#baltimore rebellion

[ariadnelives]

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[scotianostra]

On July 1st 1884 Allan Pinkerton, the Scottish-born detective, died.

Not all Scots that I post about should be looked upon as good people, we do have to acknowledge this in our history, scratch beneath the subject in most cases and you will find fault, this is certainly true of Pinkerton.

Born in Glasgow, on the 25th of August 1819 his father was a sergeant of the Glasgow municipal police and died in 1828 of injuries received from a prisoner in his custody.

In 1842 Allan emigrated to Chicago, Illinois, before moving to Dundee, Kane County, Illinois, where he established a cooperage business. Here he ran down a gang of counterfeiters, and he was appointed a Deputy Sheriff of Kane County in 1846 and immediately afterwards of Cook County, with headquarters in Chicago.

In Chicago he organized a force of detectives to capture thieves who were stealing railway property, and this organization developed in 1852 into Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency, of which he took sole charge in 1853. He was especially successful in capturing thieves who stole large amounts from express companies. In 1866 his agency captured the principals in the theft of $700,000 from Adams Express Company safes on a train of the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railway, and recovered all but $12,000 of the stolen money.

In February 1861 Pinkerton found evidence of a plot to assassinate President-elect Abraham Lincoln upon his arrival in Baltimore on his way to Washington; as a result, Lincoln passed through Baltimore at an early hour in the morning without stopping. In April 1861 Pinkerton, on the suggestion of General George B. McClellan, organized a system of obtaining military information in the Southern states. From this system he developed the US Secret Service, of which he was in charge throughout the war, under the assumed name of Major E. J. Allen.

Pinkerton was not without controversy, one of his detectives, James McParlan, in 1873-76 lived among the Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania and secured evidence which led to the breaking up of what was considered a criminal organization. His detectives were also used to escort strike breakers during the era.

In 1869 Pinkerton suffered a partial stroke of paralysis, and thereafter the management of the detective agency devolved chiefly upon his sons, William Allan and Robert. He died in Chicago on the 1st of July 1884. He published The Molly Maguires and the Detectives , The Spy of the Rebellion, in which he gave his version of President-elect Lincoln’s journey to Washington; and a memoir, Thirty Years a Detective. The Pinkerton National Detective Agency continues to trade in the US to this day.

Pics are of Pinkerton, on horseback then with, President Abraham Lincoln, and Major General John Alexander McClernand. Pinkerton was the head of Union Intelligence Services at the time. He also, allegedly, foiled an assassination attempt against Lincoln. His wartime work was critical in Pinkerton’s development, which he later used to pioneer his agency. Other pics include the firms logo old and new.

[cecilysass]

Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 1999

An epilogue to The Boy on the Beach. Read The Boy on the Beach on AO3 or on Tumblr. Read this epilogue on AO3. Tagging @today-in-fic

In the other multiverse.

Baltimore, Maryland February 23, 1983

“Sweetie.” Her mother’s face appeared in the crack of the door. “Do you think you’re almost ready? You’ve made Marcus sit down there with your father and Charlie for twenty minutes now. And our reservation is at seven, so we really can’t be too much longer.”

“Yes,” Dana said. “Almost finished.” In the mirror she peered into her own eyes, which were smudged with black. Her eyeliner was as heavy as she dared for dinner with her family, which truthfully wasn’t very heavy at all.

In Dana’s imagination her entire wardrobe was going to have been transformed in college. She would have been edgier, harder, swathed in black, jagged corners. A semester and a month in, and that hadn’t really happened. Her forays into rebellion had been modest and disappointing. A few band T-shirts, leather bracelets, scarcely noticeable.

Tonight she wore a new dress. Dark detailed lace, a dramatic ruffled neckline. She purchased it at a shop near campus because she thought it had a drastic, punk rock feel. She’d expected a few raised eyebrows when she arrived at her parents’ house tonight. Instead, her mother had smiled and told her she looked lovely. Looking at herself now in the mirror, pale face, dark dress, gold cross at her neck, she realized why. She looked like she could be taking holy vows.

“You know, you’re just sitting there,” her sister observed with amusement. She was lounging on Dana’s bed, already dressed. She had a torn denim jacket, feathery hair, makeup as dark as night. Missy’s forays into rebellion had always been fearless. “You’re not getting ready. You are ready.”

“I’m checking over my make-up.”

“No, you’re stalling. You’re making us late to your own birthday dinner on purpose.”

“What are you talking about?” Dana sighed wearily, examining the jawline of her uninteresting baby face again.

Missy sprung to her feet and leaned over Dana’s shoulder, looking at her reflection in the mirror, whispering playfully in her ear. “You’re waiting for something.”

“Oh yeah? What am I waiting for?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, with Marcus down there making conversation with Dad,” Missy said. “Boring little Marcus.”

“Marcus isn’t boring.”

“Oh, Dana,” Missy laughed. “You’re such a faker. I see right through you.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Dana said, rolling her eyes.

“You want to wait around here just in case you get your birthday phone call.”

Dana moved to blot her red lipstick without betraying any real expression.

“From your childhood soulmate,” Missy added knowingly. “Your personal Kennedy.”

“He’s not my childhood soulmate,” Dana said primly. “He’s not a Kennedy.”

“Your dark prince of Massachusetts.”

“He’s not in Massachusetts,” Dana said in a contrary tone. “He’s in college in England.”

Missy folded her arms. “I suppose you haven’t thought about his call at all today.”

Dana sighed again. “Fox does normally call on my birthday, but I’m not exactly sitting around waiting for that.”

“No?”

“Actually, I doubt he will call now—it’s late there. I’m honestly just trying to finish getting ready.”

“Okay.” Missy seemed to be biting back a smile.

Dana pursed her lips and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, but met her sister’s amused eyes in the mirror.

“You make everything so over dramatic, Missy.”

Missy just raised an eyebrow.

“Fox and I shared a strange childhood experience,” Dana said. “We’re friends. Pen pals. He’s an interesting person.”

“Very interesting,” nodded Missy.

“His sister writes to me, too, you know,” Dana pointed out. “And I haven’t seen them in ages. Not even since we moved back to the East Coast.”

Missy reached over Dana’s shoulder and over the vanity table, fishing out the snapshot of Fox on a beach that Dana had discreetly slid underneath her jewelry box. She held it up in front of Dana’s face like it was damning evidence.

Dana kept her expression disinterested. “What? He sent a photo from college.”

“Mmmm, I see that,” Missy said, looking it over. “You’re keeping it pretty close at hand.”

“What’s your point?”

“Look, Dana,” Missy said, sounding exasperated, “he saves you as a kid, he tells you you and he are bound together by fate, he writes you letters, he calls you every year. It’s romantic. You’d have to be made of stone not to see that. I don’t blame you. Nobody in the world would blame you. You don’t have to hide it.”

Dana didn’t say anything, her eyes on the photo in Missy’s fingers. He actually didn’t save her from anything, at least not according to him. According to him, the hero of the story was someone else.

Her. Her, but not her. An unrecognizable version of Dana Scully. Some superhuman, unattainable adult version.

Dana herself doesn’t remember what happened that week in 1973. She only remembers finding herself on a fairy tale beach with two fairy tale children who insisted she had a special destiny and gave her a letter from herself that seemed to confirm it.

The story has always been convoluted, and she’s always been partially sworn to secrecy.

“And holy fucking fuck.” Missy was looking hard at the photo, shaking her head. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed your little soulmate turned out smoking hot. That’s a nice favor for fate to do for you.”

Dana had noticed, actually. She still hated Missy’s characterization of her relationship with Fox, hated it for so many reasons.

“Enough, Missy.” She reached behind her and snatched the photo out of her sister’s fingers. “Let’s go downstairs now.”

“I could stall them downstairs for a few more minutes,” offered Missy, her tone softer. “I could say I feel sick?”

“Really,” Dana said. “You’re misreading the situation.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” Dana set her lips in a line.

“Okay,” Missy shrugged.

“Okay.”

“Then let’s go put our game faces on,” Missy said. “Prepare to eat large steaks and avoid talking politics with Bill.” She put her hands on Dana’s shoulders. “You look amazing, by the way. I like your dress.”

“Thank you,” Dana said, her face warming into a small smile in the mirror. “I don’t look like a nun?”

“Maybe a little. Like a hot nun,” Melissa assured her. Dana slapped her hand in jest.

On the way downstairs, the phone didn’t ring. But that was okay. That was fine. She wasn’t waiting for it. Not really.

*** Later, after they arrived back from dinner, after Dana had opened her presents, after they had eaten angel food cake topped with chocolate whipped cream icing and nineteen candles, after she had kissed Marcus a sweet but surprisingly chaste good-bye outside at his car, promising to call him soon (once she was back in her dorm, maybe on the weekend), the phone did ring.

She was standing at the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth, wearing an oversized tee of Bill’s from high school. Everyone else had already gone to bed, although she suspected Charlie was still awake because she could hear the Clash playing faintly from his room.

