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lilac-5ky · 9 months

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Roommates from Hell, pt.6 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 6: A Tale of Two Sisters

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: This chapter required my blood, sweat, and tears to finish.

There was a passage in one of your old school books—the ones sprinkled with little pink hearts that contained the initials of your history teacher even in books outside his field of teaching, and simultaneously, the ones Toji finished skimming over a week ago—that talks about the loudest sounds recorded in the world.

To this day, the record is held by the volcanic eruption on the Indonesian Island of Krakatoa, clocking in at an estimated 310 decibels, followed by the sperm whale’s call, which registers at 230 decibels, and then the Tsar Bomb, ranking third with an incredible 224 decibels.

None of these facts left him particularly impressed, and they were sure to vanish from his memory in the days ahead, but in the moment of his rude awakening, that junk tidbit of knowledge was all that kept the small 150-decibel sound wave confined in his handgun’s barrel. Because the so-called scientist who jotted down that crappy passage hadn’t borne witness to the catastrophic knocking that threatened to demolish the apartment’s four walls with its tenants inside at 9:32 in the morning.

The honor was all his, and maybe yours too, although your head remained comfortably tucked in the crevice of his elbow, oblivious to the torture he endured alone.

Whoever was banging away at the door was going to pay.

Pressing down on your forehead with a flat palm, Toji attempted to detach you from his body—

—except it ended with your arms adhering to his torso and your face sweetly rubbing into his neck, hogging him as if he were some sort of gigantic teddy bear that would cruelly be taken away from you. His name was at the tip of your tongue—liquid honey in his ears. He’d take it over any other sound in the world, amplify and draw it out in all tones and pitches until he forgot his name was ever spoken by another.

He made up his mind. Whoever was banging away at the door was going to die.

Gently pulling your body into his, he switched your places on the sofa and angled your head against the armrest. You almost got your clutches on him a second time, but he shook your bandaged paws off his pants before you had the chance to drag him down.

This would be quick. One bullet to the head, one body bag over the corpse, and one visit to the car’s trunk. If anyone asked, he was loading clothes to drop off at Goodwill later—no one would ask. Everyone was terrified of approaching him within a five-meter radius.

Tripping over his slippers, he kicked at them until his toes fell in place and rushed to the door with a glare capable of disintegrating metal. He didn’t mean business with the whole impromptu assassination plot, but he was dead serious about returning to you as quickly as possible. And if you were awake, then—

“We don’t give a shit about your shitty movement, got no cash for your stupid ass cult, and ya can take whatever piece of crap you’re sellin’ and shove it up your—oh.”

As soon as the door flung open, the words stagnated in his mouth, leaving Toji in the awkward position of welcoming your guest with the most unwelcoming scowl plastered on his face. Not to mention that he was still naked from the waist up and carried the scraps of morning wood in his sweatpants—courtesy of yours truly.

“It’s you,” he grumbled, cocking his head against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.

“Long time no see,” the woman—perhaps the only woman in the whole wide world to wear a crochet dress over denim jeans—greeted him with a warm smile that stretched to her ears over the final syllables of the words “little brother.”

Toji remembered the first time he met that woman as if it were yesterday that the three of you—four, if the little human swimming in her belly counts—sat down on the top floor of a private dining sushi place in Akasaka. Folded screens, tatami mats, and legless chairs, with a view of pruned cedar trees. The real deal.

He’d granted his own invitation the day before when he snatched the small rectangular paper you were fumbling with all morning, weary eyelids hanging low and chin propped atop the mop stick’s handle, minding neither the commotion of hungry customers nor the 77th consecutive stroke over the exact same three spotless tiles.

You were an excellent cook but a lousy waitress. Forgetful, clumsy and hopelessly unaware of your surroundings.

In a flash, the business card changed hands, and he was reading its contents aloud.

“Ueno Hinata, Associate Fashion Designer at Shodi Apparel—what’s that?”

“Hey!” You snapped awake from your daydreaming, yet not in time to prevent the mop from dropping . “It’s none of your business!”

“Hmm?” Toji trapped the mop under his heel. “Ya taking 30 minutes to serve my damn fries is very much my business. Theirs, too.” He gestured toward the rest of the tables. “Quit mopin’ around.”

He booted the mop back into your grasp and returned to his seat, watching you gather the cleaning tools and bolt to the kitchen.

Your candid apologies did nothing to placate the crowd. Not a single “thank you” or “you can keep the change” for your effort to appease each of their outrageous requests. They treated you worse than they’d treat a roach scurrying between their tubby feet—stomp and shoo it away.

You didn’t deserve this.

Tearing his eyes away from the spectacle, he remained slapping the card in his palm. You were right. This was none of his business.

Eventually, you showed up at his table with the usual tray in one hand, and your balled up apron on the other. Your shift was over—or it would be in ten minutes after the other part-timer showed up.

You decorated the booth with the apron, and he scooted over for you to plop down beside him, noticing the dark skin patches below your eyes.

“Can I have it back now?”

Even with your pouty lips and scrunchy nose, Toji wasn’t compelled to give up on his loot. He slipped the card in the middle, only to retract his hand the second yours moved forward. You snarled at him and grabbed onto his tray, but again, he was faster.

“And what would it be?” He rephrased his previous question, witnessing you gradually shrivel into yourself like an overcooked shrimp.

“It’s… my sister.” You bit your lip into a sigh. “I have a sister.”

This wasn’t what he anticipated.

“Didn’t your folks kick the bucket?”

One beat you were nodding your head and shaking it the next, your fingers massaging the pulled roots of your ponytail. “I don’t even know, okay? I don’t know how this woman found me, how she knows my name and dad’s—I don’t know shit about any of this. She popped by my house last night, introduced herself, and said that I should give her a call if I wanna learn more about our family.”

His teeth clenched around his fry, breaking it into two uneven pieces that his tongue forced down his throat. Something about others knowing where you lived and imaginary sisters sprouting out of nowhere to pay house calls left him deeply uncomfortable. He knew that bunch. He’d gone around a lot more than you to acquaint himself with all kinds of shifty con artists that posed as distant relatives and inserted themselves into people’s lives just to rob them of their few meager possessions.

Hell, someone could say the same thing about him and he wouldn’t refute it, but it was better the devil you knew than the devil you didn’t.

Toji was about to tear the card into shreds when suddenly, he halted. Since when did he start mingling with others’ lives? Since when did he start caring whether the naive little girl he spent the last two years fooling around with was found conned or gutted, for that matter?

Unwilling to answer either, he pulled back. “So what are you gonna do? Want me to track her down?”

“I think I’ll give her a call.” You traced the name on the card, first with your eyes and then with your forefinger. “She didn’t seem like a bad person.”

You wouldn’t recognize a bad person if the word “bad” was tattooed on their forehead.

“Then what?”

“Then—I should meet her, right? That’s what she wanted.”

His mental groan was so loud that he hoped you sensed his frustration without him putting it into words. You didn’t. Your clueless ass skipped straight to the landline behind the counter, leaving him with little choice but to take matters into his own hands.

And that was pretty much how he ended up ordering himself the priciest sashimi platters off the menu, filling the table to the brim with bluefin tuna cuts whose notability he’d already forgotten. Marbled, fatty, tendon-full—it didn’t matter, as long as they cost your host a fortune.

Fashion designers were loaded. If the woman with the wacky glasses at the other side of the table was who she claimed to be, then she’d better prove it.

At least the sushi had nothing to prove. The ass cheek, or back cheek, whatever it was called, melted on his tongue like candy, and for the first time in his life, he moaned from something that wasn’t wrapped around his dick.

“I’m so sorry for his behavior, Miss Ueno.” You willed your head in a small bow, nudging Toji in the ribs to do the same.

He wrote you off, pinching about four pieces between his chopsticks, all the while entertaining the idea of seducing the pregnant woman in front of him. He was wasting his time with you. This was his chance at a good life.

“Don’t worry about it! I invited you to this place ‘cause the food’s crazy good, and little guy,” a swollen hand rubbed her equally swollen belly bump, “craved yellowtail for lunch. Eat as muuuuch as you want!”

“When are you due?” Toji asked through a full mouth.

Hinata counted the weeks on her fingers. “Today marks the—uh, 37th week, so he should be here soon. I’m registered for the 28th this month.”

With the way her belly bulged under her teal wrap dress, it’d be a wonder if she didn’t go into contractions right on top of the halibut, pleading with the chef to sever the umbilical cord with his kitchen knife while the kitchen staff played nurse.

“Have you decided on a name?”

His question overlapped with yours. “What about your man?”

“We are thinking ‘Kenzo’, after Takada Kenzo. My husband’s also in the industry, but he’s a numbers guy.” She picked up the teapot and gave your cups a refill, much to your insistence to serve instead. “Who knows, maybe next time I can get him to leave his books and tag along. I’m sure he’d love to meet you!”

“How much do ya make?”

“Toji!” You protested.

However, she didn’t seem to mind. “Enough to treat the both of you to dessert later.” She winked at you. “So eat up!”

You lowered your head and drove a blood-red slice into your mouth, swallowing too hard for the bite’s size. Before you could pick another, Toji dumped an assortment of his favorite cuts on your plate, urging you to try those next. Your eyes crinkled in appreciation that trickled down your lips, pink and tender and delicious as they tempted him to rekindle their taste.

“Not to be rude, but…” Hinata snipped his smile while at the primitive stage of being sewn. “I don’t remember inviting Pretty Boy over here.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Who are you?”

Toji would be the easy answer. The mindless answer. A cursed name that clung to his opponents’ final vitriolic-laced breaths and a blessed name for the heathens who chanted it as if it were gospel—he doubted that response would cut it. Not when her goal was to determine what he was to you specifically.

A hitchhiking pest embedded in your back; one who sowed your work benefits—unshakable in its nature. A watchdog that nudged you back to your feet whenever you found solace in the dirt. A potential downfall in how he could barely contain himself around you anymore, scheming dozens, if not thousands, of meaningless plans to get you in his bed—plans he always chickened out of.

He refused to recognize that, over the years, he’d become a shoulder for you to lean on. That he was any good as an influence, a friend, or that other laughable something. And so he spat out the one term that was tried-and-tested and could only be perfected through continuous failure.

“Family.” Toji grinned once he noticed you had no intention of correcting him. “So better get talking.” He cleansed his palate with a handful of pickled ginger. “Whatever ya tell ‘er will wind up in my ears, anyway.”

“Oh?” Hinata quirked a brow. “Is this what I think it is? In that case, don’t hesitate to call me sister, too.”

“Not happening.”

“Shame.” She frowned. “I’ve always dreamt of having a kid brother to spoil rotten, but if you insist, then I guess that means more for—”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, sis.” Toji flashed an earnest smile.

“You don’t have to do this.” You glared at him and glanced at her. Meekly. “Paying for our meal is already too kind.”

The woman took a sip from her Konacha and folded her hands on the table—her otherwise cheerful demeanor turning solemn in a heartbeat. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Whether it’s buying you and your boyfriend lunch, or giving you a little extra something to get by, I want to act like a big sister for once. I don’t expect you to start calling me sis from Day 1, but can’t you at least let me do that?”

“I—” You chewed on your lower lip, searching for answers between her intertwined fingers. “But he’s not my boyfriend…” you trailed off, a tinge of pink encompassing your voice.

She laughed through her nose. “Lover, then?”

