#end U.S. complicity

[ivygorgon]

An open letter to the President & U.S. Congress

End the Massacre, Protect the Innocent

1 so far! Help us get to 5 signers!

As a concerned American and one of your constituents, I am writing to express my PROFOUND HORROR and OUTRAGE regarding our complicity in Israel’s genocide of Palestinians. The toll is devastating: over 43,000 Palestinians, including 16,765 children, and 1,200 Israelis have lost their lives, with countless others wounded, held hostage, or missing. In Gaza, Israel's blockade has left over 2 million people, half of whom are children, without essentials—food, fuel, water, electricity, and medical supplies. This collective punishment violates international law and humanity itself. On

February 25, 2024, Aaron Bushnell, a 25-year-old U.S. Air Force airman, took his life in an act of protest outside the Israeli Embassy in Washington, DC. Dressed in uniform, he set himself on fire while shouting "Free Palestine," expressing his deep disillusionment and refusal to remain complicit in what he saw as genocide. Bushnell's final act was a plea for justice and a testament to the moral crisis that weighs on us all. His sacrifice underscores the urgent need to address the humanitarian crisis in Palestine and end U.S. complicity. We cannot continue to support actions that blatantly disregard human life and dignity.

As you prepare to vote on aid to Israel, I urge you to stand against violence and advocate for an immediate ceasefire, the lifting of Gaza’s blockade, and diplomacy that upholds the rights and lives of all people in the region. Americans stand with peace and human rights, not oppression and endless cycles of violence.

The time to act is now.

Source: Al Jazeera - Israel-Palestine War in Maps

▶ Created on November 12 by Ret. SGT Guild, A Concerned Indigenous American

📱 Text SIGN PCYFOX to 50409

🤯 Liked it? FOLLOW IVYGORGON

[nando161mando]

U.S. complicity in this horrific war must end.

[goat-boy-sounds]

tentative processing rambling about today's events

[quickestgold]

Still Alive: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Part 2 of Still Life

Synopsis: Delivery complications during the birth of your son leave Jack caught between grief and hope, life and loss. In the stillness that follows, those who witnessed it begin to confront their own silent trauma, navigating recovery, healing and bonding with a newborn.

Warnings: Angst, but also comfort this time; Very graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth, massive blood loss, life support, mentions of maternal death stats, abortion, overall pretty heavy, please take care!!

Word count: 3.4k+

A/n: Can you tell I'm incredibly passionate about reproductive health and bodily autonomy!! This turned a bit political... whoops!

Also, you guys basically held me at gunpoint to write this lmfao… hope you like it!! name and shame special mentions: @florenceivy @bungurus @happyfox43 @pearlofthepitt @angrytimemachineduck @pear-1206 @yousigned-upforthis @blushinginapril @theblackestvalkyrie @csigeoblue @xxemmarldxx @travelingmypassion <3

“You did so good, my love." Jack whispers. "So fucking good.” He wraps a blanket around you both, trying to shield you from the cold, from the storm, from everything.

The placenta came out whole. That should’ve been the end of it.

The start of your little family.

Robby watches the three of you fondly, though his movements stay clinical and focused.

Jack, now fully stepping into the role of husband and father, lets him take charge.

With a calm, gentle bedside manner, Robby cleans you as gently as he can with the supplies he has available, assessing the extent of your perineal tear and preparing to suture.

The aftermath of the miracle of life, raw, exposed, brutal.

You don‘t feel any of it. The world rests on your chest, a warm, perfect weight. Your baby’s tiny breaths brush against your flushed, clammy skin.

For a few peaceful seconds, the three of you breathe in perfect harmony. A beautiful rhythm that creates an unbreakable bond between you.

Your souls tied together by invisible strings.

The emotions, the hormones and the love are overwhelming.

But bliss never lingers. Never long enough.

The surgical blanket between your legs suddenly turns dark.

Then comes the gush.

A wave of blood pours out of your body. And it keeps coming.

To much. Too fast.

Robby reacts instantly, but he can‘t keep up.

Jack’s eyes grow wide, his face goes pale.

Primary postpartum hemorrhage.

You’re not supposed to die giving birth. Not here. Not now.

Not with Jack watching.

But you‘ve seen this before. Too many times.

Women bleeding out on tables.

Partners gripping their hands, helpless, as the world stops making sense.

The devastating truth is, maternal death rates in the U.S. are shockingly high and for women of color, the risk is even two to three times higher.

It‘s bias, delayed care, systemic neglect.

It's a lack of research, a lack of funding.

A deep, persistent lack of interest in women‘s health.

Our pain sidelined.

Ignored.

Normalized.

The system continues to fail women and people with a uterus.

Jack knows that. Robby does too.

That’s why the moment the bleeding starts, they don’t waste time. They’ve seen how fast a name turns into a number.

How a tragedy turns into a statistic, that ultimately changes nothing.

Robby calls out for Jack to assist, before starting a uterine massage to stimulate contraction.

Jack’s eyes flicker to Robby’s, his hand deep inside you. That part doesn’t register until later.

You don‘t respond to the pain. Not a good sign.

You‘re going into shock.

Robby‘s gloves are soaked. Your blood literally on his hands. The massage isn‘t working. Not fast enough anyway.

Robby shouts orders at Dana, voice trembling, then turns to Jack. “Start the IV.“

Jack's trained for this. But he hesitates.

Frozen.

Jack never freezes.

Always calm and collected, even during the most chaotic, traumatizing cases.

Robby knows the feeling. There have been one or two instances where time stood still for him too. Where his body was suddenly not his own, even though others counted on him.

He needs Jack, now.

You need him.

Robby is only thinking in units, how many you‘ve lost, how many you need.

This isn’t a slow bleed. This is the kind that kills people.

Fast.

“Jack!” Still no answer. “Dr. Abbot!“ Robby‘s desperate yell finally snaps Jack back into professional mode.

He moves. Slides out from under you, gently guiding you onto your back, cradling your head.

He rushes to switch out with Robby, now massaging your uterus with one hand, the other pressing firmly on your abdomen.

