#neighborhood security measures

[townpostin]

Sidhgora Neighborhood in Jamshedpur Hit by String of Thefts

Resident Returns to Find Home Burglarized, Gas Cylinder Stolen Recent wave of break-ins raises concerns about community safety in Jamshedpur suburb. JAMSHEDPUR – A series of thefts has left residents of Sidhgora Gwala Basti on edge, with the latest incident targeting the home of Diwakar Mishra during his absence. Mishra, who had been away on a trip to Ujjain since June 22, returned to find his…

[casuallyanidiot]

Hear me out yandere husband and kids for mom reader

This could be kinda cute!

Like, Yan Husband forced you or tricked you into marrying him, and he was obsessed with having a traditional family with you. He was ecstatic when you finally agreed to have children with him. A kid with you would be the ultimate proof of your love, and not to mention it would just be so hard for poor, sweet you to leave him then. If he was the father of your babies, the one who provided for you, and the one who worshipped you like you should be, then why would you ever want to be without him?

Your kids look like you, but you find that the take after your Yan Husband. Your eldest son tends to hover around you at all times at home. You've tried your best to encourage him to play in another room, or go out to play with the neighborhood kids, but he always stamps his feet in response. He asks you why you want to be alone, and if you're trying to hide something from him. He goes wailing and crying to Yan Husband anytime you try and push him away. It's hard to admit, but he's become quite the little tattletale.

Your young daughter is just as bad. She's such a daddy's girl, and she listens to your Yan Husband over you any day of the week. She loves you as well, there's no doubt about it, but she'll happily snap photos of you throughout the day to show her father before she'll ever heed you're silent pleas for privacy.

It's frustrating to have your children turned to against you. It's even more frustrating that they've become another security measure, but you can't really complain when they're so well behaved. You try to not think about it to much. After all, you have a perfect family. Is it really so bad if it comes at your expense?

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 2)

Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: You guys... Thank you for the overwhelming support on this series. You guys are the sweetest :) I've loved reading your series and promise I love them; just haven't had the chance to respond! Again, thank you for the love, as it's all turned back to you!

As for the chapter... Let's make it more fun (otherwise known as interesting) ;)

_________________

Bucky’s POV

Hidden bugs weren’t new business to us, so after disposing of the picture frame, they gifted us with a note saying, “For your new home, and your first picture in it! ;)”... It was an easy ‘accidental’ drop. 

However, quickly after that, wouldn’t you know it? A new basket showed up on our porch with another set of welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts from the whole neighborhood this time…

Y/N had ‘accidentally’ placed the newly potted plant, that they had somehow added a very impressively hidden camera on, too close to the edge of the entryway table, so when she came through the door quickly with her arms full of more boxes, the pot was no longer usable. Shame… We did buy our own pot for said plant, so we still got a new piece of greenery without the bugs. 

After those two failed attempts, we hoped our show of clumsiness warded off the assholes and made us less intimidating. And yes, I use that word because I could read easily from our first meeting that they were sizing us up. Analyzing our act and manipulating themselves into our lives in a careful yet planned manner. 

For extra measure on the clumsy showcase, Y/N drove into the trashcans I had forgotten to pull to the curb, making a public display of her character’s clumsiness. Though I later learned she was actually just pissed that I forgot to put them out and found a way for me to pay the consequences in our squabble on the lawn. 

A squabble that started out a hundred percent authentic and then turned into a fake makeup season when the neighbors peaked their heads out. 

“This jughead would forget his head if it weren’t on his shoulders,” Y/N slapped my chest before patting it harshly and smiling at the seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, Gertrude, who always happened to find her rose bushes interesting, only when people were outside. 

She smiled and laughed at Y/N’s wide grin before waving her on as she snipped a few thorns. 

“God, I hate it here,” Y/N said through her teeth, holding her fake smile as she walked past me into the house.

A few more preplanned acts happened while we were outside to show the community that our accidental breaking of their bugs was just that—accidental. It was not planned and discovered at all. 

It had been two weeks so far, and we’d already been invited to a food truck social, a street parade for a family leaving the neighborhood, and an outdoor movie night. All events you would have thought had the same planning committee as the MET Gala with how thorough they were… At least, that's what Y/N said, and I choose to believe that it holds some form of significance.

Tonight, we went over to another couple's house that was high up in the HOA group for a neighborhood barbeque, one where Y/N’s damn lilac tennis dress she had worn to workout with a neighbor, made more than half the dads and men too old and married to be staring, struggle to keep their eyes off her. 

I had told her that keeping a hand on her during most of the party was for the act, but genuinely, I didn’t care for how the men of the group gawked at her. Something gave me a bad feeling about it. And I didn’t understand why Y/N wasn’t phased at all or even slightly uneasy, considering she was just as trained as me to assess and sense all that attention.

As soon as we were behind closed doors back in our secure home, my first question was, “Did you really not feel their eyes on you?” 

She was in the middle of taking off her shoes, talking about some information she had gotten from a group of stay-at-home wives, something related to our mission, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around how unphased she was with the unnerving type of attention she was getting there. 

“What?” She paused as she bent to take off a tennis shoe. 

“All those guys, the husbands, and pervs at the cookout. You didn’t notice them staring at you?” I asked again, rolling my sleeves of button-down I had on up to my elbow.

She stared at me for a moment and then rolled her eyes as if she had figured out where I was going with this. Spoiler: she was far off the mark. 

“Listen, if you’re saying that thanks to this dress, which, yes, is a little short, but who the hell cares, is the reason why men were,” she straightened, kicking off both her shoes fluently, now only in socks. “Gawking at me, as you put it-.” 

“I didn’t say that,” I straightened, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Oh, but you did,” she sassed with a shrug, continuing. “Under your breath when you came up, and you staked your claim by never taking your arm away from my waist for the night.”

“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head. I said it in my head, but I hadn’t said that out loud… Had I?

“Ugh, whether you did or didn’t, I could tell you were judging,” she huffed, rolled her shoulders, and walked past me to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge.

It took me a minute, but I figured out where her mind had gone. “I was judging them, Y/N,” I  shook my head. “I was judging the horny, married, and dusty-ass men that couldn’t keep their damn tongue from falling to the floor with you in the vicinity. Like their wives had deprived them of any kind of physical touch for the last decade, and they couldn’t keep it in their pants any longer.” 

I realized I may have explained more of my thought process than I intended, but she shut the fridge door she had hidden behind and turned to me, scanning, assessing. 

“You were jealous.” The corner of her lip raised at her statement. 

“What?” I scoffed. “No, loser,” I scoffed again, and clearly, I wasn’t selling my answer because she didn’t lose her growing grin. “I just took notice of how much attention you got, and it concerned me that the ideas most of those men were having were far from civil ones.” 

She stared at me for a minute, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as she weighed her options regarding how she wanted to react. We still had plenty of fights, but they have been somewhat decreasing lately, and I was hoping we could keep that streak going.

Her assessing stopped, and her grin grew again. “Awe, the Tinman does have a heart.”

And she ruined it. Surprise, surprise. 

“It’s sweet that you care, old man,” she twisted the lid to the drink she had pulled out of the fridge and took a swig before looking at me. “But that’s just a day in the life of a woman. Nothing new to me or anyone with the double X chromosomes.” She shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, obviously, people look at you,” I started, and she balanced her elbows on the counter before resting her chin on her fist. I continued before I realized my wording. “Before you-”

“Obviously?” She emphasized my word choice. “Keeping notes on an awful lot of things lately, huh, Buck?” she whispered my name like it was a secret, and I knew it was for the odd case someone could hear us, but something about her tone made my chest freeze. “Tell me, what else do you notice…?” She tilted her head one way as she stared at me. 

I wasn’t going to lie and say her words didn’t flustered me, but as a reflex, I jumped back into the normal banter.

“You’re not funny, jackass,” I deadpanned and turned on my heel to walk away.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” she shouted after me, and I heard her sock-clad feet slide on the hardwoods to catch up with me. “Listen, I think it’s nice you’re taking notice of stuff like this. Most men never pay attention to those kinds of things because they don’t have to. It’s not really a normal day-to-day experience for them, so they don’t get it. They don’t HAVE to get it.”

I stopped and turned in my march, and she slid into me from just two steps behind me. I caught her easily, bracing my hands on her biceps to steady her. She let out a huff of air as our chests flushed to each other and then looked up at me. 

“You’re murder strut is too fast for me to keep up with,” she mumbled, scrunching her nose in a relaxed way. 

I closed my eyes for a minute but didn’t let go of her before I channeled back my seriousness. 

“I’ve learned men are assholes, trust me. In this field, we come across some of the worst misogynistic weasels to exist. Wear whatever you want. You have scary dog privileges now. The attire issue isn't what I was getting at,” I replied, thinking of the reference the Parker kid had explained to me recently.

Her smile was unlike any I had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of, and I immediately mentally captured it, worried that I’d never experience the genuineness she was sharing with me in this moment again. 

“Scary dog privileges, huh? Someone’s been brushing up on their TikTok trends.” She laughed, scanning my face as I scanned hers. “Peter finally invested in his version of Duolingo? This one labeled new-age-slang-for-100-years-and-older?”