The undigested fish in your stomach swam up your throat, ripping out a violent cough that Toji was quick to soothe with a heavy palm on your back. You flinched away, mustering a broken, uncertain “I’m fine”.

He rolled his eyes. “Workin’ on it.”

“Best of luck!” Hinata cupped her mouth so that only he could hear her whispering, “But not too much luck, don't make me into an aunt this early."

He’d previously failed to spot any similarities between you, but something about your alleged sister’s smile reminded him of yours. Not the phony front you put up at the diner, but the spontaneous grimace you broke into whenever you watched him lose at the simplest game of odds at the pachinko. Hers felt like hubris in comparison, and he almost pounced at her, ready to rip it out.

You’d worked damn hard for that smile.

Her glee waned as she dug through her oversized handbag and pulled out a binder so hefty that the table whimpered in anguish. “I think it’s time I explained why I called you here. Don’t want a certain someone losing his head!”

There was a moment of stillness while she sorted out her papers, during which his eyes were free to wander in your direction, catching you dissecting your flounder into hair-thin slices. If it were just you and him and the roles were reversed, you’d tell him off for playing with his food, but it wasn’t. They weren’t. He wasn’t. He’d pulled the trigger and had no idea how to mitigate the impact; he was merely capable of muffling the noise.

Toji wasn’t good with any of that emotional shit. The only memory in his thick skull of exercising comfort existed from his picking up a dying sparrow off the streets to cradle until its tiny head froze over his thumb. Never before had death felt heavier than the accumulation of speckled feathers weighing down his palm.

He contemplated doing the same for you—whisking your hand into his and holding it until the end of things—but contented himself with a scowl. This wasn’t kindness. It was pity. You’d rather be put out of your misery, and maybe that’s what the bird wanted too.

“Let’s get it over with.” His cheek sank into his fist.

For the next hour, Hinata droned on about the extramarital relationship between her mother and your father, backing up her claims with various pictures, letters, and all sorts of unfeigned documents.

The story itself was simple. A typical boy-meets-girl, featuring a chummy, albeit penniless, lad with big dreams and a proper girl from a proper home with a proper housekeeper and proper old money parents.

They fell in love over the summer he worked menial work at their estate and got into some unprotected handy panky below the sheets. The girl’s folks found out and threw him out, but it was too late. The bun was already in the oven, and the boy was off to meet his next dame.

He was virile enough to father another only three years after the first, and when business started booming, he found himself on top of the world. But he was just too darn hapless. His ill fortune caught up with him and everything he’d built came crashing down. He jumped from the wreckage to the next ship in line, unaware it’d be his last cruise.

An unpleasant story through and through, with loopholes and points that were smeared by whiteout. She said a nice woman dropped his belongings at her door—Toji bet his money she was from Welfare. She said she tracked you down through the many pictures he kept of you and your mother—he guessed it was a PI’s work and that there were none, or else the box would be delivered to your doorstep first.

She said your father passed away peacefully in a hospital bed—he supposed that was code for found behind the dumpsters of a local bar’s trashed alleyway.

Even without him voicing his suspicions, it was a lot to take in, and he was surprised you’d steeled yourself to sit through it all in absolute calm, not a single tear shed or sob heard. You were fully sober, and somehow that worried him more than a breakdown would.

By the time you made it out of the Minka-style building, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Dark clouds gathered silently over the sky, white lapses growing plentiful among them. The flashes were distant enough not to alert him, for as long as he observed the exchange between you and your sister, who’d asked for a rain check for that dessert. Pregnant women tire themselves out too quickly.

Your courteous full-body bows were reduced to minor head tilts and small smiles that were easily returned. Of course they were. You were so lovable that anyone with a good set of eyes, let alone two of them, would embrace your credulous nature and simplistic, nearly child-like mindset with open arms. Your sister wasn’t immune to that either. In no time, she’d start calling you the apple of her eye, and the sentiment in her heart would soon match that of her words.

You would be loved.

“Are you sure you don’t want me driving you home?” Hinata asked once he’d turned his back on the saccharine sight. “It’s not a bother, really.”

It is a bother, Toji mused, stuffing his hands deep in the pockets of his windcheater. It was truly bothersome how she’d paid for the entire lunch with her card and how the bulky Range Rover responded to the key beeper in her hand; how she turned out to be a genuinely decent person who could offer you the stability you’ve always wanted—the stability he lacked.

But most of all, it was a goddamn pain in the neck that he couldn’t get over himself for one minute to congratulate you like a normal person would on your newly found family.

He could only focus on the fading image of you being driven away from the restaurant’s parking lot and away from his life, and he could only feel himself getting smaller and smaller until he was but a shit stain in your memory, one that the incoming downpour would wipe clean.

The engine’s purr turned distant as the car sped off in the opposite direction from where he was headed. His destination wasn’t clear. He’d once followed you because you had somewhere to go when he had no place to be, but as he dragged his feet to retrace every single path you’d crossed together, he hoped that the next U-turn would come with a new distraction. One that’d spin him round and round in a game of merry-go-round until either vertigo numbed his senses or your name spilled out of his guts.

A beam of light split the skies in half, cracking the silence of the gods with a spectacular roar. He pulled his hood over his head. If he broke into a jog now, he could make it out. But when his eyes lowered to the ground, a second pair of shoes flapped their way across the ripening puddles and into his field of view. No way.

“Are you competing for a medal or something?” An exasperated voice reached his covered ears. “Wait up!”

Undeterred, Toji accelerated his strides, slowing down only when his pursuer’s hands linked around his bicep. “Not my fault your midget feet can’t keep up.”

Instead of coming up with a witty remark that would spark a heated debate amidst the deluge, your lips parted into heartfelt laughter that shook him whole. Even your ears were smiling, and for a moment, he was left staring at you in utter awe. He knew for sure his joke wasn’t that funny, but that was about the first and last thing he was certain of.

“Are you that happy?” He asked the obvious.

“Of course I’m happy! I have a sister now, Toji. An older sister. My older sister.” You tested the different combinations.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He murmured. “No reason to be unhappy when ya finally got yourself a real family. Loaded ass bitch.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked and he shook his head into a bitter “Nothing.”

Without warning, your head drooped over his shoulder, your eyelashes threaded with the same droplets of dew that gingerly laced your hair. A minute later, you’d come to resemble a wet dog, but that gave him an entire minute to process how cute you looked right now.

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” You hummed.

He shrugged, failing to meet your expectations without much effort. “Got a nice rack on her.”

“She’s my sister, you pig!”

You unlatched from Toji in disgust, only for him to sling his arm over your shoulders and unceremoniously shove your head into his chest. Your bottom lip stuck out, glossy from the rain. Just like a drenched pup, he smirked, bringing his fingers to part the dampened hair from your eyes.

“So what kept ya from goin’ home with that precious sister of yours?” Toji flicked your forehead gently. “Didn’t want me losing my way, or something?”

“Not everything is about you.” You said in a stubborn tone. “I just happen to enjoy a good rainfall.”

“A good rainfall.” He sneered. “Sure.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He wished that the water would wash the red tint on his cheeks away. “Said I like the rain too, stupid.”

The world came to a standstill, or rather his brain did, because he’d stopped thinking rationally. All the data he perceived—such as the sneeze you suppressed by pulling your upper lip over your teeth, the way you sneakily lowered the zipper of his jacket to stick your hands in, or even the mere fact of your presence and existence, both blessings on their own—fed straight into his chest, coaxing the appropriate response.

His destination was long reached.

“Let’s date. You and me.”

“Don’t you think we should call someone? It’s been hours.”

“Like who? The Grim Reaper?”

“Is Auntie dead?”

The urgency in your adorable nephew’s voice overpowered that of Hinata’s mild concern and Toji’s indifference, both further away from where you lay lifeless on the sofa. Well, not as lifeless as Toji wanted you to be, but convincing enough for them to be having this conversation and for a pair of hands to go digging for sand in the corners of your shut eyelids.

You had no idea why the two of them were there or how much time had passed since you nodded off in Toji’s arms. Everything was a blur, and if it weren’t for their voices, you wouldn’t be inclined to wake up until the next century.

Maybe playing dead for a while won’t hurt.

“Hmm?” Toji already sounded significantly closer. The light thuds from his slippers halted once he was standing before you. “Let’s find out. Gimme that.”

You felt a shift of weight on the sofa and realized that must’ve been Kenzo. Then a soft pop fired near your ear, and you were tempted to peer your eyes open, but you didn’t. You decided to save your questions for later and concentrated on your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale—was that rubbing alcohol?

The scent grew stronger as the unmistakable tip of a brush tickled your skin in two symmetrical strokes that curled near your cheeks and finished at the ridges below your nose.

That’s it. You were going to murder him.

Denying Toji the opportunity to give you a matching goatee and sideburns, you raised your hands over your face. The marker blotched a dot of black ink where it pressed against your bandaged palm and he was forced to put it away.

“See?” Toji inched closer with a shit eating grin on his lips. “Fine and dandy.”

“Auntie!” Kenzo slipped between you and threw his arms over your neck. “You look like Gold Roger!”

You patted the child’s back, your eyes trailing behind Toji as he bent over the coffee table to drop the sharpie, the entire table an atelier for Kenzo’s art supplies. Colored papers were splayed beneath the mayhem: drawings of animals, triangular mountains, his oversimplified condo, and people whose faces you barely told apart, assuming the frizzy-haired woman was Hinata, the beanpole in the rectangular suit his father, and that the two severed heads with incomplete bodies belonged to you and Toji.

How grotesque.

“How are you, sweetie?” You planted a kiss on Kenzo’s cheek that he wiped with the back of his hand, claiming he was too old to be treated like a baby.

“Are you, now?” You ruffled his hair and attacked his neck with more sloppy kisses that he failed to protect himself against. “Got a long way ahead till you can call yourself big, little man.”

You wouldn’t call yourself a fan of children, but Kenzo was an exception. He was nothing like the kids at the diner. He didn’t eat with his nose or sleeves. He was bright, diligent, and focused. He’d gotten the first prize at his school’s science fair at the age of seven and declared his interest in becoming an astronomer at five.

He still jumped around when excited, sang along to the lyrics of his beloved anime openings, and had an incurable sweet tooth like the rest of his peers, but he was manageable. He was a good kid—

“But I want to be big, like Uncle Toji!”

—that had taken an extreme liking to Toji.

“Honey, you’ll even outgrow Uncle Toji at this rate.” Hinata interrupted, crossing over to your side.

She pulled her son off you and twirled him in the air before setting him on the floor. He made a beeline for Toji, who was dusting the corner of the bookshelf with his forefinger, maintaining his bored stance even while he was being shown something “exceptionally cool” on Kenzo’s Game Boy.

The two looked nothing alike, which should’ve been obvious considering they weren’t blood-related, but watching them side by side, you entertained a curious idea. An idea much younger, far whinier, and twice as lovable as the current version of Toji, with maybe just a little bit of you poured within.

Hinata’s fingers dispelled that thought as they snapped in front of your eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked in a low voice, her hand soothingly rubbing your shoulder. “Toji told me what happened.”

You didn’t want to imagine how he could have possibly justified you being tied up like a rotisserie chicken and knocked out on the sofa long enough to witness the sunrise and miss the sundown.

“Can you help me get that shit off my face first?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” Hinata asked right as the cotton swab came poking at your cheek, soaked in that horrible fluid you’d only recently grown to distaste.

