#monday special results for today

[elixirfromthestars]

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I��ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

[verypersonalscreencaps]

"PREGNANT, IF I WANT, WHEN I WANT, HOW I WANT" FRANCE BECOMES FIRST COUNTRY TO EXPLICITLY ENSHRINE ABORTION RIGHTS IN CONSTITUTION The Washington Post | Published March 4, 2024 PARIS — With the endorsement of a specially convened session of lawmakers at Versailles, France on Monday became the first country in the world to explicitly enshrine abortion rights in its constitution — an effort galvanized by the rollback of protections in the United States. The amendment referring to abortion as a “guaranteed freedom” needed the approval of three-fifths of lawmakers — or 512 votes. The vote result on Monday evening was 780 in favor and 72 against. “We’re sending a message to all women: your body belongs to you and no one can decide for you,” Prime Minister Gabriel Attal told lawmakers assembled in Versailles. Thousands of Parisians gathered to watch the proceedings live on a giant television screen at Le Parvis des Droits de l’Homme — or “Human Rights Square” — in central Paris, with the Eiffel Tower looming dramatically over the scene. Before the political debate began, the television screen showed a montage of women’s rights campaigners around the world holding signs declaring, “My body is mine” and “My body, my choice.” The sound system blared Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” Parisians driving by honked their horns. France decriminalized abortion in 1975; abortion is legal for any reason through the 14th week of pregnancy. This amendment won’t change any of that. But while other countries have inferred abortion rights protections from their constitutions, as the U.S. Supreme Court did in Roe v. Wade, France is the first to explicitly codify in its constitution that abortion rights are protected. France is not interpreting its constitution; it is changing its constitution. The outcome was “also a promise for all women who fight all over the world for the right to have autonomy over their bodies — in Argentina, in the United States, in Andorra, in Italy, in Hungary, in Poland,” said lawmaker Mathilde Panot, who had introduced the bill in the National Assembly. “This vote today tells them: your struggle is ours, this victory is yours.” People gather near the Eiffel Tower during the broadcast of the special session of Parliament, in Paris on Monday.

[vax-merstappen]

Just home fluff with Max Verstappen, like a cozy Sunday

sundays are for racing (mv1)

ooh i love home fluff!! hope you enjoy this, anon!

summary: it is winter break so max is home this sunday, you decide to show him that it's okay to relax and take some time off.

It was the first weekend after the Formula 1 season had ended. You woke up in the bed you usually slept in alone to see that for the first time in a while, your boyfriend was sound asleep on the other side of the bed. It was comforting to know he was home and that everything in your life was together again.

You sat up and looked to the foot of the bed, seeing that Jimmy and Sassy were curled up between you and Max's legs. Your heart filled with joy, knowing your whole little family was back together. You closed your eyes for a few more minutes, content with your current situation. But then you had the wonderful idea to make breakfast in bed for your boyfriend. He had just finished an intense season of racing where he had won his third world championship. You wanted to do something special for him.

You stretched and climbed out of bed, making your way to the kitchen. The cats followed you and you made sure to put some food in their bowls before getting to work on breakfast for your boyfriend. After investigating the fridge, you decided on some toast and eggs, simple but tasty.

It took you a few minutes to make it, but you then assembled all of the ingredients on a tray along with a glass of milk. Pleased with the results, you went into your bedroom to find that your boyfriend was no longer in bed. Instead, Max was standing up and fully dressed in exercise gear.

"Max..." you said with a sigh. "Why are you going jogging?"

"Because I need to stay in shape," he replied, matter of factly.

"But the season just ended? Surely you can have a lazy day?"

He looked at the plate of food in your hand. "Was that for me?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed so you could relax after the season. A breakfast of champions."

His gaze softened and he smiled at you. "Well I guess I can enjoy that before I jog."

He sat down on the bed and you sat beside him, wanting to be close to your boyfriend after being apart for so long. You were willing to spend any moment with him that you could get, even if it was just watching him eat breakfast.

"Thank you, darling. I wasn't expecting you to make me breakfast."

"Just wanted to do something nice for my handsome, incredible boyfriend. But he almost ruined it by going for a jog on what should be a lazy day," you teased.

"Who said today was supposed to be lazy?"

"I did. I always spend Sundays being lazy, you know, staying cozy in the house before I go back to work on Monday. I always relax on the couch and watch movies or your races."

He seemed thoughtful. "Well Sunday is usually the least lazy day for me. Sundays are for racing."

"Not when you're on break."

Max looked you in the eye. "Well I guess one lazy Sunday won't hurt anyone. You mentioned relaxing and watching movies?"

"I sure did."

"That doesn't sound so bad anymore."

You smiled and hugged Max as he finished the last bite of his food. "Let me show you how it's done. But first you've got to change into comfy clothes and not fitness clothes."

You grabbed his plate and set it in the sink. You could wash it later on a less lazy day. For now, you needed to complete your movie setup. You closed the curtains over the windows that the sun was shining through and you turned on your faerie lights that were strung around your living room. You grabbed the bowl of snacks you kept in the kitchen for such lazy days and set it on your coffee table. Finally, you got out your favorite comfy blankets and set them on the couch. By the time Max had returned wearing sweatpants, everything was set up.

"Wow, you have quite the movie theater", Max commented.

"I set it up since summer break," you explained. "The cozy room makes lazy days just so much better."

"I agree," Max said, joining you where you were seated on the couch. "So what movie are we watching?"

"Maybe Gran Turismo? I heard that was good?"

Max smiled at you jokingly. "I thought Sunday's weren't about racing when I'm on break?"

You rolled your eyes. "This isn't what I meant. But we can watch something else instead? Maybe Top Gun? I love that movie and it's similar to racing?"

Max nodded. "Sounds good to me."

You queued up the movie and leaned back on the couch. Max shifted closer next to you and wrapped his arm around you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and watched as the introduction to the movie began to play. With his other arm, Max grabbed your hand. You stayed together like that, simply enjoying the comfort of each other as the movie played.

---

Later that day, you and Max were now laying horizontally on the couch. Your bodies were so tangled together that getting up would be a struggle later. You were three movies into your movie marathon and you had not stood up from the couch once.

"You were right," Max mumbled into your ear.

"What do you mean?"

"Lazy days are great. Maybe I should spend less days worried about constantly training and more days curled up here with you."

"I would love that, Max."

"Just like I love you."