“Actually called, Born-in-1910’s-and-on-the-comeback-of-a-70-year-coma-new-age-lingo. Very helpful,” I retorted, and the surprise on her face as she laughed at me made my grip on her soften, my thumb unconsciously running over the bone on her wrist. 

The action brought both of our eyes to the feeling, and in the next second, we had three feet between us. 

“I’m going to go take a shower.” Her rush to get around me in the narrow hall caused her to brush along my arm, and it was like the sparks that ignited when I held her tried to reach out for each other again in the brief contact. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I grumbled, walking quickly in the opposite direction. 

____________________

Y/N’s POV

The last two weeks have been frustrating, but somehow, Bucky and I have learned we work together surprisingly well. We still had our bickering fights and annoying quarrels, but stick us in a house for a few weeks, and we realized we did well at balancing each other out. 

Where I hated doing the dishes, he made sure they were done every night. Where he hated doing laundry, I folded and sorted the linens and clothes. I hated cooking, and he somehow was really good at it. I loved to bake when we had free time, and he loved to taste test. I sucked at most things gardening-wise, and he had shown me how to prune overgrown flowers in our gardening bed. Bucky sucked at interior decorating, so I was in charge of making our fake abode look like a real one. 

Overall, we do pretty well, considering we hate each other's guts. Ok, well… I don’t necessarily hate his guts, even if I act it. I just have a very low tolerance for his bullshit and don’t mask my frustrations when they hit their limits. As for being a fake wife to him where he has to treat me well… He’s been a picture-perfect husband from a suburban wife’s perspective.

The only thing we’ve successfully avoided that I was worried about is sharing the same bed. 

After confirming with the higher-ups that our house was bug-free, we claimed our own rooms (me in the master, of course) and set up our own space. Keeping the facade of a happy married couple outside of those rooms and the house was easy, but I dreaded the day we would have to show more affection and closeness than what we already had. 

So far, a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, a hug from behind, and a normal amount of PDA that showed we were in our honeymoon phase yet did not want to make others fully uncomfortable did the job enough. But after Bethanne commented about when we planned on having kids, I figured we might need to bump up our act since she gave a passive comment about us being ‘rather tamed for a newlywed couple.’

Before I could bring up the comment to Bucky once we got home, he seemed more bothered by the men at the party than anything. 

I didn’t expect him to notice such a minute thing, but if there was one thing I had learned about Bucky these last few weeks, it’s that he’s very attentive to details I wouldn’t expect him to be on.

Then, to further my confusion about the situation, something seemed different in our intimate hallway space run-in, and both of us scurried away as if the touch of each other burned. 

After my shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and heard the TV still on in the living room, where Bucky tended to station himself for a few hours before bed. Well, his bedtime. Another thing about us was that I wasn’t much of a night owl, but I did appreciate knowing someone was on alert while I slept. And even if he didn’t do it for that reason, I’m sure, I liked hearing the TV still on when I tended to wake up in the middle of the night. I felt safer…

“Hey,” I leaned against the wall coming into the living room and saw that he had Brooklyn Nine-Nine on with a computer sat in his lap. 

He looked up and gave me a quick head nod before going back to the screen in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Just needed to fill you in on some of the things I learned at the cookout,” I let out a yawn as the day caught up with me and moved to the single chair across from him on the couch. 

“Hit me,” he rolled his shoulders back, never looking away from the blue light. 

“Don’t ask for things you don’t really want,” I teased, and he looked above the screen at me with a glance that seemed to be holding back a smile before rolling his eyes. 

“What’d you learn?” he followed up with. 

I went on to tell him about the neighborhood drama. All things that may or may not have any major plays to our mission, but information nonetheless. 

“Did you ask any of them about work?” Bucky asked once I had covered most everything. 

Our undercover jobs were simple. I worked from home as a data entry clerk. Something boring that Charolette Hunt has been hoping to get out of and find her passion. All this led to me asking around about job connections and if there was anything I could swap over to for a ‘more exciting work life,’ otherwise known as drug trafficking jobs if they were available. 

As for Beau Hunt, Bucky’s cover, he was the owner of a transportation company. Considering how well he was doing, he took the last two weeks off to move into his first home with his new wife before having to get back into the work ethic he had been thriving in the last ten years. 

All perfect pieces to get the answers and resources from our sketchy neighbors we came here for. 

“I asked Katrina, one of the wives of a guy who works closely alongside Reggie. I figured that was a good seed to plant,” I answered, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees as I watched Jake Peralta chase a bad guy down the streets of New York. I missed the homeland. “She said she’d ask around, which is what I needed. What about you? Any of the 'dusty-ass husbands' have fun details to share?”

“Nothing more than statistics of sports teams and rookie starters for the state college basketball team,” he sighed, and I turned over to see him staring at me before turning back to his computer quickly. “Reggie was giving me a hard time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, angling myself to him. “Bethanne was giving me a hard time, too.”

“Think it’s related to the same thing?” Bucky chuckled, looking back at me, but whatever was in his eyes just seconds ago was gone now. 

“Say on the count of three?” I smirked. 

“One,” he nodded.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“When we’re going to consider joining parenthood,” Bucky said. 

“When we’re having kids,” I said at the same time. “Almost a jinx if you didn’t word it so damn robotically. Did fucking Vision channel into your damn cyborg brain?” I laughed, and I heard a slight scoff from his direction before I rolled my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I stayed quiet until Bucky broke me out of my thoughts twenty seconds later.

“What are you thinking?” I heard the computer shut and then be placed on the cushion next to him. “I can hear the gears working past their limit.” His weak version of a retort.

I lulled my stare at him and deadpanned a bitchface at him. “You talking to yourself again?” He rolled his eyes at my comeback, and I decided to bypass the banter. “I think we need to step our game up. Ms. Bethanne thinks we’re ‘tamed’ for a newlywed couple. In other words, she thinks we’re prudes.”

“We’ve hit the PDA marks we need to,” Bucky stiffened just enough for a trained eye to see, but he tried to brush it off as getting comfortable in his spot. 

“Hmm, so maybe one of us is a prude,” I shrugged, moving my legs under me and leaning on one side of the chair. 

We hadn't kissed, although I would peck one on his cheek, and he would place one on top of my head. But that's as far as either of us had been willing to go.

I know our job may require us to go beyond that, and I was willing to keep it strictly professional even if necessary, but Bucky seemed to want to avoid it by all means. Message received.

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t understand why people have to be so touchy in public. It makes everyone uncomfortable,” he argued. 

“Not everyone finds discomfort in those acts. A lot of people think it’s cute.”

“I’m not one of those fucking people.”

“Well, you better figure out pretty fucking quick how to become one of those people because this operation kinda depends on it.” I sighed, standing up and stretching. “Listen, I know you hate me and all, but if we’re going to get this done and over with, we need to-”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” Bucky interrupted. I looked down and saw him staring at me with stern eyes.

“Actions have convinced me otherwise.” 

“The same could be said for you.” 

“I don’t hate you,” I clarified after carefully studying him for lies. 

It was an intense stare-off, but not one where I felt like I had to win it. One where I felt we were both taking a step into new territory, and neither of us knew what to expect. 

Bucky’s burner phone rang right before I could follow up with my peace offering, and we saw it was the fake caller ID Steve was under. He picked it up and put it on speaker. 

“What’s up, punk?” he answered, and Steve scoffed on the other end. 

“Just your biweekly check-in. Anything interesting enough to make this phone call longer than 5 minutes?” he asked. 

“Don’t think so,” Bucky sighed and filled him in on the steps we had taken to further the investigation. Planting our gossip seeds where necessary and waiting for the garden to grow. 

The call ended with Steve informing Bucky that he ‘started back at work’ tomorrow and would need to go to a specific meeting spot for updates. A way for us to get news that couldn’t be tracked with phone calls and messages. And after two weeks of gathering information and only four check-ins in that time, things were meant to pick up now. 

I had decided to head back to my room when a normal conversation between the two started up and strayed from the mission talk. Then, about 10 minutes later, Bucky was in my doorway as I got ready for bed. 

“Sorry, Steve wanted to know if we had torn each other’s heads off yet. Nat and him have a bet going,” he said, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. 

I shrugged, pulling the comforter back on the bed. “No need to apologize. And who’s winning?” 

“Steve gave it 3 weeks, so he’s still in the running.”

“He’s being generous,” I laughed, fluffing a pillow before sitting on the edge and looking at him. 

“I don’t know. I think we’ve managed to stay surprisingly civil given our relationship,” he smiled softly as if the conversation wasn’t dangerous grounds and could easily go one way or the other. 

“Helps that we have to act for most of it,” I fiddled with my nails. 

“Would you rather we didn’t get along?” he asked, and I could see the start of our normal frustration with each other trickle back into his tone.

I stared at him for a minute. Not sure what my goal was here, but it definitely had flipped from wanting to make every minute with him, his own personal hell.

“Fighting has become tiresome. I’m content tolerating the situation.” A bit of a hypocritical response, sounding robotic, but there was no lie behind it.

He stared at me like I had to him. 

“Right. Tolerating,” he nodded with pursed lips, pushing off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room. 

Something about his attitude made it hard for me to brush off the change in tension. I stood up and walked down the hall. When he was already in his room, I was taking up as much space as I could in his doorway now. 