Robby swiftly takes your boy from your arms, leaving you dazed and confused.

“It‘s okay, he‘s okay.“ Robby’s eyes lock with yours for a second. “We need to stop the bleeding.“

You don‘t hear any of it, your world being ripped from you.

Robby passes the baby through the elevator door to Dana, who cradles him close, rocking gently.

Jack returns to your side, settling at your head again, cupping your face.

Robby works quickly. He inserts a Bakri balloon through your cervix, inflating it with sterile fluid to put pressure on the uterine wall.

You don‘t see any of it.

The world just... stops.

It’s been a week since Jack and Robby fought to save your life.

A week since you bled out on the cold elevator floor.

A week since you took your last breath on your own.

Jack hasn‘t left your bedside, except maybe the odd trip to the bathroom, but otherwise he's been still.

The image of a tube down your throat forever burnt into his mind. Your exhausted body hooked up to machines that he knows keep you alive. That breathe for you now.

As a doctor, Jack knows the truth: one flipped switch and you’d be gone.

But as a partner, as a new father, he clings to the hope that you‘ll come back.

Jack feels paralyzed, fear, guilt and helplessness weighing him down.

The life you have built together is on hold, a deep stillness filling the air.

All he can do is wait for something to change. Either one way or the other. But in this moment, time seems to stand still.

It’s also been a week since your son was born.

Sometimes, Jack has to remind himself of that. That there's a whole new life now, suddenly depending on him.

But ridden with guilt, he finds himself unable to care for your boy in this time of crisis.

Dana brings the baby in sometimes, places him gently on your chest. Skin-to-skin. For the baby and the mom.

Those are the rare moments Jack lets himself feel it. The love. The dream.

A glimpse of what was supposed to be.

Until the sadness floods back in.

He failed you. As a husband. As a doctor.

How could he not save you?

“She‘s so still.“ Jack says under his breath.

“She‘s still alive, Jack.“ Robby‘s voice is kind but firm. He sits across from him on the other side of your bed, watching Jack carefully. “She needs you to believe in that.“

Jack just stares at you. “We‘ve both seen how most of these go“

“I know.“ Robby looks at you then your boy resting calmly on your chest. “But we‘re not there yet."

Robby picks up your son's tiny hand. Instinctively, those small fingers wrap around Robby’s.

“He has your smile“, Robby laughs softly.

Jack‘s frown lines soften. “And her eyes.“

The realization makes Jack smile. Robby gives him a nod, as if he just proved his point.

“Add some silver to those curls, a bit of unhealthy cynicism and a dash of existential dread… voilá!“

That earns a chuckle.

Jack rolls his eyes. “We both know I’m the healthy one.”

“Healthy is a stretch, brother.“ Robby raises an eyebrow. “I have talked you off a ledge or two.“

Jack snorts. "Ditto. Why did I even give you my therapist‘s number if you‘re not gonna use it.“

“What makes you think I haven‘t.“ A smile tugs at Robby‘s lips.

“Get out.“ Jack stares. “Have you?“

“Yes, actually“, Robby’s tone turns proud.

“When?"

He doesn’t need to answer. Jack already knows.

They both look at you.

The irony isn't lost on Jack. He is the one that hasn‘t made an appointment since it happened. Too afraid to leave your side.

When he thought about losing you before - and he has, of course, he‘s seen too much loss, too much death - he always knew he would find himself on a roof not soon after.

But now. Now another life depends on him. Regardless of whether you leave them.

“You know what happened isn‘t your fault, right?“ Jack puts the question out there, though he knows the answer.

Robby just shakes his head. And in that moment Jack realizes the guilt that‘s weighing on Robby too.

He wants to shake him, tell him he couldn’t have done more. But he also understands. Somehow, sharing the guilt makes it all a little more bearable.

“She wants you to be godfather.“ Jack says before he can overthink it. “I do too, in case that‘s not obvious.“

Robby‘s eyes widen in surprise, too stunned to speak.

“I know, I know, first the baby‘s name, now this.“ Jack furrows his brows. “If I didn‘t know any better I‘d be jealous…“

Back in his body, Robby finds his voice. “When you say it like that, he kind of does have my nose…“

“Careful, fruitcake-“

“I swear to god, Abbot, if you call me that again-“

A soft cry cuts through the banter.

Both men go still.

Jack stares at his son.

The frown lines on Jack‘s face, suddenly deep as ever. Jack realizes that he hasn‘t actually held his boy. Not really, apart from the few short moments when he places him on your chest.

And certainly not like a father should.

Whereas Robby has visited the NICU after every shift, occasionally even during his breaks. Checking, caring, guarding.

He's ready to hold him if Jack is not.

Robby's seen it many times. How deeply partners are affected by birth trauma too. It‘s the kind of silent pain that eats away at people.

The guilt, the helplessness. The shame, for even feeling this way, when it didn‘t physically happen to them.

The scars cut deep, even if they aren‘t the ones that carry them.

Their partners are the ones fighting for their lives, so surely they have no right to feel so broken. They have to be strong for the both of them. To hold the family together.

But as doctors, they know that‘s not how it works.

And yet no one speaks of it.

So they suffer in silence.

And even though Jack has all of the practical and theoretical knowledge, he still falls victim to it.

Robby doesn‘t push, he‘s just there.

Still.

But this time, Jack moves first. He reaches for his boy, lifts him into his arms. Holds him against his chest.

The crying fades. Jack’s doesn’t.

Tears fall down his cheeks as he rocks the baby gently.

“We‘ll be okay." He whispers into his son’s soft curls. "You, me and your mommy.“ He exhales, eyes shut. “She loves you so much. And I know she can‘t wait to meet you."

Jack has felt lost since the moment your eyes closed. But now... he finds you again.

In your baby’s eyes.

And he can‘t help but feel a wave of love wash over him.

You made this tiny human together. And he‘s every bit as beautiful as you‘d expect.

All the pain, the sadness and the fear briefly stop for a moment of peace.