The phone rang and she froze, her toothbrush in her mouth. Then she flung it down and raced down the stairs as fast as she could, trying to get there before it woke up her parents.

She made it in two and a half rings. “Hello,” she said breathlessly as she picked up the kitchen phone.

“Hello?” It’s funny how familiar his voice was, considering how relatively few times she had actually spoken to him. “Dana…?”

“Yeah,” she said, still breathing hard from her little sprint. “It’s me. Sorry. I just ran from upstairs.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” she smiled, biting her lip. “No, I’m awake.”

“I almost missed it. I’m too late.”

“You’re not late,” she assured him quickly. “It’s still my birthday. But isn’t it the middle of the night there? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He laughed a little, and she noticed for the first time he was keeping his voice down. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I probably should be.”

Dana pressed her back against the kitchen wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She brought her knees in towards her, hugging them, winding the phone cord around a finger.

“So,” he said. “Dana Scully. Nineteen years old. How does it feel?”

“Much the same.”

“How’s college?”

“It’s…” Dana selected her words carefully, always too aware of what he thought about her. “It’s amazing. I love it. The work is so much more interesting than high school. The conversation is at a higher level.”

“So you just study, all day and night, and that’s Dana Scully’s whole life at University of Maryland?”

“I do take my work seriously,” she said, stiffening. “I know it’s not Oxford, but I take challenging classes.”

“Of course you do,” he said, his tone gentle. “I just meant to ask what you did outside of class.”

“Right,” she said. She knew she was too sensitive. He had never given her any reason to feel so, but she felt self-conscious, her modest, budget-minded state university education versus his elite international schooling. “Well, I have a job working at the library. I, uh, play intramural volleyball.” She swallowed. “I was going to try for a job in a lab for next year.”

“You’re studying science?”

“Yes.” She pressed her eyes closed, anticipating the next line of questioning.

“Do you know your major yet? Is it… do you know what you want to do?”

She knew what he was thinking—because this is what he did, Fox. He asked her a question, and he seemed deeply and intensely interested in her, but he actually was thinking about someone else. This woman, this stranger he and Samantha called Scully: a woman she had never met.

“Not really,” she said.

There was a little pause. “It’s probably too soon to worry about your major. That’s what’s good about American universities—you can explore different fields of study.”

Dana decided to change the subject. “Your sister sent me something for my birthday.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Really. It was wrapped and everything.”

“I’m offended. She didn’t send me anything for my birthday.”

“It arrived in my school mailbox the day before yesterday.” Dana was smiling, wrapping the phone cord around her wrist.

“What was it?”

“A record,” Dana said coyly. “A single. No card or note—besides her name, obviously.”

“A record? You’re kidding me. What record?”

“Prince.”

“Prince?” He paused. “Why would she—” He stopped. “1999, right?”

“Bingo.”

She could hear him laughing on the other end, trying to keep his sound muffled. “Shit. She’s … such a weirdo,” he breathed. “But that’s funny. I wish I had thought of that.”

“As it happens, I like the song.”

“Sam has great taste and a subversive sense of humor, but she’s really baffling my parents,” Fox said. “I think it’s not all sunshine and roses in the Mulder household since I left. We can’t all be well-behaved first children. But only one more semester until she’s off to college, too.”

“Does she want to go to Oxford?”

“She wants to go to Berkeley,” Fox said. “In California.” He hesitated. “According to her, there was something 99 Me and 99 You said about a scientist there who studies neurology, which somehow mysteriously leads to time travel. I hadn’t quite heard all of the details of that before, but Samantha is adamant.”

Dana took that in.

Unlike Fox, Samantha had always been slower to talk about the events of that week in November 1973. Her story had always come out in fragments, little tantalizing mentions that emerge unexpectedly, sometimes years later.

In some ways this was frustrating, as Samantha had the most information. She was the person who met both 99 Dana and 99 Fox, who actually saw them interact with one another. She spent the night in a beach house with both of them. Fox had only met 99 Dana, and Dana met neither of them, unless you counted the letter.

“So what did you do for your birthday?” he asked.

“I went to dinner with my family,” Dana said. She hesitated a half second. “And with my boyfriend, Marcus.”

“This is the same boyfriend? From high school?”

“Yes,” Dana said. “He’s—yes.”

“He goes to your college?”

“No,” she said. “He goes to UVA, but he drove over for dinner.”

“Oh,” Fox said. “That’s nice of him.” He didn’t sound insincere, but he didn’t exactly sound warm either.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“It was nice. But I think I’m going to break up with him.”

He paused. “Why?”

“I don’t—“ She didn’t know why she was telling him this. “I don’t think about him when I’m not with him.”

“Ah,” he said.

“Does that make sense to you? As a reason to break up with someone?”

“It makes perfect sense to me.”

“It seems like you should think about someone you’re with. Even if you’re not with them at that precise moment. If the relationship is important.”

“I’m not exactly an expert, but I think that’s probably right,” he said.

There was a pause.

“Are you dating someone?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Not any more. I was, until fairly recently.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was amicable.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She was smart, funny. Her name was Aine. She was—she’s really involved in the anti-nuclear movement here, protesting against Margaret Thatcher.”

“Were you involved with that, too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Especially while I was dating Aine. She’s very … persuasive. Dedicated.”

“What does she look like?”

There was a pause.

“She’s beautiful.”

Dana found herself fairly certain Aine had red hair.

It was overwhelming, really. She didn’t know what to make of him and his early-minted taste for heroic redheads. She wished Samantha had never mentioned it.

“It feels weird to talk about it with you, Dana,” he said softly. “Even though I know it shouldn’t.”

“Why would it feel weird?”

“You know why.”

Because sixteen years from now she would supposedly be the love of his life. Sixteen years from now she supposedly would love him so much that she would go to some dire lengths to save him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I always seem to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, you don’t,” she replied. “I just sometimes worry … “

“What?”

“That I’m not the person you want me to be.”

“I want you to be yourself.”

“I think you want me to be someone you met when you were a kid.”

“You are Scully,” he said. “You can’t help but be her.”

Another little pause. She cleared her throat.

“I’ve been doing a little research on the camera,” she said. “Do you want a report?”

“Of course I want a report.”

When they left, 99 Dana and 99 Fox had left behind an intriguing artifact from the future: some kind of headset that 99 Dana told Fox and Samantha was a camera, although it no longer seemed to work. Fox and Samantha had spent years tinkering with it, but had sent it to Dana last year at her request.

“I’ve been going to some local technology clubs. Personal computing. Like at Radio Shack.”

“Oh yeah?” He sounded amused. “What’s that like?”

“Well, I’ve had many offers of help,” she said diplomatically. She didn’t want to affect his view of her, but really it was amazing what you could manifest as a college girl walking into a Radio Shack with pigtails, Jordache jeans, and your younger brother’s too-small Atari T-shirt. Offers of help from every direction, really.

“And?”

“You can learn quite a bit there, and I’m getting pretty good at it. I’m thinking of taking a programming class next semester, actually.”

“Computer programming? Wow.” He sounded perplexed.

“The camera is a type of computer, or it has computers in it,” she explained. “It’s beyond what anyone has seen now though. I’ve had a lot of help—some experts willing to look at the camera with me, analyze it closely. Right now it’s probably not working because it’s out of batteries, but its power source is totally different than what we have.”

“Huh,” Fox said. “What if you could get it to work again?”

“I think it’s possible,” she said. “Someone helping me—this man Melvin—he says he knows people in California, in Silicon Valley, who would know more. I was wondering if somehow I could take it out to show them this spring or summer, on one of my breaks.”

“That would be great!” Fox exclaimed. “If it worked, we could take pictures of our own. Messages, maybe.”

“Not right away. Maybe eventually.”

“I wonder where the pictures would go.”

“Back to 99 Dana and 99 Fox’s universe, I suppose,” Dana said. “That’s where her pictures were going, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s been ten years,” Fox said. “It must be 2009 there now, if time moves forward in the same way. I wonder if they even have a way to receive the pictures any more.”

“It could be more time until I can make the camera work,” Dana reminded him. “There’s still a lot to figure out. The power source on this camera, it’s tiny. And the part of the camera that is actually a computer? Fox, it is so impossibly small, like a whole Apple computer shrunk down. It’s fascinating.”

“Do you enjoy it?” he asked. “Trying to figure it out? Solve the puzzle? It sounds like you do.”

The question surprised her, in part because she hadn’t thought of it quite like that. She enjoyed trying to help Fox and Samantha, and she found the computers part much more interesting than she thought she would. But the answer to his question was unexpectedly clear to her.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do. I really like the challenge of it.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “That’s really good.” There was something in his tone that made her worry, like he was comparing her to Scully again, but the conversation took a different turn.

“Dana,” he began, sounding hesitant. “I, uh, got a call. From someone from the F.B.I., asking me if I would be willing to talk to someone in their recruitment office about a possible career in profiling after I graduate, or while I do graduate work in psychology.”