“What’s with the annoyance?” I asked, looking at him as he arranged some things on his nightstand. He turned around, body lax and almost defeated looking. 

“I’m not annoyed. Why would I be annoyed with you ‘tolerating me’?” he said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, but you clearly are,” I gestured to him and crossed my arms. “Would you rather I treat you how I have before this? I mean, we can go back to-”

“Obviously not, Y/N,” he cut me off with a scoff, and I was shocked at the sheer anger that I would suggest such a thing. His use of obviously made my brain scramble as well… The second time, that word had messed with me tonight.

“You’re confusing as hell, Barnes,” I squinted my eyes at him and decided I wasn’t in the mood to handle a bipolar 100-year-old man tonight. Maybe it was best if I just called it a night. 

Turning in my spot four steps away, I didn’t expect the hand around my bicep to stop me in the middle of the hall, leading to a pensive look on his face as he stared at me.

“What?” I furrowed my eyes at him and looked at the contact unwavering on my elbow.

“I—” he started and then stopped. An internal war played out with surprising clarity on his face. I raised my eyebrows and waited.

We stared for an hour—okay, nine seconds—but it’s all the same with that level of intensity.

“Never mind.” He dropped my arm and took a step back. 

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want to start something.”

“There’s something to start?” 

“No, but I’ll wait until you’re in a better mood to,” he debated on his wording. “Discuss it,” he settled on, turning on his heel. 

“I’m not in a bad mood,” I huffed, and yeah… That didn’t help proving my point. 

“Sure thing,” he shook his head before walking into his room, carrying on as if he hadn’t dropped a strange and confusing bomb on me that I now needed answers to. 

“Goodnight to you, too,” I grumbled as I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki

[delightindarkness]

Fallout AU || Closed Starter

The heavy air itself was suffocating as James' lungs took their first unaided breath in a little over two hundred years. It burned at first.

Something was wrong.

Alarms blared as the cryochamber he was in popped open, mechanical whirring loud in the otherwise silent vault. Stumbling out of the chamber, blue eyes squinted even against the low light. What the hell was happening?

Other than the alarms, there was no other commotion. At least not in this this sector. He was panting as he moved from chamber to chamber in the cold, damp room. Each one said the same as he pressed the emergency release.

System Failure. Life Support Off.

Dead. All of them were dead. Why wasn't he dead? What the hell happened? Last thing he remembered he was being ushered into the vault. His handlers had told him that it was time for the bombs to fall, it was time for their most important, most dangerous mission yet. Purging out the enemies on our own American soil.

Where was everyone?

"Hello?" He called out twice. Once in English, once in Russian. It was a preferred language by many of the handlers and scientists that he'd been working with. Something he'd learned and picked up on quickly. His voice was strained and he hated how it echoed in the almost empty room. It made him think of a tomb. Each chamber was now its own coffin.

His head was still reeling as he moved from room to room. It was all the same. More of the tragic death that he'd so narrowly escaped. A few rooms had their security measures tripped and it made him wonder if it was an attack.

Making his way toward the exit, it became clearer and clearer, especially after seeing several skeletons, that quite some time had passed, and something horrible had happened. It took the Sargent awhile to figure his way out, but after a bit, the vault door was rolling back and he thought he might go blind.

The light that met him was so bright he felt like he was heading out onto the surface of the sun. His eyes began to adjust though...slowly. Things on the surface didn't seem much better, based on what he could see thus far. More bodies. Most of them in military garb. Once again, the tale of time had taken its toll, and they were nothing but bone.

One of the skeletons was still clinging tightly to a 10mm Pistol, and he quickly took it, checking to see how much ammo was left. It wasn't much, and he figured he wouldn't need it as he himself was a weapon, but he wanted it just in case.

The first place he came to was a neighborhood that had obviously seen better days. Other than some bugs and a robot that didn't speak to him, he found nothing save for a bit more ammo and some food that seemed a little suspicious, but it was better than nothing he supposed.

Headed up the road, and over what was once a bridge, he heard movement, slowing his steps, though it did him little good. The dog on premises alerted his presence to whomever was around the moment he let out a long howl.

@little-blog-of-horrors

[digenerate-trash]

So Yan!Harper is a little different because it has been heavily contributed to by several people including:

@asylumdweller | @these-bees-r18  | @pip-n-chips | @degrees-of-fuck

(and the asylum group chat)

And all others around the community!! I want to thank you all for feeding my freak obsession and im glad this has become like a group project!! 

(PS: tag your own yan head cannons pretty please. Dude a freak I love him) 

Just Harper head cannons!!!! 

SFW ones first:

Obsessed with you. Not possessive but still wants you to be focused on him.

Really into dolls especially customizing them with clothing and hair accessories. He's definitely got one of you that no one can ever touch or look at because it's very special to him. 

Speaking of Harper being crafty he's also into sewing! He's very good at tailoring things to your measurements, he has them memorized by now. It's not creepy he's just thorough. 

Has made you a custom straight jacket. 

Embroidered your name in his sleeve so he can look at it whenever he's bored. 

Absolutely was the worst child, other kids in the neighborhood feared him and that is why all the images of him as a kid are of him alone. he's also got pictures of you though. They're just hidden. 

Will gaslight you for no reason. He just likes seeing you confused and worried when you think you've missed your appointment. don't worry he'll make an exception. you're just going to have to owe him a little favor that's all (:

Will drop anything to make room for appointments with you. Will also ditch work for you as well. He would make house calls but Bailey is pretty strict about Harper being in his territory and Harper isn't prepared to fight Bailey. 

Will make you sick on purpose to keep you close by. This is either physically sick or mental (he only makes you mentally sick if he wants to keep you at the asylum) 

Harper is constantly sticking things in you so he can lick/chew on them after you leave. 

He is convinced that every action you make is playful and flirty even if you're trying to attack him. He just thinks of you as his feisty little lover and you just need a little extra attention that's all. 

When you're actually sick he's extra helpful, he prefers you like this. Weak and needy. He pets your head calls off any appointments or seeing any patients and he just sit's with you. Making sure you feel better. 

Harper takes care of all your needs. Check-ups mental health care surgery. No other doctor can touch you he's made sure of it. You also can't get a second opinion. 

Prefers using drugs/hypnotism to keep you in line. Man isn't strong and even though he could call security it's not ideal for him to get others involved in your little ‘couple fights’ 

For surgery, harper is always there for you. Before and after he's very attentive. Makes sure you know everything you need to and he's very good at making sure your recovery goes smoothly (even if it takes twice as long) 

he's always very clean even if you're a mess. He likes the dynamic of the two of you together. He likes it when people think he's out of your league because it adds to his abuse of power kink

Man has breathing issues around you. He tries to hide it. Biting his lip. Holding his breath. Just trying to control his breathing. None of it works. Man wants to huff you like a junky huffs paint.

Even if you are in a proper relationship with Harper he gets really petty and upset if you don't address him as ‘doctor’ 

don't play games with this man. He is the worst sore loser and even when he does win if you are close to beating him he's bitter about it. Might even hypnotize you to make you worse. He doesn't care if it affects other parts of your life. Competitive and petty 

Any time you punch/bite/mark this man he's enamered with the marks. They are a little present from you to him and it's not like you could ever really hurt him so he sees it more as a little lovers trophy than an attack 

NSF WORK UNDERCUT: 

will absolutely voyeur you but he is always particular about it, positions how people touch you how they act around you It is all very carefully choreographed even when he gets other people to fuck you it's all very staged and sterile in a weird way that doesn't even feel like sex lets be honest.

Prefers getting his sexual frustration out on you but likes it better when you're hypnotized. (He doesn't like to be associated with pain or discomfort unless it's for a purpose)

Has a file full of images of you naked, broken, on the verge of tears, fucked out of your mind, even ones where you're just asleep. He files them all carefully and studies them all he really wants to get ‘the perfect picture’ of you that captures everything you are. he's not even sure if it's possible but he's going to try. 

Get ready for everything you wear/eat/smell/sleep on to be covered in harper cum. Especially at the asylum where he's in charge of everything. he's got no shame and he really wants you to be accustomed to him and everything he does. 

Cockwarming at the drop of a hat. He needs to do paperwork. Guess who he's assigning as his little helper? you're too tired to get up from bed? Not a problem for Harper he can stay in bed with you. At the farm and he has a moment alone with you while he gets things ready? His pants are already off. You can't escape it. Harper loves having his dick in you at any time. 

Chugs a vial of aphrodisiacs before your appointments with him so he's the correct amount of horny for you. 

Will also feed you aphrodisiacs and then deny you any sort of stimulation until you're begging or crying. The dude really wants you to earn things from him when you're lucid so you think it's all your idea 

When you are hypnotised definitely makes you do some really nasty things for him. he's really into the idea of you being into everything he is and even encouraging him to do things to you when you're asleep/passed out. it's like getting consent but he's putting the words in your mouth and having you spit them back up for him. 

Has sex with you during surgery. And if he can't do that he at least jacks off during it. He can't help himself he really needs you. 

Man loves gaslighting you about your past sexual experiences. he's a big fan of convincing you that you're just an exhibitionist and it's normal. You just like things super rough and with a little more practice you won't be feeling so guilty about it anymore. And surprise harper is here to help!! 