[sweetkpopmusings]

felix coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i've got headspace focus music playing and i'm in my stray kids feels today so here is another coworker headcanons post !! this one realllllyyyy catapulted me into felix feelings, so i hope it brings you comfort and serotonin as well <333 pics not mine !!

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! some mentions of food | pairing: coworker!felix x gn!reader | requests: open

oh sweet felix!! 

you’ll never forget his first day–the receptionist was walking him through the workspace, introducing him to everyone, and explaining their roles. felix, a genuine ray of sunshine on that gloomy monday morning, smiled and waved at everybody with pure enthusiasm :’-)

when the receptionist introduced you, felix pointed at the mug on your desk and commented on how cute he thought it was ! you could practically hear the exclamation points in his voice when he spoke :,-)

later in the day, you noticed he was struggling with the coffee machine how rude of the coffee machine

you offered to help–though admittedly, you didn’t know much about it either–and he was so so grateful someone was being this kind to him 

like he actually was so touched he ended up telling his friends about it that night :,-(

but anyways back to you and felix vs. the coffee machine

eventually you did get it working…you just pressed different buttons a ridiculous number of times until felix’s hot chocolate came out properly

once his mug was full, felix cheered and high-fived you, promising to pay you back one day for your service

you assured him that he doesn’t owe you anything and that you’re happy he isn’t defeated by the coffee machine on his first day

that led you two into a conversation about what it’s like to work here, the do’s and don’t’s of the office, the cool people, tips and tricks for boring meetings, and so on

felix looks up to you so much after this interaction :,,,,-)

he calls you his mentor <333 

it doesn’t matter that you work in completely different departments–even the person who is supposed to be mentoring felix refers to you as his mentor lmao

at the end of his probation period, felix bakes brownies for you because he swears he wouldn’t have survived this long without you to keep him company <33333333

you two share the brownies during your lunch break while watching silly little videos 

it’s so cute that everyone is jealous but they wouldn’t dare interrupt because they know for a FACT that you’re felix’s favorite

aside from being your personal baker, felix loves to play little pranks on you in the office

they’re super harmless–i’m talking pranks like leaving stickers in random places around your workspace, so you can transfer them to your laptop or water bottle whenever you find them–but he is THRILLED every time you get a surprised look on your face as a result of his antics

there’s no doubt in your mind that felix was behind it, so you look over to where he’s sitting and he’s just staring at you like >:^)

while he’s too far away for you to hear him, you know that he’s doing his classic little heh heh and plotting his next attack :,-)

felix also has cute polaroids at his desk !!

you get him one as a gift :,-) and he cherishes it so much !!!!

it’s displayed at the center of all his polaroids and he even wrote “from y/n <3” on the bottom of it so everyone knew it was his most special one :-( 

he encourages you to decorate your desk because he thinks it's important to have things that make you smile while you're working !! and he's so right for that

if you don’t know where to start, felix will dedicate an afternoon to making a mood board for inspiration

he loves nothing more than shopping online with you for the perfect items

felix gets so invested that he helps you to organize everything and workshops all possible setups before you both decide on the best one though honestly he’s more concerned about it being the optimal arrangement than you are lol

after your new desk decorations are complete, felix proudly takes a picture of you at your redesigned workstation

when you make that your profile pic for your work chatting platform, felix just about faints from happiness

he’s practically twirling his hair, giggling, and kicking his feet when he messages you “nice profile pic!!” :,,,,,-) <3333

felix, though known as being happy-go-lucky, is far more in-tune with your emotions than you realize

if you come in sleep-deprived, felix is the first one to ask you if you would like coffee/tea/a pick-me-up

when you’re feeling stressed due to an upcoming deadline or having a pile of work upon your return from vacation, felix stays late with you to prioritize all your tasks so you have a clear game plan

he’s also always, always, always reminding you to take breaks !!

it’s a mini tradition for you two to do desk stretches together :-( like you just look at each other from across the workspace and do the same stretches while making funny faces at each other and holding back all your giggles :-((((

activities and conversations with felix become so embedded in your daily routine that you can’t imagine how you got through the workday before he started here

one quiet afternoon when you two are hanging out in the breakroom, you ask him why he takes such good care of you

without missing a beat, felix smiles and answers, “i promised you i’d pay you back for helping me out with the coffee machine on my first day, didn’t i?”

all you can manage to do is smile and i’d be tearing up if i were you because, just by stepping into the breakroom and offering a hand, you met the brightest, sweetest, most loving man on the planet

little do you know, felix also can’t believe his luck in meeting someone as caring, reliable, and wonderful as you <333 

this is why, sitting in the breakroom where your friendship began, he pinky promises to stay by your side through coffee machine problems, stressful workdays, and whatever else life has in store for you :,-)))) 

oh i love felix so much i'm inconsolable my sweet baby angel </33

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do You Need to Know Right Now?

Hello beautiful people. Happy Monday! Today is special because this will be my first fully intuitive PAC reading, meaning no cards just vibes lmao. This week Friday, I am having yet another Five Dollar Friday Sale so stay tuned in for that! Without further ado, please select the image that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You need to learn how to surrender to the Divine. I heard “the choice is yours”. Whatever major decision you’ve been contemplating on will ultimately be up for you to decide. You choose your own destiny but you don’t have to know all the steps/details of getting there. Have some confidence in your journey. Everything will be alright. This is for some of you, if you are a business owner or your love language is acts of service, you need to learn how to say no. Turning your services down to people who don’t deserve it is okay to do. All money isn’t good money. As you try to make a name for yourself, lean into your gut feelings. Don’t navigate through this world by being willfully naive. You know more than most. Some of you may have been encountering shady characters. I am channeling the energy of Douda from The Chi; very Devil-like, King of Cups (RX) type of energy. A lot of you have been dealing with two-faced men within the past two years but I am seeing a door shutting in someone’s face in my third eye. You are going to start walking away from people/places/things that no longer serve you. This newfound courage will result in long-term abundance and prosperity. Don’t be afraid to start over. Out with the old, in with the new, babe!

extras: jenifer lewis. “candace/candy”. florist. unable to wink. listening to whitney houston. weather forecast. “maurice/morris”. feeling underestimated. desperate housewives. fearful. cotton candy. yes indeed (2018). cold at night. arm wrestling champ. loose cannon.