“Oh.” She breathed in. “That’s—“

“It seems like that’s the beginning of … how it’s supposed to happen.”

Dana let that sink in. “Profiling. As in dangerous criminals? Is that what we did in 1999?”

“I never heard the exact area of the F.B.I. we worked in. I know you were a doctor. For me, profiling does make sense, based on what I have been working on in school.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She had weighed the idea of medical school eventually, but it wasn’t the only thing she considered. Lately, she had thought more seriously about computer science. “Do you think all of this happens no matter what we do? That it’s fated, somehow? That our choices don’t matter?”

“Do you think you wouldn’t choose the F.B.I.?”

“I don’t know,” she said sincerely. “I just think I would like to be able to make the choice.”

A pause on the line. “I guess that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

“About which part?”

“About whether it has to be set in stone.”

She was faintly surprised. She assumed Fox always wanted to chase after a future that he thought got him as close to what Scully described as he could.

“The call from the F.B.I. isn’t the only call I got,” he explained. She heard him rustling around, like he was shifting position. “I got another offer. Something badly paid and probably not very smart. My friend Miles is an old classmate who’s already graduated and has been working as a counselor in a clinic. He’s in San Francisco, doing grief work and end-of-life counseling with men dying from this new disease, this epidemic. You probably know about it.”

“AIDS,” supplied Dana. “Probably viral. No one knows for sure.”

“Yeah. Whatever it is, it’s a lot of young people dying too fast, often alone, and there’s a huge need for counselors and therapists to help them. Miles says he works sometimes 20 hours a day, but the work is really worthwhile. I was thinking that might be something I could be good at. I’m sometimes good at helping people think through bigger questions.”

“So you’re wondering if you should do that instead.”

“I guess I am,” he said. “I could do it for a while and think about whether I wanted to continue graduate studies in psychology, or go straight into the F.B.I. … or something else. Plus, if Sam is at Berkeley, it’s right there in the Bay Area. I could keep an eye on her.”

Dana was silent for a moment. “It sounds like you already know what choice you want to make.”

He made a stifled half laugh. “Of course I don’t.”

“You sound more excited about the counseling in San Francisco than about the F.B.I.,” she commented.

“That’s true,” he said really softly, like this was a realization. “I am, I guess.”

“But you’re still…?”

“Scared,” he said. “Because if I choose something different, I worry that I…” He stopped. “Well, I worry.”

She didn’t speak either.

“The relationship 99 Dana had with 99 Me—that wasn’t the kind of possibility you could see in your future … and just ignore,” he said. “I can’t see just tossing that away, Dana.”

“Can you explain to me why?” she asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know if I can, except that … here I was, this lonely kid, and the way she talked about us being partners...” He laughed quietly. “I’ll never, ever stop thinking about being her partner.”

“Yeah,” Dana whispered, feeling tears spring in her eyes.

“But I get it,” he said. “I know it might not ever work here, the way it did there. Too many variables have changed.”

“It doesn’t mean you couldn’t be happy in other futures,” Dana pointed out. She twirled the phone cord around her finger idly. “With other people.”

“I guess,” he said. He seemed to let out a long sigh. “You know, right before the holidays, I was in London with Aine.” Dana slumped against the wall a little, closing her eyes, trying to picture what he was saying. “We went out to this club with her friends. They got me all dressed up—that whole New Wave look, you know? Eyeliner and ruffly shirt and all the shit in your hair to make it poufy. It’s not my normal thing, but it was fun. People seemed to like it.”

Dana thought about the photo on her dressing table and imagined it. She thought she could guess why people might have liked it.

“So we’re in this place, and it’s crowded, and there are all these colored lights, strobes, and they’re playing that Duran Duran song, the really popular one. Hungry Like the Wolf. And Aine was talking to me about her Christmas plans, and my eyes just sort of drifted away from her, losing focus into the crowd. All these bodies, dancing. Trying to just connect with one another. Scent and a sound. Juices like wine. Hungry like the wolf. And I thought… why am I here? Why am I doing all of this? Why am I pretending to be looking for someone else, trying to make these futile, fleeting connections, when I already know my perfect other exists?”

There was a pause on the line.

“But…” Dana blinked, stunned. “I’m not your perfect other, Fox.” Her body was rigid; she gripped the phone with white knuckles. “I’m not your perfect anything. I’m just some … girl from Maryland. Some girl who likes to spend most of her time studying and has never even been to a club like you’re talking about.”

“That’s not all you are,” he replied.

“I don’t even know if I really am Scully.”

“You are. I told you. It’s not something you can—”

“No.” She was surprised at how fiercely she spoke. “No, please hear me on this. I need it to be okay with you … if I’m not. I need to be free not to be.”

A tense beat.

“Oh,” he said. “Right, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No,” he answered, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry.”

In the hollow silence that followed, Dana’s mind raced. She could practically feel the weight of his disappointment through the phone.

Would this be the end of his interest in her? Would the calls end? What possible appeal could she hold without the promise of a secret agent future? Maybe it would be better to say goodbye, she considered. Maybe this childhood fantasy had gone on long enough. Didn’t it only ever make her feel like she was a lesser Dana? Why did she need that? She could live her own life and never feel that way again.

If it weren’t for Scully’s letter, she might have heeded that impulse.

Instead, she reconsidered. And found herself taking hold of a wild idea, something she could hardly believe she was going to propose.

“Fox,” she said, “maybe you should go to San Francisco and see the clinic for yourself. Before you decide what you want to do.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding glum.

“Maybe you should come with me when I take the camera to the Bay Area. We could go together.”

It took a moment to sink in. “Together?”

“We must have some overlapping school breaks at some point. We could fly out, investigate the camera together, visit your clinic. You could ask all the questions you need to.”

She again could hear the rustling sounds indicating his squirming. “That’s… an interesting idea.”

“I think it would be a good opportunity for you… to gather information for yourself. Firsthand.”

“Firsthand,” he repeated. “Yeah.”

“You’d probably think of other questions to ask about the camera, too. Things I wouldn’t think of.”

“I’ve never been to San Francisco,” he said. “Maybe we could … walk across the Golden Gate Bridge while we’re there.”

“Okay,” she said. “If there’s time.”

“Or go see a giant redwood.”

“The to-do list grows longer,” she said wryly.

“Or ride a streetcar. Or eat seafood. Or go see that one really crooked street. I always wanted to do that.”

Dana smiled, stretching her legs out in front of her. She couldn’t tell if he was responding entirely seriously or not, but she felt a little giddy that she had summoned enough courage to invite him, to shift the conversation in this direction.

“You know,” he said suddenly and earnestly, “it’d be fun to drive, not fly. I’ve always wanted to drive across the continent. I have this amazing old station wagon that could probably make it. I could pick you up in Maryland.”

“That’s a much longer trip,” she commented, but her face was warming with pleasure. He seemed very serious. “It would be fun though.” She imagined Bill and Maggie’s expressions, watching their daughter climb into a car for a cross country road trip all alone with the strange boy they had met ten years ago on Martha’s Vineyard.

“If we could make it work, matching up the school breaks, would you really consider it? Going with me, I mean? You’re not just saying that?”

And she was struck by the vulnerability in his voice.

“Yes,” she said crisply. “Of course.”

“I’m not as strange as I come across in these phone calls,” he promised. “If we went, you could get to know me better.” A little intake of breath. “Just me. Nothing else. No expectations of anyone being anyone else, like you said.”

She was so used to thinking of him as her mysterious fairy tale boy, someone who dropped into her life simply to check to see if she had grown into someone she was not. It surprised her to realize he was anxious for her approval, too. That he was worried about how she viewed him.

“Sure,” she managed. “And you know, I’ve always wanted to tour Stanford, too.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Let’s make it happen.”

“Do you have a calendar of your school schedule?”

“I’ll go get one,” he said.

She listened as the phone dropped and he made thumping noises to run off, presumably to his room. He sounded so… eager. Dana smiled to herself, wondering what it would be like to drive in a car with him across the country. If he would drive her crazy with his peculiar energy. If he would insist on driving off the interstate on little side trips. If he would make them camp or stay at cheap motels. She found herself insatiably curious.

*** They stayed up too late hammering out a rough plan before finally saying good-bye, and Dana padded speedily back up the stairs to her bedroom, her heart still thumping, her mind still buzzing.

She flew straight into her closet and yanked the drawstring to turn on the overhead bulb. Her eyes ran over the shelves, looking for what she wanted, until she spotted it: the old cracked leather box. She lifted it from the shelf and took it to her bed to examine.

Inside the leather box were letters, filed carefully in reverse date order starting from 1982, last year, going back to 1973. Fox and Samantha’s handwriting alternated, the penmanship getting increasingly rounder and younger as she flipped farther back in time.

She found what she was looking for. The very first letter, which wasn’t from Fox or Samantha. It was preserved in its original envelope.

Dana. said the lettering on the front.

The handwriting was adult and female. She now could see what was not apparent to her as a nine-year old—that it was, in fact, her own handwriting. Or at least that it looked enough like her handwriting at age nineteen to be recognizable.