Will jerk you off as therapy. If you enjoy it your making progress if you don't next time he's going to get a vibrator 

Very body-focused he's interested in pushing you to your absolute limits and making things difficult for you. Wants you unable to focus/form words/be able to move. 

Prefers it when you're squirmy during sex but not outright violent. 

Absolutely loves forcing you to cum. Not a fan of edging though. Not unless it's some kind of punishment. The dude will make you cum in your sleep during surgery when you are hypnotized, hands-free when you're fully dressed. Mans a freak for it. He also likes it when you sit on his lap or thigh while he forces you to cum. You'll get a lot of praise if you do it of your own volition. 

Harper drinks piss. At least once bro look at him.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Washington State's capital gains tax proves we can have nice things

Today (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Washington State enacted a 7% capital gains tax levied on annual profits in excess of $250,000, and made a fortune, $600m more than projected in the first year, despite a 25% drop in the stock market and blistering interest rate hikes:

https://www.theurbanist.org/2023/06/01/lessons-from-washington-states-new-capital-gains-tax/

Capital gains taxes are levied on “passive income” — money you get for owning stuff. The capital gains rate is much lower than the income tax rate — the rate you pay for doing stuff. This is naked class warfare: it punishes the people who make things and do things, and rewards the people who own the means of production.

The thing is, a factory or a store can still operate if the owner goes missing — but without workers, it shuts down immediately. Everything you depend on — the clothes on your back, the food in your fridge, the car you drive and the coffee you drink — exists because someone did something to produce it. Those producers are punished by our tax system, while the people who derive a “passive income” from their labor are given preferential treatment.

The Washington State tax is levied exclusively on annual gains in excess of a quarter million dollars — meaning this tax affects an infinitesimal minority of Washingtonians, who are vastly better off than the people whose work they profit from. Most working Americans own little or no stock, and the vast majority of those who do own that stock in a retirement fund that is sheltered from these taxes.

(Sidebar here to say that market-based pensions are a scam, a way to force workers to gamble in a rigged casino for the chance to enjoy a dignified retirement; the defined benefits pension, combined with adequate Social Security, is the only way to ensure secure retirement for all of us)

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/25/derechos-humanos/#are-there-no-poorhouses

Washington’s tax was anticipated to bring in $248m. Instead, it’s projected to bring in $849m in the first year. Those funds will go to public school operations and construction and infrastructure spending:

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/politics/was-new-capital-gains-tax-brings-in-849-million-so-far-much-more-than-expected/

That is to say, the money will go to ensuring that Washingtonians are educated and will have the amenities they need to turn that education into productive work.

Washington State is noteworthy for not having any state personal or corporate income tax, making it a haven for low-tax brain-worm victims who would rather have a dead gopher running their states than pay an extra nickel in taxes. But places that don’t have taxes can’t fund services, which leads to grotesque, rapid deterioration.

Washington State plutes moved because they relished living in well-kept, cosmopolitan places with efficient transportation, an educated workforce, good restaurants and culture — none of which they would have to pay for. They forgot Karl Marx’s famous saying: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

The idea that Washington could make up for the shortfalls that come from taxing its wealthiest residents by levying regressive sales taxes and other measures is mathematically illiterate wishful thinking. When the one percent owns nearly everything, you can tax the shit out of the other 99% and still not make up the shortfall.

Meanwhile: homelessness, crumbling roads, and crisis after crisis. Political deterioration. Cute shopping neighborhoods turn into dollar store hellscapes because no one can afford to shop for nice things because all their income is going to plug the gaps in health, education, transport and other services that the low-tax state can’t afford.

Washington State’s soak-the-rich tax is ironic, given the propensity of California’s plutes to threaten to leave for Washington if California finally passes its own extreme wealth tax.

There’s a reason all these wealthy people want to live in California, Washington, New York and other states where there’s broad public support for taxing the American aristocracy: states with rock-bottom taxes are failed states. All but two of America’s “red states” are dependent on transfers from the federal government to stay in operation. The two exceptions are Texas, whose “free market” grid is one nanometer away from total collapse, and Florida, which is about to slip beneath the rising seas it denies.

Rich people claim they’d be happy to live in low-tax states, and even tout the benefits of a desperate workforce that will turn up to serve drinks at their country clubs even as a pandemic kills them at record rates. But when the chips are down, they don’t want to depend on a private generator to keep the lights on. They don’t want to have to repeatedly replace their luxury cars’ suspension after it’s wrecked by gaping potholes. They don’t want to have to charter a jet to fly their kids out of state to get an abortion.

This is true globally, too. As Thomas Piketty pointed out in Capital in the 21st Century, if the EU and OECD created a wealth tax, the rich could withdraw to Dubai, the Caymans and Rwanda, but they’d eventually get sick of shopping for the same luxury goods in the same malls guarded by the same mercenaries and want to go somewhere, you know, fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

We’re told that Americans would never stand for taxing the ultra-rich because they see themselves as “temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” It’s just not true: soak-the-rich policies are wildly popular:

https://balanceourtaxcode.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/WA-State-Wealth-Tax-Poll-Results-3.pdf

The Washington tax windfall is fascinating in part because it reveals just how rich the ultra-rich actually are. Warren Buffett says that “when the tide goes out, you learn who’s been swimming naked.” But Washington’s new tax is a tide that reveals who’s been swimming with a gold bar stuck up their ass.

It’s not surprising, then, that Washingtonians are so happy to tax their one percenters. After all, this is the state that gave us modern robber barons like Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. And then there’s clowns like Steve Ballmer, star of Propublica’s IRS Files, the man whose creative accounting let him claim $700m in paper losses on his basketball team, allowing him to pay a mere 12% tax on $656m in income, while the workers who made his fortune on the court paid 30–40% on their earnings.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#economic-substance-doctrine Ballmer’s also a master of “tax loss harvesting,” who has created paper losses of over $100m, letting him evade $138m in federal taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/24/tax-loss-harvesting/#mego

These guys aren’t rich because they work harder than the rest of us. They’re rich because they profit from our work — and then, to add insult to injury, pay little or no taxes on those profits.

Washington’s lowest income earners pay six times the rate of tax as the state’s richest people. When the wealthy squeal that these taxes are class warfare, they’re right — it is class war, and they started it.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

[Image ID: The Washington State flag; the circular device featuring George Washington has been altered so that it is now the head of a naked man clothed in a barrel with two wide leather shoulder straps.]

[girlactionfigure]

🚨 G7 WARNED OF IMMINENT IRANIAN ATTACK ON ISRAEL WITHIN 24 HOURS 🚨

‼️The G7 countries have informed that Iran could mount a full-scale attack on Israel within 24 hours.

‼️General Michael Kurilla, Commander of U.S. Central Command, is expected to arrive in Israel on Monday to review plans and coordinate forces in the Middle East.

‼️U.S. President Joe Biden will convene his national security team in the situation room on Monday at 2:15 PM ET (9:15 PM Israel time) to discuss developments in the region.

‼️In a special report by Army Radio, Efi Triger noted that the IDF has recently deployed several units from the Home Front Command and the Jordan Lions Battalion to reinforce the defense of the Seam Line communities in the Sharon area. This action follows an urgent warning after recent targeted killings, indicating plans to carry out infiltration attacks on these communities, orchestrated by Iran and Hamas.

The Shin Bet received intelligence that terrorists from the Tulkarm area intended to infiltrate settlements in the Sharon Seam Line area. Consequently, soldiers have been stationed within these settlements to provide an immediate response to any incidents, given the proximity to Palestinian territories.

These units are tasked with serving as the last line of defense within the settlements, should all other security measures fail, learning from the events of October 7th. It became evident on the night between Friday and Saturday that there were genuine threats, as a terrorist cell from Tulkarm, eliminated on Saturday morning, was planning an infiltration attack in Israel.

Security officials told Army Radio that Iran and Hamas are attempting to divert Israeli attention to Judea and Samaria to provoke an intifada, hoping this will prevent an Israeli attack in Lebanon. Judea and Samaria risk becoming the main theater of war once again.

🔅EMERGENCY PREP - THE BASICS

via ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime

Things are scary, “well what am I supposed to do?”

Basic preparation IN ISRAEL:

.. Drinking water.  Buy some bottled water, 9 liters per adult (less for children).

.. Washing / flushing water.  Have a few buckets or fill a bunch of used water bottles, to wash or flush with - fill buckets when emergency starts, BUT not if you have small children who can drown in an open bucket.

.. Medicine.  If you take chronic medicine (every day), get the 3 month supply from your Kupah.

.. Money.  Have cash on hand in case ATM’s and credit cards aren’t working.

.. Food.  Canned, dry, etc, supplies on hand for a week per person.  Baby food? Formula? Special nutrition? Pet food?

.. Light.  Flash lights, candles. 

.. Communications.  Have a power-bank or two for your cell phone.  And maybe a radio (buy at hardware stores).

.. Shelter.  Make sure it is ready.

More here -> Supplies and Equipment for Emergencies.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15903-en/pakar.aspx

❗️EMERGENCY PLANNING

Links work in Israel.

