#prague reporter

[publiccollectors]

As an artist, it's always a huge pleasure when people you don't know in cities you've never visited find value in your work and want to exhibit it. It's even better when all you have to do is say YES and then they take care of the details and present the work in the situation they have created. So in early April, my text CHEST WOUND TO THE CHEST, compiled from 75 days of listening to the Chicago Police Scanner, will be projected at night in a public space in Prague thanks to the group OBJECT:PARADISE who are working in collaboration with Incident Report in Hudson, New York. Thanks to Maximilian Goldfarb for making this possible. More concrete details on how to see this in Prague here. The complete text, from the brochure I made for Incident Report, is included above. 

[kirishwima]

ah yes, a little bit of xenophobia, as a ~parting gift~ before i leave this country

[goodgooner]

Match report: Arsenal Women 3-0 Slavia Prague

Parris, Little and Miedema all score in our first home fixture of 2021/22

[statspandit]

UCC vs PCR Dream 11 prediction, Match 32, Fancode ECS T10 Prague, 2021

UCC vs PCR Dream 11 prediction, Match 32, Fancode ECS T10 Prague, 2021

UCC vs PCR Dream 11 prediction, Match 32, Fancode ECS T10 Prague, 2021, Match Details, Pitch Report, Weather Report, Dream 11 Preview, Most Valuable Players, Captain And Vice-Captain, Dream 11 Team, Team Squad, Playing XI, Probable Winner, UCC vs PCR Dream 11, UCC vs PCR UCC VS PCR Dream 11 Prediction UCC vs PCR Match Details: The 32th T10 match will be played between United CC vs Prague CC Rooks…

[plants-plans]

When you are leaving for two months so you make plant care guides for your two plant sitters to make sure your kids are taken care of 👌

I reached the point I need multiple sitters because dumping 10 plants on one person is a little excessive :”D I owe my friends an apology and a lot of cookies.

[trainviking]

From Berlin, the capital of Germany to Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic by train. In this video I'll first show you Berlin Hauptbahnhof (Berlin main station), after that I'll show you the trains and at the end some views from the train.

▬▬▬▬▬▬ RELATED VIDEO'S ▬▬▬▬▬▬ Other video's on trains from or to Berlin: Intercity Amsterdam - Berlin: https://youtu.be/cjI__AHaSH4 EuroNight Berlin - Moscow: https://youtu.be/MwvhZ_abgBk Intercity Express München - Berlin: https://youtu.be/vyWu4rwZnQw 

▬▬▬▬▬▬ MAP OF ALL TRIP REPORTS ▬▬▬▬▬▬ https://www.google.com/maps/d/viewer?entry=yt&mid=1YUlovRQV_H-oCVxruZgVSSLh8qxSCSX5&ll=44.75840918931691%2C60.01715485&z=4 ▬▬▬▬▬▬ OTHER LINKS ▬▬▬▬▬▬ Buy the European Railway Map from here: https://amzn.to/2Edhw20 Trip report #54 SUBSCRIBE for more: https://www.youtube.com/trainviking?sub_confirmation=1

[queerism1969]

Do you think being trans is a trend?

Transgender people are known to have existed since ancient times. A wide range of societies had traditional third gender roles, or otherwise accepted trans people in some form. Historical understandings are inherently filtered through modern principles and were largely viewed through a medical lens until the late 1900s.

Trans history has also been filtered through gay history, with some historians erasing the trans identities of historical figures.

Ancient Egypt had third gender categories, including eunuchs. In the Tale of Two Brothers (from 3200 years ago), Bata removes his penis and tells his wife "I am a woman just like you"; one modern scholar called him temporarily (before his body is restored) "transgendered".

Prior to western contact, some Native American tribes had third-gender roles,[76] like the Diné (Navajo) nádleehi and the Zuni lhamana. European anthropologists usually referred to these people as berdaches, which Indigenous people have always considered an offensive slur. In 1990, some Indigenous North Americans, largely in academia, adopted the pan-Indian neologism two-spirit, as an attempt to organize inter-tribally.

