side as he wrenched my head up.  Something metal flashed across my vision.  A needle! It was jammed into the base of my neck, my vision flashed as whatever the hypodermic was filled with drowned my senses.  He released me and I collapsed against the desk, my forehead started to tingle and I immediately worried over what was in that needle.  I leaned against my arms struggling to drag my failing strength back, but it was impossible.  The blue chair rolled over the clean portion of the floor as he nudged it aside, and moved close beside me.  I turned my head to watch his movement, his foul black robe swelled along my peripheral vision.  Getting hard to focus.  Felt like my legs were turning into jello. “I’m sorry, my son, I didn’t want to have to do this to you.”  He revealed the needle and grasped my hand.  “But you can’t leave, not yet.”  I jerked my hand away from his clammy grasp and brushed him off.  I tried to turn, push him away.  I want nothing to do with you.  Nothing!  Just let me Leave!   Without the support of the desk my legs gave out.  The Priest caught me under the arms and lowered me to my knees.  My shoulder pressed into the side of the metal desk as I stared up into his face.  He was bald, with wild eyes that frightened me.  “There is so much yet for you to witness.”   Oh god. “Will you see it?  Can you?”  With one arm latched to my side, he used the other hand to turn my head towards a gray video feed.  My thoughts were muddled, it was a room.  Camera looking down in a room, with a desk, wall with windows.  Bright windows.  Everything in that room was bright.  A symbol.  Rings on the floor.  Sharp ovals.  People in the room.  Holding guns.  Looked like MHS cops.  The guy I watched die.  I tried to get out…. “Our lord the Walrider, tearing His truth into the unbelievers.”  They were dying.  My eyes drooped but I fought to keep focus, what was killing them?  Dragging them off, throttling them, blood everywhere.  This place was turning red, full of blood.  Blood up to my knees, I was running from my shadow.  What did they see?  What was killing them?  What did he put into me? “The only way out of this place is the truth.”  My head rolled back to him.  The drugs made me weak and heavy, and I couldn’t care less for what he was saying.  The lights dimmed and I sank to my side.  His last words rang through my mind.   “Accept the gospel and all doors will open before you.” The dark. There was safety in the dark.  There was comfort in the dark.  The dark was the unknown.  The dark was all encompassing.  The dark was unmovable. Unless there was light.  That terrible light. I awoke once, enveloped in white, everything was bright and painful to bear.  By my side was a dark shape, the Priest.  I blinked and he was outside the door, it looked like he was speaking to a man with ants crawling on his face. Maybe it was a dream.  The road was very long, and it was already night.  It didn’t matter what time visiting hours ended, I planned to snoop around the grounds anyway and pick up whatever looked incriminating.  But I had to film something concrete, or my contacts would just scoff. When I arrived, the patients were wandering the front lawn in white shrouds.  Something without form was tearing through them, tossing their bodies like broken toys against the walls, muscle and lungs were tangled in the barbed wire.  Amidst them was Chris Walker, the other patients had bowed before him.  It didn’t look like he cared.  His face was splint back in a cruel grin, but his eyes were milky and dead. Once I had gotten away from the Asylum, I collapsed in the woods.  Everything hurt, my body was broken.  Death wasn’t the punishment anymore.  I didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, a boyfriend, my next job - nothing mattered.  The fight was over.  I curled up in the wet leaves and sank into a deep sleep, the dead of winter closed in, but not even the cold could reach me.  There was just the indiscriminate black that awaited at the end of it all. A soft groan escaped me as I roused, clearing the short rest from my stiff lungs.  I opened my eyes to view murky shapes, odd lines in the white walls.  The damn light was too bright, I turned my head and felt the dull pain in my neck reminding me of the previous events.  Everything felt muggy and pointless to my mind, but at least I was alone.    It felt like I had slept on the world’s hardest substance, the material crinkled nastily as I shifted.  Smelt like a retirement homes bad day, but at this point I didn’t give a damn.  Same scenario if you were drunk off your ass, you didn’t give a damn where you passed out.  I put a hand to my collar and brought it back.  No blood.  Probably bruised like hell, but otherwise fine.  My brain was still working out the crap that guy injected me with, should probably be the least of my worries.   For a while I lay on that stiff cot, staring at the walls until they came into focus.  Crosses and words scrawled everywhere.  Some of it in blood.  I took it this was His cell. I didn’t feel ready to resume my personal vendetta for freedom, but options were a luxury I feared I was now banned from.  Time was my worst enemy, and my chances of walking out alive dwindled the longer I wavered.  Either way, I didn’t want to be here when He returned. Slowly I sat up, making mental note of the injuries that had set into my body.  I coughed a bit of blood onto my sleeve, but that didn’t alarm me.  But I would check in to the hospital first chance I had.  A real hospital. Very considerate of the Priest to leave the camera, but he had reinforced his desires into me that I was to be his Apostle.  I flipped the visor open and raised it to the walls. “The priest, FATHER MARTIN brought me here to show me something. Thinks I’m going to be a witness for whatever batshit crazy he’s trying to sell me. This DR. WERNICKE is at the center of whatever went wrong here. But he died more than ten years ago. ‘Rest in Peace,’ says the blood on the wall.“ Fuck the story, when I get out of here I was going to write a New York Times best seller.  “How I Survived the Worst Tip in my Career.”  By Miles Upshur.  In your face, Oprah. The door had no visible lock or latch mechanism.  How did I get out?  Maybe if I pushed. That didn’t seem to work, but as I peered out of the small window a face shot into the lens of my camera startling me.  A click echoed, and the figure darted off.  Though the door was now wide open, I waited.  I had no idea what was out there, let alone where the hell I was NOW.  I hadn’t seen much before he unlocked the cell.  But the question I needed answered immediately, where was I in this god awful place?  Far from the safest exit, of course! Tentatively, I crept forward, but what was I going to do if someone decided to come in next?  I wasn’t hiding in here. This was better than Disney land.  I think every ghost hunter in the world would donate a kidney, just to spend a night in this place.  It was the main ward of the asylum, its heart, where all the crazies hung out.   Below, I saw a few of the frequents.  One man patrolling, smashing his skull into blood stained concrete with bone cracking force.  I winced with each impact. “Back!  Get back!”  To my right a man lunged at a segregation gate rattling at the bars, shrieking his lungs out.  “Get the fuck away from me!  Rrah!  Huh…don’t look at me.  Don’t you dare….” I whirled away from him, relying fully on the doors capacity to withstand his violence, even if fate did not favor me this hour.  I walked along the bland and gray wall, glancing down to the people on the lower floor.  Had they been this messed up before Murkoff got ahold of them?  They were using dream therapy to alter their higher cognitive functions of the mind, didn’t look like these people had that treatment.  Even if they had, I still wouldn’t be able to distinguish them from your typical lunatic. I shuddered to think if Murkoff had been trying to cure their mental deficiency in order to use them for further experimentation later on. The smell.  Like all the filthy alley ways and slums in every city in the world.  I could hardly breathe without gaging, filth was everywhere.  It was a miracle these people weren’t dead from contamination.  Or maybe it was some sort of curse.  This was no sort of life for a human. The window parallel to my face burst open and a hand shot out, grabbing for my head as I ducked.  I smashed against the rail and stared up as the arm continued to grope blindly for nothing, then withdrew.  The shock wore off quickly and I stood up to gaze on the face that met mine. Skin had been cut and moved, tacked down in cruel areas.  It looked like his right eyelid had been removed, the eye now a shriveled sack in the socket.  Despite his earlier ‘attack,’ I think I felt sorry for him. I was still glad his door was locked. The next door was open, but I could change that. “Said he shouldn’t hurt you,” a voiced hummed from within. Inside, opposite to a blood splashed corner, stood a man pawing at his face.  He too had been mutualized by some form of surgery, one eye stitched shut and his face scarred by malpractice.  “Is what he said.” I glanced around, then turned back to him and raised the camera.  “Father Martin?” “Our Father,” he corrected.  “Told him not to hurt you.  But when the cat’s away….Hmmmm….Mmmmm.” Everything in me screamed, slam that door now.  But I didn’t.  Quietly, I backed away and left him as he was.  If he was a danger, he was the least of my concerns.  Shutting the door might agitate him, and there were people on the floor below that seemed to not have noticed my presence yet. I slipped around the pillar of the next corner and walked towards the metal door on this side of the level. “Who’s this?” I stopped in my tracks and stared at the speaker, cloaked by shadow.  