Pile Two: I feel like you are going through some physical changes. You could be pregnant, soon-to-be moving, upgrading your furniture, painting your house, learning how to do makeup to be an MUA, etc. You could be doing multiple things at once right now. Your ability to shift from one gig to another is admirable. You’re very versatile. You’re an independent person but you should know that you don’t have to carry the work alone. You have people around you that are willing to help and nurture your talents and skills. The car you drive was created because of team effort. The food you eat is consumable because of a team! The books you read were not solely published because of the author, but because there was a team behind them! Nobody is truly by themselves, honey! Allow people to experience your energy. I feel like it took a long time for you to be this comfortable with yourself. But ultimately, you are human and you need people around you! You will know who your people are when you get around them.

extras: diana/deana. red flags. movie theatre. drug major. oomf. cheese lover. movement. smokey. black eyed peas. rice & peas. red nails. classic manicure. turning 30/milestone birthday.

Pile Three: I feel like you’re guarding your energy right now, Pile Three. You’ve been caved in with your lover, lol. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a love reading but heyyyy, I see you! :). Your union was not supposed to last as long as it has on the surface but it did. I am sensing that it was originally a one night stand or a summer fling. However, it was divinely orchestrated to be that way. I am seeing those Pinterest drawings of soulmates in my third eye. This person is someone you’re aligned with on a soul level; this is karmic. However, karmic ≠ codependent. Make sure that you have your own life outside of this person. This person does have all eyes on you and vice versa. I can tell that the passion is mutual. If you are planning to go on a vacation with this person soon, expect a promotion in your relationship to happen. This promotion could be an engagement/wedding, moving in together, meeting the family, etc. I see you two eating slices of fruit on the beach, feeding one another while smiling and giggling amongst each other. This is a lovely connection thus far. I also see you being spoiled with gifts of your choice. This person is a gift giver for sure, along with wanting to spend quality time with you! However, this is just the beginning. Ground yourself in the present moment. Savor and soak up every waking day with this person.

extras: montgomery, alabama. jason/justin. sam. cartier glasses. fake ID. retribution. academy. pork. glamorous. marjorie. fake gym rat. attracted to pheromones. high achiever. monie/monet. kansas.

Pile Four: This is for a few of you, but some of you could have known someone that was recently released from jail/mental health facility/nursing home. You could be their caregiver/keeper. Others of you have family members/a partner that are financially dependent on you. I know that you feel burdened by this. Both the financial burden and the mental burden can be frustrating. I do see your situation improving. Someone is lightening the load. I feel like you are going to receive extra support, specifically from another woman. She is going to offer help & it will no longer be a job carried by one person. Whoever this is, they have been in your position before so you don’t have to worry about being pitied or feeling lesser than her. Another thing is that you should definitely get started on your laundry. I feel like you are going through a bout of depression right now. Start off with the small tasks first then do the big things. You need to take your time & be patient with yourself.

extras: air jordan’s. new microwave. corn on the cob. jogging. morph. telling stories. future focused. gold rings. coffee. marlboro. notre dame. golden shepard.

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 A Palestinian photographer named Youssef Abu Al-Qumsan, laughing and joking with his brother just moments before, captures the moment of his brother's death when an Israeli occupation missile strikes the street where his brother is standing in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip today. 📈 The death toll in Gaza rises again, now exceeding 34'971, including over 14'690 children and 10'000 women, with another 78'641 others wounded since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

MASS MURDER CONTINUES ON DAY 218 OF ISRAEL'S GENOCIDE, RAFAH CROSSINGS CLOSED STILL, PALESTINIANS STARVE AND A WITHDRAWAL FROM AL-ZAYTOUN

On the 218th day of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of 28 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding at least 69 others.

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

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

According to an interview posted to the social media platform X by the Under-Secretary for Humanitarian Affairs, Martin Griffiths, for the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) for Palestine, the closing of the Rafah Crossing, along with the closing of the Kerem Shalom crossing has "severed access" for the population of the Gaza Strip to fuel, supplies, the movement of humanitarian personnel, and also blocked sick and wounded civilians from being medically evacuated.

"The World Food Programme and UNRWA will run out of food for distribution in the South by tomorrow," Griffiths says in the interview.

Griffith goes on to explain, "that means that people will be left only with the aid that has already been distributed in their shelters, in their homes and on site."

"As of today, we have 12 bakeries supported by humanitarian partners here in South Gaza. Eight have ceased to operate due to lack of human stock, and four that are still operating at reduced capacity. We will be out of that stock by Monday," Griffith added.

The Rafah and Kerem Shalom crossings have now been closed by the Israeli occupation for the fifth consecutive day, preventing all aid and fuel from entering the enclave, while Palestinians suffer from continued extreme food insecurity, and the sick and wounded are prevented from accessing proper medical care outside the Strip.

Previously, the United Nations Secretary General Antonio Guterres called on the Israeli entity to reopen the crossings "immediately" to allow the free flow of humanitarian aid into the Palestinian enclave.

"Closing the two crossings at the same time is particularly harmful to the already desperate humanitarian situation, and they must be reopened immediately," Guterres is quoted as saying.

In the meantime, three mass graves have been discovered at the Al-Shifa medical complex, in the Al-Rimal neighborhood of Gaza City, which continue to be excavated, resulting in the recovery of approximately 80 decomposing bodies from the courtyard of the medical center.

According to local medical sources quoted in the Palestinian media, the sources explained that more than 520 bodies of murdered Palestinians have been recovered from a total of 7 mass graves found at hospitals across the Gaza Strip, including those found at Al-Shifa in Gaza City, Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Yunis, and Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahiya.

In interviews conducted with civil defense and recovery crews, sources pointed out that the "visual examination of the bodies exhumed from the mass graves showed that the majority belonged to patients who were deprived of receiving medical care."

"We found bodies torn apart by Israeli army vehicles running over the martyrs' bodies, and we found heads without bodies in the mass graves in the yards of the Shifa Complex," the sources added.

In other news, a Commander with the Palestinian Resistance reported that the Israeli occupation army has partially withdrawn from the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, in the vicinity of the Al-Zaytoun clinic, following intense confrontations with Resistance forces in the area.

In an interview with Lebanese media outlet Al-Mayadeen, the commander told reporters that the Palestinian Resistance factions had repeatedly targeted IOF soldiers stationed near the Al-Zaytoun clinic with anti-armor missiles and mortar fire.

He explained that occupation Merkava tanks had been redeployed near the Dawlah intersection on Salah al-Din Street, south of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, adding that aerial bombardments and artillery shelling are ongoing in the area.