Ever since you were brought out of the hospital in a baby carrier, you never set foot in that place again. You hoped to keep it that way and to keep rubbing alcohol away from your nostrils for the rest of the decade.

“Mustache is making a comeback.” Your sister reasoned, but her quip was lost on you.

She pulled your skin taut and scrubbed so hard that you thought a piece of your cheek would come off. For someone who spent her weekdays drawing mannequins and her weekends doing “social drinking”, she was freakishly strong.

Torn between staring at either her face or hands, your attention fell to her fingers—spotless and polished with a finely touched French manicure that contrasted her mismatched appearance. Artists were weird. You knew she owned million-yen Chanel handbags, and yet she dressed like a hot mess outside of work.

Not as if you had the right to talk when you bought all your underwear in bulk.

“What are you smiling for? Something good happened?”

You really ought to exercise better control over your reactions.

“Just admiring your nails. They are pretty.”

“Mm, yeah?” She bit the bottle cap between her teeth while pouring some more rubbing alcohol on a fresh cotton swab, flicking the old one to the bin under the sink. “Could give you her number. She does wonders.”

You almost laughed in her face. “Last month I did laundry with dish soap ‘cause we didn’t save for detergent. You think I have the cash to burn on manis?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She rubbed again. “My little sister is a repressed eighty-year-old man.”

“That’d make you at least eighty-three, so I’m glad.” You deadpanned.

“What a bunch of geezers we’ve become.” She finished up by dabbing a wet towel over your lips. The excessive friction brought your face to a boiling point that no depilatory cream or wax tape could possibly achieve.

Just when you thought your torture was over and got up from the closed toilet lid where you were seated, your cheeks were forcefully seized and squeezed into resembling a pufferfish. “Not so fast, Missy! We aren’t leaving until you fess up.”

“Fess up what?” You managed through puckered lips.

“Don’t what me now.” Your face deflated as she took a step back, slyly blocking your only escape. Damn it. “How long has this been going on?”

Before the interrogation could progress, you turned on the faucet and let the water run to obscure your voices. You could go a day without showering

“About four months.” An immediate gasp. “He needed a place to stay, and I provided—that’s all there is to it.”

“Four months?” She covered her mouth for dramatic flair. “You didn’t think of telling me you two were living together for four months straight?”

“I—we both got busy, okay?”

Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively as her voice gained a sultry intonation. “Busy?”

“Not like that, you Perv!”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder why it was you that Toji went around with instead of her, before remembering she was already married with another man's child in her guts when the two met—not as if that’d been a reason to stop him in the past.

“So what you’re trying to say is that you’ve been sleeping in the same space for months, using the same bathroom, eating at the same table, and nothing’s happened?”

She scrutinized the souring look on your face through squinting eyes. You could lie to her like you lied to him—or you could actually tell her and receive some actual advice from someone whose dating experience didn’t come from three miserable college hookups and an overused vibrator.

She’d nearly lost all hope when your gaze lowered to the floor. “Something isn’t nothing, right?”

“You did it?!” Your sister yelled so loudly that you mildly considered shoving the sink’s plug in her mouth. You went for the more hygienic option instead.

“Keep it down!” She zeroed in on the hand prodding out of your ridiculously long sleeve, following it down to Toji’s shirt which seemed disproportionate on your body. A good fit for him, but a glorified mini dress for your shorter, muscle-free physique.

You filled her in on last night’s incident, skipping over the part where you got jumped by a cursed spirit (that’d apparently turned into a finger-eating car door in Toji’s explanation) and mincing your words when it came down to how you ended up sharing a sofa with him.

In return, she went over each and every vowel known to man, her reactions akin to those of an impressionable child being told tales of malevolent yokai.

“So…was there tongue involved?” Hinata grinned.

“How’s that important?”

“Stay married for 12 years, and you’ll see for yourself. Your heart will race even at afternoon dramas. Do you know when was the last time Takuma bought me flowers? Or took me on a date without the kids. Or—”

“I thought we were dealing with my problems.” You cut her spiel short.

“Right, right.” She took hold of both your hands and spoke in an authoritative tone that all but convinced you of her non-existent credibility. “Here’s what will happen. You’re gonna go out there and you’re going to kiss him again. Plain and simple.”

“Kenzo is also outside!”

“I’ll cover his eyes, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!”

Your sweaty palms were heating up in their encasement of flesh and bandage like taiyaki. This was a mistake. You were better off seeking advice from Toji himself than from your scatterbrained sister, who thought everything was doable and achievable so long as you put your mind to it.

She didn’t know half of it. She only knew the Toji that was effortlessly charming and made everyone laugh with his cynical admissions and crude punch lines. She didn’t know of the Toji that flipped through women as if they were pages of a magazine that he left dog-eared—never to be smooth again. Toji the hitman, who gambled his every penny away, and whose body count didn’t matter nearly as much as his clothes turning up with lip stick stains around the hem did—

How many times have you gone through the same rows of adjectives and accusations to excuse your own shortcomings?

“Y/N. Do you know what the meaning of life is?” You shook your head, distrusting what might come out of your mouth. “The meaning of life is… I don’t know either.”

“Kinda anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

Your sister smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I knew. I’d have a big statue sculpted in my honor, or a university named after me. Maybe a planet, too.”

“You sure think big…”

“I might not know that,” she continued, “but I do know what being alive means. It means living—it means indulging yourself in an overpriced manicure once in a while or buying a dress that you know you aren’t going to wear. It means making stupid decisions and hitting your head on the wall afterward. It means laughing at yourself when you should be crying, and it means loving—hard, with your entire being. If you insist on calculating the consequences of everything and deny yourself those simple freedoms, then that’s not living; that’s surviving. You understand what I’m trying to say?”

Live. You never considered that your mother’s final request would shackle you into doing the exact opposite, nor did you ever question your way of living. You always thought that as long as you stood still, you wouldn’t be lost; that as long as you floated, you’d never sink. But it was only then you realized stability meant decay.

Hinata let your hands drop and turned off the faucet, stepping away from the door. You were free to go, yet you were anchored in place.

“One last thing. For what it’s worth, the look in Toji’s eyes is the same as Takuma’s when we first met. Men come in different flavors, but they all look stupidly cute when they’re in love. Do what you must. Live a little!”

"That’d be 980 yen."

Right after walking out of the bathroom, you discovered you’d not only slept through the majority of the day’s meals but that the fridge had been emptied out. You would have been more frugal with your race earnings had you known you’d be receiving guests, but then again, you didn’t foresee being attacked by a curse, nor did you count on Toji whipping up pickled plum Ochazuke for everyone either.

Granted, he went heavy on the salt, but eating something he’d prepared with his own two hands made up for the briny dashi and the salty tears running down your cheeks.

The four of you split evenly into groups of two: you and Hinata in the kitchen, while Toji kept company with Kenzo on the couch. Your sister ran her mouth off about her hotshot clientele—sighing whenever a local celebrity whose name you didn’t know came up—and went on about their participation in whatever rising idol group or promotion material you weren’t interested in knowing.

"Ma’am…?"

At the time, you were immersed in the fighting game Kenzo and Toji were hunched over. Every few fatalities, the console would change hands, and a new round of explicit slurs would be fired by the man capable of single-handedly mowing down armies but unable to take down an eight-year-old in a war of button-flicking.

They were too absorbed to catch you staring their way, playing your personal game of spot-the-difference between Toji’s various expressions. He looked the same as he did any other day. A little disinterested, somewhat vexed, and a great deal of livid while his fingers battered the screen in the futile hope of finishing that "whore-rrible Mileena".

They were still duking it out when you popped outside under the guise of getting ice cream, and you were still discrediting Hinata’s notion by holding up the entire queue at check-out with your wool-gathering.

"Ma’am, if you’re not gonna pay, please step aside so the next customer can—" The employee paused as a hand snatched the wallet from your grasp and paid off the bill in your stead. "Are you with her?"

You blinked at the crossing of your eyes, struggling to comprehend how a 25-minute distance was closed in less than 3 minutes, until you decided it was possible. It’s Toji. And you blinked again when he picked up the bags and dragged you by the arm out of the store.

You murmured a silent thank you that fell quiet behind the sound of plastic wrap unfolding in his hands as an impatient Toji stuck the first cone he grabbed into his mouth. He bit the chocolate coating off as if he were a snapping turtle and chewed at the frozen cream without letting it thaw first.

"Kids are the fucking worst." He spat, malice running sweetly from the corners of his lips. A small smile crept up yours. He was a bigger kid than the one he accused. "Using fans to fight like some pussy," he trailed off. "How the fuck are pussy fans stronger than harpoons?"

"You’d rather he beat your ass with a sword?" His death stare threatened to make you regret your very birth. "Okay. Guess not."

On the way home, his complaining grew in volume but lowered in pitch—a mosquito-like buzz that constantly lamented over the gaming industry and the corruption of youth. The gist was that inaccuracy in game design led to false expectations, and one day the kids who grew up playing those games would bring a knife to a gun fight and end up with their brains blasted. Global collapse was also thrown into the mix, but at that point, his train of thought had derailed too far to follow.

Toji was a sore loser and a sorer winner—the type to rub his minor achievements in others’ faces and use them as an excuse for rewards. However, he hadn’t said a word about last night’s incident. He didn’t ask for anything in return, and he didn’t wake you up to handle your family either. Even now that he was holding your bag for you, he acted as if that was something to be expected from him.

Toji didn’t win too often, and you didn’t have much in terms of a prize, but you’d started contemplating a premature surrender because victory suited him—because you wanted him to win.

"How’re ya feelin’?" His frustration dissipated enough for him to ask. "Your hands—they hurt?"

You instinctively glanced down. Maybe if the bandages hadn't cut your blood flow, you could’ve had an answer.

"Saw you spilling that water earlier." Toji went on, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You chased his frown to his eyes. He was looking straight ahead, either at the stars or at the asphalt road—never at your face to see you faltering.

"Is that why you’re here? Because I spilled some water on the counter?" Your eyes glowed like discs of light, antagonizing the moon that waned above your heads.

"Well…yeah." He admitted, kicking at the pebbled ground right after. "Stop making things weird, weirdo."

The name was meant to be taken as an insult, but instead it moved you—both in the figurative and literal sense—as a rush of confidence pushed you in front of him. Thin eyebrows furrowed while he studied your stance, a slight curl forming near his scar when he realized you were still in his shirt, the hem tucked inside a pair of denim shorts.

You studied him back—the darkened eyes you couldn’t tear away from; the choppy strands that ran rampant down his ears, long overdue a cut; the chocolate smeared around his lips. You tried to see what Hinata saw, wondering whether the secret lay in the lenses of her glasses or in how her vision of him wasn’t laced with a decade’s worth of longing, until you saw it for yourself. A soft glow of tenderness that flickered like a candle in the dark, harmless on its own yet keen on escalating into wildfire.

"You care about me." The knot in your throat came undone. "You actually care about me."

Toji scoffed. "You say that as if it’s some grand discovery."

"And you liked it, didn’t you?" Your cheeks burned scarlet under the pale moonlight.

"The kiss. You… liked it."

He cocked his head to the left. "What kinda backward confession is this?"

"I want to talk about what happened last night."

A groan came out before he cruised by, his chin jotting out as he did. "Save it. If you’re gonna start moanin’ and naggin’ it was all a mistake, I don’t wanna hear shit."

"What if it wasn’t?"