That was all they were cloaked by. “Maybe…Farther Martin’s man.” “Maybe.”  The first seemed excited by my presence.  My hair stood on end and I knew without a doubt, I should not be near them. The thick metal gate stood between us and presumably was locked, but I couldn’t make that gamble.  Even without the NV I could distinguish their lack of apparel, their shapes were tall and sinewy, and they appeared to be identical twins.  Splattered with blood. “He looks nervous.” “I would like to kill him.” I hid behind the pillar a little more. “As would I…”  His voice made the task sound tedious.  I really didn’t want to be here at this particular moment. “The preacher asked us not to.” “It would be impolite.” “Not here.” They paused. “We give him a running start?” “There’s an idea.” “And when we kill him, we kill him slow.” “Such patience.” I was done.  I was gone.  I was staggering down the steps searching for a way out of this mad house.  “I want his tongue.  And liver.” “They are yours.” Was there a way out?  Not from down here, the only route I could see had the camera shy freak and my new fan club.  They were giving me a running start.  What the FUCK did that mean?! “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Said the man staring at a pillar.  I decided from this point on, for the safety of my psyche and my body parts I did NOT need to speak with ANYONE.  They could talk to me, I was not going to converse back. Someone darted from the group into an open door, and slammed it.  One less to worry over.  Two men still roamed, there was a third sitting in a wheelchair.  I didn’t trust anyone in a wheelchair anymore. The two rooms on either side of the stairs had nothing to offer, no tools or messages, or items of interest.  I had a fear of standing in the doorways, unless someone opened the door from the outside I could be locked in.  The man staring at his pillar, he had been the one to let me out in the first place.  I didn’t want to ask if there was a way out of this area. The Priest had brought me here, how the hell did he get out?  Unless, he was still here…. “Don’t trust them.”  I jerked away from the man in the wheelchair, I had given him his distance though it was doubtful he could do much.  His mutilation went beyond the laws of humanity, scars and broken flesh healed over.   I raised my camera and knelt down, but I refused to get too close.  “They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not.  They were…waiting for us.  In this place.  Billy understood.  They’ve always been here.” I wanted to ask him about Billy.  About the experiments and the Walrider, and what he meant by ‘they.’  But I was frightened by what he might say.  If he said any more.  Uttering this information had seemed to exhaust him, and his head wilted to his shoulder.  Briefly, I wondered if he had fallen asleep or had he finally escaped this place. I shivered and stood.  A way out that involved my body and I escaping together, and in one piece.  That seemed like a naive dream. I didn’t bother with the door behind him, or the one after that.  Though, as I passed by a face appeared in the glass.  I stared, and ‘he’ stared back.  My mind was attempting to fathom how someone without a mouth could survive, unless there was a tube in his nose, but even his nostrils were compromised.  It looked like there was an opening in his throat, reminiscent to smokers that suffered cancer and had their larynx removed. This place was god awful.  I had to keep reminding myself that, the more I looked around, the more I felt.  Even for a clutch of crazy people, murderers, whatever.  I think the worst ones were the men and women that consciously decided they were going to mangle the part of them that wasn’t broken beyond function.  Then, crack their minds open and figure out to what extent they could fuck their thoughts up even more. I was between feeling terrible and feeling like bitter justice was served.  Everything was a whirling mess of gray with globs of black. One room I entered on the far side had a patient curled up on his cot, trembling.  I knelt down to film him through the nightvision feed, taking in the details of his misshapen face.  Many of the patients I had encountered thus far had scars or wounds of unknown origin, from experiments Murkoff was performing on them.  It was briefly mentioned in Chris Walker’s file, many of his injuries were self-inflicted, but the report indicated not all.  Were the patient’s the one mutilating their bodies, prior to Murkoff’s fall?  Not all of them shared these injuries, some appeared almost normal or unharmed.   It must have been a part of the process Murkoff was putting them through.  But what sort of process I couldn’t begin to imagine.  Some of the scars appeared almost like chemical burns in theory.  What sort of monster would give an order to maim humans? “Too many voices.  They followed me back.”  He stumbled into me as I swayed to get out of his way.  “No more sleep.”  He grabbed my collar and forced me aside, and then continued on toward a bloody spot on the wall without pause.  Wack. Smack! Crack! Clack! “They’re in my blood and they want to get out.  Can feel….” I continued to back away until I was a safe distance, concealed in shadows.  My back pressed against the cold wall and I slid down to sit. “We angered Him with our science.  He only wanted faith.” The voice sounded very close, but when I turned my camera to find him, he was a few feet away curled up tightly in a corner.  I sat there for what felt like a long time observing the habits of these people, lost in madness.  Eventually the man whom stared at pillar did move, at first leaning on his subject matter, then slipping down until he was on his side facing the cold concrete structure.  I turned my attention back to the man in wheelchair, but he had not yet moved since he spoke.  I wondered if he did indeed die.  It made no difference to me, not at this time, but I did feel a unique chill in my veins at the thought.  How many people have I watched die today? “Voices in my head follow me back!”  When the head banger made his third round, I decided it was time to find a way out. Without a word of farewell to the squatter, I crossed to the other side of the wall to doors that had not been examined.  I was beginning to despair, surrendering resolve to the idea of returning to the upper level, to the twins. It was very likely they would open the door only to murder me.  There was no place for me to run, or hide.  Especially with the two of them, they’d corner me with little effort if I tried.  My heart thudded against the stress, and that persistent pain in my chest.  I needed a doctor. A door I opened finally offered some promise, the back of the room was shattered revealing a crack into an open work space.  A shred of concern did remain in me to enter a room in which I could not open from the inside, but I didn’t give a damn at this point.  I squeezed through the gap and pulled up the nightvision, it sounded like someone was struggling. I wasn’t confident in facing the source, if I had someplace to run I might felt more assured.  Truth was safety was an illusion in Mount Massive, my only hope for survival was my capacity to elude danger.   There wasn’t much to see in the work hall, pipes for water, pipes for gas, I couldn’t tell which from the static green NV feed.  The noises were muffled but grew louder as I moved through the work space.  I didn’t like the sound of them.  Overhead the cement had been torn out, where the debris was removed to remained a mystery but it was a direction to take. I climbed onto a crate and made sure it was sturdy before leaping up to an overhead ledge.  For a span I was completely blind in the dark, the camera strap I stuck in my mouth rather the case so I could reach it quicker.  Once I had pulled myself onto the floor I knelt and took it up, looking immediately into the visor. A face covered in ants stared back. I gave a sharp yelp and toppled sideways, catching the jagged edge with my elbows before I fell through, my legs swung beneath me and I struggled not to drop the camera in my hand.  Groaning, I pulled myself back up and crawled away before checking once more. “Agh!  God damnit!  What the fuck is the matter with you?”  One of the patients had plastered himself against a wall and was fixing his shirt.  He wasn’t wearing pants.  On the floor across from him was a bloodied and decapitated body, nude, in a…suggestive position. “You weren’t invited to this, you god damned sicko.” Just….This place needed to go to hell.  Some of the people here did deserve what they got. “What, you like to watch?”  He pointed directly at me and reaffirmed his diagnosis.  “It’s sick.  You’re sick.” And thus my pledge, not to speak to any of these people, was solidified.  You couldn’t stage better propaganda. “Fuck this place. Seriously, just fuck this place. Dying keeps moving lower on the list of the worst things that could happen to me here.” I jogged down the hall, an otherwise good mood literally—No, no.  I needed to forget.  Positive thoughts, healthy thoughts.  I was terribly fucking lost, had no map, two naked men were admitted into my fan club, and dying was no longer top of the list of shitty ways to ruin this day. Or night.  I had no fucking idea. “Hey!  Hey!”  I stopped in an intersecting hall when someone called for me, and rattled a gate.  He was on the other side, which made me happy.  “You… Oh.  I….”  By the time I had my camera zoomed in he had already spun about and was running away.  The small event had me smirking despite everything, who did he think I was?  A friend? Lord give me strength, I was just mistaken for a loony.  And I thought it was funny.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Graphics by Yutong Yuan