Elsewhere, the Commander stressed that the area surrounding Al-Madaris Street in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, has been completely and utterly destroyed.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation continues to target civilians across the Gaza Strip, killing them in their homes, firing missiles into residential apartment buildings, and generally carpet bombing entire neighborhoods.

A series of occupation airstrikes last night hammered the town of Al-Zawaida, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of no less than 26 Palestinian civilians, with the vast majority of victims being women and children.

Local medical sources said 26 civilians were killed following Israeli airstrikes which targeted the residential homes of the Al-Khatib and Al-Lawh families in various neighborhoods of Al-Zawaida.

Simultaneously, Zionist warplanes bombed tents housing displaced Palestinian families in the Al-Zawaida area, killing a further three civilians and wounding a number of others.

Similarly, Israeli occupation forces intensified their bombing and shelling of the northern and southern neighborhoods of the city of Rafah, Gaza's southernmost city, slaughtering at least 12 Palestinians over the last day.

Medical personnel at the Kuwait Specialized Hospital, in central Rafah, said the bodies of 9 civilians arrived at the hospital torn into pieces following a series of airstrikes targeting a house belonging to the Al-Hashash family, in the Oreiba (or Areeba) neighborhood, northwest of the city.

Local medical staff added that another Israeli occupation bombing of a residential house in the Brazil neighborhood, south of Rafah, resulted in the deaths of three additional civilians, who were also transferred to the hospital.

Additionally, the bombing of the Israeli occupation army targeted a group of civilians gathered in the Al-Salam neighborhood, east of Rafah City, martyring another four innocent civilians.

Further occupation bombardments targeted a gathering of civilians in the Ezbet Abd Rabbo neighborhood, north of Gaza City, resulting in several casualties.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the Palestinian population now exceeds 34'971 civilians killed, including over 14'690 children and 10'000 women, while another 78'641 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

May 11th, 2024.

#source1

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#videosource

#graphicsource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[thelittleukrainianwell-armedgirl]

Lyudmyla Yankina

Upd.: As a result of a Russian missile attack on July 8 in Kyiv, the premises of the National Children's Specialized Hospital "Okhmatdyt" were hit, and there are many injured people.

Pecture of the post are from there.

***

Windows rattle, everything shakes, explosions outside the window. Alarms of cars in the yard are screeching. A rocket flies over the house. Too low. It seems like I can feel the heat from it. The only thing I manage to do is run to the bathroom with the cat in my arms. It seems that now it will fly straight into the house, but it flies on a different trajectory on Solom’yanskyy district. 15 seconds to someone's death. Today, rockets are flying en masse towards Kyiv. The whole city sees and hears them.

This is how the Russians, "brotherhood nation", wished the people of Kyiv "good morning". Litter

Now we are waiting for the Kinzhal aeroballistic missiles. It is already flying towards us. While we wait in Kyiv, the city of Dnipro is under massive rocket fire. And before that there was a massive attack with ballistic missiles on the city of Kryvyi Rih.

We are trying to hold on.

Informational silence has been declared in the city. Photos from the sites of missile strikes will be available later. However, it is already known that the rocket hit one of the children's medical institutions.

Good morning, Monday!

[ghostly-wisp]

MR. LOVERMAN, CHAPTER 2

i finished this at like 2am after last night's episode so like?? ignore how rushed it might seem i was tired

warnings—mentions of alcohol (reader gets drunk)

[series masterlist ] [chapter 1] [chapter 3]

A couple of months went by, a lot faster than how Pedro expected it to be. Before he knows it, it's nearly Thanksgiving break. and soon, it's going to be time for winter vacation. By then, the year will already be halfway over.

Thanksgiving break wasn't as big of a deal to students, because the break was shorter. It was just a long weekend, but still–a break is a break nontheless. The worst day was the Monday before, and the Monday after. 

Mondays never used to bother Pedro, frankly, he didn't mind waking up early and driving to work while the sun was still coming out, however, some moving into the apartment complex — the neighbors are less than considerate. They blast their crappy remixed music until ungodly hours of the night, which resulted in him getting a lot less sleep than before, and he couldn't quite enjoy the sun anymore. He wonders if he should've kept the house in the divorce���he paid for it after all. Though he wouldn't feel as happy in it anymore, it wouldn't be home. 

He can't think of the details of his divorce for too long, it'll either make him feel upset or angry. As he's going to work, he can't be either of those things. The students shouldn't see him like that, and some of them are already upset and angry enough for both of them. 

He drives into the staff parking lot at 7:02, which gives him just barely enough time to get into his classroom and prepare for the day ahead. He had a good week before vacation planned, all his students were going to the lab — he finally got the okay to perform the elephant toothpaste experiment — and he was sure that the kids would love an experiment like that. He gets his bag filled with yeast, water, and food coloring – and he's off into the building.

He can tell the staff doesn't want to be here either, their huge coffees and barely awake mumbling. He can only imagine how the students will be. Only four days, then it's a long weekend and Thanksgiving. He's only halfway to his classroom when he notices you're not too far in front of him in the hall, so he calls your name. 

When you turn–you smile at the sight of your friend, honestly, you thought it would've been Jen or someone else you just didn't have the energy to talk to at the moment. "Morning, Pedro." you hum, stopping in your tracks to allow him to catch up. "What's the plan for today?" 

"Elephant toothpaste!" He exclaims, turning the corner to the hallway of both your classrooms. He's already talked your ear off about this experiment – so you didn't need to ask about it again. If there was anything he was more passionate about than teaching, it was science. It's what made him such an effective teacher. "And you?"

"Nothing special. I had a test planned but honestly, I might just put on a movie." giving them a test would be pointless, and probably just piss your students off. He nods as if he heard your thoughts, "That would probably be better." 

You smile, stopping at your door and finding your room's key on the Keychain. "A couple of other teachers and I are going out after school on Thursday, to celebrate the vacation." You tell him, he's standing up against a locker watching you struggle with your keys before finally pushing your classroom door open. "Probably to some bar, you're welcome to join us. If you want." 

It feels nice to be included in work parties like this, to have the chance to interact with people you work with for hours on end five times a week, outside of an environment where you have to watch what you say and force this sort of politeness. However, the age thing made it harder for him.

The age gap doesn't stop him from being friends with the other teachers—the technology teacher just around the corner was fifteen or so years older than Pedro, though he can assure you he won't be at this gathering. He can already imagine the crowd it will likely be, you, Sam, and a bunch of other teachers in their late twenties to early thirties. He would be out of place, too old to be hanging out with the youth. God forbid you wanted to dance — the last time he danced was at his wedding, ten years ago. "I dunno," he says after a few moments of contemplating, playing with the lid of his coffee cup, following "Don't you think – I'll be a little out of place?" He decides to put it lightly, instead of, don't you think I won't fit in because I'm old?