In 1776, the Public Universal Friend reported being genderless, dressed androgynously, and asked followers gained while preaching throughout New England over the next four decades not to use their birth name or gendered pronouns

Prior to the 16th-century arrival of Spanish conquistadors, the Inca Empire and their Moche predecessors revered third-gender persons and organized their society around an Andean cosmovision that made room for masculine and feminine ambiguity based on "complementary dualism." Third-gender shamans as ritual practitioners were subject to violence as the Spanish suppressed pre-colonial worldviews.

In ancient Assyria, transgender cult prostitutes took part in public processions, singing, dancing, wearing costumes and sometimes women's clothes, carrying feminine symbols, and even at times performing the act of giving birth.

Eunuchs (who existed in China since 4000 years ago, were imperial servants by 3000 years ago, and were common as civil servants by the time of the Qin dynasty until a century ago) have sometimes been viewed as a third sex, or a transgender practice and Chinese histories have often expressed the relationship of a ruler to his officials in the terms of a male relationship to females.

Indian texts from as early as 3000 years ago document a third gender, which has been connected to the hijras who have formed a category of third-gender or trans-feminine people on the Indian subcontinent since ancient times.

The Buddhist Tipitaka, composed about 2100 years ago, documents four gender categories: female, male, pandaka, and ubhatobyanjanaka.

Drawings and figures from around 9000 to 3700 years ago, depicting androgynous and genderless humans in domestic, religious, and funerary settings, occur around the Mediterranean

Near what is today Prague, a burial from 4900 to 4500 years ago was found of a biologically male skeleton in a woman's outfit with feminine grave goods, which some archaeologists consider an early transgender burial.

[auskultu]

SATURDAY, MARCH 23, 1968

Gen. William C. Westmoreland will be replaced as commander of American forces in Vietnam, assuming the duties of Army Chief of Staff, President Johnson announced yesterday. Mr. Johnson held up a handwritten note from former Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara to prove that the Secretary had recommended the shift eight days before the enemy’s Lunar New Year offensive, which sparked heated debate about the general’s tactics. 

The White House is moving toward a plan to send 30,000 more troops to Vietnam, Administration sources said. It was thought that 40,000 reservists might be called up. 

Heavy air strikes continued against North Vietnam’s supply lines. In rice paddies and jungle near Saigon, allied troops reported having uncovered large enemy caches of food and weapons.

Antonin Novotný, the square-faced, thin-lipped, Old Guard Communist leader, relinquished his fingerhold on power by resigning as President of Czechoslovakia. For 12 years, he had barred any accommodation with the people’s mounting desire to revive the country’s old democratic traditions, and he was finally forced out by a new generation of leaders. 

Israel told the Security Council that her raid Thursday uncovered a huge terrorist base at Karameh, with about 1,000 men. But Jordan’s representative said the attacks had been dirertod against villages where the Israelis "looted and destroyed, plundered and murdered at will.” 

The President said many of the recommendations by his riot commission were good, but that he did not agree with all of them. In response to questions from newsmen, Mr. Johnson said, “We don’t agree with everything in the report and they don’t agree with everything we are doing.” He added that he thought there was “a general simpatico of views” between the responsible Cabinet officers and the report’s recommendations. 

Rep. Adam Clayton Powell returned from the Bahamas to New York, where he surrendered to a sheriff and went before a State Supreme Court justice who paroled him pending an appeal. 

[demonpoxballad]

The Last Name - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: There's one more name from the past bouncing around Bucky's head. One more scribble ripped from the pages of Steve's old book. Another person to make amends with. Except this one is different: he can't remember doing anything wrong. No murdering or enabling of evil plans. No threats or political conquests. In fact, Bucky can't remember much of her at all.

Warnings: heavy violence and injuries, HYDRA and The Winter Soldier (assassinations), swearing

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Chapter Two >>

Hi! Eek I'm so scared :0 Please let me know what you think so far - these first chapters are going to be short and snappy, but I promise they will get longer <3

Prague, 2004:

She wore leather all over, with a coat that skimmed her ankles, bulky enough to make her figure look masculine if any observer couldn’t see her face. Most of it was covered up now, her nose and mouth beneath a balaclava as she descended the steps of the plane. This didn’t appear unusual. It was cold in Prague, the dark tarmac splattered with piles of snow cleared from the runways. She carried a small duffel bag on one shoulder, and a bulky rucksack on her back. Her pace was brisk as she weaved between ebbing and flowing crowds in the airport, and she was the last person to get on the bus for the city centre.