All across the country, the gears of the economy are grinding slowly and creakily into motion. Retail stores are newly open for in-person shopping in California. It’s possible to get a much-needed haircut in Alabama. And in Alaska, bartenders are even slinging drinks again — albeit with strict capacity and spacing limits.

The reopening of the economy might seem like a promising sign. After all, as shuttered stores and restaurants reopen, workers can return to their jobs or look for new positions, and industries that have seen slowdowns can resume operations. Some politicians — including President Trump — have promised a fast recovery.

But how quickly will the economy really be able to bounce back? How long will we be stuck with a double-digit unemployment rate and a host of other historically bad economic indicators?

We wanted to get a sense of what the experts were thinking. So we partnered with the Initiative on Global Markets, a research center at the University of Chicago Booth School of Business, to survey a group of quantitative macroeconomic researchers who work in academic settings about the trajectory of the economic crisis. In consultation with Jonathan Wright of Johns Hopkins University and Allan Timmermann of the University of California, San Diego, two experts on macroeconomic forecasting, we asked the panel questions like what the shape of the recovery will resemble, when gross domestic product will return to its pre-crisis levels, and what the unemployment rate will be at the end of the year. The survey was conducted May 22 to 25.

Overall, the researchers predicted that although the economy will probably start to improve in the second half of this year, there won’t be a quick rally from this recession. “The panelists believe, on the whole, that the recovery from this crisis is going to be a very, very lengthy process,” Timmermann said. “We’re going to be seeing serious effects for years and years.”

Our sample of economists thought it was more likely than not — with an average probability of 54 percent — that the next quarter to see positive real GDP growth in the U.S. (relative to the previous quarter) would be the third quarter of 2020. But that’s probably a low bar to clear; the economy shrunk by 4.8 percent in the first quarter and is likely to contract even more in the second quarter. And there’s a significant chance that the contractions could continue further into the future: The forecasters we polled thought there was a 23 percent chance that the economy would not grow again until the fourth quarter of 2020 and a 22 percent chance that it wouldn’t grow until the first quarter of 2021 or later.