"Don't be ridiculous," you dismiss, waving your hand as you put your coat and bag in the closet behind your desk. "You realize, half the staff loves you, right? Think you're the coolest guy they've met." and some other things you promised not to say. 

"And the other half?" 

"They don't know you." 

Thursday came quicker than Pedro expected, though he should've known given it was just a four-day week, and there wasn't any productive work happening in his classroom.

He didn't give it much thought until you popped your head into his room once all the children left the school for the weekend. "Did you make up your mind?" you ask, his attention shifts to you, he can't help but notice the new way you had styled your hair today, and he made a mental note to say something about it.  

"Are you sure I won't be too old for you youths?" He asks playfully, "I don't want to drag the rest of you down." To this response, you roll your eyes. "Pedro Pascal." You huff, stepping completely into his classroom. "Enough with this age nonsense, I bet you can still bust some moves. Have fun tonight." 

"Fine, I'll go." He can't seem to find a way to say no to you, part of him thinks he doesn't entirely want to, it's been so long since he went out with friends and relaxed like this, perhaps it was the night of his graduation night when he went to the bar last. That feels like centuries ago now. "You don't mind if I leave at seven? I have to be in bed by eight." 

"Oh, shut up! you're not that old!" 

He's back in his apartment, looking frantically for any clothes to wear that weren't too business casual, this was a bar after all — he wasn't going to show up in one of his silly ties. It seemed though that everything he tried on wasn't right. As the clock got closer to the time you told him to meet everyone else, he grew impatient, throwing on black pants and a long black long-sleeved shirt, and he was on his way.

He pulls into the parking lot to see a good number of cars, but none of them look familiar to him–he was nervous that he was in the wrong place, and he's about to check his phone to reread your text before he sees you getting out of your car. He assumes you saw him when you start heading over to him. He turns the engine, slips out of his truck, and locks the door.

"Wow, wow, Mr. Pascal–don't you clean up nicely," you comment, making him re-check what he's wearing as if he forgot. "Thank you, Ms. L/N. You don't look too bad yourself." You only beam, before turning heel to head towards the bar. "Come on, old man. Times tickin' before your bedtime, and we're not spending it outside in the parking lot!"

Pedro's not fully sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

He wasn't completely wrong in the sense of who came — it was more people around your age interested in the dance floor playing Lady Gaga – not that she's not amazing, that woman is a God – however, it just wasn't his groove tonight. He notices Sam is very into it, they're dancing to whatever song comes on and living in the moment. Pedro is envious for a moment, he watches everyone on the dance floor for a moment, thankfully, when you slide into the chair beside him, martini in hand, and distract him from his co-workers' choreography to Bad Romance. You've got a buzz going, not that he can blame you. If he had a designated driver, he would've been drinking a little more himself.

"Pedro," you start, there's a pause before you continue. "You gotta dance—have fun with us! you look awfully lonely sittin' here by yourself with a, what are you drinking?"

"Jack Daniels," He says, "Jack Daniels!" you exclaim.

"'m not lonely." He assures, sometimes he liked the solitude. While he did come here for a social outing, sometimes he liked to be left alone in places like this. "You should go back out there! Join your friends on the dance floor!" to his suggestion, you shake your head. Even with alcohol in your system, you're just as stubborn as when you're sober. "Not without you, no!"

"Can I ask you something?" If you were sober, he would've said something stupid like you already did. Though he figures that while you're in your current state, squinting your eyes at him, perhaps now wasn't the time to use such stale humor. "Shoot,"

"Why did you get a divorce?"

…woah.

For some reason he wasn't expecting that, not from you at least—maybe Sam, or Jenny, or one of the other teachers whose first names he can never remember. He can tell you're curious, eyebrows raised and your drink is pulled closer to you, his face suddenly feels hot, and he's blushing. He can't quite figure out why, is he embarrassed?

Divorce isn't something to be embarrassed about, it happens to more people than you might think. Yeah, he's forty-seven years old and that's a little later than when most people get divorced, but it's not like it's completely unheard of. He's not Ross Geller from the show friends, it's not like this is his second or third divorce. Still, the word haunts him and follows him around as this sort of shame, this dirty word. He feels like he's judged by teachers and students. Mr. Pascal moved here because he got divorced. That his friends walk on eggshells around him, Pedro hasn't been the same since his divorce. "She cheated on me," he replies, deciding on telling the truth about it. It's the best way to face it, his life fell to shambles because his wife — the woman who he promised to love through sickness and health — decided to find comfort in the arms of another, he can't sleep as well as he used to because he moved out of his home where he had caught them, he couldn't stay there because of the reminders in each hallway what used to be.

He's caught off guard when you make a "tsk" sound, "I can't believe that," you say, "Who can cheat on you? I mean you're sweet, you're funny, and attractive, any woman would be lucky to have you!" While touched by your words that he assumes is meant to be a ego boost, he knows that he didn't give you the entire story.

"I was kind of being a shitty husband, I was drowning myself in work all the time, n' when I wasn't working, I wasn't giving her an equal amount of my time either. She found someone who would, I can't blame her for that." You wave your hand as if that part doesn't matter. "Whatever, I still can't believe someone would cheat on you. I mean, you're a heartthrob, who could let that go?" He knows you don't mean it — if you do, you're too drunk to be willingly saying it. Not to him at least, he underestimated your buzz.

"Who's your driver for tonight?" he asks, choosing not to comment on what you said to save you any embarrassment in case you wake up tomorrow and remember this. "Sam," you say, looking at the dance floor to point to them as if Pedro hadn't ever met them before. When you go to do that, you discover that they're gone. Apparently, they left. Leaving you abandoned, because well, Pedro sure as hell was not going to allow you to drive home. He pays for his drinks, and offers his arm out to you, which you not-so-gracefully stumble into. "Where we goin', Mr. Pascal?" you ask while he guides you to the doors of the bar. You're leaning into his chest, he's a lot leaner than you thought, and he smells vaguely of vanilla. "I'm taking you to my house," he sighs, patting his pockets until he finds his keys, unlocking the car to help you in.

He sighs once he's finally got you into the car, he's thankful that he went because god knows where you could've been by now, and he doesn't want anything happening to you—he's also thankful because he has material to tease you about once you're well enough to understand.