Her mission was simple. Find the Winter Soldier. Eliminate him.

Fury said there was no telling what could happen if he was snagged by the wrong hands; people were doing all sorts of fucked up research nowadays. Plus, he had killed a lot of people. Probably more than anyone had ever estimated.

The best thing to do, the only thing, was to kill him. Before everyone and their mother started producing super soldiers.

But Fury didn’t know what she had found in that shady corner of SHIELD. It was filled to the brim with cobwebs. Reports detailing HYDRA’s methods for controlling the Soldier. Nonchalant step-by-step instructions on how to torture a man into forgetting. Into becoming a radiative channel of violence.

To avoid throwing up from the rancid sickness of it all, she had resorted to thinking about him like an animal that needed to be put down. Like a dog infected with rabies. It would be a kind and compassionate act, to shoot it right between the eyes. Surely there could be no cure, none that would bring him comfort. None that could protect him from his own hands, which had gripped only weapons and tracheas for far too long.

But he wasn’t an animal, she knew this. And she didn’t work with guns. She’d have to slice him open, watch his blood spill at her feet. It would be messy and ugly. Maybe it would stain her shoes.

After dropping her bags off at the saferoom, she took a walk across the Charles Bridge and around the Old Town Square, settling at a café just across from the astronomical clock. It was three in the afternoon, and just as a waitress was setting down her espresso on the table, the procession of the Twelve Apostles commenced. The bells started ringing and tiny doors slid open, revealing the eerily turning figures. Hoards of people held up their cameras and phones to capture the moment.

Below the clock, at the foot of the tower but separate from the crowds, stood her target. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a hoodie, most of his hair covered with a grey woolly hat. It seemed he was on a surveillance operation of his own, his head bent towards his phone, sunglasses shielding watchful eyes. She figured his focus was the French government official sat two tables over from her, Mr. Roche. She didn’t know enough about the details of French politics to decipher why HYDRA would want him dead, but she’d studied their lines of reasoning close enough to know that any motives would be immoral.

She grabbed her pager from her inside pocket, crossing one leg over the other whilst she typed a message. Peregrine poised to dive. Do we give a fuck about pigeons? This wasn’t part of the plan, but she still had a duty to preserve life where she could. Fury had told her she might have to subtly interfere from time to time, if only to make the paperwork less of a ball-ache. At the time, she had questioned why he was even concerned about forms. This excursion was strictly off the books. Just between the two of them. “I always do my mission reports,” Fury had said. “Just sometimes my cat eats them.”

It took about thirty seconds for her pager to vibrate with a reply. I suppose we have to.

She waited patiently in her seat, sipping her coffee, until Roche and his companions finished their own drinks and stood up to go. Watching them, and the Soldier out of the corner of her eye, she only gave them a couple of seconds before standing herself and following a few metres behind. It was a risky business, trailing them so starkly, especially when her main subject was watching them too. But she couldn’t afford to fall behind the Soldier and lose both him and the government official. This way, she might alert Roche’s security guards to lead him to safety. If there even was such a thing, where the Winter Soldier was concerned. Either way, it would be easier to deal with all of them inside, in a hotel room, than on the street in front of everyone.

The journey to the hotel wasn’t long, Roche was staying in Prague centre, just a few streets over from the square. The group marched straight there, looking back over their shoulders every minute, like disconcerted chickens. If she wasn’t feeling so incredibly vulnerable, she might have laughed at their naivety. But everything about the situation rubbed against the grain of her training; she felt like a great red stain of a person, instead of the grey shadow to which she had grown so accustomed.

She watched as Roche was bustled into the hotel lobby, strolling past the revolving doors and around the building where she came to the employees’ entrance. It was only a few minutes, during which she flattened herself against the wall in a small crook next to the door, until somebody opened it and she could slip silently through. It wasn’t worth hacking the keypad and potentially raising an alarm. Sometimes these things were rigged to scream as soon as you opened them.