“The economy almost has to grow [in the third quarter] because we’ll be starting from such a low base,” Wright said. “Unless, of course, things seem to be looking good right now and then in July or August there’s another wave and we go straight back to lockdown. Then you could have another negative quarter.”

Another way to think about the recovery process is by considering the shape of the recession. We presented the economists with four specific options of how the trajectory of GDP might look as charted over 2020 and beyond: V-shaped, with a sharp fall and a sharp rebound; U-shaped, with a long period between the beginning of the recession and the recovery; W-shaped, with a sharp recovery followed by another sharp fall and recovery; or “Swoosh”-shaped, with a sharp decline followed by a very slow recovery (picture the Nike logo). More than half of respondents — 58 percent — thought the long, slow recovery of a “Swoosh” shape was most likely, with 19 percent predicting a U-shape and 13 percent calling for a W-shape with multiple declines and recoveries. Tellingly, only 1 out of 31 economists forecasted a V-shape, which would see a quick recovery after the sharp decline of the past few months.1

That pessimistic outlook also came through in our panel’s predictions for when the economy might return to the way it was before the pandemic. The researchers predicted, on average, only an 11 percent chance that real GDP will have caught up to its pre-crisis (fourth quarter of 2019) level by the first half of 2021 and only a 17 percent chance that it will have caught up to its pre-crisis level by the end of 2021. On average, they thought there was roughly a 40 percent probability that GDP would return to its pre-crisis levels sometime in 2022. But they assigned a 32 percent chance to the possibility that GDP wouldn’t return to its pre-crisis level until 2023 or later. Wright pointed out, too, that matching the pre-crisis GDP still isn’t a full recovery, since the economy would have continued to grow if the recession hadn’t happened.

There was a similarly bleak prediction for the unemployment rate. The forecasters’ median estimate for the unemployment rate in May’s jobs report, which will come out on June 5, was 20 percent. By the end of the year, they think the unemployment rate will still be very high by historical standards — the median estimate for the unemployment rate in the December jobs report, which will come out in January 2021, was 12 percent.

In general, the consensus of the forecasters was that there is only an 18 percent chance that the unemployment rate will fall below 10 percent this year, and a 36 percent chance that it won’t fall below 10 percent until after the second quarter of 2021 — over a year from now.

To give you an idea of how terrible a double-digit unemployment rate potentially sustained over 21 months would be, the unemployment rate had been at or above 10 percent for only 11 months total from 1948 through 2019.

But forecasting our economic future is a challenging business even when we’re not in the middle of a global pandemic. And as our respondents filled out their questionnaires, they were weighing a lot of unknowns and making their own assumptions about the trajectory of the virus and the economic crisis — including when a vaccine will be developed, how quickly businesses can get up and running, and even whether there will be a second wave of COVID-19 outbreaks in the summer or fall. Our economic indicators aren’t really designed to capture such a quickly unfolding crisis, which makes it even more difficult to predict what they’ll be saying a month or a year from now. “I assumed a base scenario where there’s a slow lifting of lockdown orders and no reversal,” Wright said. He also assumed there would be continued support from the Federal Reserve and Congress. “But what if there’s a big standoff in Congress and unemployment benefits don’t get extended? What if there’s a second wave of the virus?”

As such, many of the experts predicted a wide range of possible outcomes, particularly on questions that required them to project more than a few months into the future. For example, the economists’ median prediction for what the unemployment rate would be in the December 2020 jobs report — 12 percent — was just a little lower than the unemployment rate in the April jobs report (14.7 percent). But the experts’ confidence in their responses varied a lot — with upper-bound estimates ranging from 10 to 30 percent and lower-bound estimates ranging from 6 to 15 percent.

You can also see this uncertainty in our earlier question about when GDP will finally recover. The economists agreed that it was unlikely for real GDP to return to where it was before the COVID-19 pandemic anytime soon. But beyond that, they weren’t particularly sure when a recovery might happen.

None of these projections are especially encouraging — remember, the unemployment rate was only 3.5 percent back in February, and the peak during the Great Recession was 10 percent. But they’re also an important reminder of just how much is up in the air right now, as we scramble to simultaneously contain the virus and rev up the economy.

We’ll be checking in with the panel of economists periodically as the pandemic and economic crisis continue to unfold. Their predictions will likely shift as the economy reopens and the long-term public health response becomes clearer. But right now, even the experts don’t seem to be expecting a rapid rebound from this recession — in fact, the economic pain of the COVID-19 crisis could be with us for years.

[paradisecost]

hc. erik // main timeline 

ALRIGHT this bad boy is just over 1700 words long but I urge you to read it if you’re at all interested in interacting with my Erik. He is extremely canon-divergent in that DoFP, XMA and DP did not happen. I used to be fine with both DoFP and XMA but the more I think about them the more I’m like “wow, those plots are fucking ridiculous” and I’ve chosen to uh, throw them out the damn window. DP on the other hand was just unabashedly horrific fcKJNFKDNF.

TW: Non-graphic mentions of the following: the Holocaust, kidnapping, child abuse, child death, burning alive, imprisonment and isolation, and murder. Ya boy’s been through HELL but these are just mentions, as in ‘this thing happened- moving on’.

Early life // v: doomed from the start

December 31st, 1929

Erik Magnus Lehnsherr is born, presumably somewhere in Poland, to Jewish German parents. His mother nicknames him ‘Max’ when he is very young, and his father and friends soon pick up on it too.

He befriends Magda Eisenhardt at school as a young boy. The two become close, but are separated during the war, long before Erik is taken by Schmidt. Each assumes the other to be dead.

September 1st, 1939

Germany invades Poland; WWII begins.

Erik’s mutation manifests in short bursts throughout the next few years in moments of stress or anger, made worse by the overall traumatic and stressful living conditions associated with being Jewish at this time. His parents are the only ones to witness his mutation, and are desperate to keep it hidden for Erik’s own safety. Erik’s mother considers it a gift from G-d, and one he must use wisely.