Jack stays like this for what feels like hours. Robby was called away for a critical case at some point, though Jack didn't really notice when he left.

He doesn‘t notice Dana standing in the doorway either, until she raises her voice slightly to speak. “You‘re a natural, Jack.“

Her words are kind and affirmative and just what Jack needs.

Dana is perceptive like that. Always knows what to say to make others feel better even when her own life is falling apart.

Even in times of deep crisis, she is the first to step up and help.

And that‘s what she did for you.

When Jack and Robby were working on you, desperately trying to stop you from bleeding out, her helping hands were a safe haven for your boy.

But it also affected her. She was used to compartmentalizing, but seeing her colleague, her friend, on the floor, pale, not breathing and still, left a scar.

And she too feels like this is something she can‘t speak of. Because again, what right does she have.

So she carries it with her. Silently.

She feels it every time she comes into your room to brush your hair. When she moisturizes your face and hands. When she strokes her thumb over your frown line.

She tells you about her day and your boy‘s.

Jack is there too of course.

He never leaves.

It‘s the only time when Jack allows himself to rest his eyes for a bit, a deep trust that Dana's watching over you.

“Want me to take him up to the NICU?“ Dana offers gently.

“Thank you." Jack contemplates for a moment before shaking his head. "I‘ve got it.“

He moves to stand, his eyes flickering to you then back to Dana.

“I‘ve got her“, she assures him with a warm smile, taking a seat next to you.

As he moves towards the door, Dana suddenly stops him. “What the hell did you to her hair, Abbot?“

Jack just shrugs innocently.

Dana scoffs, lightly cursing under her breath. "Men."

Jack returns a small smile, leaving your room for the first time in a week, cradling his newborn.

Like many times before, Robby spends his break in your room.

Dana has just finished your beauty routine. Fixing the mess on your head that Jack clumsily left.

Robby watches the two of you fondly. There are no words needed. Just a silent appreciation of the people in his life. In yours.

He thinks back to when he picked up the phone to call the therapist Jack recommended. He was sobbing, hands shaking, voice trembling, breathing unsteady. Just minutes earlier, he had put you on life support. No time to process.

And of course, it brought everything back. The memory of taking Dr. Adamson, his mentor, his friend, off ECMO. The grief still raw.

So Robby dialed the number and made an appointment. A tiny win in itself. Although, he'd later realize wasn't so small after all.

The therapist was nice enough. Though Robby felt like he was being assessed. Because, of course, he was.

Doctors make the worst patients. Especially, in therapy.

They know too much, often feel they're above being treated. Above being helped.

Physician heal thyself.

Collins' words echo in his mind.

Robby remembers when Heather told him about the miscarriage.

His heart broke for her.

Though he wasn't the father, so was it his place to feel devastated?

Or when she told him she had an abortion, long after they broke up. He wanted to cry. Not because he didn't respect her decision. It's her body and he would have supported her no matter what.

No. Because she was scared and alone. Felt like she couldn't come to him and tell him. To share the weight of her choice.

He believes he failed her.

Like he failed you.

He should probably make another appointment.

There've been a few breakthroughs in the couple of sessions he's attended. His therapist made him start a journal. Write down all the things that plague his mind.

So he does. The words practically pouring out of him.

Robby writes about how partners are mostly an afterthought when it comes to birth trauma.

How they're expected to be strong, to support, to hold down the fort and to move on.

How there are little to no resources for families and loved ones.

How there's no funding, no research and too much stigma.

How much it would help people feel less alone if they could actually talk about it.

How birth trauma doesn't begin and end with the person giving birth.

And mostly he thinks about you in this bed, still, unconscious, far away. How it’s simply to much to bear alone. But he cannot bring himself to translate those thoughts onto paper.

Not when there‘s still hope.

The monitors beep. A sudden change. Something is different.

Your eyes flutter, your muscles twitch, the sound of faint gags fill the room.

Robby rushes to your side, quickly assessing if you're ready to breathe on your own.

You pass the criteria, so he orders Dana to prep for extubation, attempting to calm you down.

You try to inhale, but it’s wrong. Your throat is on fire. Your jaw tight.

A hand finds yours. Dana. "You're okay, honey. You're okay."

But something’s in your throat, a deep panic tears through your chest and you choke, eyes widening.

Someone else is speaking, pleading. "I know, I know it hurts. We’re getting it out. Hang on for me.” The voice is too familiar, but you can‘t place it.

You gag, something slick is pulled from deep inside you. It feels like you're being sliced open.

The second the sharp object leaves your throat, you gasp like you're taking your first breath. Like you've drowned and you're coming up for air.

You cough and cough, terrified and breathless. Eyes heavy.

Then you hear his voice. Again. Clearer this time.

Your eyes flutter open, focusing, trying to find something to hold onto. That makes sense. Anything.

"My love."

Jack.

Jack steps closer, cradling your head, his other palm resting gently on your chest. "You're still here." He says it like he's convincing himself.

Your eyes soften, your breathing steadies. You barely take in your surroundings, your only focus is Jack.

"You're okay." He's clinging to your face now. "God, I missed those eyes."

Your thoughts clear. Memories start flooding back.

Michael. But the words don‘t leave your throat.

Jack studies your face, patiently.

You try again. A whisper.

"Michael."

"I'm here", Robby answers, though you swear he's made that joke before.

You attempt to shake your head, though it's more of a twitch.

"I know you're not talking about me." Robby admits, gesturing to someone in the doorway.

The you hear it. Tiny cooing filling the air.

Your sweet baby.

A fragile sob escapes your lips. You look at Jack, who helps you sit up just enough.

Every muscle aches, every joint throbs, every scar burns, but a sudden energy surges through you. You lift your arms just enough for Dana to place your boy into your waiting arms. Like you found the missing piece of the puzzle. Like you're finally where you belong.

Jack wraps his arm around your shoulders, his other hand steadying yours as you cradle your boy.

"He has your smile", you whisper lovingly, gazing up at your partner.

Robby and Jack share a look and you wonder what that's about. Though it looks like Robby feels very much validated.