Dana sat cross-legged on her bed and read the letter for the thousandth time: the letter that had changed her life, the letter that continued to change it.

Dear Dana,

I have never been in a situation like yours, but I imagine you’re very scared. As strange as this may sound, the person writing this is you, Dana Scully, age 35. I traveled from the year 1999 back to your year. When I arrived, you vanished. Now that I have left again, you’ve returned, and you are ready to begin to live your life again. I’m truly sorry that I had to disrupt your life in this way.

I will try to limit this letter only to what is most important. First, it’s not a good idea to believe anything a stranger tells you, so I’ll try to give you some proof we are the same person, and tell you something only you know: In Mass sometimes, you daydream that Father Joplin will one day leave the priesthood and marry you instead. I hope that is enough to convince you. I’ve never told that to anyone. He never will, I’m afraid.

Second, your family has missed you very much, and they have been very worried. Be kind to them once you see them again. Especially Melissa. Always be close to Melissa.

Third, the two children you are with—Fox and Samantha—will act like they know you because they know me, but you won’t know them. Listen to them. They can explain the full story of what happened to you. They will be able to give you most of the answers you want. I imagine they may seem like strange children. But you can trust them, always, especially the boy.

Finally, about the boy, Fox Mulder. I know him as a man very well, but I don’t know what it would be like to know him as young or for as long as you will. If I had to predict, he will be persistent in keeping in touch with you.

His friendship can be difficult at times, but it’s also been something powerful and hard to explain, something big and overwhelming and wonderful. I suppose my advice about Fox Mulder comes down to this: when it comes to him, don’t ever lose sight of yourself. But in the end, he is worth it. He is always worth it.

Yours, Dana Scully

[remedyxtragedy]

IDIOSYNCRATIC CHARACTERS PT. 1

Now, I've already posted plenty of pictures of these characters on my other blog idiosyncraticoffical, however later today I'll either be deleting some pictures permanently or temporarily taking them down so I edit them, since very recently I have tweaked and refined some details involving their backstories, traits, and such alike, and obviously I want the descriptions I share with you all to be as accurate as possible.

It's gonna be a whole lot of work on my half, but ultimately it's probably the best decision. For now, I'll just offer general synopses on them so you get what I'm going on.

I should note, however--some important Idiosyncratic lore--in the town of Baltimore, there are classes. A very strict and rigid system of classes, indeed, and wherever you land on the hierarchy can control subjectively trivial things ranging from who you're allowed to talk to for a given amount of time and what places (restaurants, libraries, hospitals, etc.) you have clearance to enter, all the way to way more major things like what kind of food you have access to--whether its filling and lavish or straight up rancid and mockingly small in proportion--and how aggressive or unpleasant Baltimore citizens will be to you when you're in their presence. There are numerous ways to digress back down on the hierarchy, you can commit a crime that seriously offends Whitman, you can get into a hostile altercation with one of the locals who will not only gladly fight back but will also prompt a Baltimore policeman to rush to their aid (it doesn't matter if there are even police personnel in the vicinity, they always somehow know when one of their own is being attacked), and you can also just fail to perform your daily deeds which are absolutely unnegotiable if you want to survive (actors can eventually choose what deeds they wish to perform, and even do as many as ten in a day, but the daily ones assigned by Whitman himself are mandatory). Ironically enough though, as far as most actors are concerned, there is only one way to consistently rise up the social ladder and that is by doing as is required of you and excelling at it. You can technically also make the townspeople and even the big mayor himself like you and that can boost your reputation and reliability a ton, but not only is that pretty difficult and to some, downright impractical, it would also mean you have to became very active in the community, and most actors much prefer wallowing in their despair and relishing the scarce moments of peace they have over intermingling with the people who pay to see them do unspeakable things, so yeah. Not the most appealing route, for most anyways

The hierarchy goes as followed--

Whitman and his son, Lazlo (Whitman has always made it tremendously clear that he reveres this world he's created, almost as much as he loves money. You'd think the proprietor of a society like this would also be just as unsound and mad as his people and every one of his avid partisans but in truth there's not a single thing more dear to him than the profits he reaps from the constant slaughter and mayhem he orchestrates. He's emphatically the kind of leader who doesn't need to raise his voice, sound alarms at the smallest demonstration of rebellion, or walk with a sense of entitlement wherever he goes to reiterate that he is the one at top and his reign cannot be stopped, he fancies far more calmer and calculated approaches--exploiting his magnetic personality and dazzling wit to get people to grovel beneath him, willingly. That's not to say, however, that he isn't against using methods of violence to get people to play their role in his perverted chess game, hence why he has a massive unit of policemen who ferociously pummel people into mushy pulps when they push the limits of their beloved Mayor's grace a little too far. No one knows who Lazlo's mother is, not that actors even really care, but it's generally assumed it's one of the Baltimore women so as you can imagine the young man is pretty off the rocket, all things considered. He does indeed love his father though, they often take trips together and Whitman happily gets him anything he wants--when he wants it)

Saxony, Mr. Vanausdoll, & Script Directors (all work directly under the big man at top, and they each handle various responsibilities that they tend to all day around, including monitoring/recording the economic activity that goes on in Baltimore, distributing the Whitman propaganda, choosing what deeds are available for the day, and further glorifying the Baltimore way of life in media)

Groundhogs/Rackateers (Very strange fella in masks who never speak and only lurk in the shadows of the Baltimore underbelly, quietly stalking unknowing lower class actors who've hit rock bottom, and taking pictures at the most humiliating and compromising moments of vulnerability which they use for likely unscrupulous means considering these actors are never seen again one they've piqued the interest of these strange underground dealers. It's unsure if they're also in some sense Baltimore Citizens since Whitman seemingly does nothing to restrict their activity, which would suggest that he oversees their operations to some degree, or if they're all actually one of the many factions of actors who've grouped together and found a way to make a living out of some secret illegal market, but that's the less popular and far more confusing theory)

Police department (It probably won't strike you as surprising to know that they are the most fanatic diehards of Whitman, and will do anything to defend his legacy. If you thought changing the views of a Citizen and trying to befriend them was risky enough, approaching a policeman with the same intention is a sure death sentence--a single slip up of your words and they'll immediately switch from being taciturn and mildly irritated to outright aggressive. Most interactions end with the daring actor limping away bruised or beaten, and a lot of their dignity shattered from the brutal castigation they just endured. Needless to say, rumors of what they've done to actors who've failed to heed their commands, resisted arrest, and spoke of Whitman and his hegemony in a way that can just slightly be interpreted cynically has deterred most from trying them as a means to finesse their to the top)

Shareholders and Trade Partners

Baltimore citizens (They're all usually very friendly and outgoing, almost to the extent of it being unnerving, waltzing around the town with their signature big grins and wide unblinking eyes--its impossible to miss them, even though many wish they could. Most Baltimore Citizens or Whitizens, if I may, have been observed come in families of three--typically a mother, father, and a child--but many other relationship dynamics have been observed, some without children entirely. Some not in a relationship at all, like humans love and marriage seems to be something they get involved in at their own accord. Whether or not you're in their good graces, what is almost universally agreed is that interacting with them for an extended period of time is uncomfortable, to say the least. They're simply...not normal, as much as they act like they are. Staring at them for too long is like an uncanny valley. But more importantly, another major characteristic of the citizens is that they all talk with very distinct and unique accents that aren't easy to describe--kind of strong yet pleasing to the ears, kind of like those 1900s American accents that are synonymous with old cartoons and movies. Regardless, lower class actors have grown to dread entering Baltimore during the day because of all the 4,000 or so approximated citizens that reside in Baltimore, you're sure to bump into one while carrying out your errands, and that just spells for disaster. If they're not close enough to enact some form of violence or degradation upon you, they'll insult and swear at you from where they stand and even chuck whatever is closest to them in your direction, even if it happens to be a very jagged saw blade. On the brighter side, if you've managed to work your way to a high class and have repeatedly demonstrated to be a good source of entertainment, they'll be their usual jolly selves around you and if you're even luckier they may even invite you over for dinner, bring you gifts, or offer you tasks in exchange for good money. Stay on their good side, and all will be swell)

Last but not least are the actors (Some actors have the luxury of living in their own humble homes, or having the materials and support to construct their own small communities, but most of them have to get cozy with the ramshackle slums they return to every day after a hard days work. Actors actuallyhave their own mini hierarchy, ranging from Dogs--which is the absolute lowest tier--to then Paupers, Unremarkables, Panjandrums, Splendors, Mavens, Sxtraordinaires, until finally Bravos--which is the absolute highest tier. Strangely enough, no one really knows what happens when you stay stagnant at the lowest tier for too long or when you've ascended so far in Baltimore society that there is no longer a social ladder for you to climb--actors of both spectrums seem to just disappear one day with no evidence to suggest that they even existed to begin with, which is just skin-crawling to actors who are stuck in the limbo of the polars. Dare to do nothing and eventually you're gonna crumble all the way down to society's scrap-eaters, follow the unspoken actor motto of 'do what you must and thensome' and eventually you'll find yourself at the tippy top of the anarchy, only a shell of the person you used to be, broken and scarred, awaiting the legendary 'light at the end of the tunnel' Whitman always promised you--your faith ultimately and cruelly still being placed in him even at the end of your strife. Actors can only go on in second nature, driven merely by the innate incentive to survive long enough to see a fulfilling conclusion to the tragic game of flourish or perish they've been thrusted into presumably by the madman at the forefront. Of course, however, that sentiment is not shared among everyone--particularly those who've developed a insatiable taste for the mandated anarchy and carnage of this world, and that so called 'light at the end of the tunnel' is a holy grail for sure worth fighting, maiming, and killing for. In their eyes, there's nothing better)

[dailyanarchistposts]

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[3rdeyeblaque]

On February 14th, we venerate Elevated Ancestor Fredrick Douglass on his 206th birthday  [observed]

A prolific writer, internationally acclaimed orator, influential abolitionist, federal statesman, & one of many conductors on the Underground Railroad, we celebrate Fredrick Douglass for his grit & relentless courage that led him to becoming a resounding voice for those determined to see an end to the Maafa.