Unknown date, 1944

Erik and his family are sent to Auschwitz. Erik’s mutation manifests fully when he is separated from his parents, distorting an iron gate in an attempt to reach them. He is subdued by the surrounding guards via a blow to the head and taken to Klaus Schmidt (later Sebastian Shaw), a German doctor and mutant. 

Schmidt instructs Erik to move a coin as proof of his mutation, shooting Erik’s mother in front of him when he fails. Erik destroys the surrounding room with his powers in a fit of rage, as well as killing the guards present. His rage quickly turns to grief, however, and he breaks down, allowing himself to be comforted by Schmidt, who claims they’re going to ‘unlock his gift with pain and anger’. Needless to say, the resulting years in Schmidt’s grasp are not pleasant.

 The Schmidt years // v: doctor’s orders

1944

Erik is held captive by Schmidt for the next six years, subjected to frequent physical and psychological abuse in order to ‘strengthen’ his powers and improve his control over them. By the time he is seventeen he is capable of harnessing his abilities to perform to Schmidt’s standards, but lacks fine control over his mutation when not in a heightened emotional state. Throughout 1944 he is forced to work as a Sonderkommando alongside this. At the end of the war Schmidt takes him to a private facility in Germany, where Erik remains captive for the next several years.

Despite severe conditioning and traumatic bonding towards Schmidt, he makes a number of escape attempts throughout these years, as well as at least two attempts on Schmidt’s life.

Late 1949

The facility is bombed for reasons unknown to Erik. Erik escapes during the chaos, using his mutation to destroy anything and everything that stands in his way. As he flees, he looks back to see Schmidt absorbing an explosion. This is how he knows Schmidt is still alive afterwards, as well as having his longstanding suspicions confirmed that Schmidt, too, is a mutant.

Recovery and family years // v: we will not suffer here

1950

Having been on the run lest Schmidt attempt to track and hunt him down, Erik finally stops running for one reason only: by sheer chance, he reunites with Magda Eisenhardt. Both are overjoyed to see the other alive, and they marry the same year. Erik begins using the name Max Eisenhardt instead of his birth name. The two are impoverished and starving half of the time, but they make it work: Max manages to find steady work here and there, and the two settle in Vinnytsa to build a home and a family together. 

Summer, 1951

Anya Eisenhardt is born. Max takes work from anyone that will have him as he struggles to keep the family afloat, but the sheer relief of being alive and in a position where people may help them if things take a downturn is more than worth the struggle. Later in life, Erik considers these years the happiest of his life.

Late 1956

Their home in Vinnytsa is set on fire after Max magnetically hurls a crowbar at his boss for refusing to pay him when he and Magda are desperate for the money. Max is not present when the fire is first lit: he runs home upon seeing the smoke, and discovers that Anya is still stuck inside the house. Max attempts to save her, using his powers to tear the house apart, but it’s too late. In his grief and rage, Max lashes out with his powers, murdering his boss, the people responsible for the fire, and numerous innocent villagers in the process. When he calms and tries to go to Magda, she flees in terror, calling him a monster. Unbeknownst to Max, Magda is pregnant with twins at this time.

The Nazi-killing years // v: red right hand

Early 1957

With nothing left for him in Vinnysta and at a loss for what to do with himself, Max opts for the thing that living with Magda and Anya had allowed him to set aside: revenge. He begins his hunt for Schmidt, reclaiming the name Erik Lehnsherr in an attempt to shed the ghost of his former life with his family. He resolves to find Schmidt or die trying, and becomes unable to visualise a future outside of that.

Unknown date, 1957

Somewhere far away, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff are born, without Erik’s knowledge. Magda Eisenhardt dies soon after giving birth to them, and they are taken in by an elderly couple who raises them as their own.

1957-1962

Erik tracks Schmidt by hunting down former Nazis associated with him. He leaves a bloody trail across Europe in his search, leaving no survivors, and never settles in one place for long.

 XMFC timeline // v: first class

Early 1962

Erik attempts to kill Schmidt, now known as Sebastian Shaw, nearly drowning in the process of trying to drag his submarine up from the depths of the ocean. He is saved by Charles Xavier, working with the CIA. He allows Charles to bring him on-board the CIA’s ship, practically refusing to speak to anyone other than Charles and questioning him endlessly on his mutation as well as other mutants.

1962

Events of X-Men: First Class. Erik and Charles work together to locate other mutants, and the first group of X-Men are formed. The mutants work to hone their abilities, primarily with Charles’ assistance; Charles teaches Erik that pain and anger are not the key to unlocking his gift, and to help him, accesses a memory of Erik’s mother - one that, along with most of Erik’s memories from before 1944, had been repressed. Erik also forms a bond with Raven/Mystique, claiming that mutants should not have to hide who they are in order to be accepted by society.

October 28th 1962

Erik kills Sebastian Shaw with the coin he was ordered to move as a child. Erik proceeds to form the first incarnation of the Brotherhood of Mutants, taking the name Magneto. 

 Brotherhood years // v: rise up!

November 20th 1962

Magneto and the Brotherhood free Emma Frost, who joins them.

Following the events of the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy administration authorizes the Central Intelligence Agency to establish Project WideAwake, a covert task force to investigate other X-Gene cases and their prevalence across the United States. While its mission strictly revolves around identification and research of mutants, it exercises paramilitary autonomy from the President’s mandates.

Edwin Partridge, a former Major General in the U.S. Army and a far right-wing activist, gains (through his contacts in the military) proof of mutant involvement during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

July 1963

Azazel and Angel are killed by Project WideAwake agents. Emma Frost is later killed by Sentinel prototypes.

November 22nd 1963

JFK is assassinated. Magneto has nothing to do with this because frankly it’s a stupid plot point, but is wanted for various terrorist actions related to pro-mutant shenanigans.

January 22nd 1964

Project WideAwake operatives are tasked with locating and apprehending Magneto. He is captured soon after.

February 11th 1964

A private trial takes place, which Charles Xavier and Hank McCoy are present for. Magneto is sentenced to two consecutive life sentences in a federal correctional facility without the possibility of parole, sparking the ‘Free Magneto’ movement.