He froze in his tracks, the plastic wrapping that was clenched in his fist slowly cascading to the street—as slowly as you turned around, resuming your previous positions a step ahead.

Cautious thoughts swarmed up in your brain, each tiny voice screaming for a chance to be heard only to be muffled by the three words you chanted like a mantra. Live a little. Again and again. Live a little, and then a little more. Live a little until all the littles gather and turn into a lots—until you are compensated for every a little you let slip away.

Live.

Your palms acted before your feet, framing his cheeks in position for you to place a chaste kiss on his lips, the suspicion of cream pulling you back in for another.

"We should do this more often." You suggested with a demure smile. The scene was almost comedic due to his stupefied expression being sandwiched between your bandaged palms. Stupidly cute, indeed.

His answer came in the form of his mouth colliding with yours, the lightweight sensation of the plastic bag with the remainder of ice cream countering that of the strength poured into his arms as they encircled your waist. The inconvenience of kissing while standing hit you. He had to lower his neck, and you had to crane yours, your heels lifting off the ground.

"Fucking finally." Toji panted out, grinning at how the chocolate on his chin had rubbed off on your skin. "Y’know, the offer from that day still stands," he mumbled with his thumb fluttering above your lips. "But it’ll mess ya up even more."

"So now you care about those things?" You chuckled lightly. "Go ahead. Mess me up all you want, prick."

"Careful what you wish for, dumbass."

Your hands slid behind his neck while you closed your eyes and waited patiently for his lips to find yours, his tongue darting around before prodding its way into your mouth, sweetness clinging to every languid swirl.

You weren’t sure if this was the kind of stupid decision that would have you banging your head against every wall available or the kind of blessing that came once in a lifetime. Regardless of all the possible consequences, kissing him was the only outcome you were certain of.

A small peck marked the moment’s ending as you remembered you were standing in the middle of the street, your public display of affection turning into a raunchy spectacle for the dim street lights and the concrete pavement bollards.

The two of you had just climbed down the final slope leading to the apartment block when Toji spun your arm around and forced you in a direction different than where you were headed, without any real explanation other than a cheeky "Can’t ya tell? Kidnapping you".

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matan4il · 6 months

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Daily update post:

Last night, two more Israelis, who had been kidnapped, were released by Hamas. These women's husbands are still being held in Gaza. There are 220 known hostages after the release of four women in total. Among them, a nine month old baby remains in captivity.

Anyone trying to portray Hamas as "humanitarian" for releasing 4 out of 224 people, after having kidnapped them in the first place, after having beaten these elderly women on the day of the kidnapping, after butchering their relatives, and while still holding hostage some of their loved ones, has no moral backbone and is gaslighting people.

Almost 100 rockets were fired into Israel yesterday. Since Oct 7 and until Oct 24 in the afternoon (Israel time), a total of 7,512 rockets have been launched from Gaza at Israel, over 10% of them malfunctioned and landed in Gaza. That's over 800 rockets that Hamas and the Palestinian Islamic Jihad ended up harming Palestinians with (data is from a counter-terrorism research center).

The UN secretary general has given a speech in which he basically justifies the Hamas massacre, by saying that it didn't happen in a vacuum. I'd just like to say that justifying any violence against civilians is unconscionable. Justifying racist violence against civilians because they're Jewish or Jew-adjacent is unconscionable. I'm unequivocally against racist attacks by some Israeli settlers against Arabs, but those didn't happen in a vacuum either. Arab attacks on Jews go back centuries (far more than the 75 years of the State of Israel existing), the discrimination and persecution, repeated expulsions and massacres of Jews under Arab rule happened in Israel and in other countries for 1,300 years. And yet, most Jews fully condemn such racist attacks, without justifying it by talking about "context." The second we start justifying any kind of racist violence, we justify it all. It's wrong. If we're not justifying it all, if we're only justifying anti-Jewish racist violence, it's antisemitic.

I hope you can understand why Israelis have little faith in the UN.

Finally, just a reminder that the communities living closest to the Gaza border were very well known to be left leaning. Many of these people were peace activists, some were actively engaged in efforts to make the lives of Gazans better. Here are some of their stories:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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indeliblescarspivotalmarks · 8 months

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THE 112 DAYS THEORY FOR RE-RECORDS

This is a theory that states Taylor is releasing her rerecords in a 112 day pattern. This is simply a theory, I have no knowledge from Taylor or her team, I’m just a delulu swiftie trying to figure things out and use Easter eggs to understand the mastermind behind it all🤍 This is a theory from TikTok user NikkiKing23, I’ve added some of my own embellishments in here too🤍

Number Significance

112 songs stolen by Big Machine Records (not including versions of the same song (Bad Blood ft Kendrick Lamar and Thug Story are both official songs that are counted as they were released)

112 days between start of The Eras Tour (3/17) and Speak Now TV release (7/7)

112 days between Speak Now TV release and 1989 TV release (10/27)

1+12= 13!

The Midnight’s vinyls made a clock. Clocks read 1-12! Taylor made a video saying “It’s a clock. It tells time.” Perhaps it is telling the times of the re-records dropping.

Taylor’s eyeshadow in each piece of the vinyl clock is a colour of the remaining stolen albums (in chronological order)

We know Taylor uses her makeup to foreshadow albums - for example the Bejewelled makeup look where she represents each of her albums in a coloured area of eyeshadow

The Eras Tour clock begins at 02:24 (122 x 2 = 224)

2 rerecords have been announced during this leg

There was 224 days between FearlessTV (April 9th 2021) and the ORIGINAL intended date of RedTV (November 19th 2021) - Taylor however moved RedTV forward by a week to Nov12th (my bday lol)

There was 336 days (112 x 3) between RedTV’s OG intended date Nov19th to Midnights release date October 21st 2022

Possible Hinduism reference to Karma (more info in this post!!)

Following the 112 days pattern

Reputation would drop February 16th

Taylor is in Melbourne on this date & it’s a Friday

There have been MULTIPLE strong indicators of reputation coming in February, including the coffee cup nail, the waving devils hand, the consistent use of 2 items in backgrounds of scenes (post coming soon!)

And Debut would drop June 7th

Taylor is in Edinburgh on this date & it’s a Friday

It is also Night One of her UK tour

This agrees with the Karma MV easter eggs as well as timing easter eggs (post coming soon too!)

If Taylor was to reclaim her albums in this way she would technically release one in each continental leg in her tour

Speak Now TV during North American

1989 TV during South American

Reputation during Australasian

Taylor Swift during European

“THE MAN WALL” & KARMA LINK

This theory agrees that the “The Man” wall is being used in an infinity sign. Taylor has worn quite a lot of infinity sign jewellery over the rerecords process. The Coney Island bridge theory also works here too.

This proposes Reputation is next and then Debut.

Karma is in the middle of this wall at the centre of the infinity sign. Karma is an infinite cycle of death and rebirth.

Taylor has used lots of imagery in this idea, with the snake eating itself in the LWYMMD lyric video and in the ME! music video, the snake bursts into butterflies (aka is reborn into butterflies, showing freedom).

In the rerecording process, Taylor has to kill off her old albums, denying them streaming potential, but gives rebirth to them under her own name.

Karma is essential to both Buddhist and Hindu teachings.

In Hinduism there are 112 ways to break out of the cycle of Karma and reach a state of eternal bliss & freedom (this is called Moksha).

Moksha is often represented by a bird breaking free of a cage.

Taylor has used the imagery of being stuck in a birdcage in LWYMMD.

Orange is the colour that means purity in Hinduism.

Taylor often depicts Karma as being orange (“The Man” wall, supposed “lost album colour”)

She wears an orange jumpsuit whilst stuck in the birdcage.

Once Taylor has released all of her albums, and broken free of the cycle of Karma, she’s free to do as she wishes to and there will be nothing holding her back after 5yrs of her masters being held. She’ll have reached the eternal bliss and freedom she wishes for.

OG theory trom Nikki King, added and embellished by myself!

TikTok link:

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gumjrop · 2 months

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The Weather

30 US states remain at High to Very High levels of SARS-CoV-2 detected in wastewater since February 9, 2024, with multiple states not reporting. Preventing the spread of COVID by taking precautions like masking and improving your indoor air quality can strongly reduce your chance of infection.

We would also like to note that the CDC, which usually updates their wastewater data on a weekly basis, has not updated their dashboard since Friday, February 9th. It is significant that this data delay arrives during the same week of the announcement that they are considering making cuts to the 5-day isolation guideline. We would like to urge the CDC to make their data release schedule public and to continue to provide wastewater information in a timely and consistent manner.

Despite regional declines in wastewater levels in the Midwest, Northeast, and West, the South is still trending extremely high, almost double the national average. This is especially concerning since 7 of the 10 states to refuse Medicaid expansion are located in the South, a region home to some of, “the largest Black populations in the US.” Our collective fight against the state’s abandonment of pandemic protections is a fight against racial injustice.

As a reminder, the last two weeks are provisional data, indicated by a gray shaded area on the graph, therefore these values may change as additional wastewater sites report data. We want to remind you that multiple layers of precautions can protect against a COVID infection.

Variants

JN.1 remains the dominant variant in the United States, and is projected to make up 96.4% of cases in the next two weeks. HV.1 is projected to drop even further 1%, and all other variants are estimated to make up less than 0.6% or less each.

Remember to check estimates for your specific HHS Region for more accurate projections of JN.1 prevalence in your own community.

Take Action

This week is a fast moving train when it comes to demanding equitable pandemic responses and protections from the CDC and public policy. Follow the campaigns below for ways to tap in, sign on, and get involved! And don’t forget to share these with your loved ones as well.

This week the CDC announced they’re considering a change in isolation guidelines for people with COVID, removing the 5 day isolation in order to take the pressure off of American citizens who can’t afford to stay home due pressures from work, lack of paid time off and childcare expenses.

Dr. Lara Jiramanus of The People’s CDC who was interviewed expressed that “frankly, there has been no change in the science. Most people continue to be shedding virus for about nine days, with a range of six to 11 days. Younger patients will tend to be infectious for maybe one day less than that. Older patients or people with severe disease can shed the virus for a longer time.” She further elaborates in conjunction with People’s CDC press release from February 14th that “public health policy should put people first, not billionaires. Rather than ending isolation, the US should ensure paid sick leave for all.”

The CDC’s isolation guidelines impact what reasonable accommodations we can ask for at work, at school, and in hospitals as well as our legal rights should we become held in interactions with police, in jails and in prisons. It is important for all of us on a human rights level that these guidelines reflect proper research and science.

Join us in echoing this call for mandated paid sick leave for all instead of an end to isolation guidelines to Biden and Congress. The CDC’s proposal to eliminate isolation is counter to medical science and the White House must not accept it. Call the White House Comment Line Tuesday – Thursday 11-3 ET at 202-456-1414 and the Congressional Switchboard at 202-224-3121. Making calls is especially important between now and the end of March. For more information and a proposed script, follow this link. Stay tuned to our substack and social media for announcements of more actions in the next two weeks.

Additionally, ACIP, the Advisory Committee on Immunization and Practices will hold their next meeting online on February 28th and 29th.

Scientific evidence indicates updated vaccines should ideally be allowed, available, and fully covered by public funds and/or insurance, for people of all ages at least every six months.