.. Preparing your home for an emergency.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15902-en/Pakar.aspx

.. Help Prep your Neighborhood and Family Elderly.  https://www.oref.org.il/12550-20999-en/pakar.aspx

.. Know the Emergency numbers:

Police 100 emergency, 110 non-urgent situation

Ambulance 101

Medics 1221

Fire 102

Electric Company 103

Home Front Command 104

City Hotline 106

Senior Citizen Hotline *8840

Social Services Hotline 118

Cyber (hack) Hotline 119

🔸 MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINES, in case you are freaking out:

.. in English : Tikva Helpline by KeepOlim, call if you are struggling!  074-775-1433.

.. in Hebrew : Eran Emotional Support Line - 1201 or chat via eran.org.il

...

[therealvinelle]

Do you all have an opinion on the theory that Crookshanks started life as the Potter’s cat that was mentioned in Lily’s letter to Sirius?

Yes, and we don't subscribe to it.

What is known of the Potter's cat:

They had one when they lived in Godric's Hollow, as Lily mentions it in her letter to Sirius

That's it

There is no other mention of it, neither Tom's memories nor people who knew the Potters mention a cat. Which leaves us with a few theories:

It was a neighborhood cat, and not one actually owned by the Potters

We know at least James had a...laissez-faire... attitude towards security, as he liked going outside the house to fool around with Sirius and was upset when Dumbledore borrowed his cloak. We also know that they visited their neighbor Bathilda Bagshot, again taking unnecessary risks.

Based on that I don't think "they were on Fidelius lockdown, a cat couldn't get inside the house" is a good enough counterargument. Instead a picture is painted of a couple so frustrated by the security measures placed upon them that they're inviting that cat into the house first chance they get (or however it is you get an animal past the Fidelius).

A neighborhood cat they welcome when it comes by also explains why it isn't mentioned by anybody since, although this could just as easily be that no one thought to bring it up. Hagrid for instance has cats as the one animal he dislikes, if the Potters had a cat he would simply judge them and never mention such a damning flaw to Harry. Remus didn't visit in Godric's Hollow at all.

Sirius did visit, and he's an animal lover who canonically gets along very well with at least one cat we know of. He never does mention James having had a cat, however, which is another plus in my "the cat wasn't actually the Potters'" book.

That being said:

Lily describing it as "the cat" is, as I understand, how you would typically refer to the cat you own, the known entity cat, the cat you own. It could be she knew Sirius knew a cat sometimes came by and she didn't feel like writing "the neighborhood cat that sometimes drop by, if you remember", but "the cat" is generally how you talk about the cat you own. If it wasn't her cat, however, it means this is the only cat who comes by and she knows Sirius is familiar with it.

Conclusion

the Potters owned a cat, Sirius would certainly know it. If the cat mentioned wasn't theirs, Sirius still knew it or Lily wouldn't have written "the cat" in the casual, the-person-reading-this-letter-already-knows-which-cat-I'm-talking-about, manner she did.

Crookshanks is blessed with a very distinguished appearance, if he'd once belonged to or frequented the Potters there's no chance Sirius wouldn't have recognized him.

So no, not the same cat.

[wxnheart]

ＳｍａｓｈＤｏｃ　２０７７

based off this ask.

Imagine being your friendly neighborhood ripperdoc who is absolutely taken by Smasher's chrome. So taken, in fact, that you deliberately go out of your way to see it up close, much to the Boogeyman's chagrin.

Adam Smasher has no fucking idea who and what you are. All he knows is that you're annoying as shit, a habitual line stepper who violates his personal space, and he can't even scare people shitless in peace without you popping up.

Adam Smasher has taken painstaking precautions to keep you away from Arasaka Tower only to find that you managed to bypass ALL the security measures he put in place. Who the fuck are you?

You also have the audacity to run unnecessary tests over his shit. Smasher practically ignores the awe in your voice, too. He'd be somewhat amused if it weren't for the fact that you're a pain in the ass.

Adam Smasher can somewhat empathize with Blackhand because of this. Somewhat. The only difference is that fighting your gremlin ass would expend more energy than you're worth. It wouldn't be enjoyable at all. Cue him redirecting this annoyance onto more... formidable opponents. Barely.

Adam Smasher who's gotten so used to said gremlin ripperdoc that the fact that you seemingly appear out of nowhere and habitually line-step doesn't even bother him anymore. Much. Not even you touching and rubbing on his chrome dome elicits a growl anymore.

Adam Smasher who, against his will, now has his own personal... assistant? Who he's yet to pin down. Who, because of your incessant need to pester him, has somehow managed to become an NC Legend. At his expense. At least you're... competent. Competent enough for him to keep around. Alive.

And wouldn't you know? There's some perks to being the Boogeyman's personal ripperdoc. Like... staying alive.

Thus the era of SmashDoc began. Coming to a nightmare near you...

[shadyauthor]

Strings of their hearts💕 Ch 2

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It was like being woken up from a slumber that you weren't really sleeping in and immediately having a boost of energy. Zipping around the house as soon as you booted up the game, it'd been years since he'd fully been out of the disc. He knew he had around an hour till he had to hurry back into the game to finally meet 𝘺𝘰𝘶, oh you! You were just so perfect! Just the absolute most.

He couldn't explain exactly how he felt about you, he just absolutely adored you though.

He had kept several people from buying the game who he deemed "untrustworthy" and it'd been years since the last person he trusted. Who, sadly returned the game once they found out about his sentience.

His abilities only allowed him so far from the disk, eternally bound to it. But now that you had the game open, he had full access to everything! And boy did alot change, he knew alot of time must've been passing by with how much he saw changing in the store from his corner, but this was almost to much! So to stop overwhelming himself he focused on your home instead.

And oh! You had so many security measures, and cameras, and locks, were you scared of something bad happening? You didn't have to be scared anymore, not with him there to protect you now. And...oh. Your house was almost as overwhelming than the internet had become! He had to be careful or he'd lose track of time and be late for your first official introduction to eachother!

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After navigating your home through jumping from cable to cable, electronic to electronic to make his way back to your room for what seemed like far to long. He finally made it, quickly traveling back into your computer, it was nice to explore for once in a long time. But he didn't want you to get suspicious of him, not this early on at least, not until he had you head of heels. Though you wouldn't be at his introduction for a few more minutes he'd rather be early than late and you returning the game because of a "defect". He watched you, observing as you focused on the dialog of the game, it was cute seeing you so focused. He was so sad to see you so stressed earlier, he didn't know why you could be so stressed though! You were surrounded by friends (though most of them had a potty mouth!) And you seemed happy when you were with them, maybe you were just tired? Probably. He couldn't really ask what was troubling you, not when you could easily break what kept him "alive", maybe soon in the future he can hold you, tell you everything is going to be okay, let you vent about all your worries.

He sighed, resting his face on one of his hands, he couldn't wait to have a new addition to the neighborhood, sure he loved his friends without a doubt! But...it was just..tiring. Being the only one who understood, the only one who knows, sometimes he hated it. But never them, he could never hate his friends, programmed to be uncaring and always joyful. But not him, he was smart. Too smart.

Maybe if he was like his friends he wouldn't have to go through this, he felt selfish wanting to throw away his sentience. He knew it was a gift, especially when he got to meet you..

Talking about meeting you..he had to hurry and go meet you now!!

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You had been setting up your character, name, and settings for a minute or two and finally started playing. This game was really cute so far! It strangely made you feel...energized? It made you.. happy. Yes happy.

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Your character woke up with a yawn turned to stretching, it was a good stretch, big stretch. Your character smiled to itself, getting out of bed energetically and throwing on a colorful robe, slipping into your slippers. "Today is going to be a great day!" You had just finished moving in yesterday after buying the small colorful home a month ago. It was a long drive to the small town named neighborhood, but it was most definitely worth it, everyone was so kind and welcoming! And a few characters certainly caught your eye.

You did remember all the names! Yeah, but you couldn't match all the names to the faces. So today you would finally be socializing with your new friends!

How fun!

Yawning you walked to your bathroom, brushing your teeth and coming your hair with a pep in your step. You could hardly contain your excitement! Throwing on your colorful cardigan and shorts, you practically raced down the stairs. Putting some bread in the toaster and going through your cabinets for a jar of jam, pulling one out and grabbing a butter knife, your toaster popped! 'How convenient' you hummed to yourself.

Carefully taking the toast out of the toaster and spreading it with jam, you ate them with patience, savoring the flavor. Though you were about to burst out running through the door any second now, you didn't want to bite your tongue eating to fast. On your last piece of toast you left the kitchen, moving to your living room to put on your shoes and pack a small bag, only the essentials of course! You didn't wanna waste time having to repeatedly come back to your home in case you forgot.

You smiled in content as you finished your breakfast, getting your keys you walked out the door, locking it behind you though it was unnecessary in the small friendly neighborhood, it was better safe than sorry.

You breathed a breath of fresh air, it was a beautiful morning and it smelled fresh. The grass peppered with early morning dew, it was breathtaking in your eyes. In the distance you could see the small towns neighborhood friendly mailman strolling down the sidewalk, his mail carrier strapped to his shoulder as he smiled and seemed to be enjoying the morning as much as you were.

He seemed to notice you looking at him, how embarrassing. "Hey neighbor! Enjoying your morning?" He smiled, stopping a foot or two away from you. "Yep! I hope you don't mind me asking though, what is your name? I would love to put everyone's names to their faces finally if you know what I mean!" You smiled softly, hoping he didn't think you were rude.