"All I see is you", Jack counters, adoration and devotion in his gaze. Jack leans in to press his forehead to yours, your lips quickly finding his in a gentle, needed kiss.

When you pull apart, you turn to Robby and Dana.

"You were there..."

They look at you, unsure where you're going.

“It matters”, you continue. “All of it. So don’t… don’t carry this alone.”

A beat. The room goes quiet.

"You nearly died and you're worried about us?" Dana chokes.

“I want Mikey to know… that the people who brought him into this world are the ones who stood still for us when everything else stopped.”

You take a breath.

“Will you be his godparents?”

Dana nods fast, like she’s trying to keep tears from falling.

Robby stands there, arms crossed, head bowed. Evidently moved by your question, but there's something else.

You groan, narrowing your eyes. "Jack already asked you, didn't he?"

Robby hesitates, scratching his neck and looking anywhere but at you. There's no way to talk himself out of that one, so he confesses.

You drop your head back onto the pillow with a theatrical sigh, then shoot Jack a look. He raises his hands in mock-surrender, a genuine smile growing on his lips.

You turn back to Robby, expectantly.

"Of course", he smiles. "I'd be honored."

"I don't know if I should be glad or offended you didn't ruin the surprise for me too", Dana deadpans, turning to Jack.

Jack scrambles to change the subject. "You know... Robby went to see my therapist."

"You what?" You blink. “Oh my God… I called it. Group therapy is happening.”

Robby tries not to look too smug.

You turn to Jack, still grinning. “Does that make him the stable one now?”

Jack groans, “Don't start.”

There's a refreshing lightness in the air, that none of you have felt for a while.

You know the road to recovery is long and that healing is a process. You'll grieve the time you've missed with your son. The milestones you weren't there for.

But the people in this very room were with you during the worst time of your life and you know you’ll make it through this too.

Together.

You hold your son closer. And Jack holds you.

In that moment, you realize that trauma is shared and that naming it is a kind of healing.

Ok I need to stop, this story already got away from me, didn‘t intend for it to be so long but here we are. Please lmk what you think <3

[guerillas-of-history]

🔴 Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine:

Trump’s victory will reinforce the American anti-Palestinian approach, and the Democratic Party’s loss is a natural result of its direct involvement in the zionist war of genocide.

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine affirms that Donald Trump and the Republican Party’s victory in the U.S. elections does not, in any way, signify a real change in the hostile approach that successive American administrations have pursued against our Palestinian people and their just cause. There is no fundamental difference between the Republican and Democratic parties; both have contributed to supporting the zionist entity and participated in the war of genocide against our people, whether through policies or unlimited military and diplomatic support.

Our people have never placed their hopes on any candidate from either the Democratic or Republican parties, as we have never witnessed any positive change in U.S. administration policies, which have consistently aligned fully with the zionist entity, providing it with military funding and all forms of political, legal, and diplomatic protection.

The Democratic Party’s loss is a logical result of its complicity with the zionist entity; it rejected calls from supporters of the Palestinian people, the Palestinian community, and Arab and Muslim communities in the United States to pressure for an end to the war of genocide in Gaza, continuing its support for aggression against our people. Today, the Democrats are paying the price for ignoring these demands at the ballot box.

We in the Popular Front do not expect any positive development from a Donald Trump administration; rather, we anticipate an escalation in hostile policies against our people, fully biased in favor of the zionist entity.

We call on supporters of the Palestinian people, as well as movements, organizations, and groups that stand with our cause in the United States, to intensify pressure on the new U.S. administration to end its support for the zionist entity.

We see in the popular and student movements that stand in solidarity with Gaza, along with the emergence of small, free voices and parties, a glimmer of hope that could contribute to even a slight change in the U.S. stance on our cause.

Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine

Central Media Department

November 6, 2024

[thatwitchrevan]

This petition is by Rashida Tlaib, a Palestinian American congresswoman. Please sign to urge Biden to stop sending aid and weapons to Israel.

There is a donation request afterwards but the signature itself just requires name email and zip. There is also an option to sign from outside the US and select your country. The petition is a little over 33,000 signatures away from its goal as of posting.

Please let me know if any of this information is incorrect or misleading. Please feel free to add other verified petitions.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Anthony Robledo

The side effects of newly discovered COVID-19 strain XEC might not be as severe, but is part of the more contagious variant class, experts say.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) defines XEC as recombinant or hybrid of the strains KS.1.1 and KP.3.3., both from the Omicron family that became the predominant strain in the U.S. late December 2022.

The variant, which first appeared in Berlin in late June, has increasingly seen hundreds of cases in Germany, France, Denmark and Netherlands, according to a report by Australia-based data integration specialist Mike Honey.

XEC has also been reported in at least 25 U.S. states though there could be more as genetic testing is not done on every positive test, RTI International epidemiologist Joëlla W. Adams said.

"We often use what happens in Europe as a good indication of what might happen here," Adams told USA TODAY Friday. "Whenever we're entering into a season where we have multiple viruses occurring at the same time, like we're entering into flu season, that obviously complicates things."

What is the XEC variant? New COVID strain XEC is a recombinant strain of two variants in the Omicron family: KS.1.1 and KP.3.3.

The hybrid strain was first reported in Berlin late June but has spread across Europe, North America and Asia with the countries Germany, France, the Netherlands and Denmark leading cases.

Is the XEC variant more contagious? While there's no indication the XEC strain will increase the severity of virus, it could potentially become a dominant strain as Omicron variants are more contagious. However, current available COVID-19 vaccines and booster shots are particularly protective against XEC as it is a hybrid of two Omicron strains.

"These strains do have the advantage in the fact that they are more transmissible compared to other families, and so the vaccines that are currently being offered were not based off of the XEC variant, but they are related," Adams said.

Like other respiratory infections, COVID-19 and its recent Omicron variants will increasingly spread during the fall and winter seasons as students return to classes, kids spend more time inside and people visit family for the holidays, according to Adams.