I'm a heartthrob. He thinks, smirking wide as he gets into the driver's seat.

TAGLIST:

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[placentaeater999]

YOU ALL.

I know we (almost) all like fishes or have liked fishes at some point

(The autisms)

I wanna find out if we have reasons in common or if its just like

Random

So i made a google form pls fill it out

EDIT: Thanks for so many responses y'all! I'm gonna leave the form open all week, and then next Monday (Feb 13) I'm gonna start making my charts and writing up what ive collected! So if youre as interested in the results as I am, stay tuned!

EDIT 2: As of today (Monday Feb 13, 2023 @5PM PST) the autism fish form is closed. Later today or tomorrow i'll show some of the data before i put it into a nicer format :3

EDIT 3: (Friday March 3, 2023) I haven't been able to work on compiling and analyzing my raw data yet due to school and work, but I should be able to do it this weekend! Exciting!

EDIT 4: (Monday May 21, 2023) FINALLY i can get this done omfg. Expect it by the end of the week ;3

EDIT 5: (Wednesday May 31, 2023) Got all the important shit done now i just have to write it all nice.

EDIT 6: (Tuesday August 1, 2023) Im halfways done writing it, i have no laptop so im using the library, which you can only use for 2 hours a day.

EDIT 7: (Wednesday August 2, 2023) I'm DONE writing. Time to make and add in some graphs and ill be done.

EDIT 8: (Thursday August 3, 3023) PlacentaEater's autism fish Paper is now up for you all to view! I will link it here as well. Thanks for ur support and ur patience!

[kastlequill]

i/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus bisferiens

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you save gaz tags: whumptober, gunshot wounds, blood and injury, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here next →

I.

Tuesdays were unremarkable. They couldn’t compare to the infamous Mondays or halfway-mark Wednesdays, to anticipatory Thursdays or the thank-God-it’s Fridays, least of all to the relaxing Saturdays and Church-going Sundays.

The new orders you received last Tuesday, however, were anything but plain. There was nothing ordinary about getting shipped out to a classified location to provide aid to the soldiers injured during their classified missions to eliminate classified targets.

You knew next to nothing about your current assignment. High command had informed you that you’d be working as the lead on-site medic, tending to the wounded and assisting in their recovery to the best of your abilities. That was all your superiors had felt the need to tell you.

The base of operation was fairly sizable, well stocked, and even had a couple other medical personnel around to help too, so you couldn’t really complain. You’d primarily be dealing with soldiers who were designated as special operators, and, in your experience, those types made absolute dogshit patients. Only a single week had passed, yet you could already tell that some of the lot were more injury-prone than others.

A specific British SAS sergeant came to mind.

Your first time meeting him had been relatively benign; he’d entered the mess hall as you exited. Although speedily heading in different directions, he had nonetheless offered a casual salute, and you had returned his gesture with a nod of your own. Simple, polite. No fuss.

The exact opposite of how he arrived to you today, the second Tuesday of the month.

Two towering men flanked him on either side as they shouldered their half-conscious comrade into your medbay. With them came chaos. Thick English accents yelling for a medic, combat boots storming toward you, dragging in a trail of blood. They brought war to your feet and Death to your door.

Rushing over to them, you quickly scanned the sergeant’s body for damage. Preliminary assessments yielded speculative results at best: a tourniquet around his thigh told of prior heavy bleeding, and the sway of his head meant he wasn’t fully capable of supporting its weight. But nothing was certain. 

“What am I dealing with here? Concussion, gunshot wound, broken bones—?”

“—got caught in the blast radius,” interrupted a gruff voice belonging to the masked lieutenant. “Knocked ‘im back a few meters. No major visible injuries, ‘cept a bullet to the leg.” 

You swore. “Is it still inside?” 

Exit wounds typically offered a better prognosis; the energy driving forth a gunshot needed somewhere to go, and, preferably, that somewhere was far from surrounding organs or internal systems. If the piece of metal remained lodged inside of him, then you would have to remove it.

He answered with a single definitive nod. Unsurprising; of course nothing in war ever turned out for the better.

“Put him on my table. Carefully.” 

The two soldiers hauled their brother-in-arms up onto the examination table that had seen more action within a week than most ever did. Trauma to the head required immediate attention; the brain was a delicate organ, and if the explosion had badly jostled it against the walls of his skull, there could be severe damage.

Unwilling to waste a second longer, you gently parted the now-supine man’s eyelids with your fingertips to get a look at his pupils. In the midst of an unfocused sea of brown, one pupil was more dilated than the other—concussed, then. At the intensity of the blue overhead light, he reflexively squinted and shut his eyes once more.

That wouldn’t do. “Sergeant, I need you to open those eyes again, okay? Think you can track this flashlight for me?”

Being as sensitive to brightness as he was currently, it took some effort for him to pry his eyes open. They valiantly fought the urge to close whilst following the stick-end of your black flashlight from left to right, right to left. There was some unsteady shakiness to their movement, but they still appeared properly calibrated.

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged, holding his gaze as you pocketed the light. The next course of action was to check his processing of visual information. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He blinked slowly, an inquisitive frown contorting his features. Several confusion-riddled seconds elapsed until the man decided to simply feel what he could not see. Grasping your hand in his own, he grazed your knuckles with a calloused thumb, explored the lengths of your raised fingers, puzzled out how they were configured into the shape of a peace sign. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Two.”

An endeared smile graced your lips. The only predictable constant in this profession was its unpredictability. None of your previous patients had done that before.

“Try again.” You lightly pulled your hand free and watched his own fall back to rest on his chest, physically unable to sustain the lifted position. Unfurling your ring finger to join your index and middle, three total fingers hovered in front of his face, just out of reach. “How many do you see now?”

Without using his sense of touch to determine the correct number, all the sergeant could do was sigh and reply honestly. “Six.”

“Y’can’t be serious, Gaz. The limit’s five,” his mohawked companion corrected, a hint of incredulity and amusement slipping into his tone.

“Quit taking the piss, we’ve got ten of ‘em.” The words were slurred, but intelligible. As he spoke, his brows began to furrow, the man suddenly unsure of himself. He looked at the captain, whose belated entrance managed to diffuse some of the anxiety present in the room. “Right, sir?”

The room erupted with noise as the three other soldiers simultaneously began to talk over each other. You were able to catch the occasional bloody hell and heard yes, Gaz, that’s right and even chuckled a bit at no need to worry, you still ‘ave all ten of the little bastards.