 Imprisonment // v: isolation

1964-1973 Erik is imprisoned with only brief escapes over the course of nine years.

Early 1971 Having destroyed several prisons during the 60s, Magneto is finally permanently subdued by Trask Industries. He is placed in a specialised prison in the Pentagon, 1,320 ft below the Earth’s surface. It is composed of industrial-grade polymers and concrete.

1971-1973 Erik is kept in solitary confinement in prison (though he has been more or less stuck in one prison or another since 1964). He begins to speak almost exclusively in Yiddish and German, conversing with what he believes are ghosts of his parents (for whom he speaks Yiddish), and Schmidt (for whom he speaks only German). These are, of course, hallucinations, which he has experienced throughout his life in times of intense stress.

 Post-prison recovery years // v: the quiet years

1973 to unknown/variable date

Magneto escapes, somehow. He goes into hiding for a long-ass time and attempts to live a quiet, ordinary life, whilst also recovering from the isolation/prison-induced trauma of the past nine years. Charles Xavier is aware of his escape but chooses not to reveal it to the world so long as Erik does not resume his previous occupation of, uh, global mutant terrorist. At some point, Erik secures a safe haven for mutants on the island of Genosha, where he helps to build a self-sustaining community there.

Default timeline, aka mainverse // v: mutants are the future

Unknown/variable dates (these can literally take place at any time period after 1980 or so; the default is the present day)

Erik acts alone. The Brotherhood no longer exists, and Erik no longer lives in Genosha, though he visits it frequently and assists with its upkeep and maintenance when needed - as well as being more than willing to defend it, if necessary. Erik deals with threats to mutantkind as he sees fit, but is generally not the uh… comic-book villain he was post-XMFC. He and Charles Xavier are in contact with one another, and in some instances, Erik visits the school for a multitude of reasons.

[constantwritingblock]

Stolen Worlds 1

Queen of Thieves: Takes place just after the MC breaks up with Nikolai.

Avengers: Takes place during The Winter Soldier, but with additional characters.

Unknown!Nick Fury x reader, (previous) Nikolai Stirling x reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x reader, (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader.

Things take a positive turn for Y/N’s mission to infiltrate Hydra, though when she meets a certain Captain America, of whom she’s not supposed to at all, will that complicate things if she lies about who she truly is? Or is Rumlow’s attraction towards her distracting enough?

Chapter One

Getting out of the Gilded Poppy was easier than expected if you don’t count the numerous calls and texts from them awaiting a response or a way to track her, thank god for signal jammers, while she transferred some necessary data and contacts she made on her adventure.

It came to even more of a surprise for her with Fury. “For a supposed dead man he sure has a lot of connections still.” Muttering to herself, she scuffled her way down to her newly found desk. Fury had managed to pull some strings for her to have a placement within the already infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.and her mission was to infiltrate Hydra. This was going to be fun for her. Working as a computer techie had its perks, she wouldn’t be going back in the field, something she asked for. That was the only part of their deal Fury had no light behind, but nevertheless respected her wishes and privacy, for once.

Y/N has put up with the most toughest of enemies in the past, going as far as to having torture them for information or to weasle her way in undercover missions, she hadn’t anticipated a certain Brock Rumlow to take her bait so quickly. She needed to be stealthy and cautious, he could be on to her and that was something she did not want to happen. It had taken a few rough months to gain the trust of him and others from Hydra for them to start confiding in her of updates. The other part of her mission was to feed the information to Captain America and Romanoff without being caught, so anonymity was vital.

The duo, who were doing their own investigations and schemes had recruited a Sam Wilson onto their team. Y/N was getting very anxious with their side of things, though the trio had no idea who she was going by the alias of Agent Z; it had given them great mixture of distrust in her. Which she fully understood, how couldn’t she?

Sighing for the upteenth time that day, she ignored another one of Remy’s calls. The Gilded Poppy were not giving up on her, concerned if she was alright. Luckily she kept one of her older phones that she used when she was doing spy work for the Organisation. Shuddering at the thought of her old life, she attempted at brushing it off, she needed to focus. Meeting with Rumlow was something she was getting used to alongside the odd gropes, but this meeting was different, she was finally meeting Alexander Pierce. Fury had stated his suspicions of him being the one to set the hit out on him. Hopefully this gave her more insight into the Winter Soldier.

Y/N was tactful, her advances in technology were made known to him, so she was silently praying that it would be enough to allow for more access to any classified issues. As she approached the end of the long hallway, Y/N felt one of her shifts hit stronger than normal. Someone was behind her, subtly changing her pace, she prepared for the worse when an arm slithered its way onto her waist, sending a grimy squeeze on her right side. Rumlow. Hiding her disgust she gave him a thin smile in greeting as a mischievous grin reciprocated.

“You know, after this, perhaps we could finally get some time alone.” The suggestion did intrigue her, she wasn’t new to sleeping with someone on the job, but for the safety of herself and revealing her true self she battled against it. “How about, you can jack off to the vision of me actually sleeping with you?” With that, she strode forward, forcing his grasp off her body to slip as the door opened and they both stepped inside. Before Brock could argue further with her, the sight of Pierce’s back was daunting enough to challenge him. “Sir.” The double agent coughed. Turning around ever so slowly, Pierce had a rather striking appearance, but Y/N was using her chance to to analyse him. So he’s the big boss man… well, I suppose it fits… She’d never met Pierce but has heard of him, from some brief talks with Fury in the past with liaisons between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Organisation. Again, stop thinking about that right now, you can’t fuck this up. 

“Ah, so you must be the famous Agent Z. Agent Rumlow has spoken highly of you and your skills.” The older man had the nerve to smile at her and be polite. “I wouldn’t say my work is anything special, sir.”

Deciding to act all humble about it was a smart move, his eyes lit up. Great he wants someone to manipulate. Pierce chuckled, rather sinisterly, “Oh, sweetheart, don’t put yourself down. You’re the best I have seen in a long time and trust me, I’ve been working here for a long time. Now,” flicking a switch, he triggered the holographic computer screen to appear as well shut off all doors and windows, making the room completely safe from eavesdroppers and trapping Y/N, “let’s begin, shall we?”