She went straight into a cloakroom, shedding her layers until she was left in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, snagging a waistcoat that was left hanging above a collection of belongings.

Someone else walked in then, and she grasped at their arm, chatting frantically at them in a squeaky voice. “You don’t remember which room Roche is in, do you?” she asked them in Czech. “I’ve completely forgotten, and apparently he’s just arrived back and wants something.”

It was a man, in the same waistcoat as her, looking very baffled at her clutching hands and high-pitched babbling. “Ehh . . . 216.”

“Great! Thank you so much!” She moved towards the door to leave.

“Wait!” he called.

She paused and felt her heartrate pounding in her ears. This man couldn’t know anything about her, could he? Maybe her accent was off?

“Are you new? Maybe I should go instead.”

She shrugged, plastered on a smile that she hoped didn’t look as sickly sweet as it felt.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Gesturing her arms towards the door, she let him leave before her and followed closely behind, grabbing her clothes and a stack of towels along the way. She walked straight past the elevators, noted him entering one, and then circled back to take the other. There was no time to take the stairs. She looked at herself in the elevator mirror as she put her jacket back on and imagined Fury’s voice in her head, telling her to stop messing around with disguises and being so fancy with it.

Who the fuck do you think you are? Keep it goddamn simple, he’d say.

I don’t have an intel team, she’d protest. Gotta figure everything out somehow.

Besides, she always liked to have a little fun with these types of missions; it was better to get creative and act like a sophisticated villanelle, the lady that wore designer brands and kept her cool and knew exactly how to get each type of stain out of her clothes.

The only other alternative was to curl up into a ball and weep. What kind of agent broke down after completing each mission?

The best kind, Fury would say.

She knocked on door 215 and called out: “Room service!” There was no answer and so she shimmied open the door with a pocketknife that had been wedged under a strap on her left bicep. She strode straight over to the French doors across the room and picked the lock with a bobby pin wedged in her hair. The air outside was biting with icy wind, the cast iron railings slippery as she clambered over them to the neighbouring balcony.

Through a gap in the curtains, she had a view of the whole suit: the bedroom with a four poster bed, the main lounge with intricate gold wall trimmings and burgundy chaise lounge, the door to the bathroom. There was Roche with four other men, two of them the same security guards as before. One of them kept nervously patting his jacket at the waist. She grimaced at the thought of a bullet-fight.

She respected guns; respected people who used them properly. But they were too sure of destruction. Their trajectories were too straight, too irreversible. Too easily led to fuckups, even more so when clenched by trembling hands. She’d made a pact with herself at too young of an age, to always use a more trying means of damage. It took grit and determination to plunge a blade into somebody’s body, she thought. You had to mean it. Not like the trivial squeeze of a lever.

She unlocked the doors silently, settling crouched on one knee, in watch for the Soldier’s arrival. It was dicey, waiting so far removed from the vulnerable target, he could march in and shoot him right in the head. But she was counting on all the men in that room to put up a decent fight. She was counting on the Soldier milking the kill for all it was worth.

After five minutes she heard gunshots from the corridor, and Roche ceased his irritating pacing to-and-from the bedroom, freezing in place right next to the bathroom, his hand shaking and spilling gin all over the carpet.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee withdrew their guns, pointing them straight at the door.

When he burst through the door, face covered in a black mask, eyes intensely vacant, he did go straight for Roche. Wrapping his metal hand around the official’s neck, the Soldier shoved him into the bathroom, lifting a machine gun with his other hand and propelling a stream of bullets around the room.

Each man fell to the ground. The glass shattered. And she leapt straight through it.

Chapter Two >>

Tags: @mayasreadingnook @writing-for-marvel

[terrence-silver]

Jan Valek as a human.

-’’Jan Valek was born in Prague in 1311 A.D. He was a Catholic priest who turned against the Church and led the Bohemian peasants in an uprising. Valek was later captured, tried for heresy and burned at the stake. But after his death, there were reports that Valek was seen walking at night. It was said that he murdered the living to drink their blood. His grave was found to be empty when local and church authorities first opened it. This became the first known case of vampirism.’’-

x

[mysticstronomy]

WHAT IS THE NEW THEORY OF GRAVITY??