"No worries neighbor! My name is Eddie, what is yours?" You told him your name, and he smiled "That is a very nice name! I wish I could stay to talk more but I have mail to deliver and I'm starting to run late"

"Of course! Don't let me keep you Eddie" you smile and wave to your friend Eddie as he speed walked away, letter in hand.

Skipping down the side walk, you ran into your other neighbors, Poppy partridge: a colorful kind bird that you saw a parental figure in; Barnaby B. Beagle: a very tall big blue dog who told you jokes for half an hour before he had to go; Howdy Pillar: a strong four armed and legged shop keeper, he was very kind and even gave you your favorite fruit for a snack on the go; and as the sky started to turn a beautiful purple, you started to make your way home, sad you didn't get to meet more of your neighbors. But then all of a sudden "Halt!" Someone said causing you to immediately freeze, you were scared you were in trouble "don't move!" And all of a sudden someone whacked your head something softly "hey! What was that for?" You said, upset a random person would hit you out of nowhere, you turned to face them. "I'm sorry neighbor, but the butterfly I've been trying to catch all day seemed to like you, and landed on you." They said, apologizing net in hand with a beautiful shiny green butterfly captured in it. "Oh no worries then! Sorry for getting mad at you"

They waved your apology off "no no it was perfectly understandable, I should've warned you better than just telling you not to move. Say..whats your name I don't think we've been introduced yet? Mine is Frank, Frank Frankly." He reached his hand out for you to shake, in return you gave him your name and shook his hand "It is wonderful to meet you, though its getting dark and I should head home, have a good night neighbor"

He waved to you as you both parted ways, and you walked down the sidewalk heading back home

It had been a wonderful day, but you'd rather not be falling asleep where you stand if you were going to meet your last three neighbors!

À̷͙̮̹̀́̔̒̔͝͝s̸̢͕̰̜͈͉̞̔͊́ ̴̬̼̤͉͖̃̏̀́͑͑ͅy̷̡̪͎̦͍̝̫̿͒̆̍͑o̸̯̣͑͑̒̎̅͂ͅu̸͎̹̠͉͖͘ ̶̢̥̰̘͓̋͋̐͂͗̊̆̑g̷̲͖̈̀͂̍ỏ̶̳̮͈̦̣͉̜́̔̅t̴̛̘̑͊͗̔͝͝ ̷̡̙̹̙̃͛͂̇͊̂̚t̵̢̛͉̙̠̝̣͗͛̽͝͝o̷̬̣̿͑̒ ̴̠͙͈̀̐̊̓̿͛̈̈y̸̡͖̩̌̓̌͋̚̕͠͝ơ̵̼̰̬̎͑̔̄̾̀̚ͅu̷̢̲͚̞͉͓̍́͜r̴͔̫͇̥̦̄̓̍̌̓̚͠ ̸͎̗͚́̀̽p̵̧͓̰̣̰̝͙͒o̷̰̱̠̹̳̽͒̓́͑r̵͎̝̙̈́͆c̶̣̍̀̄h̵͉͐͐̽̒ ̶͇̲̞͓̟̪̿̎̚̕y̷̡̧̯͙̘̰͂̌͐̏̔̃o̸̧̙̍̎͜u̸̧̠̬͇͊͂̍̈́̀̈́͒̅ͅ ̸̛̣̰s̶̨̜̤̎a̵̼̝͊͆̿͐́̍̔w̴͖͚̮̗̭͓̜̦̽̃̂̃́͛ ̵̰̯͈̹̇͂a̶̹̣̤̮̞̼̙̍͗̃̕͘ ̴̰̱̭̲̯̲͂́̾̏̋͜ͅg̶̦̋̓̀̚̚͝͝ḯ̸͚̦̏̔͛̌͝͠͝f̷̤̗̫͕̒͆́̌̿̒͠͠ͅt̴͈̙͖̤͍̳̋̑͌ ̸̧͕͓̥̆̉͛͆͘̚͜ͅb̴̫̬͚̭̬̘̂a̴̡̙̫̣̘͆̇s̴̡̰̖͍͒̈́͑͝k̴̯͐͆̌̃̍e̶̲̫͗̈́͜t̵͙̘͙̳̼͑̇̅̌̌̄͐̏ ̸̡̖̹͚͕̓͊̈́f̷̡̬̭̀̾̅͊̇̾͝u̷̧̥͓̭̭̍̔̅l̶̹̭͖̐́l̵͎̗͚̗̪͉̣̣͌̆̋̉̊̈́͋ ̸̦̂͂̏͐̄̅̚ǒ̵̻͙̲͍͕̤͂̑͗̄̑̄f̴̧̠̯͙̠̬̬̝̂́̅̅͠ ̷̣̞͉̍̎̊á̴̖̣̇͑͆́̀̔͒p̴͉̠̩̫̐̋̀̕p̷̬͕̼̝̎̐̏̕͝ͅl̵̪̳͉̹̐͑͆̅̏͘e̸̟̖̜͙͋s̴̢̻͔̋͌̉̔͋̓̕͘ ̷̭̝̯̲̤̜̯͂ä̶̫̘͚̗̭͇́͆n̵̨̳͎͈̯͗͋̿̽̈ď̷̪̞͈͊̋͘ ̵̳͓̗̙̉̓̚ͅa̴̠̹̞̞̫̪̫̖̿͑̈̀̆̐̂ ̷̮͑̀́͂̿c̵͍͚̻͕͈̔͂͝ą̶̗̼̟̟̅͌r̴͉̭͍͆̀̄d̶̛̛͍̱̩͎̳̪̯̃̈́ ̷̳̜̈́̀̓̓̋s̵͎̀̅̎̓͂̇̕e̶͙̠̰̣̱̖̯͗͜c̴͕̬͐̉͋̔͛͗ų̸̮͙̺͎̲̯͑̆͒́̎͗̃̌ŗ̴̛̥̰͕͎̈́̇ë̸̫͇̭͕̘̳͈̱̉͐̿l̴̢͖̮͚͚̏ỷ̶̭̪̱̙̝̠̹͋̓̒̆̕̚ͅ ̴̦͓̦͔̉̀̀͋t̴̨͖̀̿̒͆̇̆u̵͕͍͑̈̇͛̾͂̒͝ͅč̵̨̡̛̠̳͉̀̌̾̂͐̌͜ͅk̵̨̡͈̓̽̆̓͝ͅĕ̴̫͒̋̐d̶̡̳̻̣̠̯͔͕̈́̏̕͝ ̵̡̦̞̮̆͘͝i̶͙̤̱̯̹͓̲̼̿̿n̶̤̯̗͍͖̈t̷̘͚̹̂̌̊o̷̢͕̫̳̗͇̐̌́͗͂͜ͅ ̵̼̮̹̄̎i̶͈͚̤̝͑̾̀̚͝ṭ̸̡̖̣͇̹̗̫̾̉.̷̧̞͓̪̤̎̉̐̃̊͝ ̸̢͓̫̮̆

As you got to your porch you turned around, breathing in one last time before heading back in. Again, locking the door behind you, you were right.

It was a perfect day.

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Thank you for reading! (I had to post this short I'll be posting chapter 3 soon because I had to write a part 3 times because tumblr kept kicking me off)

I hope you enjoyed reading this, stay tuned for more!

(Fun fact: I wrote wallys first pov on a ripped up paper towel on top of a choir book in a church. How fun)

Here's everyone that wanted to be tagged!

@elegantkidfansoul

As always, enjoy the chapter and I'll see you again soon!

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Wounded civilians, including a young child, are brought to a hospital in Gaza after the Israeli occupation forces bombed a residential home belonging to the Shaat family in the Maraj neighborhood, northeast of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, on Wednesday. 📈 The death toll in Gaza has risen again, now exceeding 36'171 Palestinians killed, while another 81'420 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th, 2023. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

236 DAYS OF GENOCIDE IN GAZA: ISRAELI TANKS ROLL THROUGH CENTRAL RAFAH, WHITE HOUSE CLAIMS ISRAELI OCCUPATION DOES NOT VIOLATE BIDEN'S RED LINE, OCCUPATION BOMBS TENTS IN 'SAFE ZONE' OF AL-MAWASI, GENOCIDE CONTINUES UNABATED

On 236th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 6 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 75 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 284 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

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

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

"The Israelis have said this was a tragic mistake," US National Security spokesperson, John Kirby, makes excuses for the Israeli occupation's bombing of a UNRWA displacement camp for Palestinian refugees in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, north of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, two nights ago that resulted in the deaths of at least 45 Palestinians and wounded 249 others.

The response came after Kirby was asked whether the slaughter in the displacement camp qualified as the kind of "death and destruction" Biden claimed he didn't want to see in Rafah, drawing a "red line" at an Israeli invasion of Gaza's southernmost city.

Kirby claimed the US doesn't have "a measuring stick here or a quota," going on to add that "We've also said we don't want to see a major ground operation in Rafah that would really make it hard for the Israelis to go after Hamas without causing extensive damage and potentially a large number of deaths. We have not seen that yet."