Gesturing for her to sit down, she did so as Rumlow stood directly behind her chair. Gulping nervously, Y/N kept her thoughts at bay. “I want to introduce you to something that will further you to work for the best of the best. Have you ever considered… joining Hydra? Now, before you argue with me, I am aware you do have a criminal past… odd jobs here and there within mobs and gangs, then progressing yourself to change your tune, into a good citizen of life. But, when I saw your application process through to S.H.I.E.L.D., I knew that you can’t resist this kind of life.”

Taking deep breaths, it was a lot to take in, she was worried that he caught for her more physical resume. All of her work for those mobs and gangs did underlay that she was doing hacking jobs for them. “Yes, sir… I guess you must have seen right through my lie there, I just… I didn’t know how to grab the attention.”

“My dear, you have caught mine. What would you say to assisting me in making the world a better place?”

—

Stopping at a coffee house, Y/N couldn’t resist the urge to sigh. She needed a break from everything. Luckily for her, she was granted a day off, something she thought would’ve been rejected given her area of expertise was close to what Hydra wanted. Pierce has probably allowed this to rope me in further. Distracted by her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed a blond gentleman asking if the seat before her was free. Blinking up at the man, she noted the gentle, genuine smile that crawled on his lips. Returning a smile of her own she allowed him to take the seat, finally realising how quickly the coffee shop had filled. I need to focus… though her thoughts said so, the man before her thought otherwise.

He kept a conversation flowing, apologising if he had disturbed her from her work, then beginning to question on what she was doing. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but the look on your face is quite a sight ma’am.” He chuckled.

Shaking herself out of focus she fixed her attention on the blond, instant panic swept her. Shit, does he know who I am? Fuck fuck fuck, stay calm. “Ah, sorry, got a lot of uni work to catch up on. It’s hell.” Smiling and nodding along playfully she played along to his antics. “I bet it is. I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

Her eyes widened in horror as she finally took a moment to look at him. Shit, Captain America is right in front of me...

—

“You what? How on this damned earth could you have bumped into him Y/L/N!?” Fury’s voice resonated through the practically empty apartment she had supplied for him. The former director began pacing, almost wearing out his shoes and the floorboards beneath him.

“Well, it’s not as if I knew that was gonna happen Fury? Besides he didn’t recognise me and I gave an alias to him, so be glad I was able to think quick on my feet. What I want to know though, is why I can’t tell Captain Rogers that I am their mole in their little operation.”

“I can’t risk having anything happening to you. Let’s put it that way and it doesn’t help when you don’t want to be in the field and be stuck behind a screen all day.”

—

“Let me get this straight Rogers, you gave a stranger your actual name and just hoped she wasn’t Hydra?!” Natasha was not one to irritate, Steve learnt this quick, but now he had to face her wrath.

“Nat, I doubt she was Hydra. There was something about her…” He could already predict the scoff that slipped out of the woman’s mouth seconds later. “Listen, if this gets back to me badly, I’ll take the fall for it. Besides, you’re the one that wanted me to get back into the dating game. I can’t really lie to her and then tell her the truth when everything’s over.”

She knew he was right but she couldn’t go back and change the past. “Alright, but I’m telling you, anything bad happens because of this, then we’ll be royally fucked.”

—

Y/N was getting to a breaking point already. She was a bit rusty with this however, there’s too much violence for her liking. At least phase two was done for her. Though as she got to work and proved herself over and over, secretly storing information she perceived as valuable to taking them down, she couldn’t help but miss watching Zoe doing all the hacking things.

It gave her a break for certain, she wasn’t heavily relied on for the things she used to do and is currently doing now compared to when she was living the life of infamous luxury. But she did miss it. The image of Zoe tapping away on her phone when they were out and about, moving the cameras from seeing them as a group as they all pranced, planning or celebrating. The look on his face as he smiled at her, fingers slipping into her own, muttering something about not wanting to lose her from her excitedness.

A soft expression played itself onto her face as she daydreamed her now old life. Though it didn’t last long as the sound of a thud as coffee was placed on her desk rather abruptly, causing her to jump. “Looks like you could do with it.”

Rumlow. Again. The man had practically not left her side since, as if she was something he needed to protect. It made Y/N grimace at the thought of him wanting to do more with her, but she was glad that there were some rules that kept him from doing so, didn’t mean that he didn’t keep his distance. The only alone time she could grab alone time was when he had to deal with The Winter Soldier. From that, she managed to complete the USB stick to stash in a vending machine, in the hospital where Fury’s body lay. She almost got caught by a woman with reddish hair. She’d rather not have anyone know her identity or even recruit her to help with such physical tasks of anything. Preferring to play behind a screen, doing all the cleaner work, allowing the others to get their hands dirty.

The last thing Y/N needed was for her name to smudged once more. Her work had been proven useful for Hydra, no one had to question her anymore, though she doubt they would with Rumlow spreading that she’s ‘his girl’. It helped her get promoted to The Winter Soldier project eventually and that was when shit got real for her. Captain America’s best friend is the Winter Soldier. It was a simple search online, but that made her uneasy with how she could tread with this information.

Steve Rogers. He had a good physique and for a man that was rumoured to be unable to talk to women, he held his own quite well. She never expected for the next events to happen. It was all so sudden, plus she had barely even met the guy and she was already growing a crush. I guess that’s what happens when you literally watch from the sidelines to ensure the plan is going accordingly...

[hydrus]

Version 412

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

source

tar.gz

I had a great week catching up on smaller jobs, improving search speeds, and adding a 'lite' 407->408 update mode for HDD users who sync with the PTR. There are also a couple of new applications for the Client API.

Update this week will take a few seconds to a few minutes as new database indices are created.

sibling and search speeds

Thanks to feedback from some PTR-syncing HDD users, the new siblings update code, most importantly in step 407->408, takes way too long for them - perhaps more than 24 hours. I have written a little yes/no dialog popup into the update step that talks about this and optionally activates a 'lite' mode that does not apply siblings. This still requires some basic cache copying work, but it is significantly less. If you are still on 407 or before and have been waiting to update, please give this a go and let me know how it works for you.