Blog# 199

Wednesday, June 8th, 2022

Welcome back,

An earlier study of the rotation speed of gas in the dwarf galaxy AGC 114905 found that the gas rotated very slowly and therefore claimed the MOND theory was dead. (Modified Newtonian Dynamics (MOND) is a hypothesis that proposes a modification of Newton’s law of universal gravitation to account for observed properties of galaxies))

Such theories are essential in understanding our universe because, according to known physics, galaxies rotate so quickly they should fly apart. MOND is a controversial alternative to General Relativity, the prevailing Einstein-inspired understanding of the phenomenon of gravity. However, General Relativity requires dark matter to hold galaxies together, while MOND does not require dark matter.

Because dark matter has never been detected despite decades of very sensitive searches, various theories have been put forward to alternatively explain what holds galaxies together. Debate rages over which theory is right. The very low rotation speed reported in the Mancera Pina et al study is inconsistent with predictions in a universe governed by General Relativity with large amounts of dark matter.

Dr. Banik’s group argues that the high predicted rotation speed in the MOND gravity theory is consistent with observations if the inclination of the galaxy is overestimated.

The rotation of stars and gas in faraway galaxies cannot be measured directly. Only the component along the line of sight is known from precise spectroscopic measurements. If the galaxy is viewed nearly face-on, then it would mostly rotate within the plane of the sky. This could mislead observers into thinking that the galaxy is actually rotating very slowly, which would require them to overestimate the inclination between disc and sky planes. This inclination was estimated from how elliptical the galaxy appears.

The new study explored this crucial issue using detailed MOND simulations of a disc galaxy similar to AGC 114905 made at the University of Bonn by Srikanth Nagesh and instigated by Pavel Kroupa, Professor at the University of Bonn and Charles University in Prague. The simulations show that it can appear somewhat elliptical even when viewed face-on. This is because stars and gas in the galaxy have gravity and can pull themselves into a somewhat non-circular shape. A similar process causes the spiral arms in disc galaxies, features which are so common that these are often called spiral galaxies.

As a result, the galaxy could be a lot closer to face-on than the observers thought. This could mean the galaxy is rotating much faster than reported, removing the tension with MOND.

Originally published on scitechdaily.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, June 11th, 2022)

“HOW DID THE UNIVERSE GOT ITS MAGNETIC FIELD??”

[real-jane]

nftn (bonus): after prague

(bucky barnes x female!reader, shield)

summary: you're shot on assignment, and bucky loses it.

warnings: tw: mention of gunshot/violence, aftermath of injury & mention of blood, canon level violence, hurt/comfort, bucky's tenuous control over his anger slips + confrontation with bruce, hasty escape from hospital = intoxicated reader

word count: 4,238

a/n: the third in a series of BONUS baby companion pieces to ‘nostalgia for the new’! this is what happened right after the infamous mission mentioned all over nftn--this is really early in bucky x reader's acquaintance, long before he finds his emotional reins.

series masterlist

The hangar was deserted for a Wednesday afternoon; generally, the bay was lively with agents coming and going at all hours, but the people who occupied the surrounding area at the moment were few. Which may have had something to do with the fact that the Winter Soldier, spoken in hushed tones, was anticipating the arrival of a quinjet from Prague. He only waited for jets returning home with bad news, or so the rumor mill said. He stood at the docking station for A-2, arms crossed, unmoving.

Quinjet A-2 airborne and checking in. 2 gunshot wounds, one through-and-through. No fatalities. Requesting immediate Medical attention upon arrival.

FRIDAY’s cheerful voice announcing Agent Ellis’ report as the jet departed Prague replayed over and over in his mind. He had fled the briefing room a minute later, regardless of Steve’s calls for him to come back. Someone had been shot–maybe you.