How can we protect ourselves from XEC and other variants? The CDC continues to monitor the emergence of variants in the population, according to spokesperson Rosa Norman.

"At this time, we anticipate that COVID-19 treatments and vaccines will continue to work against all circulating variants," Norman said in a statement to USA TODAY. "CDC will continue to monitor the effectiveness of treatment and vaccines against circulating variants."

The CDC recommends that everyone ages 6 months and older, with some exceptions, receive an updated 2024-2025 COVID-19 vaccine to protect against the virus, regardless whether or not you have previously been vaccinated or infected.

Norman urged Americans to monitor the agency's COVID Data Tracker for updates to new variants.

KP.3.1.1:This dominant COVID-19 variant accounts for over 50% of cases, new CDC data shows

What is the dominant strain of COVID in the US? COVID-19 variant KP.3.1.1 is currently the dominant strain accounting for more than half of positive infections in the U.S. according to recent CDC projections.

Between Sept. 1 and Sept. 14, 52.7% of positive infections were of the KP.3.1.1 strain, followed by KP.2.3 at 12.2%, according to the agency's Nowcast data tracker, which displays COVID-19 estimates and projections for two-week periods.

KP.3.1.1 first became the dominant strain in the two-week period, starting on July 21st and ending on August 3rd.

"The KP.3.1.1 variant is very similar to other circulating variants in the United States. All current lineages are descendants of JN.1, which emerged in late 2023," Norman previously told USA TODAY.

COVID XEC symptoms There is no indication that the XEC variant comes with its own unique symptoms.

The CDC continues to outline the basic COVID-19 symptoms, which can appear between two to 14 days after exposure to the virus and can range from mild to severe.

These are some of the symptoms of COVID-19:

Fever or chills Cough Shortness of breath or difficulty breathing Fatigue Muscle or body aches Headache Loss of taste or smell Sore throat Congestion or runny nose Nausea or vomiting Diarrhea

The CDC said you should seek medical attention if you have the following symptoms:

Trouble breathing Persistent pain or pressure in the chest New confusion Inability to wake or stay awake Pale, gray or blue-colored skin, lips, or nail beds

[sayruq]

Statement: Student organizations in the Gaza Strip in solidarity with the Student Intifada in the United States

In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful… We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising up in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist-U.S. genocide against our people in Gaza. As we remain under the bombs of occupation, resisting Nazi genocide, grieving for our martyred colleagues and faculty, and witnessing the destruction of our universities, we welcome the examples of solidarity offered by students facing arrest, police violence, suspension, eviction, and expulsion in order to demand that their universities end their complicity in the Zionist-U.S. genocide and renounce their support for the occupation and the war profiteers that arm it. We have seen hundreds of students arrested across the United States as they work to transform their universities into “Popular Universities for Gaza.” Students, faculty, and staff are disrupting university operations and making clear that while universities in Gaza are being bombed, university business cannot continue as usual in the United States. These actions come as university administrations collaborate with members of Congress to discredit conscientious student activists and faculty, expel students, ban events, shut down student organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine, and condemn activists working to end the Nazi genocide. At the same time, these same universities invest in the same companies that profit from the continued sale of weapons to the Zionist regime to continue its genocidal offensive. Our students – and our educational system as a whole – in occupied Palestine are subjected to ongoing genocidal aggression: our universities destroyed and bombed, our student organizations banned, and our student leaders subjected to torture, assassination and mass imprisonment. However, in Palestine and around the world, the student movement has always been a driving force of our struggle for liberation. When we see videos and images from American universities today, we are reminded of our history of student struggle as well as the student uprisings of 1968, which challenged imperialism from Vietnam to Palestine and reshaped the face of Europe and the United States. Now, in 2024, the student movement is once again leading the way. From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States. As members of Congress agree to provide $26 billion in additional weapons to bomb our people and continue the Zionist-U.S. genocide, you are taking meaningful action to shut down the war machine on your campuses. It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism and genocide, and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea. Your global student solidarity is breaking boundaries, and it is time to smash the US imperialist war machine. From Gaza to Columbia, to Ann Arbor and Berkeley, our hands are joined to end Nazi genocide and achieve our collective liberation.

[hereghostslive]

The phone rings one night a few weeks after Bobby's funeral. The sound startles him, extra loud in the silence of his house and the self-imposed, though unintentional, weeks-long isolation.

He doesn't bother flipping on a light, as if the cover of darkness can hide him from whoever's on the other line.

"hello?" He answers, forgetting to check the caller ID.

There's a silence on the other end, except for a quiet breathing that he'd recognize anywhere. He starts to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hi," he says, and this time it's not a question.

And without missing a beat, he gets a response.

"hi," Evan says.

The last time Evan called him it was to request a helicopter ride from the roof of a pharmaceutical building. Lucky he had been tinkering with the chopper when the call came through, all suited up, like he'd been waiting to offer his assistance.

He's not exactly in a state to defy the orders of the U.S. military again, under the covers of his bed and still half asleep. But he's slowly waking up.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Evan asks.

"Only a little," Tommy admits, but he doesn't mind.

Evan huffs a little laugh. "I forgot you usually work the night shift on Sundays."

It's barely 9 p.m. on a Monday night but Tommy understands Evan's assumption, though it's misplaced this time.

Tommy hums in answer, not wanting to admit he's taken a mandatory leave of absence, not by choice.

"is everything okay?" He asks instead, because while it's nice to hear Evan's voice, it's been a quiet few weeks since Bobby's death and the image of Evan in the hallway outside the lab has been haunting every waking moment and every dreamless sleep. He should have called.

This time, Evan hums. But instead of answering Tommy's question with an assurance that everything is okay and that no, Tommy doesn't need to be suiting up and getting a chopper ready for another adventure only the 118 can conjure up, he just says, "Do you want to watch a movie?"

And Tommy has just awoken so he's a little slow in responding but he does get out a probably rude "But you hate movies."

"I never said I hated movies," Evan scoffs. Tommy laughs. "I just haven't seen a lot of them."

"And you want to watch one right now?"