Current vaccine uptake is low due to barriers such as lack of education, the recent diversion of the vaccine program through insurance companies, and pharmacies’ uneven participation in the CDC’s Bridge Access Program, which is due to end December 31st, 2024. Even those who did receive the updated vaccine in the fall may not have adequate protection under the annual vaccine strategy, as vaccine efficacy wanes significantly four to six months following vaccination.

A more frequent vaccination approach and frequent updates to match current variants is needed to better protect all of us amid year-round COVID infections. Follow this link for guidance on submitting a written or oral public comment no later than this Thursday, February 22, 2024 at 11:59 ET to make demands for the above.

Last month the CDC kicked the horrible and unsafe new hospital infection control guidelines it was considering back to the advisory committee (HICPAC) that had proposed the draft guidelines.

Bad guidelines have been delayed, and the next fight over them will hopefully be on a more level field, and hopefully in a process that is at least in some ways more transparent.

Public health advocates have gained another round in this fight, and we’ll need your help! You can start by signing this new petition by National Nurses United that demands that HICPAC ensure the input of frontline healthcare workers, labor unions, patients and community members, and experts in occupational health, industrial hygiene, aerosol dynamics, respiratory protection and infection prevention is central in their next round of revisions.

Additionally, please use our action network letter and call-in toolkit to write to the president, your governor, and state and federal representatives to demand that they bring back masking in healthcare and utilize all measures of infection control that are currently available to us. Don’t forget to customize letters to your own experience! For more information on how COVID spreads in hospitals and the impact of nosocomial, or healthcare-associated, infections check out our article on substack.

MoveOn has started a petition to the Biden Administration, the Department of Health and Human Services and to Congress to bring back free PCR tests for all and to increase the number of free at-home rapid antigen tests. After the end of the Federal Health Emergency for COVID in May 2023, everyday people were stripped of the resources and support they needed to manage community care and health. Even with insurance, insurers are no longer required to cover the costs of testing, pushing the most reliable form of testing for early detection, Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR) tests, out of reach for many. Sign this petition to return fast, prevalent, and free testing tools to everyone equitably.

On a more regional note, those living in New York State are urged to customize this letter to tell their representatives and NYS Governor Hochul to continue to fund the COVID-19 Sick Leave program instead of disposing of it in the FY 2025 budget as is currently proposed. If the governor’s current budget proposal goes through, New York citizens would be forced to rely on state minimum sick leave policies of 5-7 days, meaning one COVID infection would easily meet or exceed sick leave allotments for the entire year. Additionally those who do not work in settings that meet the conditions of qualification to enforce the state’s sick leave policy would be left without any leave at all.

Finally, we must remember to keep calling our elected officials to demand a ceasefire in Gaza and to continue to wear and require high quality respirators (N95, KN95 or better) at protests and in organizing spaces. Masking in organizing spaces keeps our fight safer, more accessible and more sustainable. The occupation of Palestine is a healthcare issue. There can be no disability justice under settler colonialism.

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stephensmithuk · 4 months

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A Study in Scarlet Chapter 1

This novel was originally published in 1887 as part of Beeton's Christmas Annual.

Netley is a village near Southampton, home to a military hospital that was opened in 1863 and at 435m long, was the longest building in the world at the time. It saw use in both World Wars, but fell into disrepair after that - after a 1963 fire damaged much of the building, the place was demolished in 1966 and only the chapel remains. A military psychiatric facility remained on site until 1978,

The Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers is now part of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, whose 5th Battalion is today a Reserve regiment.

The 66th (Berkshire) Regiment of Foot disappeared in 1881 as part of army reforms, being one of the ancestors of the modern day The Rifles.

The Battle of Maiwand on 27 July 1880 was one of the key battles of the Second Anglo-Afghan War; to put it simply, it was a heavy British loss although the Afghans, led by Ayub Khan, themselves had a lot of casualties themselves. Two Victoria Crosses were awarded for the battle and the retreat afterwards. Khan's forces were decisively defeated a month later at the Battle of Kandahar, the British ultimately winning that war.

A jezail was a handcrafted long-barreled rifle; very accurate for their time, they were generally highly decorated as well. Some saw use against Soviet forces in that particular conflict in Afghanistan.

Enteric fever is another name for typhoid fever; even with modern treatment, the death rate can be 1-4%.

The Criterion Restuarant is located on 224 Piccadilly and a plaque commemorating Watson's meeting with Stamford was added by the Baker Street Irregulars in 1981. It is currently closed, but the current owners plan to turn it into an Indian restaurant with as much decor as the listed building status allows.

The Bunsen burner was developed in the 1850s by German chemist Robert Bunsen and his assistant Peter Desaga.

Police News of the Past references The Illustrated Police News, a sensationalised tabloid newspaper that ran from 1864 to 1938.

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #history #factoids #acd canon #a study in scarlet #stud

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bratshaws · 7 months

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through the hourglass 254. brb x oc

a/n: sorry for no smut, just had...an off day and couldn't really write it :/ but i did enjoy this chapter a lot (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/210/211/212/213/214/215/216/217/218/219/220/221/222/223/224

/225/226/227/228/229/230/231/232/233/234/235/236/237/238

/239/240/241/242/243/244/245/246/247/248/249/250/251/252

/253

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

Call him protective but his hand hasn’t left Beatrice since they sat down. He either kept his hand on her thigh or on her shoulder or at her lower back. She appreciated it, because she was just quietly letting Miranda talk while politely nodding to everything that came out of that woman’s mouth.

She had no idea what was coming out of her mouth.

Maybe she was dissociating again, hard to say.

She sent Rooster a quick look while she brought her straw to her lips, swallowing some of the cranberry juice quietly as she took in her husband’s reaction. His jaw muscle was jumping, he was annoyed.

“Oh but,anyway,” Miranda giggles, waving her hand, “You two, right, how do you deal with the whole deployment thing?” Bea tries to answer, but Miranda immediately cuts her off, ‘Because I have such a hard time with Mark,my goodness, he’s so handsome it’s sometimes hard to imagine women not throwing themselves at him.”

Beatrice felt a surge of annoyance rise within her as Miranda continued to prattle on, her words veering into uncomfortable territory. She couldn't help but notice the smug grin on Miranda's face as she mentioned her husband's supposed desirability, and it grated on her nerves.

Rooster's grip on her hand tightened subtly, his irritation palpable but still hidden. He shot Beatrice a quick, reassuring glance before turning his attention back to Miranda. "Well, Miranda," he replied evenly, his tone controlled, "it's all about trust and communication in our relationship. We know we can rely on each other, and that makes the distance more bearable."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, doing her best to maintain her composure despite Miranda's intrusive questions. "Yes," she added, "and staying connected through phone calls and video chats helps bridge the gap."

Miranda's smile remained in place, but there was a calculating glint in her eyes. "I see," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "But it must be difficult, don't you think? The temptation is always there."

Rooster's jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath before responding. "Trust is a powerful thing," he said firmly. "And we have complete trust in each other. That's what makes our relationship strong."

Beatrice couldn't help but admire Rooster's ability to maintain his composure in the face of Miranda's probing questions. She knew he was fiercely protective of their relationship and their family, and he was dangerously calm now.

Miranda seemed satisfied with Rooster's response, at least for the moment. She shifted the conversation to another topic, asking about their plans for the future. “So you work at a bar.”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm,I see.” Miranda plays with her drink, “What’s it like? You like it?”

Beatrice blinked, then shrugged her shoulders with a small smile, “...yes,I love it, I’ve been working there for the past five years.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing. "A bar can be quite the interesting place," she commented, her tone laced with subtle condescension. "I'm sure you have plenty of stories to tell."

Beatrice's smile remained polite, though her patience was beginning to wear thin. "Oh, there are always interesting characters and stories," she replied, choosing her words carefully. "It's part of what makes the job unique."

Miranda seemed unfazed by Beatrice's measured response, her eyes never leaving Beatrice's face. "And Rooster," she continued, "how do you feel about Beatrice working in such an environment? I can imagine it's not easy."

Rooster’s interest was brief, his eyebrow kicking up. "Beatrice is fantastic at her job," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I have complete trust in her."

Beatrice felt a rush of warmth in her heart and she smiles. She reached for his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze and he squeezed right back.

Miranda, however, was not deterred. She leaned in closer, her gaze locked onto Beatrice's. "It's just that," she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "working in a bar can expose one to all sorts of...temptations, don't you think?"

Beatrice’s teeth clenched and she was almost glad Rooster didn’t hear that conversation, but her hand squeezed his fingers in an almost painful way. Her husband's subtle wince wasn’t seen by her, but she did rub her thumb against his hand to apologize, “Excuse me.” she stands up, “I have to go to the bathroom. Roos,” he turns over to her, eyebrows low and eyes worried, “I’ll be right back.”

She hated leaving Rooster alone with those two, but she needed a break.

Rooster nodded in understanding, his concern evident in his eyes as Beatrice excused herself from the table. He watched her go, his gaze lingering on her until she disappeared from sight.

Beatrice’s heels clicked as she sped through the rich people surrounding her, eventually finding the large bathroom and locking herself in one of the stalls. She grounds, sitting on the closed toilet with her lower lip disappearing into her mouth as she tries her breathing exercises.

Smell the flower,blow the candle.

Repeat.

But she was so angry, she was so annoyed and they just got there. She didn’t want to cause a scene…so she decided to call Shells. Hopefully her friend could help in some way.

“Helloooo…”

“Hi Shells.”Bea whispers, keeping her head up with a hand on her cheek, “How’s Nikki doing?”

On the other end of the line, Shells's voice was warm. "Nikki's doing great," she replied, "Bob is keeping her entertained, and she's been such a little sweetheart today. How's everything going with you and Rooster?"

Beatrice let out a sigh, her frustration and anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface. "It's…complicated," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're at dinner with the Haltons, and it's just...unpleasant."

Shells's hum meant a lot, but especially meant a ‘no,really?’ "Well,wanna share, Bea?"

Beatrice hesitated for a moment, not wanting to reveal too much, especially over the phone. But she needed to talk to someone, to vent her frustrations. "They're prying into our lives," she finally said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Asking personal questions, trying to dig into our family and careers. It's like they're interrogating us."

"That sounds incredibly invasive," she replied. “Fuckin’ annoying too. You think they are up to something?”

Beatrice wasn't sure, but the unease in the air and the Haltons' persistent questioning made her suspicious. "I don't know," she admitted, rubbing her temples. "But I can't shake the feeling and it's making me so angry."

"Try to stay calm, Bea," she suggested. "Don't let them get to you."

“You are telling me to calm down?” the brunette chuckles, surprised, “That’s new.”

“Bea,hey,come on.I’m a good example….but really you can beat them up if you want.”

Beatrice couldn't help but chuckle at Shells's attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her tone softening. "Thanks for being a good friend, Shells. I just needed to vent a bit."

Shells laughed on her end of the line. "Anytime, Bea," she said warmly. "You know I've got your back. And if you ever need help plotting revenge on the Haltons, just give me a call."

Beatrice couldn't help but smile. "I might take you up on that offer," she replied. "Thanks, Shells.I gotta go now. See you soon,okay?"

"Oke doke, Bumblebea," Shells said. "Take care.You and Rooster will get through this. Peace out."

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Beatrice hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the bathroom door, inhaling shakily and trying her best to go back to them without losing her mind. The prickling of her anxiety appeared, but she was going to be okay.