Shot. You might endure a ten-hour flight with grievous wounds. You’d bleed out by the time you got home! No–Ellis wouldn’t let that happen. Rumlow would, especially after you shot him. Thank god he was out of commission, or he would’ve been on that assignment with you. It was someone else with you, as a third… Bucky couldn’t remember the kid’s name, but he was green.

If someone had been shot, who had been reckless?

Not you. Never you. He swallowed hard. He had spent ten hours going feral waiting for more information to come through. The last FRIDAY reported, whoever had been shot was ‘stable’. Stable was not conscious. Stable was ‘alive.’ If you were any worse off than chipper, he was going to lose it.

You.

The woman who got him out for runs in the morning without expecting any conversation. Who asked to spend time with him, as if that was a thing he deserved. He hardly knew you, but he was addicted. He couldn’t think straight. Bucky lost the ability to ignore the world and hide, because a woman who enjoyed swing music kept needling her way in to check on him. Sometimes, you laughed at something he said; his cheeks ached when he smiled against his will, like they couldn’t remember how to do so. Bucky was changing. Even Sam had said a week ago that Bucky seemed… different. He leaned in when he mentioned it, too.

“I don’t know what it is, man, but you’re like… different. Are you getting more sleep?”

But then, you had bounced into the caf with your massive coffee mug, and plonked down on the seat next to Bucky–grinned at him, telling him some story he’d make you repeat later, because he had been too distracted by the fact that your arm was touching his.

He stared at the silvery plane as it taxied through the hangar, and pulled into the docking station. The door opened with a whoosh of air as the cabin pressure escaped. Three agents exited the jet–Ellis, the new kid, and you…

His heart dropped to his feet. He was right to worry.

You were the only person bandaged.

You were the one shot.

Without another thought, Bucky was at your side. The kid fell back to take care of the team’s gear after a sharp salute to Sergeant Barnes. Bucky scanned over your face, your tightly wrapped shoulder (which had heavily bled through the stark white gauze), your fingers which were grasping for any purchase on your pain.

“I’m fine,” you puffed as you made eye contact with Bucky, but your eyelids fluttered with the effort. “Texted Sam, he was gonna tell you–”

“Banner is waiting for us,” Ellis said quickly.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to the man, who gave him a curt nod. He had no words, because if he voiced what turmoil was stirring in his chest, Bucky was liable to burst. He noted the moment your legs weakened. Your energy was flagging and fast–and you had about a hundred yards to go before you reached the Medical building. You collapsed against Ellis. All you could do was peek at Bucky through half-lidded eyes.

“Tell him I’m okay,” you murmured, trying to look up at Ellis, who had looped his arms under your knees and behind your back. Ellis sighed.

“I can’t divulge anything about our assignment–”

You indicated him with a lazy point. “Fine. He’s my emergency contact.”

Ellis frowned. “Y/n–”

You snorted. “This is an emergency, he is the person I want you to contact about it. If you want it in writing, you’ll have to find me a pen–”

“Okay, just… stop talking, you’ve gotta conserve some energy, here.”

Ellis and Bucky strode side-by-side, while Bucky resisted the urge to rip you out of his hold and run. His panic must have shown, because Ellis spoke again.

“Sergeant Barnes, she’s just delirious,” the agent said. “One bullet was a through-and-through. One is stuck behind the ball of the joint, but it didn’t do any major damage based on my scan. She lost a lot of blood before I got to her. Once the bullet is out, she’ll be stitched up. She’ll be fine.”

“See, Benny? I’m golden.”

Bucky glared at you. He was fighting back so many emotions–fear that it was going to be more severe than Ellis said, anger at you for being so nonchalant about it… some form of either joy or petrification at the idea of being anything to you, let alone your emergency contact, even if it was a joke to try to calm him. And somewhere closer to the surface, a marked responsibility to insure you were going to come out of this strong as ever, because he just… if you didn’t, what sort of life would he have? Worse, what the hell was Bucky going to do if you got some sort of blood poisoning, or if the shrapnel found its way to your heart?

The door to the Medical building felt the wrath of your potential death as it was liberated from its hinges. He signaled for Ellis to carry you through the cleared doorway. The broken door fell to the pavement. Fury would have a bone to pick with him later.