"Yeah," Evan sighs. And then, "Come over. Watch a movie with me."

And it's not a helicopter request for a dangerous situation with lives hanging in the balance but there is life here, happening right now. A request that's so simple and so complicated at the same time.

The darkness of his room surrounds him and he stares right back, into the void he threw himself into in the weeks following a funeral he felt he had no right to be there for.

He can do a movie.

"I'm on my way."

--

tbc

[orionsces]

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸 🍉 Free Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Yemen, Tigray, Syria, Haiti, Hawai’i, Puerto Rico, Tibet. I've made a list for some donation and free resources for those who need them. Donation Pages and other resources you can help support (Donation Page for Palestine, Syria, Lebanon and other refugee camps) (The Palestine Children's Relief Fund) (Donations go towards Palestine, Lebanon and Jordan) (Purchasing eSims allows people within Gaza to connect to the outside to communicate with their families and also to show what’s happening within Gaza) (A donation site which provides urgently needed humanitarian aid in moments of crisis and conflict in 70 different countries.) (A donation page for Sudan Relief) (A donation page to send water, food and aid to those who are living in Yemen.) Other ways you're able to help for free, contact your local senators, boycott, inform yourself and others! Anything you are able to do is able to help. Inform yourself about Sudan, South Sudan, Palestine, Somalia, Uyghurs, Congo, Libya, Afghanistan, Yemen, Syria and Morocco Inform yourself about Haiti, Hawai'i, Puerto Rico, Tigray, Tibet, Uighurs, West Papau: (A collection of resources for organizers and anyone who wants to learn more about Palestine.) (A free daily button you can click to help the people of Palestine and other areas of crisis.) (A comprehensive list of brands to boycott and reasons why.) (Another list of brands to boycott.) (Contact your local US senator.) (Contact your local Canadian parliament) (Contact your local UK parliament)

You can use this call script if you call your local US government.

Call Script: My name is {Your Name}. I am a constituent of {Representative's Name}. I am calling to ask that the Representative add their name to the Ceasefire Now resolution led by Representatives Cori Bush and Rashida Tlaib, regarding the unfolding crisis in Gaza. It is absolutely urgent that the Representative demand a ceasefire, and that they call on Israel to allow humanitarian assistance into Gaza. The only way forward is addressing the root causes of violence: Israeli military occupation and apartheid, and ending U.S. complicity in this oppression.

[sammaggs]

🚨🚨 This is one of the first M/M gay kisses on scripted North American television 🚨🚨

and I frankly am of the opinion that this should be studied in queer theory classes in schools!!

due South’s Mountie on the Bounty Part 2 aired March 22, 1998 and includes the infamous “Buddy Breathing” scene, featuring THIS underwater kiss between Paul Gross’s Benton Fraser and Callum Keith Rennie’s Ray Kowalski. And it’s one of the first times anybody—ANYBODY—got away with it.

8min 20sec in and yes it’s that dark for a reason baby

For date- and network-specific relevancy, the commonly-accepted first M/M gay kisses on network TV are usually listed as

Dec. 6 1998 on That 70’s Show, where a gay Joseph Gordon-Levitt forces himself on Topher Grace (here at 2:24),

with the first popular and passionate gay M/M kiss between canonically queer characters on network TV not airing until Dawson’s Creek in 2000.

There were a few others before this in ‘94: two straight men as a joke on Friends, an unscripted kiss on The Real World (cable), and a real scripted gay kiss on (Paul Gross-starring) Tales of the City which aired on public broadcaster PBS, nearly getting them defunded. But prime time network TV, we’re usually looking at December of ‘98.

Which is why t’s definitely worth noting that Mountie on the Bounty Pt. 2 aired over 8 months before the episode of That ‘70s Show in March 1998!

So why can’t we count it as THE first? Well, it’s complicated. In the U.S., seasons 3 and 4 of due South were relegated to syndication on basic cable network TNT (typically at, like, 1 P.M. on weekdays).

But this absolutely DID air on CANADIAN prime time network television on CTV, and it DID still air on syndicated U.S. TV (important enough to warrant a TV Guide write-up!), so that’s why I’ve classified it the way I have.

Imagine the absolute balls it took to write, get network approval for, shoot, and air without censorship, an M/M slash LIFE-GIVING KISS on TELEVISION (cable or not) in the year 1998. HUGE. (And, of course—spoiler warning for a 30-year-old television show—Fraser and Kowalski ride off into the sunrise together at the end of the series, and they got away with that, too.)

Paul Gross, the man that you are,

(Also huge thank you to @systematic-and-somehow-tragic who tracked down the 1997 TV Guide from whence I drew this snippet. Set ‘em up, knock ‘em down!)

[historyandmemes]

Sunday, Dec. 25, 2023 — Another day, another horrific massacre of innocent Palestinians by Israel. The US and the international community must force Israel to STOP the carnage, STOP the war crimes, STOP the depravity.

The world continues to watch as the rogue state of Israel inflicts unthinkable crimes against humanity. The complicity is sickening, the inaction despicable. Palestinians deserve better, we've failed them.

At least 70 killed in Israeli strike on refugee camp in central Gaza, health ministry says — (Source: The Guardian) Guardian staff and agencies | Sun 24 Dec 2023 18.04 EST

An Israeli airstrike on a refugee camp in central Gaza has killed at least 70 people, Palestinian health officials have said as they warned the toll was likely to rise and the strikes that began hours before midnight continued into Christmas Day. The Palestinian health ministry spokesperson, Ashraf al-Qidra, said the death toll was likely to climb. “What is happening at the Maghazi camp is a massacre that is being committed on a crowded residential square,” he told Reuters.

Israel strikes 2 homes, killing more than 90 Palestinians. Biden says he didn’t request a cease-fire — (Source: Associated Press) BY NAJIB JOBAIN AND SAMY MAGDY | Updated 4:12 PM EST, December 23, 2023

U.S. President Joe Biden spoke with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on Saturday, calling it a long and private conversation a day after the Biden administration again shielded Israel in the diplomatic arena. On Friday, the U.N. Security Council adopted a watered-down resolution that calls for immediately speeding up aid deliveries to desperate civilians in Gaza, but not for a cease-fire. “I did not ask for a cease-fire,” Biden said of the call. Netanyahu’s office said the prime minister “made clear that Israel would continue the war until achieving all its goals.”