Beatrice took a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath and running her fingers through her hair. She couldn't let the Haltons' intrusive questions and condescending attitude get to her. They were guests at this dinner, and she and Rooster had the upper hand in controlling the situation.

As she reentered the dining area, Rooster immediately looked back at her, his conversation with Mark forgotten for a second as he waits for her. Beatrice took her seat next to him and gave him a reassuring smile, placing her hand on his thigh under the table.

Miranda seemed to have picked up on Beatrice's momentary absence, and her gaze lingered on her as she returned to the table. "Is everything all right, Beatrice?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux concern.

Beatrice met Miranda's gaze with a cool, composed expression. "Everything's fine, Miranda," she replied, her tone calm and measured. "I just needed to use the bathroom." she turned to Rooster, “Did I miss something?”

Translation: did they do something?

Rooster gave Beatrice's hand on his thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table, his eyes never leaving hers. "Nothing important," he replied, his tone casual. "Just some small talk."

Beatrice nodded, her smile remaining in place as she turned her attention back to the table. She couldn't let Miranda's probing questions or her condescending attitude get to her. “That’s good.”

The dinner conversation continued, but the tension between Rooster, Beatrice, and the Haltons remained palpable. Miranda seemed to take the lead in directing the conversation, while Mark chimed in with his own comments, all carefully veiled with passive-aggressiveness.

Miranda's tone turned even more condescending as she addressed Beatrice once again. "Beatrice," she began, her voice dripping with sweetness, "I couldn't help but notice the lovely family photos in your home. You must cherish your role as a mother."

Beatrice maintained her composure, though her grip on Rooster's thigh tightened slightly under the table. She knew Miranda was trying to provoke her, but she wasn't going to take the bait. "I do," she replied evenly, her tone unwavering. "My family means the world to me."

Miranda's smile remained in place, but her eyes gleamed with something that made Beatrice uneasy. "That's wonderful to hear," she said, her words laced with hidden meaning. "It's important to have priorities, after all."

Beatrice’s eyes squinted, “What’s that supposed to mean?” and Rooster had to bite back his smirk because that was usually his line.

Miranda's smile widened, her tone still sugary sweet. "Oh, Beatrice," she replied, her voice dripping with condescension, "it's just an observation. Family is such a precious thing, isn't it?"

Beatrice kept her eyes on Miranda, tapping the bottom of her glass repeatedly against the table. The little string that kept her anger in check snapped and her smile turned predatory, “Why are you asking me that?” she tilts her head, “You seem very interested in our family. Just like your husband is interested in my husband’s family and my job at the bar?” her smile widened, “Why don’t we talk about that?”

The air in the private dining area seemed to grow heavier as Beatrice's words hung in the space between them. Rooster couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his wife for standing her ground and confronting the Haltons directly. He kept a watchful eye on Mark and Miranda, ready for their response.

Miranda's smile never wavered, but there was a glint of annoyance in her eyes. "Beatrice, dear," she replied, her tone still saccharine, "you seem to be misunderstanding our intentions. We're just trying to get to know our neighbors better, that's all."

Beatrice tutted, “Oh no, getting to know your neighbors is one thing," she said, her voice firm, "but prying into their personal lives and making veiled insinuations is another." she smiles more, “I can read people well.”

Rooster watched as Mark, who had been relatively quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. "Beatrice," he said with a smooth smile, "we apologize if our questions came across as intrusive. That wasn't our intention."

Rooster couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Mark's response. It was clear that the Haltons were trying to downplay their probing questions and the underlying tension in the room.

Miranda, however, wasn't about to let the matter drop. "We're just concerned, that's all," she added, her tone faux-concerned. "We-”

“Your concern is gathered but not welcome.” Beatrice’s voice turns firm, in a way Rooster had never seen before…and it was really attractive, “We have a very,very good life.” her voice shakes a bit, “And my husband is really good at what he does…Miranda were you a bully when you were younger?”

Miranda's smile remained in place, but her eyes glittered with irritation at Beatrice's boldness. "Beatrice, dear," she replied, her tone still sugary, "we're only looking out for our neighbors. It's natural to be curious, don't you think?"

“You said that before. And you didn’t answer my question.” she taps her glass a bit harder, “Because you remind me a lot of my former bullies.”

The tension in the private dining area grew thicker with each passing moment. Rooster could feel it coiling around them, a palpable force that hung in the air. Beatrice's direct confrontation had caught the Haltons off guard, and they were struggling to maintain their facade of politeness.

Mark cleared his throat, his smile still in place but strained. "Beatrice," he said, his tone attempting to regain control of the conversation, "we certainly didn't mean to offend you. We're just curious about our new neighbors, that's all."

Beatrice leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Miranda's. "Curiosity is one thing," she replied, her voice steady, "but prying and insinuations are another."

Miranda's eyes flickered with annoyance, but she maintained her composure. "We apologize if we gave you the wrong impression," she said, her voice icy. "We only wanted to make friendly conversation."

Rooster could see the thinly veiled frustration on Miranda's face, and he knew that their direct approach had rattled her. But Beatrice could be even more protective than he was,especially when it came to them and their family, “You were almost asking if we ever cheated on one another.” Rooster chokes on his beverage as Beatrice says that, “And that isn’t friendly conversation.”

He was having a hard time holding back his laughter, those two looked absolutely gobsmacked.

Mark and Miranda exchanged glances. It was clear that their attempts to steer the conversation back to a more polite tone were failing. Miserably.

Mark finally spoke up again, his tone strained but still attempting to maintain a facade of civility. "Beatrice, we truly didn't mean to overstep," he said, "and we apologize if our questions were intrusive."

Miranda chimed in, her voice dripping with insincerity. "Yes," she said, "we simply wanted to get to know our neighbors better, that's all."

Beatrice sighed, “You keep repeating that.” and she sips her drink, smacking her lips, “And I keep not believing it, so here’s my little something I kinda gathered: you were a queen bee back in Virginia, probably one of the best - in your mind - military wives in your neighborhood.” Miranda’s smile finally dropped, she got her, “And you don’t like how I manage things with Rooster so well, because we have great chemistry.”

She pauses, looking down in her glass. “Damn is there alcohol on this,Roos?”

“I don’t think so,gorgeous.” Rooster couldn't help but smirk as he watched Beatrice deftly navigate the conversation, exposing Miranda's thinly veiled attempts at politeness for what they truly were. It was clear that Miranda was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Beatrice's directness, and he couldn't blame her.

Mark cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the conversation. "Beatrice," he said, his tone carefully measured, "we appreciate your insights, but I assure you, we have no ulterior motives."

“I mean you did kinda hound my uncle at the base.”Rooster finally speaks, “You also ask some weird shit,Mark. So, to us, this whole dinner seems like a reason to ‘know your enemy’ than anything else. I mean,dude, we are both in the Navy, both pilots…I didn’t even know you until a few weeks ago.”

Mark cleared his throat again, his tone forcedly pleasant, voice raspy because the saliva was gone from his mouth. "Rooster, Beatrice," he began, "we may have had some misunderstandings, but we truly want to put them behind us. We're neighbors, after all."

Both Bradshaws stared at them, then Rooster placed his glass down, “You know, I think you two are just too…what’s the word,gorgeous?”

“Intrusive.”

“Yes and very,very strange. So…” he taps his hand on the table, “I don’t think there’s…anything else to talk about, so we just might go,huh Bea?”

Beatrice nodded in agreement, a slight edge to her smile. "I think that's a good idea, Roos," she said, her voice polite but firm. "We appreciate the dinner invitation, but it's getting late, and we should head home."

“But–”

“No buts.” Rooster says firmly, “This dinner was…interesting. But let’s keep this professional.” he snaps his finger, “By the way, we’ve been here before. We know the owner.”

Neither of them said anything. Rooster pulled a few dollar bills from his wallet, then placed it on the table, “Here, our share.” he leans back and placed a hand on Bea’s waist, “Good evening.” luckily, the people inside Oda were too busy with themselves to notice the tense conversation they were having and if they did, they didn’t care.

Beatrice let Rooster guide her down the stairs towards the entrance, thanking the hostess who was nothing but kind to them - although she seemed upset she’d have to deal with only the Haltons now.

The brisk night air greeted Rooster and Beatrice as they stepped out of the restaurant. They walked in silence for a few moments, the weight of the evening's encounter still heavy on their minds as they waited for the valet.

Finally, Beatrice spoke, her voice reflective. "That was...strange," she said, her brow furrowing. "I've never felt so scrutinized during a dinner."

Rooster nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah," he replied. "It was like they were trying to dig into our lives, figure us out."

Beatrice glanced over at her husband, "Do you think they're going to stop, Roos?" she asked quietly. "I mean, they kept pushing…"

Rooster considered her question carefully "I don't know,gorgeous," he admitted. "But I think for now, we are done with it."

“Hm…okay.”

“By the way,” he whistled low, “Damn…damn that was hot.” she blinked up at him, “I love when you get all protective of me, it’s so hot, baby.” he looks around to check if anyone was close by, leaning down once he noticed the street was empty, “I gotta say…” he gently drags his finger down her cleavage until it reaches the fabric of her dress, “Kinda…made me hungry for a little snack.”

Her pupils dilated and her lower lip slid into her mouth, “...oh?” “Yeah…I really,really want a taste.” he smirks, kissing her lips briefly, thumb gently rubbing her lower lip to expose the soft pink underside, “Been cravin’ some peaches lately.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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mostbelovedwwewrestlertournament · 6 months

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Most Beloved AEW Wrestler Tournament Round 4 Statistics Dump

Followers: 204 (yay! we broke 200!)

Total votes: 13,148 + 11,439 + 6,915 + 3,907 = 35,409

Times I giggled nefariously at seeing the despair in the notes: a great many

Most Beloved By Gender

With every passing round, women are gaining more and more traction. After seeing the trends, I don't think we'll reach a 50/50 split, but my predictions have been wrong before.

Voting Trends

Now as we can see, we've still got an upwards trend (except for day 32, which was our lowest day since day 21)

Day 30 reached a brand new record of an average of 278.4 votes per poll (mostly thanks to the very controversial Danhausen VS MJF)

Ties

Only one tie this round with Billy Gunn and Evil Uno both receiving 48 votes. Unfortunately, as they were in the 3-way matchup, they both lost to Jay White and will go hand in hand to The Pyramid (pretty graphic where I place all the losers and their total vote counts)

Teams and How They Fared

The pickings are getting slim up here

BCC: Bryan Danielson (139) moves on, but Jon Moxley (105) lost to Kris Statlander.