The 'manage where tag siblings apply' dialog now has some red text to warn about the high CPU/HDD of applying many siblings to a large number of tags. I am still not happy with the 'monolithic' way this db work goes, so when I get stuck into the parents cache, I will write an asynchronous system that does this work in the background, pause/resumable, without interrupting browsing and so on, much like I did with repository processing.

Some things were working slow since siblings (e.g. in a search, mixing wildcard tags with regular tags), but I went through every instance of my new optimisation code, fixing bugs, testing it at large scale, and smoothing spikes out further. Tag, namespace, wildcard, tag presence/count, known url, and file note searches should all be more reasonable. A neat new tag search pre-optimisation routine that checks autocomplete counts for expected result size before deciding how to search now works for more sorts of tags and also kicks in for namespace and wildcard searches, which now break their work into smaller and simpler pieces. I also added and reshaped some database indices, which will ensure that more unusual search types and general operations can still run efficiently. The update will take a few seconds to a few minutes as tag indices are regenerated.

I have learned a bunch about speeding up multi-predicate searches recently - how to get it wrong and how to get it right. I have a plan to speed up rating and known url results, which are still generally not able to speed up with multiple predicates on large clients.

new client api applications

A user has been working hard at making a web browser for the client via the Client API, called Hydrus Web. It is now ready at https://github.com/floogulinc/hydrus-web ! If you have a bit of networking experience, please check it out - it allows you to browse your client on your phone!

Also Anime Boxes, a booru-browsing application, is adding Hydrus as an experimental browseable 'server' this week, also through the Client API. Check it out at https://www.animebox.es/ !

I also updated the Client API help to talk more about HTTPS and connections across the internet, here: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/help/client_api.html

full list

client api:

added Hydrus Web, https://github.com/floogulinc/hydrus-web, to the Client API page. It allows you to access your client from any web browser

added Anime Boxes, https://www.animebox.es/, to the Client API page. This booru-browsing application can now browse hydrus!

the /add_urls/add_url command's 'service_names_to_tags' parameter now correctly acts like 'additional' tags, and is no longer filtered by any tag import options that may apply. that old name still works, but the more specific synonym 'service_names_to_additional_tags' is now supported and recommended (issue #456)

the /add_urls/add_url command now takes a 'filterable_tags' parameter, which will be merged with any parsed tags and will be filtered in the same per-service way according to the current tag import options.

the client api help is updated to talk about this, and the client api version is now 14

updated client api help to talk about http/https

.

the rest:

the 407->408 update step now opens a yes/no dialog before it happens to talk about the big amount of CPU and HDD work coming up. it offers the previous 'full' version that takes all the work, and a 'lite' version that applies no siblings and is much cheaper. if you have been waiting on a PTR-syncing HDD client, this should let you update in significantly less time. there is still some copy work in lite mode, but it should not be such a killer

the 'manage where tag siblings apply' dialog now has big red warning text talking about the current large CPU/HDD involved in very big changes

a bunch of file-location loading and searching across the program has the opportunity to run very slightly faster, particularly on large systems. update will take a few seconds to make these new indices

namespace and subtag tag searches and other cross-references now have the opportunity to run faster. update will take another couple of minutes to drop and remake new indices

gave tag and wildcard search a complete pass, fixing and bettering my recent optimisations, and compressing the core tag search optimisation code to one location. thank you for the feedback everyone, and sorry for the recent trouble as we have migrated to the new sibling and optimisation systems

gave untagged/has_tags/has_count searches a similar pass, mostly fixing up namespace filtering

gave the new siblings code a similar pass, ensuring a couple of fetches always run the fast way

gave url search and fetch code a similar pass, accounting better for domain cross-referencing and file cross-referencing

fixed a typo bug when approving/denying repository file and mapping petitions

fixed a bug when right-clicking a selection of multiple tags that shares a single subtag (e.g. 'samus aran' and 'character:samus aran')

thanks to some nice examples of unusual videos that were reported as 1,000fps, I improved my fallback ffmpeg metadata parsing to deal with weird situations more cleverly. some ~1,000fps files now reparse correctly to sensible values, but some either really produce 1000 updates a second due to malformation or bad creation, or are just handled that way due to a bug in ffmpeg that we will have to wait for a fix for

the hydrus jpeg mime type is now the correct image/jpeg, not image/jpg, thanks to users for noticing this (issue #646)

searching for similar files now requires up to 10,000x less sqlite query initiation overhead for large queries. the replacement system has overhead of its own, but it should be faster overall

improved error handling when a database cannot connect due to file system issues

the edit subscription(s) panels should be better about disabling the ui while heavy jobs, like large subscription resets, are running

the edit subscription(s) panels now do not allow an 'apply' if a big job is currently disabling the ui

cancelling a manage subscriptions call when missing query logs were detected no longer causes a little error

if a long-running asynchronous subscription job lasts beyond its parent's life, it now handles errors better

.

boring details:

improved a pre-optimisation decision tool for tag search that consults the autocomplete cache for expected end counts in order to make a better decision. it now handles subtag searches and multiple namespace/subtag searches such as for wildcards

wrote fast tag lookup tools for subtag and multiple namespace/subtag

fixed some bad simple tag search optimisation code, which was doing things in the wrong order!

optimised simple tag search optimisations when doing subtag searches

polished simple tag search code a bit more

added brief comments to all the new cross joins to reinforce their intention

greatly simplified the multiple namespace/subtag search used by wildcards

fixed and extended tag unit tests for blacklist, filterable, additional, service application, overwrite deleted filterable, and overwrite deleted additional

added a unit test for tag whitelist

extended the whole 'external tags' pipeline to discriminate between filterable and additional external tags, and cleaned up several parts of the related code

moved the edit subscription panel asynchronous info fetch code to my new async job object

cleaned up one last ugly 'fetch query log containers' async call in edit subscriptions panel

moved the edit subscription(s) panels asynchronous log container code to my new async job object

misc code cleanup

next week

More small jobs and other bug fixes. Nothing too huge, so I can have a 'clean' release before I go for the big parents cache in 414. I am starting to feel a bit ill, so there's a chance it will be a light week.