Netanyahu vows to fight on in Gaza; Islamic Jihad joins Cairo talks — (Source: Reuters) By Nidal Al-Mughrabi and Dan Williams | December 24, 2023 2:58 PM EST

CAIRO/JERUSALEM, Dec 24 (Reuters) - Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu vowed on Sunday to fight deeper into Gaza after his troops endured one of the worst days of losses of their ground war, while militant group Islamic Jihad joined talks in Cairo, a sign diplomacy was still alive. ... The militant groups have so far said they will not discuss any release of hostages unless Israel ends its war in Gaza, while the Israelis say they are willing to discuss only a temporary pause in fighting.

DON'T LOOK AWAY. KEEP UP PUBLIC PRESSURE. PUSH FOR PEACE.

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[athena5898]

(PrR)Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine:

Trump’s victory will reinforce the American anti-Palestinian approach, and the Democratic Party’s loss is a natural result of its direct involvement in the zionist war of genocide.

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine affirms that Donald Trump and the Republican Party’s victory in the U.S. elections does not, in any way, signify a real change in the hostile approach that successive American administrations have pursued against our Palestinian people and their just cause. There is no fundamental difference between the Republican and Democratic parties; both have contributed to supporting the zionist entity and participated in the war of genocide against our people, whether through policies or unlimited military and diplomatic support.

Our people have never placed their hopes on any candidate from either the Democratic or Republican parties, as we have never witnessed any positive change in U.S. administration policies, which have consistently aligned fully with the zionist entity, providing it with military funding and all forms of political, legal, and diplomatic protection.

The Democratic Party’s loss is a logical result of its complicity with the zionist entity; it rejected calls from supporters of the Palestinian people, the Palestinian community, and Arab and Muslim communities in the United States to pressure for an end to the war of genocide in Gaza, continuing its support for aggression against our people. Today, the Democrats are paying the price for ignoring these demands at the ballot box.

We in the Popular Front do not expect any positive development from a Donald Trump administration; rather, we anticipate an escalation in hostile policies against our people, fully biased in favor of the zionist entity.

We call on supporters of the Palestinian people, as well as movements, organizations, and groups that stand with our cause in the United States, to intensify pressure on the new U.S. administration to end its support for the zionist entity.

We see in the popular and student movements that stand in solidarity with Gaza, along with the emergence of small, free voices and parties, a glimmer of hope that could contribute to even a slight change in the U.S. stance on our cause.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Top Gun: Maverick Fic Recs

Hey y'all! Here are 21 of my favorite TGM fanfics of all genres and ships, listed in no particular order.

Some of these fics are 18+ so read at your own risk. None of these works are mine and all credit goes to the amazing authors! <3

X READER

Safe Zone by @sunlightmurdock — (Series // Rooster and Hangman x reader)

A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Hold My Hand by @labyrinth-runner — (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

Jag! Reader is assigned to defend a pilot, finding the job to be more complicated than she thought.

Rooster’s Flight or a Manual for the Marooned by DontLetThemTakeYouAlive (Series // Rooster x Reader/OC)

"Rooster's Flight: A Manual for the Marooned" follows Madeline, a pastry chef escaping scandal in Amsterdam, and Bradley, a lost naval aviator stationed in Japan. Fate brings them to sunny San Diego, where their friendship blossoms amid career challenges and a clashing of characters. Madeline's culinary journey intertwines with Bradley's self-discovery, navigating love and loss.

Resilience, self-discovery, and the unpredictable paths of career and matters of the heart shape their narrative in this tale of second chances and unlikely connections.

Fine Piece by @dragon-kazansky (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

You have it bad for Vice Admiral Simpson. But to prove you’re fit for the job; you need to put that aside and focus on the flying.

Someone Special by @fanboygarcia (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

What happens when the Dagger Squad catches on to the fact that known grump turned lovesick fool Admiral Simpson has someone special in his life?

Invisible String by @halfway-happyyy (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

the one where rooster’s about to leave on a mission he doesn’t know if he’ll be back from, and he wants you in every way imaginable. as always, soft feelings ensue! 

Do you wanna make somethin’ of it by @theharddeck (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

@bullet-prooflove's entire TGM masterlist

Everything she writes is outstanding, but the Beau x Ally fics (The First Time Series, The General Series, Deployment!Series, and Syria!Series) are something I think about literally everyday.

i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

There Are Rules by @tongue-like-a-razor (Series // Maverick x Reader)

Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

Through the Hourglass by @bratshaws (Series // Rooster x OC)

Rooster x Plus Size OC!

Happy Birthday, Mr. President by @rhettabbotts (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

Whoever's in Lemoore by @cherrycola27 (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

A fic based on the Reba McEntire song "Whoever's in New England"

Angels Don't Always Have Wings by @bradshawssugarbaby (Series // Rooster x Reader)

a series of oneshots revolving around baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Do I? by @bradshawssugarbaby (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

Inspired by Do I? by Luke Bryan. (this fic was so good I had to go take a walk after reading it for the first time)

Road to Perdition by @sailor-aviator (Series // Hangman x Reader)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

His Best Friend's Wedding by @ereardon (Series // Rooster x Reader)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right? 

OTHER SHIPS

Mistaken Identity by @ladylanera — (TGM x Mission: Impossible crossover)

What should be a joyous homecoming quickly unravels after it's discovered a nefarious, unknown group has put a hit out on Captain Mitchell, mistaking the Navy captain for being a covert IMF operative by the name of Ethan Hunt who has an uncanny likeness to the captain for some reason. Enter a twisty web of lies that threaten the very existence of the family as we know it.

**Fic contains spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One**

Flower Power by ReformedTsundere — (Icemav)

Flowers, Pete reminds himself, slamming the last of the books closed, are the worst.