Born enslaved to an African woman on a distant plantation along the shores of Maryland, Douglass's formative years were spent under the lash of whips, freezing cold, & starvation. At the age of 8, he was hired out as a body slave in Baltimore City - this is where he first realized the connection between literacy & freedom. Over the next several years, his pursuit of freedom & self education drove him to rebellion by educating others enslaved & plotting his escape. After his first (of many) failed attempts, he encountered a Rootworker named Sandy in the woods surrounding the infamous Covey farm that he was loaned out to; Sandy instructed him to carry a specific root on his right side every day to protect him & escape from Mr. Covey aka "the slave breaker". And though he'd see more failure than success in escaping his slave owner, the infamous Mr.Covey never laid hands on him again.

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will." - Fredrick Douglass

We pour libations & give extra 💐 to Fredrick Douglass on this day. May he be a beacon & a blueprint for those of sharp mind rebellious spirit in the pursuit of sovereignty and true freedom.

Offering suggestions: reading/sharing his literary works, libations of water, & high john root.

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[space-blue]

okay first of all how does anyone bear to do asks i need to keep switching between two tabs trying to figure out what questions i'm trying to ask, there's got to be an easier way-- BUT right, Behind the Scenes asks: 1, 5, 12, 18 PLEASE, and 23. (PS am i supposed to ask so many? prob not. screw it, i'm greedy (PPS am i supposed to be anon rn idk if that's correct etiquette)) THANKS!

I jot the numbers down somewhere if I'm getting overwhelmed. You did great though! And no, there is no etiquette on how many to ask, don't worry. If there's a double I'll just send you to the other ask. More means I get to talk about fic more, which is great! :3

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Star Wars, Thrawn x OC. I was pretty sauced. I think I have some great moments in there, and I was free to create all the banter I wanted, etc. But it suffers a LOT from me being completely new to multi chapter work. I go into meandering tengeants and don't know when to stop on the world building. It had its fans and really dragged me into the whole fanfic universe though. Maybe one day I'll finish it, but I had no idea which way to go. I feel like I wrote myself in a corner, somewhat haha

5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

I don't mind loud spaces like cafes or pubs, so long as the music isn't obnoxious and I can hear my own. I just like places where nobody is going to come to me to interrupt me. Sadly I live and work in a backpacker hostel, meaning I have 50 odd housemates at any given time, without counting the 250 guests. I get interrupted a LOT. So right now, hidden in my bed or hunkering down at my fav cafe, would be my answer.

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

Yes! There's this Tarkin & Ahsoka fic I mentioned in this ask. It focuses on the amnesia trope. I really, really like to write sort of mind fucky things from character PoV. So Tarkin struggling with shattered memories and having to rebuild himself while trusting this total stranger… Hard. Especially when WE all know she's lying to him to try and use him for her side, because the rebellion just needs the help that badly. I do need to make better research on real amnesia before I apply scifi logic to it... And I need to not be hyperfixation on Quaritch's blue ass. His own trope scratches a similar itch, since he's a clone with implanted memories. So identity crisis as well...

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

OK ok I have this entry from my Hannibal ficlets that focuses on a secret inside the "mind palace" Hannibal Lecter has. I've read all three relevant Hannibal books, watched the films, all TV series… And then I read the book Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. It's excellent and I recommend it. It focuses on a man living inside an enormous house that has three levels going in all directions, with clouds in the top level and a sea with rushing tides in the bottom. There are statues everywhere… And birds… And it's very WTF and it takes you a long time to understand what's going on. It's in this man's pov too which thickens the mystery.

I love the works of Piranesi. He's an italian architect and archaelogist who once got sick. 22 yo and delirious with fever, he sketched a series of 'infinite prisons' which you can see here!

So I'm writing this tiny daily ficlet, trying to stick as close to 200 words as I can, and I was folding myself into a piranesian pretzel trying to FIT THE DAMN EXPRESSION in. Making Hannibal's mind palace into a piranesian thing.

There is a corner of his mind always plagued by snow. It is a torturous journey there, through labyrinthine passages, down echoing stairwells and across bridges arcing over the piranesian landscape of his palace. It is easy to lose one's way, to be distracted by the vaulted ceilings of a chapel, the confines of well used hideouts, or the familiar outlines of his Baltimore office. But if he keeps walking, fingers brushing against all the door-frames of all the halls of his mind, eventually they alight on damp wood, cold and brittle. 

[he's off to visit his baby sister, who he keeps in there. He was forced to eat her by soldiers as a child, yeah it's dark]

23. If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

I'm not super hung up on this idea. I write and move on. I have 151 works currently and I've been on ao3 for not even 3 years. So as you can imagine I have a tendency to create a new work rather than worry about remixing.

This being said I'd probably completely retool my very first fic, as per answer 1. I'd change the OC, shorten the plot by A LOT, get the action started sooner, completely drop a lot of worldbuilding… It's a slog, which can be very sweet in a fanfic when you're enjoying the slog content, but dear lord, it makes for awkward re-reading. I'd make the OC an alien instead of a human raised by aliens. Too much going on.

[duckprintspress]

Creator’s Spotlight: Recent Works Created by Duck Prints Press Contributors

Our monthly “created works round-ups” are Duck Prints Press’s opportunity to spotlight some of the amazing work that people working with us have done that ISN’T linked to their work with Duck Prints Press. We include fanworks, outside publications, and anything else that creators feel like sharing with y’all! Inclusion is voluntary and includes anything that they decided “hey, I want to put this on the created work’s round-up!”

Check out what they’ve shared with us this month…

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Any Size, Any Shape by firefly124

fiction || mcyt, hermitcraft smp, empires smp, double life smp || m/m || jimmy solidarity/tango tek || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 2,788 || ongoing series

summary: Now that Tango knows Jimmy’s got a coffee shop on Hermitcraft, he obviously has to drag him to see how Decked Out is coming along. This is absolutely not a distraction from what’s been knocking around the back of his brain since going through the Rift to Empires. At all.

AO3

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The Trail of Compassion by Shadaras

fiction || star wars: obi-wan kenobi (tv) || platonic or familial || reva sevander & obi-wan kenobi, reva sevander & tala durith, reva sevander & original characters || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 15,741 || complete

summary: Reva heals—both physically and emotionally—and works towards understanding what she wants her future to be.

other tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe – Tala Durith Lives, Jedi Philosophy, The Rebellion | Alliance to Restore the Republic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Service Jobs as a Crash Course in Empathy, Mentorship as a Path Towards Planning for the Future

AO3

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when that fox howls I’ll howl with it by theleakypen

fiction || all for the game – nora sakavic || platonic or familial || abby winfield & david wymack; kevin day & david wymack || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 2,865 || complete

summary: Wymack and Abby cope after the events of Baltimore in The King’s Men, and Wymack has a difficult conversation with Kevin Day.

other tags: Missing Scene; POV David Wymack; difficult conversations; The Adults Aren’t OK Either; But they’re doing their best; Everybody needs therapy; past Kayleigh Day/David Wymack; post-Baltimore (All For The Game); During Book 3: The King’s Men (All For The Game)

AO3

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Solar Punks by J.D. Harlock

poetry || original work || no ships || general audiences || no major warnings apply || complete

LINK

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​Who We Are: Duck Prints Press LLC is an independent publisher based in New York State. Our founding vision is to help fanfiction authors navigate the complex process of bringing their original works from first draft to print, culminating in publishing their work under our imprint. We are particularly dedicated to working with queer authors and publishing stories featuring characters from across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Love what we do? Sign up for our monthly newsletter and get previews, behind-the-scenes information, coupons, and more!