Military folk had a specific way of coping with the consequences of war, and you didn’t think you would ever quite understand it from your side of the line. But if it worked, then it worked. What mattered was the patient’s ability to persist in spite of the world; the exact methods used to do so weren’t up for scrutiny, not by you or anyone else.

Donning a clean pair of surgical gloves, you exchanged glances with the technician and nurse on duty. “Get him a CT scan. Let’s make sure his brain’s in one piece, then we can deal with the bullet. I’ll prep the OR.”

When you made to leave, a tug on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. A quick turn of your head revealed the image of his loose yet insistent grip around you once again, unwilling to let go of what had seemingly become his sole anchorage to the land of the living.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours. This—comforting the wounded—was as much a part of the healing process as medicine itself. Even the toughest of soldiers reverted to a childlike state of vulnerability after too close a brush with death. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The tension in his features relaxed as did his hold on you, and he lowered himself to lay flat on the table’s surface before being wheeled away by the technician. As you watched his form disappear beyond the threshold of a plastic curtain, you were struck with a near-overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Though you hoped this Gaz wouldn’t soon return with an irremediable injury, optimism had never been your strong suit.

tbc.

[pleasereadmeok]

Not really back from hols yet. [I'm a mirage - just go with it] Just popped back to say that 'The Sense of an Ending' is Film of the Day today -

Matthew Goode has another ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ cameo part as Joe Hunt - a history teacher.  I had to laugh when he was cast, after a few years of me saying that Matthew looks like a cute history teacher, he goes and plays a history teacher (who is definitely cute coz Matthew plays him!)   He is only in two very short scenes but as ever he is memorable.  He just nails the ‘old boys school’ private school teacher.  He is slightly sarcastic, a little quirky with his use of a cricket ball in class but also a thoughtful and charismatic teacher.  Not a lot for Matthew to work with but he does it well.  Oh and AT LAST he gets to use one of his special skills.  Matthew played county cricket for Devon as a schoolboy and it is even listed on his CV - so I wonder if that got him the part? 

A nice little cameo part.  Probably a day to film and then home to the kids.  Result for matthew!

BBC2 11.05pm in the UK tonight [Monday] and then on BBC I Player

📷 The Sense of an Ending my edit

[othervee]

cancer and chemo talk below

Having cancer is strange. You get to go first all the time.

I have a VIP hospital access card to present to medical personnel that reads "I am being treated with CHEMOTHERAPY! I could be NEUTROPENIC! If my temperature is 38 degrees C or higher it is a MEDICAL EMERGENCY!"

I went to get my blood tested today, in plenty of time for the results to get to my oncologist, and they told me "You're doing chemo, come in any time, just mark it urgent."

And I got a part-time flexible work plan signed off, so I can take each infusion week on sick leave and then a few weeks sick leave at the end, and just work part-time for the rest.

I work for a university in Australia, so we have an excellent Enterprise Bargaining Agreement, and I have loads of sick leave (even after the chemo I'll have loads left). But I am GenX, and I started my working life during the 90s Recession We Had to Have, when the prevailing sentiment was that you were lucky to have a job and you better bend over backwards in order to keep it, up to and including coming into work unless you physically could not get out of bed. So I steeled myself to explain why I want to take the whole infusion week off, even though my infusions are Tuesday and I could technically work Monday, but my manager and the Wellbeing and Injury Management consultant were both, "Now, you're taking Mondays off too, aren't you? Good." And they told me I should have started working part-time sooner. I'm not used to this!

My hair has started coming out properly now. I thought I would be OK with it, because I knew it was going to happen, but I defy anyone who likes having hair to find a palmful of loose hairs in their hand every time they shower and not shed a tear about it.

On the bright side I have amassed quite the collection of turbans and beanies, including a fabulous sequinned one which I am saving for a special occasion. And I get to stay home and cosy inside throughout the worst of winter, only coming out for chemo and tests. And everybody has been sending all the love. So I am well lucky.

[221beloved]

"But I love you"

When John entered the kitchen, Sherlock was making tea and toast, simultaneously trying to occupy a slightly hungry and impatient Rosie, while her food was warming. Semolina was the food of today for little Watson. “Morning,” John said, patting barefoot to the kitchen table. John and Rosie had stayed over for the weekend. They did this sometimes, when John had nothing on and Rosie was in the mood. Sherlock loved these weekends, even though he wouldn't admit it this so openly. He loved the tired evenings, loved to watch Rosie getting tired but stoically refuse to go to bed. He loved the afternoons, when they played with Rosie or took her out to the Zoo or the playground. He loved the early mornings, when Rosie was full of energy, and John soft from sleep. The things he hated were the Sunday afternoons, when John packed their things and said they had to go. He hated this. And he hated the following Mondays, when the flat was quiet and empty. He hated Tuesdays and Wednesdays, the rest of the week including the next weekend, because they never stayed two weekends in a row. They visited on some workdays, but they didn't stay. And Sherlock absolutely loved the weekends they did.

John frowned a little, then went over to say good morning to Rosie. She giggled when he pressed his lips to her cheek and closed her fist in his light hair. But her delight was short-lived, as she quickly returned to her impatient waiting for her food. She was hungry. Very hungry. Sherlock watched the scenery in front of him and smiled. Yes, he definitely loved the mornings. They had... well, a special atmosphere? No, maybe too sentimental. Or the other way round, not an appropriate way to describe these special occasions? Sherlock shook his had and turned to the tea again. Moments later he placed the steaming pot in front of John and handed him the milk. “Thanks,” John mumbled around a bite of toast. Sherlock gave the semolina he was gently heating into a bowl and placed it in front of Rosie. “Well, there you are little Watson,” he said and handed her a spoon. The spoon was painted like a bee and had two little wings on the handle for a better grip. Rosie gave a happy giggle and indulged in her meal. Sherlock sat, poured his own cup of tea and watched the Watsons. The frown he had spotted on John's face earlier was still there.