This comes at the same time as Israeli tanks and armored vehicles have been confirmed to have advanced into eastern, western and central Rafah, including Merkava tanks and remotely controlled M113 armored personnel carriers, which the Israeli media says are conducting operations "east of Rafah and advancing towards the center and west of the city."

The Israeli occupation forces (IOF) stated that "our forces are operating in Rafah with the aim of disbanding the Hamas battalions in Rafah, rocket launchers, heavy artillery, ammunition and terrorist tunnels."

Occupation forces are also operating along the "Philadelphi axis," south of Rafah, which they claim have discovered dozens of tunnels leading from Gaza into the Egyptian Sinai.

Occupation army officials were quoted in the Hebrew media as saying that "the operation in Rafah is progressing precisely with all the complexities- a million people have already been evacuated [forcefully displaced] from the city."

The Israeli occupation forces also said that the "Nahal Brigade," led by the 162nd Division is fighting in ongoing operations in Rafah, destroying so-called "terrorist infrastructure."

In the meantime, the Israeli occupation committed a new horrific massacre of innocent civilians, when occupation warplanes fired several missiles into the tents of displaced Palestinian refugees in the Al-Mawasi area, northwest of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing at least 21 civilians and wounding 64 others, at least 10 of whom remain in critical condition.

In response to the purposeful massacre, the Israeli occupation disavowed their responsibility for the strike, claiming on Tuesday evening that "contrary to reports received in the past few hours, the Israeli army did not attack the humanitarian area in Al-Mawasi," without elucidating on the details.

In a statement issued on Wednesday, the Hamas resistance movement stated that the "Zionist enemy" continues to "target the tents of displaced people west of Rafah, and commit a new massacre that claimed the lives of dozens of martyrs and wounded."

Hamas went on to state that the Israeli occupation is "actively challenging the decisions of the International Court of Justice through his decision to directly and deliberately target the largest number of civilians."

The Israeli occupation authorities had previously designated the Al-Mawasi area a "safe zone," and did not call for the evacuation of civilians from the heavily damaged neighborhood.

According to local reporting, the targeted displacement camp, filled with the tents of civilian families, was located just 100 meters from the American field hospital, west of Rafah.

Meanwhile, a number of civilians, including young children, were slaughtered overnight, while other residents were wounded, in an Israeli airstrike on the Khan Yunis Governate.

According to local correspondants, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential home belonging to the Abu Jazar family in the Ma'an neighborhood, south of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of several civilians, including children, and wounded a number of others who were taken to the European Gaza Hospital in the city.

Several more civilians were killed after Israeli fighter jets bombed a house belonging to the Sharat family, near the government clinic in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, north of Gaza City.

Similarly, Israeli aircraft targeted a residential home belonging to the Yassin family in the Mufti's land area, north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

IOF Merkava tanks have also been stationed in the central areas of the Yabna Refugee Camp, next to the Al-Huda Mosque in Rafah, in addition to advancing near the Care Junction, adjacent to the Ali Ibn Abi Talib Mosque, and also penetrated areas of the Al-Awda, Al-Najma, and Al-Sharqi neighborhoods.

Occupation Merkava tanks and armored personnel carriers were also witnessed advancing in the Burqa Stadium, and into the central areas of the Shaboura Camp, while Israeli missiles and artillery shelling bombed resident's homes at random, intermittently.

Israeli warplanes and vehicles also fired machine guns towards civilian homes in central and western Rafah, and also in the vicinity of the Tal Zu'rob neighborhood, southwest of the city.

Similarly, Zionist air forces bombed a house belonging to the Al-Ghurra family in the vicinity of the Abdullah Azzam Mosque, in the Al-Sabra neighborhood of Gaza City, resulting in the martyredom of 5 civilians and wounding a number of others.

Israeli occupation forces also killed Dr. Issam Rawhi Muhammad Aql, a doctor with the Al-Quds Hospital, who was murdered in his home in the Bureij Camp, in central Gaza, according to a report by the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS).

The mass murder of Palestinians continued when Zionist air forces targeted a residential house belonging to the Hamdan family in the New Camp area of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, wounding three Palestinians who were transported to Al-Awda Hospital in the camp.

Neighborhoods east of Gaza City also experience intense gunfire from Israeli military vehicles, while occupation aircraft bombarded the western neighborhoods of the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in Gaza's north, resulting in several casualties.

Israeli airstrikes also pummeled areas of central and western Rafah, coinciding with artillery and tank shells fired into residential buildings.

In yet another war crime, Zionist warplanes bombed a gathering of civilians in the Kaf al-Mashrou area, east of the city of Rafah, resulting in civilian deaths and dozens of other casualties.

Civilians were also killed in an IOF bombing near Al-Iskan Al-Abyad, west of the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood of Rafah.

At the same time as Israeli tanks station themselves in neighborhoods across Rafah, Merkava tanks were also seen establishing control over neighborhoods east of the Jabalia Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, advancing through blocks 1-8 while detonating residential homes and buildings in the area.

In another series of assaults, at least 9 civilians were killed, including a doctor, near Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahiya, in the northern Gaza Strip, while several others were killed and wounded in a strike on the town of Beit Hanoun.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the Palestinian population has increased to 36'171 killed, including upwards of 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 81'420 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

May 29th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[lurafita]

WWE AU

Okay, so there was a time when I was a little obsessed with WWE. And for whatever reason, I just remembered that.

So, can you picture the guys in a setting like this? Doesn't even have to necessarily be wrestling, maybe more mixed martial arts. But there are cameras backstage and fights and lots of "entertainment".

That training fight scene with Alec and Magnus is living rent free in my head and I would just like more of that, you know?

As it always does, my brain went right to "backstory" Mode.

So, Alec was classicly trained, in a studio, with professional trainers and wrestling and other fighting styles have been practiced in his family for generations and are highly regarded. There is a philosophy to it, a feeling of honor.

Alec's parents actually weren’t happy when their son went to the WWE with his talents, but Alec argued that this might be able to help get the younger generation to look at the sport as something more than bashing each other for the entertainment value of the audience. (And, well, also money. Because while there is a familial wealth to the Lightwood name, Alec would like to be a bit more independent from them. And if he gets famous enough, gets his name out there, maybe he could open up an mma studio where he can then teach kids and adults alike the *real* sport.)

Magnus comes from a poor background and an even poorer neighborhood.

If you didn’t know how to defend yourself, you were prey.

When he was old enough to not be turned away by the guards immediately, he started fighting in underground rings for money.

Fighting was never anything more for him than a means to make enough money to eat and stuff.

One night, a wrestling manager looking for new talent happens to be at one of those underground rings and sees Magnus. He gets signed almost right away.

And just months later, Magnus has money and a measure of security and is rising in fame. Without the worries of his past nibbling at his heels, he lives it up.

Make it grand, make it a show, have some fun!

Fighting was never fun before. It was survival.

But now, Magnus *lives*.

And Alec thinks that Magnus is only in it for the show and the fame and the glory. That he has no respect for the art as it is.

And in a way, he is right.

Magnus doesn't respect the Art of fighting the way others in their line of work do. He didn’t learn it because he wanted to, but because he needed to. He will never feel the things that Alec does where fighting is concerned. But that doesn’t mean he doesn't have his own version of respect for it.

Once Alec understands that, he is even more in awe of Magnus than he was.

They both grow to learn and understand each other, without having to conform to the other's view.

Magnus will never be able to see fighting as something inherently good, but he respects that Alec does.

Alec will never see fighting as a mere tool, be he respects that Magnus does.

[visit-new-york]

The Williamsburg Bridge stands as both a historical treasure and a vital component of New York City's modern infrastructure. Its rich history, architectural significance, and ongoing role in transportation continue to make it a cherished and enduring symbol of the city.

Tributes and Memorials: Like many iconic structures, the Williamsburg Bridge has been the site of various tributes and memorials. Over the years, it has been used as a backdrop for events honoring individuals or commemorating significant historical events.

Public Transportation Hub: The Williamsburg Bridge has also played a role in public transportation beyond automobiles and bicycles. It has been used by buses, and subway lines run beneath it. The J, M, and Z subway lines pass through the bridge's underground tracks, offering additional transit options for commuters.

Public Space: The bridge's pedestrian and bicycle pathways provide unique public spaces for residents and visitors. These paths offer stunning views of the city and are often used for leisurely walks, jogging, and recreational cycling.

Maintenance Challenges: The maintenance and preservation of a historic bridge like Williamsburg present significant challenges. Engineering teams continually work to address structural issues, corrosion, and wear and tear while preserving the bridge's architectural and historical integrity.

Historical Documentation: The Williamsburg Bridge has been the subject of historical documentation and research. Engineers, architects, and historians have studied its construction, design, and evolution as part of their efforts to understand its significance within the broader context of urban infrastructure.

Community Identity: For residents of Williamsburg in Brooklyn, the bridge serves as a symbol of their neighborhood and community identity. It connects them to job opportunities and cultural attractions in Manhattan while contributing to the unique character of Williamsburg.

Environmental Considerations: In recent years, there has been a growing focus on the environmental impact of transportation infrastructure. Efforts have been made to make the bridge more sustainable, such as by exploring energy-efficient lighting options and ways to reduce its carbon footprint.