[uneasylisteningradio]

Transistor Sister #158 March 19, 2023

Mini theme: Unusual, rare, and obsolete forms and methods of communication!

stream on Mixcloud

Freddy "Boom Boom" Cannon - Transistor Sister Small Faces - Lazy Sunday

Zounds - Dirty Squatters Kosmetika - House The Donnas - Boy Like You Pyhäkoulu - Exynyt Giorgio - Stop

Meiko Kaji - 芽衣子のふて節 Omega Tribe - Time for Change Warsaw - The Drawback The Toads - Nationalsville Fania All-Stars - Sabor Sabor

Baby Huey - Running Water Machine - Flowers Tyrades - I Am Homicide Silver Abuse - Plastic Rows Non Band - Vibration Army Vaaska - Invasion

Les Misérables - Western Union Stiff Little Fingers - Closed Groove Orchestral Manoeuvres In the Dark - Telegraph (The Manor Version 1981) The Fireballs - 3 Minutes Time Intense Molecular Activity - Blinxong Sam Ash and Elida Morris - Hello Frisco The Kinks - Party Line No-Song Kutkotz - Telegram Wreckless Eric - Semaphore Signals

The Baltimore and Ohio Marching Band - The Happy Wanderer Saphron - Sinner Man Vorsicht Kinder - Verschluck dich nicht Charles E. Funk Rebellion - It's Gonna Be the Death of You Dave Edmunds - Dynamite Memphis Jug Band - She Done Sold It Out Liaisons Dangereuses - Kess kill fé show

Chumbawamba - The Day the Nazi Died

[imprvdente]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 @imjustanauthor from: “Is everything ok?”

"Ah, Miss Fell. Please, sit down," Professor Moriarty greeted, motioning to their chair across from his desk. "I wanted to ask how your project is coming along. I must confess that I find myself intrigued by the concept of it."

That was a lie, of course. Moriarty was, in fact, concerned about the project. He had been coerced into it by a colleague in the Psychology department. All the whining and nagging had made him want to jam his fingers into the man's eye sockets, but he had to remember his role as a dutiful academic. With that in mind, of course he had been happy to help with the department's undergraduate study into genius. How flattering for him to be selected for research into matters of genius, he had claimed.

The problem was, while he was perfectly capable of covering his tracks before a group of baby psychologists and showing no sign of troubling traits, one of the students had made him pause. Her questions had been... Interesting. He had found himself suspecting that, with every answer he had given, she had started getting more and more targeted. That intrigued him - and not necessarily in a good way. Curious about whether or not she was a threat of any kind, he had invited her to his office with the aim of further discussion.

Friendly professor persona on full display in a well-rehearsed act, he sat down at his desk. "Did you get all the information that you were searching for during your interviews?"

Whether or not that information pertained to her research or to other matters, he did not say.

Fish did as she was told, and sat down. Of course, here, she was known as Océanne Fell, and not Fish Lecter. Her name was one of the many things she had left behind, when her father and her had ran away from Baltimore, from the United States, from everything. Ah but Hannibal had brought Bedelia, his slut, with him.  She would follow her father to the other end of the world, blindly, but she still felt homesick. She missed her home, her room, her sister.

Nothing to be done about it, though. Except keep living, and try to antagonize daddy dearest any chance she got. Her own little rebellion, approximately 5 years too late. She hated it, but didn’t know what else to do to appease her anger. 

And this? This was yet another way for her to rebel. Playing with fire. Tiptoeing around dangerous secrets, with a man who seemed more and more dangerous.

Not that he showed it. No, Professor Moriarty had a perfectly tailored human suit. 

“It is going very well, thank you again for all your help, Professor. Your participation was terribly insightful.” A little smile, polite and poised, was offered to the man. Perhaps it was terribly mundane, perhaps a predator could simply sniff out the scent of blood off another’s hunter. But she had a hunch, and she wanted to see if she was right. 

So far, her little project was promising. And I don’t mean the school project she had been given at her psychology class, which she simply used to get what she really wanted.

“Oh, you were so enlightening,” she said, waving her hand, “why? Were there things you wished to tell me? I’m happy to take more notes and add them to my draft.”

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 2.7

457 – Leo I becomes the Eastern Roman emperor. 987 – Bardas Phokas the Younger and Bardas Skleros, Byzantine generals of the military elite, begin a wide-scale rebellion against Emperor Basil II. 1301 – Edward of Caernarvon (later king Edward II of England) becomes the first English Prince of Wales. 1313 – King Thihathu founds the Pinya Kingdom as the de jure successor state of the Pagan Kingdom. 1365 – Albert III of Mecklenburg (King Albert of Sweden) grants city rights to Ulvila (Swedish: Ulvsby). 1497 – In Florence, Italy, supporters of Girolamo Savonarola burn cosmetics, art, and books, in a "Bonfire of the vanities". 1756 – Guaraní War: The leader of the Guaraní rebels, Sepé Tiaraju, is killed in a skirmish with Spanish and Portuguese troops. 1783 – American Revolutionary War: French and Spanish forces lift the Great Siege of Gibraltar. 1795 – The 11th Amendment to the United States Constitution is ratified. 1807 – Napoleonic Wars: Napoleon finds Bennigsen's Russian forces taking a stand at Eylau. After bitter fighting, the French take the town, but the Russians resume the battle the next day. 1812 – The strongest in a series of earthquakes strikes New Madrid, Missouri. 1813 – In the action of 7 February 1813 near the Îles de Los, the frigates Aréthuse and Amelia batter each other, but neither can gain the upper hand. 1819 – Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles leaves Singapore after just taking it over, leaving it in the hands of William Farquhar. 1842 – Battle of Debre Tabor: Ras Ali Alula, Regent of the Emperor of Ethiopia defeats warlord Wube Haile Maryam of Semien. 1854 – A law is approved to found the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology. Lectures started October 16, 1855. 1863 – HMS Orpheus sinks off the coast of Auckland, New Zealand, killing 189. 1894 – The Cripple Creek miner's strike, led by the Western Federation of Miners, begins in Cripple Creek, Colorado, United States. 1898 – Dreyfus affair: Émile Zola is brought to trial for libel for publishing J'Accuse…! 1900 – Second Boer War: British troops fail in their third attempt to lift the Siege of Ladysmith. 1900 – A Chinese immigrant in San Francisco falls ill to bubonic plague in the first plague epidemic in the continental United States. 1904 – A fire begins in Baltimore, Maryland;[12] it destroys over 1,500 buildings in 30 hours. 1940 – The second full-length animated Walt Disney film, Pinocchio, premieres. 1943 – World War II: Imperial Japanese Navy forces complete the evacuation of Imperial Japanese Army troops from Guadalcanal during Operation Ke, ending Japanese attempts to retake the island from Allied forces in the Guadalcanal Campaign. 1944 – World War II: In Anzio, Italy, German forces launch a counteroffensive during the Allied Operation Shingle. 1951 – Korean War: More than 700 suspected communist sympathizers are massacred by South Korean forces. 1962 – The United States bans all Cuban imports and exports. 1974 – Grenada gains independence from the United Kingdom. 1979 – Pluto moves inside Neptune's orbit for the first time since either was discovered. 1984 – Space Shuttle program: STS-41-B Mission: Astronauts Bruce McCandless II and Robert L. Stewart make the first untethered space walk using the Manned Maneuvering Unit (MMU). 1986 – Twenty-eight years of one-family rule end in Haiti, when President Jean-Claude Duvalier flees the Caribbean nation. 1990 – Dissolution of the Soviet Union: The Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party agrees to give up its monopoly on power. 1991 – Haiti's first democratically elected president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, is sworn in. 1991 – The Troubles: The Provisional IRA launches a mortar attack on 10 Downing Street in London, the headquarters of the British government. 1992 – The Maastricht Treaty is signed, leading to the creation of the European Union. 1995 – Ramzi Yousef, the mastermind of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, is arrested in Islamabad, Pakistan. 1999 – Crown Prince Abdullah becomes the King of Jordan on the death of his father, King Hussein. 2001 – Space Shuttle program: Space Shuttle Atlantis is launched on mission STS-98, carrying the Destiny laboratory module to the International Space Station. 2009 – Bushfires in Victoria leave 173 dead in the worst natural disaster in Australia's history. 2012 – President Mohamed Nasheed of the Republic of Maldives resigns, after 23 days of anti-governmental protests calling for the release of the Chief Judge unlawfully arrested by the military. 2013 – The U.S. state of Mississippi officially certifies the Thirteenth Amendment, becoming the last state to approve the abolition of slavery. The Thirteenth Amendment was formally ratified by Mississippi in 1995. 2014 – Scientists announce that the Happisburgh footprints in Norfolk, England, date back to more than 800,000 years ago, making them the oldest known hominid footprints outside Africa. 2016 – North Korea launches Kwangmyŏngsŏng-4 into outer space violating multiple UN treaties and prompting condemnation from around the world. 2021 – The 2021 Uttarakhand flood begins.

[scotianostra]

On July 1st 1884 Allan Pinkerton, the Scottish-born detective, died.