“Sherlock?” John indeed asked a few moments later, and Sherlock panicked slightly. He gave an indifferent hum. “You,” John continued awkwardly, “you don't have to do that, you know?” Now it was Sherlock's turn to frown. “Do what?” John finished his toast and watched Rosie smearing the contents of her bowl all over her face. Apparently he wasn't able look at Sherlock. “All this.” He gestured wildly around the kitchen. “This whole thing, with me. With Rosie. You never make breakfast, or eat breakfast and dinner at the same day!” John seemed somewhat upset. “Well, I...” Sherlock said hesitantly. “I just made breakfast. And I ate dinner yesterday. I don't know what-” but John interrupted him. “You spent the whole weekend with nothing but looking at Rosie, doing ridiculous things, nothing productive. At all!” Sherlock didn't know exactly what to say to this. “Yes?” he said, almost a question. “You-” Rosie chose this moment to investigate what happens when she drops her hand into her food, and Sherlock sat close enough for one of the resulting splashes to land on his shirt. He pushed it carefully onto his finger and licked it clean. When he looked up again, John was staring at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open. “John?” Sherlock asked. “She just, she splattered your shirt with food and you're doing exactly what, nothing? Not a word, not even a sigh?” Sherlock looked at John in confusion. He was the parent, he should now this could happen. Surely this couldn't have never happened before? “John, she is little, these things happen. It's nothing that couldn't be put right again by a wash, I-” but John shook his head and moved to stand up. “No, no Sherlock. We can't come here every weekend and expect this from you, we can't burden you with all of this, it's not okay for you. It's... It's just not you.” He went around the table to lift Rosie out of her chair. “It's hardly every weekend, John,” Sherlock tried to interfere but John wasn't to be stopped. “Then add the numerous visits the other days of the week. We can't do this, you shouldn't be burdened with this. Me. Us...” Too shocked to move, Sherlock watched John getting their things and turning to leave, mouth hanging slightly open. When John reached the door, Rosie in his arms, Sherlock finally jumped up and reached out a hand. “But-” John didn't even turn. “No Sherlock.” Then he was gone.

But I love you...

The words remained unsaid. Sherlock stood there and stared at the closed door. But I love you...

He tried to take deep breaths to calm, to fight the sick feeling, the pain in his chest almost unbearable.

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[uwmspeccoll]

Milestone Monday

Today, November 27th, we recognize the birthday of American journalist and writer James Agee (1909-1955). Agee moved to New York after college where he was promptly hired by Time Inc to write for Fortune magazine from 1932-1937. In 1939, he took a position as a book reviewer at Time, transitioned to film critic for The Nation from 1942-1948, and after quitting his job in 1948 spent his remaining years as a freelance writer.  

It was during Agee’s time at Fortune that he partnered with photographer Walker Evans (1903-1975) to document the lives of Alabamian sharecroppers during the Great Depression. Evans had already made a name for himself photographing resettlement communities for the Resettlement Administration (RA), and while this expedition with Agee followed suit in the work he was doing with the RA, it was Fortune magazine that initiated the project. Fortune ultimately found Agee's and Evans's account of the sharecropper families too radical to publish in the magazine but gave permission to Agee to publish his research as a book the following year resulting in Let us now Praise Famous Men.  

In the Summer of 1936 over the course of eight weeks, Agee and Evans collected their research while living among three families of cotton tenants. Their intent was to produce a “photographic and verbal record of the daily living and environment" of the tenantry and has been historically seen as a rejection of traditional reporting. The book contains Evans’ memorable black and white photographs of the families and their homes accompanied by Agee’s written account of their lives. Let us now Praise Famous Men only sold half its press run following its first publishing but has since become a notably studied record about the Depression era. 

Let us now Praise Famous Men was published by the Houghton Mifflin Company of Boston in 1941, Special Collections holds a first edition copy. 

– Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

[fakedtales]

It’s Monday, it’s time for Casual Trek and today we’re embracing the cosmic horror that lurks under the surface of so much Star Trek.

Star Trek: The Original Series’ “Immunity Syndrome” brings us a space amoeba which drains the life force of everything around it. This sounds terrifying, especially as it starts with the destruction of a solar system’s worth of people. Can it keep up the terror when the main result is the crew getting sleepy? And how catty can Spock get with McCoy when they both want to be Kirk’s special boy and sacrifice themselves?

Star Trek: The Next Generation’s “Where Silence Has Lease” has a malevolent force in space who seems way too into killing the crew of the Enterprise. Is the best solution killing themselves first? Apparently so.

Enterprise’s “Impulse” gives us a very logical zombie apocalypse as some nearby asteroids give a Vulcan ship way too many feelings. Can the crew escape with their lives, especially as T’Pol’s showing signs of infection?

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/casual-trek/episodes/A-Face-in-Space-e2l777j

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Daily Don :: Jesse Duquette

* * * *

Juneteenth was designated a federal holiday on June 17, 2021, and is celebrated on June 19th each year (or on the nearest Friday or Monday if it falls on a weekend). At a time when America’s history of the enslavement of Black people is being stripped from curriculums across the nation, the holiday takes on a special urgency. It reminds us that—like virtually every tenet of the canon of American history—the facts are more complicated, messy, and disappointing than expected. So, too, with Juneteenth.

         In its simplest telling, Juneteenth is the day when General Order No. 3 was published in Texas, informing enslaved persons and their masters that the Emancipation Proclamation ended slavery in secessionist states two-and-a-half years earlier. But as with the Emancipation Proclamation, the promise of “the end of slavery” outran the reality. See generally, Washington Post, Thousands queue to see the Emancipation Proclamation and General Order No. 3. (This article is accessible to everyone.)

         The Emancipation Proclamation ended slavery only in secessionist states—but not (a) in the slave states that remained loyal to the Union or (b) in those portions of secessionist states under the control of the Union Army. As a result, when the Emancipation Proclamation was issued, it left nearly half a million people in their enslaved condition.

         And when General Gordon Granger issued General Order No. 3 on June 19, 1865, declaring that enslaved persons in Texas were freed by virtue of the Emancipation Proclamation, the “freedom” recognized by the order was not the same freedom enjoyed by American citizens. General Order Number 3 read as follows:

         The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor.

              The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.

         By order of Major General Granger

           Although General Order Number 3 declares that enslaved persons and their masters have “absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property,” the next paragraph effectively advises the formerly enslaved people that they are indentured servants who were “advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages.” Thus began the long, fitful pursuit for “absolute equality” of the people who learned of their freedom on June 19th, 1865.

         More than a century-and-a-half later, that long, fitful pursuit continues. While much progress has been made, we are living through a retrograde moment in which discussing the truth of the Emancipation Proclamation and the Civil War amendments is banned in dozens of states. Juneteenth celebrates a day on which tens of thousands of enslaved people in Texas learned they were free, but it reminds us that the promise of “absolute equality of personal rights” for the descendants of the formerly enslaved people remains unfulfilled today.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]