New Chat Created: North Island Daggers by Comin2U — (gen fic)

Harvard: why Whatsapp and not just a basic text message? Hangman: because one of us has an android and ruins the ability to message with just internet. Coyote: Screw you too hangman. ________________________________ In which 12 daggers, the best of the best of naval aviators, are all a bunch of kids and thrown in a group chat.

come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away) by GatheringBlue — (TGM x 9-1-1 Crossover)

It's a common misconception that Buck trained to be a Navy SEAL. For as long as he could remember, flying had been his dream. Most little kids wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut, but Buck had always wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to fly far, far away from home, where his parents’ comments that might as well have been slaps for how badly they stung couldn’t get to him. Flying was his way out. His escape. If he was thousands of feet up in the sky, way up with the clouds, then his parents couldn’t touch him. No one could. When Buck got pulled from the reserves just after the lawsuit, it seemed like perfect timing. There was nothing left for him in LA. Not anymore. So, it looked like Buck was heading back to Top Gun.

[1997starcandy]

senator john f. kennedy x reader situationship hcs

a/n: this one’s been rotting in my drafts forever. i swore i’d never post it since i hated it but hey, i figured i’d give the people what they want so here you go, a little something from the vault...

it’s the late 1940s. you and then-congressman john f. kennedy begin a complicated, long-lasting, and intermittent affair that spans well into the early 1950s. how the two of you meet? i’ll leave those details up to you. but make no mistake — he is head over heels for you. 

he calls you in the middle of the night from an oyster bar somewhere on the campaign trail — exhausted, tipsy, unsure where he is, slurring on about how much he misses you, begging you to say it back (you do)

late-night walks around georgetown and dates at martin's

fumbling around on the cape

you have to leave for new york for work, and he insists on tagging along. under normal circumstances, you'd have told him hell no b/c you knew his ass needed to stay in washington. but congress is in recess, his family's out of town, and for once, the human dynamo has nothing better to do, so you let him

he teaches you to sail; you crash the boat (oops) and swear it was the boat's fault, not yours. he doesn't argue, but somehow you still end up paying b/c apparently the son of one of the richest men in america never carries cash

you visit his office, which sometimes (okay, often) ends with the two of you making a mess of his desk. when you bring it up, he just shrugs and mutters something about how it "doesn't matter," knowing damn well one of those papers could determine the fate of the whole country

he hails a taxi one night and asks the driver to take you both to a club out of town — despite knowing it's against the rules. the driver gives him a look like he's grown an extra head, but he smooths it over, "yeah, and i'll make it worth your while, pal. don't worry about me — i'm running for the u.s. senate. i'll figure out the fare. now, how's your sense of adventure?" the driver laughs and agrees, and you can only shake your head, laughing too, b/c somehow, jack kennedy can truly charm his way out of anything

you get tipsy on wine one night and start reading his palm like a fortune teller. he plays along, all dramatic gasps and wide eyes

he steals a photo booth strip of you from a bar and keeps it in his wallet. you catch him looking at it when he thinks you're asleep on the train

he starts calling you ridiculous nicknames like "bug" or "spoons." you protest, but he refuses to explain it. years later, you realize it was just because you once had a nervous habit of tapping your spoon when you were thinking, and he thought it was endearing

he's diehard red sox and you're ride-or-die white sox (yikes?)

in 1953, the news breaks: senator kennedy is engaged to jacqueline bouvier. you are... blindsided? you always lived in the uncertainty of your "relationship," which was never formally acknowledged by the two of you. but it always felt meaningful. now, you question everything. you hate how they were right about him all along. the next time you see him, he tries to explain, insisting it's nothing more than a carefully laid out plan, another chess move orchestrated by his father. he needs the perfect wife — catholic, well-connected, a woman who will solidify his public image and put an end to the whispers about his personal life. but you know well he's never done anything he didn't want to do. sure, he may feel the pressure, but he bends only when it suits him. which means, despite everything he's saying, part of him must want this. want her. and that thought alone makes your stomach turn. he tells you he still thinks about you constantly, but he doesn't know how to say more than that. and so, you leave. b/c you know better than to meddle in the life of a married man — worse, a married man who's practically dead set on becoming the next president.

years later, long after his presidency, you miraculously stumble upon an old letter — written in 1953, right after the news of his engagement broke.

____,

i have turned this letter over in my mind more times than i care to admit, writing and unwriting each word before ink ever touched the page. perhaps that is why i have put off writing for so long — because saying anything at all means acknowledging that there is something to be said. and there is. there always has been. 

by now, i expect you have seen the headlines. i will not insult you by assuming otherwise, nor will i attempt to disguise what has already been written. there is little i could say that would change the facts or your own reservations about me — some of which, i suspect, i deserve. and yet, i find that i cannot leave certain things unsaid. 

it is no small cruelty to be so fond of someone in the wrong lifetime. because i am. in whatever way i have ever been capable of love, i have loved you. i cannot say if that has been enough. i have never known how to say it, how to show it, how to make you believe it without needing to explain myself afterwards. but if i had ever felt for even a second that my life were my own — that i could wake up one morning and make a choice without thinking of my father, of the papers, of the senate, of the presidency — then i would have chosen you. a thousand times over, i would have chosen you. 

and so, should you choose never to see me again — a decision i could neither fault nor resent — know that i shall recall nothing but the best of you, for the best of you is all i have ever known and all i will ever allow myself to remember.

yours, always,

Jack 

and the worst part? the letter was never sent and we'll never know why! maybe he tossed it aside, thinking it was futile. or maybe, by some cruel twist of fate, it just never reached you. and now, when all of it is ancient history, you find it. and you can't even be angry anymore. you can't throw the letter in his face. you can't call him a coward. you can't ask, why didn't you send it? because he's gone. and decades later, you're forced to accept a sort of quiet mourning, a love that now lives only as an echo of something that might have been the greatest part of your life.

REF DO SOMETHING. DO SOMETHING!!!