Allan Pinkerton was born in Glasgow in Scotland in 1819. A cooper by trade he was active in the Chartist movement as a young man. Disillusioned by the failure to win universal suffrage, Pinkerton emigrated to the United States.

Pinkerton settled in Chicago and became a deputy-sheriff. In 1852 he formed the Pinkerton Detective Agency. The first detective agency in the United States, it solved a series of train robberies. In 1861 the agency was given the task of guarding Abraham Lincoln. While in Baltimore, while on the way to the inauguration, Pinkerton foiled a plot to assassinate the president.

In April 1861 Pinkerton, on the suggestion of General George B. McClellan, organised a system of obtaining military information in the Southern states. From this system he developed the US Secret Service, of which he was in charge throughout the war, under the assumed name of Major E. J. Allen.

One of his detectives, James McParlan, in 1873-76 lived among the Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania and secured evidence which led to the breaking up of the criminal organisation. In 1869 Pinkerton suffered a partial stroke of paralysis, and thereafter the management of the detective agency devolved chiefly upon his sons, William Allan and Robert.

He published The Molly Maguires and the Detectives, The Spy of the Rebellion, in which he gave his version of President-elect Lincoln’s journey to Washington; and a memoir, Thirty Years a Detective. Pinkerton died in Chicago on the 1st of July 1884.

The second picture shows Allen Pinkerton with Abraham Lincoln and was captured by another Scot, Paisley man Alexander Gardner.

[ledenews]

Civil War Tales - Philippi, the First Land Battle

(Publisher’s Note: This is the first of a series of historical accounts composed by local educator and historian Pete Chacalos. Pete, a former Ohio County Board of Education member and a retired science teacher who spent more than three decades in classrooms, will offer LEDE readers tales about how the Civil War impacted areas that would become the 35th state in the Union, West Virginia, on June 20th, 1863.) Fort Sumter fell on April 14, 1861. The next day, President Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation calling for 75,000 state militiamen to put down the rebellion. Thousands in the Midwest immediately volunteered. In Ohio, Governor William Dennison lobbied George McClellan to assume command of Ohio’s militia forces. McClellan accepted on April 23, 1861. Governor Dennison sent McClellan to Columbus to evaluate the state of Ohio’s arsenal. McClellan, accompanied by Jacob Cox, found crates of rusted muskets, mildewed harnesses, and some inoperable cannons. This did not deter him from creating an exceptional force of volunteers. McClellan’s efforts were noticed in Washington. The buildup of forces in the Midwest following Sumter's fall was so swift it outpaced the existing structure. This lack of organization was evident when, on May 3, 1861, the Union War Department issued General Order Number 14 to consolidate regiments from Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois into the Department of the Ohio. Later, regiments from Missouri would be added. On this day, McClellan rejoined the Army, was promoted to Major General, and assigned to command the Department of the Ohio, headquartered in Cincinnati. Meanwhile, Robert E. Lee had cast his lot with the Confederacy. He was appointed to command military forces in Virginia. On May 4, 1861, he sent Colonel George Porterfield to Grafton to organize troops that were being raised there. Grafton was a key strategic point in western Virginia, as it was at the junction of the Parkersburg-Grafton Railroad and the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Lee, however, did not foresee the amount of resentment that the people west of the Alleghenies had for the so-called elitist populace of the Tidewater region. The few men who rallied to the Confederate cause had little or no training. Ammunition was lacking, and some of the few companies raised in nearby towns didn’t have weapons.   As Porterfield would later say in his report:  “This force is not only deficient in drill but ignorant, both officers and men, of the most ordinary duties of the soldier. With efficient drill officers, they might be made effective, but I have to complain that the field officers sent to command these men are of no assistance to me and are, for the most part, as ignorant of their duties as the company officers, and they as ignorant as the men.” Col. Benjamin Franklin Kelley Porterfield received intelligence that Federal troops were approaching from Wheeling. Realizing that he could not hold Grafton (a pro-Union town) with the 800 troops at his disposal, Porterfield withdrew 25 miles south to Philippi (a secessionist town). As he retreated, Porterfield burned a few bridges to slow any pursuit from the federals. On Sunday, May 26, General McClelland received word that bridges on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad in western Virginia had been burned the previous night. The B&O was a vital link between Washington and the Midwest.  It provided an easy path through the Appalachian Mountains but passed through Confederate “territory” in three places.  McClellan launched an invasion into Virginia to protect against the B&O and the loyal citizens in western Virginia.  He ordered the 1st Virginia, the 9th Indiana, the 16th Ohio, and some companies from the 2nd Virginia to advance from Wheeling towards Fairmont and the 14th and 18th Ohio to advance from Parkersburg towards Grafton. Early on May 27, the 1st Virginia, commanded by Colonel Benjamin Franklin Kelley, left Camp Carlile on Wheeling Island and marched across the Suspension Bridge to the B&O depot. On May 29, the train picked up the regiments of the 16th Ohio at Camp Buffalo on the way to Fairmont. As Kelley moved east on one branch of the B&O Railroad, he was under orders to take no risks. If confronted by a force superior in manpower or firepower, Kelley was to observe and send for support. Kelley’s main objective was to protect the railroad and bridges on the way to Fairmont. The Battle of Philippi resulted in the retreat of Confederate forces to avoid capture by Union soldiers. The casualty totals - four Union and 26 Confederate - were considered to be light at that time. The 14th and 18th Ohio, based in Marietta, crossed the Ohio River, marched to Parkersburg, and boarded a train heading east towards Grafton. In Indianapolis, Brigadier General Thomas A. Morris received orders to prepare for a move, with the 6th and 7th Indiana, to Grafton. General Morris arrived at Grafton on the evening of June 1. He met with Colonel Kelley, who had organized an expedition against the Confederates at Philippi that night. After conferring with Kelley, Morris determined that the attack would occur the following night. At 9 a.m. on June 2, four regiments, organized into two divisions, left Grafton and headed for Philippi. One division (the left column) of 1,600 troops, under the command of Colonel Kelley, consisted of six companies of Kelley’s First Virginia, six companies of Colonel Irvine’s Sixteenth Ohio, and nine companies of Colonel Milroy’s Ninth Indiana. The left proceeded east on the B&O Railroad for six miles. This was intended to give the illusion of an advance on Harper’s Ferry. The men then disembarked and marched (on a little traveled road) southeast the remaining twenty-five miles to Philippi. The march was regulated, so the column arrived at its designated spot, behind the town (south) as close to 4 a.m. as possible. Colonel Ebenezer Dumont (commanding the right column) proceeded by rail to Webster with a force of 1,400, including the eight companies of his Seventh Indiana regiment. At Webster, Dumont was joined by Colonel Steedman and five companies of the Fourteenth Ohio, along with two field pieces, and by Colonel Crittenden, with six companies of his regiment, the Sixth Indiana. From Webster, the right column marched to Philippi, so it arrived in front of the town (north) at 4 a.m. The objective of Dumont’s column was to divert attention until the attack made by Colonel Kelley and to aid him if resistance was offered. Once the two columns joined, the force was to be under the command of Colonel Kelley. Both columns advanced on Philippi through torrential rains. Porterfield was aware of the approaching Federals. After conferring with his officers that evening, Porterfield decided the only hope of avoiding capture was a retreat (at daybreak) to Beverly. Most likely due to the storm and a lack of training, the Confederates had not set pickets that night to warn of any approach by the enemy. The covered bridge in Philippi was constructed in 1852 and is the oldest and longest in the state of West Virginia. Colonel Dumont’s column arrived on a ridge east of the town known as Talbot Hill. An artillery battery was placed here to support the column as it crossed the covered bridge into town. Dumont was to wait for a signal (a single shot) from Colonel Kelley indicating his troops were in place before commencing the bombardment. At this point, Kelley should have been circling around town and approaching from the south. The plans, however, had already gone awry.  Kelly’s column had taken a wrong fork in the road and ended up on the same side of town as Colonel Dumont’s men. As Kelley’s column approached Philippi, it passed by the home of Matilda Humphreys. Mrs. Humphreys sent her son to Philippi to warn of the approaching Federals.  He was immediately captured. Mrs. Humphreys fired a single shot from a pistol at the men capturing her son. Hearing the shot, Dumont ordered the battery to commence firing to support his advancing troops. Colonel Porterfield ordered two companies to prevent the Federals from crossing the covered bridge. They put up a light resistance, but it was too late. Colonel Frank W. Lander, seeing this resistance, made a mad dash (on horseback) down the hill through heavy underbrush to rally the men in their attempt to enter the town. At the same time, Kelley was advancing into town. Upon seeing two Federal columns entering the town, the Confederate forces panicked and ran.  Kelley and Lander entered the town simultaneously.  As he led his men through the town, Kelley was shot through the chest and fell from his horse. It was reported by Brigadier General Thomas A. Morris, in his report to the adjutant general’s office, that Colonel Lander personally captured the man who shot Kelley. Kelley’s wound was thought to be mortal.  The June 7 edition of the Richmond Enquirer reported Kelley’s death. Kelly, however, would recover and go on to command the Department of West Virginia. Pete Chacalos taught science for over 30 years at Wheeling Park High School and is an avid historian of the Civil War era of America. The Confederates withdrew southward and reached Beverly that evening. The next evening, they withdrew even further to Huttonsville. They remained there until General Richard Garnett arrived with reinforcements to relieve Colonel Porterfield. On July 4, A court of inquiry convened at the request of Porterfield. He was praised for his coolness and courage during the retreat but was censured for not taking precautionary measures beforehand.  He never held command again. There were conflicting reports on the number of casualties. Some indicated dozens killed and wounded, while others reported none killed. It can be said, however, that casualties were extremely light considering the carnage that was to come. Had Kelly’s column not gotten lost, the Confederates, running south as fast as they could, would have likely been captured. Hence, the Battle of Philippi (more a skirmish than a battle) became known as The Philippi Races. Cincinnati Rover Guards, Ohio History Central, https://ohiohistorycentral.org/index.php?title=Cincinnati_Rover_Guards&mobileaction=toggle_view_desktop Battle of Philippi, http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-philippi Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Vol. II, No. 1, Reports of Colonel George A. Porterfield Ruth Woods Dayton, The Beginning Philippi,1861 http://www.wvculture.org/history/journal_wvh/wvh13-1.html McClellan Orders Invasion of Virginia, http://civilwardailygazette.com/mcclellan-orders-invasion-of-virginia Ibid Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Vol. II, No. 1, Reports of Brigadier General T. A. Morris Ibid Ruth Woods Dayton, The Beginning Philippi,1861 http://www.wvculture.org/history/journal_wvh/wvh13-1.html Battle of Philippi, http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-philippi Historical marker, The Battle of Philippi – Talbott’s Hill, Philippi, WV Ruth Woods Dayton, The Beginning Philippi,1861 http://www.wvculture.org/history/journal_wvh/wvh13-1.html Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Vol. II, No. 1, Reports of Brigadier General T. A. Morris Battle of Philippi, Richmond Enquirer, June 7, 1861 Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Vol. II, No. 1, Reports of Major General George B. McClellan Read the full article