Dr. Bruce Banner was waiting at the intake counter for Agents 038 and 257. “Barnes,” Banner greeted him, but held up his arm to bar Bucky from following.

You groaned. “He’s my ‘mergency person…”

“Not in my OR he’s not,” Banner said firmly.

“Be seeing you,” you said softly, grasping for Bucky’s sleeve as Ellis carried you past him. Your fingers didn’t reach. He didn’t even feel a brush of air. Banner rushed you towards the operating theater. Bucky tried to make something come out of his mouth, but no luck. You were in Banner’s hands now. He memorized the lines of the double white doors at the end of the long hallway.

A heavy hand landed on his back. Bucky wheeled around. Steve and Sam stood behind him, both men bearing worried expressions.

"Apparently you were supposed to tell me something?" Bucky spat.

“Couldn’t get ahold of you,” Sam said, by way of an explanation. “She said she’s fine.”

Bucky’s teeth were clenched. “Doesn’t look fine,” he growled. “What the hell happened?”

“It was a sniper,” Steve explained. “Ellis took ‘em out shortly after she was shot. She got herself off the street and away from civilians, so she was the only person injured. It took Ellis longer to find her because she was trying to keep from being seen by a bunch of school kids. ‘Didn’t want to scar them,’ she said.”

Bucky rubbed his hands over his face. Of course. You were so fucking noble, you took two slugs, and hid for the sake of a few children. Could’ve died, bled out–but god forbid some kids experience one bit of the reality you faced each time you went on assignment. He was going to cry in rage, and every nurse in Medical was about to witness it. Steve must’ve realized it because he put himself between Bucky and the nurse’s station, where five people in scrubs were trying not to watch the Winter Soldier have a meltdown over an injured agent.

“Where was Landon?” Sam asked. Bucky’s anger shifted, then. Yeah. Where the hell was the new guy while his… Agent 257 was catching lead in her shoulder?

“Chasing a third party accomplice. He was… unsuccessful.” Steve and Sam shared an annoyed grimace. At least both men agreed about Landon’s incompetence. “Come on, Buck. Let’s get a cup of coffee–”

Bucky shook his head. “You go.”

“You might wait for hours,” Sam said.

“I don’t care.” Bucky glanced around Steve at the nurse’s station. Three nurses became notably interested in empty manila folders. He marched to the counter. “Where can I wait?” he asked lowly. The head nurse gestured to her left at a lonely chair against the wall. Bucky sat. Hands clasped between his knees.

If he was being honest with himself–which was difficult when adrenaline was thrumming through his body like he’d just caught a runaway bus with his bare hands–Bucky was willing to sit vigil as long as it took. It’s not like he was going to be able to eat or rest. He was too nauseated, and ‘rest’ wasn’t in his vocabulary to begin with. So. He would make his haven that uncomfortable plastic chair until… until.

***

When the shift had changed and new nurses skirted around the counter to bypass the statue of Bucky Barnes seated on the South side of the hallway… a hand appeared in his vision, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee. Bucky accepted the offering. It was Steve. He stood beside his friend, with his own cup.

“Bruce called me. She’s out of surgery,” Steve said. Bucky moved to stand, but Steve stopped him. “Not so fast. You might be able to go back once she’s in a room, but she’s going to be unconscious.”

Bucky could handle that. You’d be hooked up to a machine which indicated you were breathing, that your heart was beating. He’d have tangible proof you were alive and on the mend. Well… if not tangible, at least… present.

“Then what?” Bucky panted. He wound his fingers in the grooves he had made in the chair rail by accident at least an hour earlier.

Steve smiled gently. “She’ll have a transfusion, and Banner thinks she’ll be able to walk out of here tomorrow.”

Bucky stared into his cup. Shouldn’t that be a comforting thought?

Normally, he would drink coffee any time it was an option, day or night. Nothing like it to soothe what ailed him. But this stuff smelled burnt, and he was shaking, and his gut was too much in turmoil to be further tortured by hot coffee. He handed Steve back the cup. Steve shrugged, but he lingered at Bucky’s side for a while. Steve did that a lot, it seemed… waited with Bucky, without any expectations.