Architectural Details: The bridge's towers and support structures feature intricate architectural details, including decorative elements and motifs that reflect the design sensibilities of the era in which it was built. These details contribute to its status as an architectural landmark.

Public Safety: Safety measures, including surveillance cameras and regular inspections, are in place to ensure the safety of those using the bridge. Additionally, traffic management strategies help mitigate congestion and ensure the smooth flow of vehicles.

Cultural Diversity: The areas connected by the Williamsburg Bridge, namely Manhattan's Lower East Side and Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood, have long been known for their cultural diversity. The bridge has played a role in facilitating the movement of people from different backgrounds, contributing to the rich tapestry of New York City.

Economic Impact on Williamsburg: The bridge has had a profound impact on the economic development of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. As it made transportation to Manhattan more accessible, it attracted businesses and residents to the area, spurring economic growth and transformation.

Post-9/11 Security Measures: After the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, security measures were heightened on many critical infrastructure elements, including bridges. The Williamsburg Bridge received increased security attention to protect against potential threats.

Art Installations: The bridge has been the site of various temporary art installations and performances. These artistic endeavors often celebrate the bridge's history and its role as a cultural and architectural landmark.

Historical Preservation Organizations: Organizations such as the Historic Districts Council and the Municipal Art Society of New York have been actively involved in advocating for the preservation of the Williamsburg Bridge and other historic landmarks throughout the city.

Future Enhancements: Urban planners and city officials continue to explore ways to enhance the Williamsburg Bridge and improve its accessibility, safety, and sustainability. This includes potential upgrades to its pedestrian and cyclist facilities and consideration of modern transportation trends.

Emergency Services Access: The bridge plays a critical role in providing emergency services access to both Manhattan and Brooklyn. First responders rely on it to reach areas quickly during emergencies or natural disasters.

Educational Significance: The Williamsburg Bridge is often used as an educational resource, allowing students and researchers to learn about bridge engineering, urban history, and the evolution of transportation infrastructure.

Community Engagement: Local communities on both sides of the bridge have been actively engaged in discussions about its future and any potential changes. Public input and community involvement are essential aspects of maintaining and preserving this iconic structure.

The Williamsburg Bridge continues to be a symbol of New York City's enduring spirit, resilience, and innovation. Its historical, cultural, and economic significance makes it a beloved part of the city's landscape, and it remains a vital link between two bustling boroughs.

<Previous page  - Williamsburg Bridge -  Next page>

[doberbutts]

I just wanted to say thank you for the post about the safety precautions video. I take a lot of similar precautions (I have the same portable door lock) because of my PTSD and OCD and the fact my abuser knows where I live. I even have an emergency escape plan out a window and onto the roof! I live in a really poor area with a lot of violence, there's been three murders on this street in the last couple years and our cars been vandalised recently. I know what people are *trying* to make a point about in that post, but it does make me feel bad seeing such overt mocking. So I really appreciate you pointing out so much of this can also come from genuine trauma not just "watching too much true crime"! I hope you have a good day 💖

Yeah it's always obvious to me that the folks who think some of this stuff is silly or overkill have never really lived through a situation where that could have been a life or death thing. Which, honestly, that's great for them! I wish everyone could live somewhere that they did not have to fear break-ins and active threats on their lives! But that's also unfortunately not where everyone lives and that does include white people (although the point about it being weaponized unfairly against people of color, poor people, and disabled people, the populations that are the most at risk of this type of violence, is also extremely valid)

It's similar to my discussion about weapons, arming yourself, and self-defense. It is all good to say that most people in this country will never actually need to defend themselves from this type of harm. It's also untrue to say that it never happens, because it has happened to me, it has happened to my friends, and it has happened to people I know even only tangentially.

I have a doberman in part because I want a dog that has a fairly decent chance of biting the fuck out of someone who breaks in to hurt me. I carry a weapon everywhere and I took a fairly serious self-defense class. Why? Because when I was in college, a drunk man repeatedly tried to break in while I was sleeping and I have no idea if he would have hurt me if that door had actually opened. My parents' house was broken into while we were home when I was still a child, and my sister was sitting only a few feet from the door when it swung open. Between her scream and our dog coming barreling down the stairs at him, he chose to flee, but what if he hadn't? What if she'd been in bed like the rest of us were, away from the door? What if we hadn't had the dog, or if she hadn't heard my sister and come charging in ready to defend her family?

Someone broke into my mom's dorm when she was in college and stood next to her bed touching himself. He did not ever touch her, and she reported it the next morning, after laying awake frozen in fear all night about what could have happened. Multiple someones broke into my aunt's dorm at a completely different college and did touch her, for hours, and she was found the next morning as a beaten and bloody whimpering mess. My aunt has severe PTSD and was diagnosed with schizophrenia shortly after. She never had symptoms before, but now she sees those men everywhere she goes. My other sister was beaten to a bloody pulp by her former partner and spent many years looking over her shoulder expecting to see him reappear. My dad was shot in the arm just walking down the street from his mom's house to his school due to gang violence and watched a man die on the same block as his mama's doorstep, and now has a ritual every night of checking each and every door and window despite living more than two hours away from that neighborhood 40 years later.

I am glad that so many people have never had to consider protecting themselves from this kind of violence. I am glad that the crime statistics say that this type of violence is becoming more and more uncommon. I am still going to lock my house up and install security measures and keep a weapon on me and know how to defend myself with it and teach my dog to bite the fuck out of anyone who walks through that door. Mostly because I remember being a terrified teenager holding the hammer out of my toolbox to my chest and staring at my fire escape door until the banging stopped at 3 AM.

[silversnakes-yan]

^^ and on that note. What are the boys more... Yandere-ish traits, what would they do for their darling? What are their limits?

-🌺

✲𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼✲

Rory

Possessive, overprotective and manipulative.

You’re the most precious thing that has happened to him in a long while and he wants you all to himself. Because of this he has a deep desire to keep you safe and he’s willing to go to extreme measures to do that.

That may be by isolating you. Whether that be your own family, friends, and even his own brothers. He’ll convince you that the neighborhood you live in isn’t safe and will have you move in to his apartment. He’s also not above physically restraining you or making you dependent on him financially.

Rory has no problem getting his hands dirty, especially when it comes to someone threatening you. He’ll glare at anyone who looks at you a second time long. Though Rory can be violent to others he will never hit you. He doesn’t want his hands to taint someone so pure and full of life.

Isaiah

Overprotective , self aware, two-faced.

Isaiah is willing to protect you at all costs. But he won’t ever let you see the more violent side of him. To you he’s a kind, sweet and caring man who makes the best chocolate chip cookies. But to others he’s a cold, calculated and silent fighter.

He knows that his violent tendencies towards others when it comes to you isn’t morally right. Yet he can’t find it in himself to stop wanting to crush those who he deems a threat to your safety. He’s already lost to many people in his life and he’ll be damned if he loses you too.

Not only does he protect you from others but also yourself. He won’t allow you to do anything too physically demanding. Leave the chores to him. You need your shelf fixed? He’s got it. Isaiah wouldn’t want you getting hurt by a tool. You’re trying to cook dinner? Don’t worry he’s already grabbing the spatula from your hand. Wouldn’t want you to burn yourself, silly. He’s helpful to the point where it feels suffocating.

Jason

Sadistic, manipulative, and violent.

Jason isn’t even a red flag. He’s a whole damn siren. He gets off on the fact that he can toy with you and make you squirm. Not much can keep his attention for long. That’s why he likes to take it slow. Dragging on the cat and mouse game only makes the chase more exciting.

At times Jason likes to give you a false sense of security. Letting you believe that you can rid yourself of him and escape, only for him to destroy your hope by reeling you back to him again and again. Jason also isn’t above physical harm towards you. Nothing too serious by his standards. That small ‘J’ he carved into your skin is only to remind you that he’s in charge.

Though Jason likes to play you like a toy, his goal isn’t to break you. Toys are not much fun to play with once broken. He just wants to test your limits and watch you squirm under his control.

Noah

Clingy, delusional, selfless.

He always wants to be around you and will spiral if you’re gone for too long. He usually smokes a lot when you’re not around so that he can get by. If Noah hasn’t seen you in more than a few days, he’ll have a mental break down and cry.

He will not harm you and also doesn’t harm others. Noah doesn’t like violence so he asks Jason to handle people that bother you. Though he won’t harm you he’ll do anything for you even if it hurts him. At least you’ll be happy.

Thinks that any kind of attention means that you love him and want to be with him. Even if you were just being friendly, he’s falling in love with you at first sight. He is the type to mistaken a kind gesture as a declaration of love.

Arlo

Impulsive, clingy, obsessive.

Acts like he doesn’t like you because he’s not used to being so close to his crush. Will say mean things on impulse. He doesn’t mean it he, just doesn’t know what else to do when you look so pretty staring at him like that.

He constantly wants to be around you despite his heart feeling like it will fail when you’re close. Arlo doesn’t know what to do with these emotions. He doesn’t understand why you’re constantly running rapid in his mind to the point he can’t think straight. Arlo becomes irritable when he hasn’t been around you in a while. He’ll take his anger out on anyone that was unfortunate enough to be around him.

He tends to lash out and yell but won’t ever put his hands on you. His mother raised him well enough to know never to put hands on your partner. However, those who cross you are definitely fair game.