[3rdbogwitch2theleft]

I've heard many a tumblrina pine for "weird movies made with 4 unknown freaks" so with that in mind, here are my recommendations from the last short film festival I attended.

IMDB links present where possible. Go forth and enjoy weird good movies!

#1 "Lesbophilia" starring Vico Ortiz and Maya Nalli, directed by Michelle West. A raunchy queer comedy about commitment, felonies, FOMO, and the things we do for love.

#2 "Mélange" starring Miles Cameron & Bereket directed by Deshon Leek. A bittersweet tale of tenderness, longing, and reconnection set to a sumptuous jazz soundtrack.

#3 "Squeegee Boy" directed by Chung Wei Huang. This one has many themes so it's a bit tough to describe accurately but it's a trans coming of age story and a loving depiction of Baltimore boyhood that wrestles with identity, masculinity, cultural expectations, capitalism, and belonging. Content warning for a non-graphic scene of police violence

#4 "With You Now" directed by Jordan Imbrey a queer travel romance about belonging, grief, and healing heavily featuring roller skates, venice beach, and boardwalk snacks

#5 "Factory Drop" starring Preslav Mantchev & Annemarie Warburton directed by Petja Pulkrabek. A story of rebellion and escape told primarily through dance set against a dystopic capitalist backdrop.

#6 "Tethered" starring Una O'Brien & Maura Logue, directed by Stephen T Lally. It's got grief, it's got comets, it's got music, it's got dance, it's got fairies, it's got Ireland in the 1980s, and the fanciest nursing home I've ever seen in my life. It's about family and yes it did make me weep openly in the theatre.

Honorable mention for not my absolute favorite but one of the more inventive of the SciFi/Action Block:

#7 "Station 33" starring Ulysses E. Campbell & Madelyn Farris, directed by Joe Carabeo. A SciFi mini series that aired as a single short about a recently un-deceased woman stuck between a secretive government (?) organization and the violent, malevolent entity possessing her body. Content warning: if you're squeamish, the prosthetics get a little gross (nothing graphic just plague/zombie adjacent) .

[unadulteratednightmarepoetry]

The final report of the Capitol Hill riots exposes the truth of party struggles in the United States The Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee of the United States House of Representatives recently released its final investigation report, explaining the allegations against former President Trump. American experts and media believe that although the committee has put an end to its investigation, the political dispute between the Democratic and Republican parties over the Capitol Hill riots is far from over, and the party struggle may escalate in the future. Survey Closing The House Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee released an 845 page final investigation report on the evening of the 22nd, presenting the committee's investigation work since its establishment and 17 specific findings, stating that it has gathered evidence and reached an overwhelming and straightforward conclusion that the core cause of the Capitol Hill riots was Trump. Committee Chairman and Democrat Benny Thompson believes that Trump has designed and promoted a "multi-step effort" to overturn the 2020 US presidential election results and prevent power transfers. In addition to explaining the accusations against Trump and others and providing detailed evidence, the final investigation report also made 11 suggestions, including reforming the U.S. Federal Election Counting Act, strengthening responses to violent extremism in the United States, and citing the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution to prohibit Trump from holding public office. Earlier this week, the committee announced and approved four criminal referrals against Trump, accusing him of obstructing official proceedings, conspiring to defraud the federal government, conspiring to make false statements, and inciting or assisting in rebellion. Ronald Weich, Dean of the University of Baltimore Law School in the United States, emphasized that whether to prosecute Trump criminally depends on the US Department of Justice and is not affected by criminal referrals. The Department of Justice is conducting two criminal investigations involving Trump, one related to the Capitol Hill riots and the other related to Trump's alleged improper handling of confidential documents. Trump officially announced in November that he will run for the presidency of the United States again. On the 23rd of this month, he posted a speech video on social media, bombarding the House Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee and its final investigation report, stating that the Capitol Hill riot that occurred on January 6, 2021 was not a rebellion, but an unfortunate and uncontrollable protest. In addition, Trump stated that the accusations against him are unfounded and politically driven. He also continues to advocate that the 2020 US presidential election is manipulated. "National shame" In 2020, the United States ushered in the quadrennial presidential election in the midst of political polarization, the COVID-19, the wave of anti racism and economic contraction. On November 7th of that year, several mainstream American media reported based on calculations that the then Democratic presidential candidate Biden would win, and Biden subsequently announced his victory. Trump, on the other hand, refused to acknowledge his defeat and repeatedly claimed that there was large-scale fraud in the election.

[wingedfestmusic]

The final report of the Capitol Hill riots exposes the truth of party struggles in the United States The Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee of the United States House of Representatives recently released its final investigation report, explaining the allegations against former President Trump. American experts and media believe that although the committee has put an end to its investigation, the political dispute between the Democratic and Republican parties over the Capitol Hill riots is far from over, and the party struggle may escalate in the future. Survey Closing The House Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee released an 845 page final investigation report on the evening of the 22nd, presenting the committee's investigation work since its establishment and 17 specific findings, stating that it has gathered evidence and reached an overwhelming and straightforward conclusion that the core cause of the Capitol Hill riots was Trump. Committee Chairman and Democrat Benny Thompson believes that Trump has designed and promoted a "multi-step effort" to overturn the 2020 US presidential election results and prevent power transfers. In addition to explaining the accusations against Trump and others and providing detailed evidence, the final investigation report also made 11 suggestions, including reforming the U.S. Federal Election Counting Act, strengthening responses to violent extremism in the United States, and citing the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution to prohibit Trump from holding public office. Earlier this week, the committee announced and approved four criminal referrals against Trump, accusing him of obstructing official proceedings, conspiring to defraud the federal government, conspiring to make false statements, and inciting or assisting in rebellion. Ronald Weich, Dean of the University of Baltimore Law School in the United States, emphasized that whether to prosecute Trump criminally depends on the US Department of Justice and is not affected by criminal referrals. The Department of Justice is conducting two criminal investigations involving Trump, one related to the Capitol Hill riots and the other related to Trump's alleged improper handling of confidential documents. Trump officially announced in November that he will run for the presidency of the United States again. On the 23rd of this month, he posted a speech video on social media, bombarding the House Congressional Hill Riot Investigation Committee and its final investigation report, stating that the Capitol Hill riot that occurred on January 6, 2021 was not a rebellion, but an unfortunate and uncontrollable protest. In addition, Trump stated that the accusations against him are unfounded and politically driven. He also continues to advocate that the 2020 US presidential election is manipulated. "National shame" In 2020, the United States ushered in the quadrennial presidential election in the midst of political polarization, the COVID-19, the wave of anti racism and economic contraction. On November 7th of that year, several mainstream American media reported based on calculations that the then Democratic presidential candidate Biden would win, and Biden subsequently announced his victory. Trump, on the other hand, refused to acknowledge his defeat and repeatedly claimed that there was large-scale fraud in the election.