Best Friends: Kris Statlander (134), Orange Cassidy (174), Chuck Taylor (200) & Danhausen (232) all move on and make up 23.5% of all the remaining wrestlers

The Elite: Nick Jackson (47) lost to Adam Cole, fully eliminating this team

BCG: Jay White (60) moves on, but Juice Robinson (51) lost to Emi Sakura

The Acclaimed: Billy Gunn (48) lost to Jay White and Anthony Bowens (99) lost to Athena, fully eliminating this team

House Of Black: Malakai Black (46) lost to Willow Nightingale, fully eliminating this team

Dark Order: Mr Brodie Lee (12) moves on, but Evil Uno (48) lost to Jay White

Jericho Appreciation Society: Anna Jay (56) lost to Mr Brodie Lee, fully eliminating this team

Death Triangle: Penta (123) is still holding strong

There are no teams that are still fully intact

Lowest Votes

The top 5 lowest after 4 rounds

Thunder Rosa (240)

Penelope Ford (290)

Mark Davis (291)

Evil Uno (328)

Juice Robinson (338)

Highest Votes Over Round 4

Danhausen (232)

MJF (224)

Chuck Taylor (200)

Willow Nightingale (195, first time she didn't break 200)

Orange Cassidy (174)

Top 10 Highest Collective Votes

Willow Nightingale (1,079)

Danhausen (867)

Chuck Taylor (802)

Orange Cassidy/Eddie Kingston (690)

Athena (688)

Hikaru Shida (567)

Riho (560, eliminated)

Hook (552, eliminated)

MJF (549, eliminated)

Round 5 will be starting in about an hour or so

#most beloved aew wrestler tournament

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feckcops · 6 months

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Ending apartheid is the only path to peace

“Things couldn’t stay as they were — and so, they didn’t. After almost a year of escalation, which was largely ignored by the international media despite near-daily death tolls, Israel and the Palestinian territories have erupted into a brutal and devastating war ...

“After many years of attempting to achieve statehood through non-violent legal and political means, the mainstream Palestinian movement has reached the end of a road. The world is now seeing the consequences of that reality. As Israeli newspaper Haaretz wrote in its editorial: ‘The prime minister … failed to identify the dangers he was consciously leading Israel into when establishing a government of annexation and dispossession … while embracing a foreign policy that openly ignored the rights and existence of Palestinians.’ That is a charitable perspective. Benjamin Netanyahu and his government must have been aware that this was one of the likely outcomes of their policies.

“As a result of those policies, between the River Jordan and the Mediterranean Sea today, there is only one state. It governs two peoples who live by different rules: Jews, who enjoy the highest standards of human, civil and economic rights, even when these conflict with international law; and Palestinians, who cannot claim equal citizenship in any part of their historic homeland and instead live under varying degrees of oppression.

“In Gaza, this has meant a sixteen-year blockade which controls almost every aspect of what enters and leaves the territory — resulting in regular shortages of essentials from electricity to water to medicine, food and building materials. Two million people live in the Strip, almost half are children, more than half live in poverty and they have now been subjected to six wars since the blockade began.

“In the Occupied Territories of the West Bank and East Jerusalem, Palestinians are divided into 224 ghettos, denied the rights to travel or associate freely by hundreds of roadblocks and military checkpoints, subject to arbitrary and prolonged detention (1,260 are currently interned without charge or trial), forcibly evicted on a regular basis, and killed, in the first half of 2023, at a rate of almost one per day. Then in Israel itself, they are also second-class citizens: denied the right to occupy as much as 80 percent of the land in a country that, since 2018, has been enshrined exclusively as a ‘nation state of the Jewish people.’

“The world’s leading human rights organisations, from Amnesty International to Human Rights Watch, describe this as apartheid. So, too, does the South African movement which lived under and fought that system. The Palestinians have a right to resist apartheid. Those who are appalled by violence must contend with the indisputable fact that every legal and political route to such resistance has been systematically closed off by the Israeli government ...

“In the coming days, Israel will accelerate efforts to erase Palestine by flattening large parts of Gaza. It will do so with one of the most powerful militaries the world has ever seen. It will do so as a policy, with its Defence Minister describing Palestinians as ‘human animals’ and army spokespeople saying, ‘our focus is on (creating) damage, not on precision.’ And it will do so with the complicity of the West, whose governments fly its flags on their official buildings.

“It will do this in the name of ‘eliminating Hamas.’ But Hamas, whose atrocities deserve bitter condemnation, is a product of alienation, desperation and dispossession. The movement is seen by millions of Palestinians as part of a resistance to exactly the kind of indiscriminate destruction Israel is now unleashing upon a defenceless population. If Israel truly wanted to ‘wipe Hamas off the face of the earth,’ as its Defence Minister says, it would deal with the conditions that created them. But of course, it has no intention of doing that.

“When you restore context to the situation in Palestine, it becomes clear that the only path to peace is the end of the apartheid system. And yet, anyone who makes that case can expect to be roundly demonised in the coming days and weeks. The established consensus is that the ‘normality’ which prevailed until just a few days ago must be restored — even if it is abundantly clear that such normality has led us precisely to today’s disaster.”

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hermitcraft-8 · 6 months

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the kent heritage: a timeline

in the year 16 btr, a young girl named bryce rosalie kent is born in a small town at the base of a mountain that houses the wizard academy. he is not a wizard, none of his family are wizards.

when he was sixteen, in the year 0, an explosion rocks the kingdom, completely decimating everything. bryce is the only survivor. promptly, surrounding kingdoms put up walls and barricades, to prevent people from going into the town. and preventing bryce from getting out.

he remains trapped for a year.

in 3 pr, a homeless, alcoholic, depressed bryce is wandering the kingdom of azabain, when he comes across a woman named imara. they don't fall in love, but they do hook up. bryce gets pregnant, and they elope.

in 4 pr, walt kent is born. he's not healthy, but he survives. bryce considers this a win. imara threatens to leave him out in the snow.

in 10 pr, walt shows incredible skill at the piano, and imara changes her mind, nurturing and smothering the boy. bryce is slowly removed from the picture.

in 22 pr, bryce is out, wandering the road, and suddenly stops breathing. he had a stroke. he dies.

in 25 pr, walt meets a powerful fae, and becomes a warlock, becoming immortal for as long as his contract is due.

in 175 pr, the rich and famous solidago family have their first son, zavijava. he is said to bring the sun with him wherever he goes.

in 186 pr, their second son, acamar, is born. in azabainian society, second sons are considered a curse.

in 190 pr, zavijava meets and falls in love with walt kent, who is now going by peter ermend.

in 193 pr, 7 year old acamar is bitten by a daywalker, what we may call a vampire. he is turned within an hour. that night, his older brother, zavijava, comes in to check on him. acamar attacks and kills him brutally, ripping out his throat. peter hears the commotion and rushes in to help, almost killing acamar and sending him running out into the world.

in 205, rose janice kent is born in the dwarvish mines where her human parents work.

in 215, she meets acamar, now a farmer and a merchant.

in 223, rose's parents die. while going through their attic, she finds a painting of bryce. she realizes that he's her ancestor and starts researching. as she does, he gains more and more power until he finally has control of her body and cuts off all her hair.

in spring 224, rose brings bryce back from the dead. the first few days are rough, but over time, he begins to adapt. he falls in love with acamar, and it seems like it's going to be okay

in fall 224, the three of them go to a concert with one of rose's friends. there, they see peter, or walt, and bryce has a panic attack. they talk, and walt tells him he doesn't forgive him, but he doesn't blame him either. he does not recognize acamar.

later that month, acamar approaches him, comes clean about his identity and apologizes for what he'd done as a child, and walt tells him the same thing he'd told bryce, but then asks why they couldn't bring zavijava back to life instead of bryce.

they try to repeat the ceremony, but it goes wrong. zavijava's soul was at rest, and they were ripping it away from that. he comes back vengeful and angry until he sees acamar's face.

that's where the story leaves off.

#the kent heritage

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upismediacenter · 21 days

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FEATURE: Leading Ladies: UPIS Women Student Leaders’ Journey

To wrap up International Women's Month, now would be an opportune time to shine a spotlight on our young female student leaders at the University of the Philippines Integrated School (UPIS) who are making their mark by overcoming obstacles and inspiring others to dream big and reach for the stars. Join us as we delve into the stories, experiences, and aspirations of these remarkable young leaders who bring light to our everyday lives at school.

Established in March 1987, International Women's Month has been a beacon of inclusivity and empowerment, advocating for gender equality and celebrating the achievements of women worldwide every March. In the Philippines, former President Corazon Aquino declared the occasion to be a month-long celebration in Proclamation No. 224. 1988 She also declared the eighth of March a special non-working holiday under the Republic Act No. 6949 s. 1990. This effort not only raises awareness but also promotes active engagement in gender equality and appreciating their unique contributions to society.

The spirit of Women's Month remains at UPIS through various initiatives emphasizing the importance of gender equality and the celebration of women's achievements, such as a freedom wall created by the Media Center 2024. It encouraged students to write about their thoughts on women's empowerment, experiences, and female figures who have inspired them in their everyday lives. In addition to this, the Media Center also handed out purple ribbons to students, teachers, and staff to wear in honor of International Women's Day. Lastly, the Pamunuan ng Kamag-Aral (PKA) organized a tote bag-making contest called 'BAGisbis', in which students from Grades 7-11 showcased their creativity while participating in the celebration. And as the community continues to celebrate each woman's diversity and uniqueness in UPIS, this includes its student leaders, whose efforts have inspired others to strive for excellence in all aspects of life.

Mikhaella Christina Mercurio

Mikhaella Christina Mercurio is a Grade 7 student leader from the Freshman Association. Her leadership journey began in K-2, where her classmates recognized her potential and elected her to various leadership positions. This early honor encouraged her passion and commitment to serving her peers and school community.

“Inspirations ko po is si Mommy ko and si Leni Robredo [My inspirations are my Mommy and Leni Robredo].” Mikhaella shared. Her mother's work ethic and Leni Robredo's groundbreaking impact on society encouraged her to be driven and creative and make a positive change in the Philippines.

But as a student leader, Mikhaella can’t deny that there are some challenges she encounters in her daily life as she fulfills her responsibilities at UPIS. She faces hurdles such as time management and maintaining professionalism. Balancing these aspects can be demanding, yet Mikhaella remains determined in her commitment. Mikhaella’s warm and friendly energy, together with her genuine desire to connect with everyone promotes an inclusive environment where everyone feels seen and valued.

“Dito ko po nae-express tsaka nashe-share yung creativity ko… [This is where I am able to express and share my creativity…]” Mikhaella’s leadership roles provide a platform to showcase her creative ideas and build meaningful relationships with her peers and even their parents. While she embraces these opportunities, Mikhaella acknowledges the challenges of being a female leader; some may underestimate her capabilities, but Mikhaella always steps forward and rises above these perceptions, proving herself through her actions and dedication.

As we celebrate Women’s Month, Mikhaella shares a message to other young women who aspire to become student leaders: “Young women who aspire to be student leaders should never let anyone bring them down. Don’t be afraid to show the world the things you can do and always do your best. You must enjoy every step of the process and remember who you're doing it for.”

Chiomi Sophia Eisma

The Sophomore Association’s Treasurer Chiomi Sophia Eisma described her journey as a leader to be a rollercoaster ride because of the difficulties and problems she has to face. After all, she has to participate in the balancing act between student life, leading, and being a child, while aiming to break through the stereotypes about women being leaders that she finds in her surroundings.

“For me, there are a lot of advantages and disadvantages to being a leader. One of the advantages would be learning new experiences, but the disadvantages, marami din po. Sa ating mga Pilipino, kung lalaki yung lider, naiisip nilang mas “higher being” yung mga male. Tapos, kung female yung lider, dina-doubt siya ng mga tao, kasi ‘Ano yung kaya nitong gawin?’ kumpara sa male, na ‘May kaya itong gawin [... there are many too. For us Filipinos, if the leader is a man, they think that men are “higher beings”. However, if the leader is a woman, people doubt her, because 'What can she do?' compared to men, who ‘can do something.’]”

“It inspired me, seeing how I could make a difference in our batch, especially from all the problems we were facing, and seeing that I could be aware of the things I can and can't do as a person. I can make a change while inspiring people that surround me, and they’re giving me their full support in return,” said Chiomi.

For her message to young girls who, just like her, aspire to become good leaders, she shares that they should always believe in their unique and capable selves, and to surround themselves with people who will fully support them. “Do not think [about] what other people will say about you, whether negatively or positively, because we are all uniquely made to be ourselves to do the things we are capable of. Always surround yourselves with people that are willing to give their full support towards us.”

Indah Hannah Wadi

Junior Association’s President Hannah Indah Wadi recalls her exciting beginnings as a student leader back in K-2 as the president of her class. This early experience ignited her passion to continue her journey, leading her to take on various roles in elementary, including becoming a homeroom officer.

“I’d say it would be my parents who inspired me the most, they give me the courage to lead a bunch of people.” Hannah happily shared. However, navigating the path of her leadership also came with challenges, such as the need to completely find and understand herself to effectively help others. Some have also found her intimidating due to her role as a student leader. Despite this, Hannah’s passion and dedication earned her respect and admiration.

Hannah emphasizes the importance of providing a safe space for all students, particularly women student leaders who play a significant role in setting a positive change within the school community. She hopes that this compassionate environment will continue to grow in order to empower more students to take on leadership roles fearlessly.

To wrap everything up, Hannah shared a few inspiring words for aspiring women leaders who want to take the same path as her. “It’s normal to have those days where you just don’t feel like yourself and you feel burned out and tired; that’s really normal. After overcoming that, that’s when you realize that other side of yourself. Those bad days are needed for you to see the happy days and the happy side of you! So definitely, if you think that you have the heart, or if you want to try it out, you should go for it because it really teaches you a lot, and you learn a lot about yourself.”

Justice Christian Aguinaldo

When the President of this year's PKA Justice Christian Aguinaldo was younger, she had a childhood dream to become the president of the Philippines— although she states that it was just in the past.

“When I was in Grade 3, there was a teacher who encouraged me to run for Pamunuan Ng Kamag-Aral, and at first I was scared because I didn't know everybody. I had to gain votes, and I didn't know how to do that, but my teacher taught me to be part of a party list that welcomed me and helped me run.”

This encouragement would be the catalyst for a years-long journey to lead Batch 2026, and later the PKA here in UPIS. It helped her to understand how the guidance of adults around her would affect how she could learn to lead, because only through the grown-ups could children learn to handle complicated things, like legal or financial issues in an organization.

As a female student leader, she says that she has never experienced anything undesirable from the school itself just because of her gender. She points out that the leadership roles here have never placed emphasis on who can and cannot lead, and that not only are the ratios between female student leaders and male student leaders almost equal, but they are more dominated by female students sometimes! However, she does recall an experience when a younger student assumed she was a man, and it made her wonder if it was because of her name, appearance at the time, or if the student had just assumed that she had to be a man because of the leadership role she had taken on. If so, she hopes that the school can continue to educate and promote inclusivity to its younger students, so that they would not adhere to stereotypes about leadership.

As a final message to the readers, Justice urges people to take the plunge towards leadership if they want to. “Just go for it. Run for the position, kung mayroon ka talaga ng pagmamahal sa pamumuno at paglilingkod sa kapwa mo. I hope na magkaroon din sila ng person that will encourage them to run. [Run for the position, if you really have love for leading and serving your fellows. I hope that they will also have a person that will encourage them to run.]”

Alexandra Sophia “Alex” Blasi

For Alexandra Sophia Blasi, what pushed her to be a student leader at a younger age was the lack of guidance and leaders in her batch when they were in elementary. “I wanted to step up. I already had roles pagdating sa homeroom, so I felt that I could escalate to a bigger platform, for PKA, pero for my first year na tumakbo ako, hindi ako nanalo, pero I decided to try again [for the following elections], and nanalo ako for that term and the next year, back in elementary. [I already handled roles in my homeroom, so I felt like I could escalate to a bigger platform, for PKA, but in the first year that I ran, I didn't win. But I tried again next year, and I won for my next two terms back in elementary.]” When the student organizations returned in UPIS during the pandemic, she decided to run and got elected as the vice president. A year after, as a Grade 10 student, she became the president of last year's PKA.

When she was new to leading, she found it hard to establish her authority among her peers, especially because they were still young children at the time, and on different occasions had struggled with communicating and reinforcing the school rules to her classmates. Since the school consists mostly of females and female leaders, she felt that she could share her own thoughts and feelings freely, and she learned to be empathetic towards what other people feel. While Alexandra rarely faced inquiries about leading as a young woman, she proudly says that this sentiment was only more prevalent in elementary school, and that the school has mostly been supportive and empowering towards her and fellow girls.

“At present, very supportive naman ang community dito. It would generally be better kung magiging participative yung mga students, lalo na sa mga events. [At present the community here is very supportive. It would generally be better if the students were more participative, especially in events.]” She hopes that aspiring student leaders would participate as much as possible in school events, and to be proactive in the advocacies that are present around them.

“Don't be afraid to take on leadership roles no matter what people say. Don't let them invalidate what you feel, because if you feel that spark, then you should go for it. Marami ang naniniwala at sumusuporta sa iyo [a lot of people will believe and support you,]” Alexandra says.

Rachelle Nicole Torralba

Lastly, Rachelle Nicole Torralba is the current Editor-in-Chief of ‘Ang Aninag Online’, under the Media Center 2024 and a representative of the Social Sciences and Humanities Track. She is also a former Year-Level Organization (YLO) officer of the Sophomore Association (SOA), Junior Association, and Senior Council.

Rachelle’s journey into student leadership started back in elementary when she actively participated in various clubs and student councils, which eventually blossomed into something greater when she transferred to UPIS. “It is definitely challenging to manage my time for academics and leadership tasks but it is bearable with the help of my co-leaders and members especially in Media Center as they are all very reliable and hardworking.” Rachelle shared. Despite the difficulties, she remains certain that every effort, no matter how tiny, contributes to a meaningful change.

However, Rachelle believes there's always room for improvement. She suggests that UPIS can further empower its women leaders by providing them more opportunities to learn and develop their leadership skills, not just within school boundaries but also in community settings where they can also help and participate to be actively aware of the real-life societal issues we are facing.

Finally, Rachelle shared a heartfelt message to aspiring young women leaders: “Being a woman in the field of leadership is no easy task. Aspiring to such a role will undoubtedly provide challenges, but I hope you don’t get discouraged and afraid to step up because who says women can’t lead? We can and we will definitely be effective leaders. Keep in mind that we, young women, have the potential to do big things, and if given the right opportunities and platforms, all of us can bring a huge and effective change not just inside the school but also in society.”

Grateful for the supportive environment at UPIS, these young women emphasize the significance of providing a safe space for all students, particularly female student leaders who play an important role in creating positive change in the school community. They believe that this compassion should continue to grow, allowing more students to take up leadership roles without fear.

They note that while stereotypes may exist outside of school, UPIS supports inclusivity and equal opportunity regardless of gender. The emphasis is not on which gender one should be to lead, but on giving all students an equal opportunity to thrive and make a difference. They hope that UPIS will continue to encourage equality and provide opportunities for students to share their advocacy, ensuring that no woman feels constricted or limited because of her gender.

To conclude, it is evident that these women are more than mere leaders in our school community; they are also our partners in changing, empowering, and inspiring youth for a brighter future. Their dedication and passion for making a change shine as a light of hope for everyone. Let us continue to promote and empower women leaders, acknowledge their significant accomplishments, and make sure their voices are heard and valued. We hope you had a happy Women's Month celebration!

//by Monique S. Gervacio & Eushieka P. Agraviador

#MC2024 #MC2025 #Feature #English #Eushieka Agraviador #Monique Gervacio

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usafphantom2 · 24 days

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Russian cargo aircraft would be making secret flights to North Korea, allegedly looking for missiles

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 03/30/2024 - 21:15 in Military

A huge An-124 cargo plane with an alleged history of North Korean weapons smuggling was tracked back from an apparent mission to seek more short-range ballistic missiles (SRBMs) provided by the Kim Jong Un regime.

A recent report by Colin Zwirko of NK News shed light on secret flights conducted by two Russian military aircraft to North Korea.

Russian An-124 (RA-82030) returning to Vladivostok from North Korea in the early hours of March 21, 2024 (Photo: Flightradar24 screenshot)

Russian An-124 (RA-82030) departing from Vladivostok before going to North Korea after 2 a.m. (North Korea time) on March 21, 2024. (Photo: Flightradar screenshot24)

The flight tracking data analyzed by Zwirko suggest that a Russian cargo plane An-224 (tail number RA-82030) - one of the largest transport aircraft in the world - was traveling from the DPRK towards Vladivostok, east of the shared border coast of the two countries at 6:47 a.m. (North Korea time) on March 21. It is likely that the plane went to Pyongyang, since another Russian government aircraft, a Tupolev Tu-154 of the "Special Flight Squadron" (tail number RA-85843), flew from Vladivostok to Pyongyang hours earlier, pointing to ongoing secret exchanges between Russia and North Korea.

Russian Tu-154 (RA-85843) flying from Pyongyang to Vladivostok after midnight on March 21, 2024. (Photo: Flightradar screenshot24)

Russian Tu-154 (RA-85843) flying from Pyongyang to Vladivostok on the afternoon of March 22, 2024. (Photo: Flightradar screenshot24)

This plane departed from the Russian city of the Far East just before midnight on March 20, before landing in Pyongyang after 12:24 a.m. (North Korea time) on March 21. He then left Pyongyang for Vladivostok less than two hours later, about the same time the cargo plane left Vladivostok. Then he turned off the transponder and disappeared from tracking, a common practice for Russian aircraft and cargo ships that were sighted in North Korea. Flights with the Tu-154 did not have their transponder turned off to Pyongyang.

According to the NK News report, several other flights were observed on monitoring sites.

Of particular interest is the involvement of the 224ª Flight Unit and the An-124 cargo plane with tail number RA-82030, which were previously implicated by the U.S. Treasury Department in sanctions related to the transfer of ballistic missiles from the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Despite these allegations, the precise nature and timing of such transactions remain unknown.

Tupolev Tu-154 (RA-85843).

The US and South Korea accused the Kim Jong Un regime of providing the Kremlin with missiles, artillery grenades and other weapons to replenish the Russian armed forces while it uses equipment and ammunition in its invasion of Ukraine. Both Moscow and Pyongyang denied that such transfers are taking place.

The recent flight activity coincides with the escalation of tensions in the region, following the North Korean ballistic missile test conducted by leader Kim Jong Un. Although the specific cargo carried by the Russian aircraft remains unknown, intelligence reports suggest the potential transport of short-range ballistic missiles (SRBMs).

The ability of the An-124 cargo plane to carry large and heavy weapon systems further amplifies the seizures around the purpose of these secret flights.

South Korea's Chosun News TV reported on the cargo plane on Saturday, citing a comment from an anonymous source of "ROK-US intelligence authority", but not including details such as model, final number or moment.

The source would have said that intelligence agencies caught the plane carrying 15-meter-long cargo "supposedly SRBMs". Allegedly, these were Hwasong-11 series missiles (KN-23).

The apparent stop of the aircraft in Pyongyang occurred a few days after the North Korean supreme leader, Kim Jong Un, presided over his country's first ballistic missile test in two months.

Tags: Antonov An-124 RuslanMilitary AviationNorth KoreaRussian Air ForceTu-154

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.