***

At some point in waiting to hear about you, but only getting the information second-hand (and then none at all, once he had convinced Steve to leave him be), Bucky slipped away from being an outwardly patient and stoic, steadfast tin soldier to… someone a little closer to what all the skittish nurses feared. The anger which bubbled up again, that was familiar. He hated how it crawled up his spine, but it gave his muscles something to do other than wring his hands.

Bucky would never remember how you appeared, laying in that hospital bed when they finally let him go back and peek through the window, long after the sun set. It was like his brain blocked the image. He stared, and he saw nothing, because to him… you weren’t an unconscious body laying under a white sheet with tubes and wires attached to you. You were a blinding force of energy, always hovering nearby him, ready to bring him a little warmth.

When the nurse said he couldn’t go in, because visiting hours were over…

Bucky pivoted on his heel. It didn’t take long to find Bruce Banner. He was in his office, writing up a status report for his only patient who had gone through surgery that day. The doorknob made a peach-sized dent in the drywall announcing Bucky’s entrance into the small office.

Bruce sighed. “Thank you for knocking.”

“I waited for five hours, only for Julia to tell me I have to leave,” Bucky seethed, pointing at the nurse who was cowering behind her own computer screen.

“Julia is doing her job,” Bruce said, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Y/n will be released tomorrow, but she has to sleep off the anesthesia. Alone.”

“I’m just gonna sit there!”

“You can occupy a chair outside her room as long as you want. Gunshot wounds are no joke, Barnes–”

“I’m aware. I’ve been shot.”

Bruce grunted. “Okay, but you’ve got superhuman healing.”

“I know how serious this is–let me see her bloodwork, at least!”

“No. That’s confidential, and the only person who has a legal right to that information is the person with designated power of attorney.”

“I’m her emergency contact, she told you herself–”

“Not on paper you’re not. Unless you’ve married her, which is unlikely considering she’s been unconscious on my operating table for three of the last five hours.”

Bucky turned away so he didn’t swing on the doctor, but that was all his muscles wanted to do. The one thing keeping him from doing so was the fleeting thought of how upset you would be if he did. He imagined your face, smile fading away as he confessed to you he’d let his anger get the best of him, and decked the man who had dug a bullet out of you. Bruce Banner was responsible for you being okay. He should remember that. So, he clenched his fingers to his palms until his nails fought skin and alloy.

“Please,” he bit out, forcing himself to look Banner in the eye. “Give me something. I am begging you.”

Bruce stood. Slowly. “She’s stable. Please leave my office.”

“Dammit, Banner! I swear to god. I’m not someone to fuck with–” Bucky smashed his fist down on the desk, sending a shivering crack through the center. Every paper on the wooden face slid inward, shuffling together in a heap as the desk bisected. The laptop which Bruce had been typing on collided with the floor. It did not bounce. The screen shattered. Bruce reached across the desk’s ruins and grabbed Bucky by the collar.

It usually took little effort to dislodge the hold of an opponent, but that hulkish grip wasn’t limited to when the doctor was gangrenous. Banner flattened his expression, but he was so galvanic that his irises glowed acid-hazel. He forced Bucky backwards, through the office door which was lodged in the wall. He threw Bucky hard enough that the linoleum dented on impact, and he skidded about twenty feet… and laid there.

Stunned.

The ward was deadly silent, other than distantly asynchronous beeping from varied machines, and the shuddering whir as the plates in Bucky’s forearm shifted back into place. He rolled his shoulder and the whole implant rippled. He was no worse for wear as he sat up.

His pride bore a gash, on the other hand, which resembled two gunshot wounds and a demolished desk.

“You’re not the first hot head I've dealt with. Ask Thor’s little brother how it went for him.” Bruce straightened his white coat. He barely looked rumpled. “Get out of my ward. Now.”

The doctor crossed his arms when Bucky didn’t move.

There was no way to stand up with any dignity after being literally thrown on his ass, so Bucky didn’t try. Especially once Steve clutched his elbow, helping him stand. He yanked his arm back. He stalked away, heedless of the spirited conversation happening in his wake (undoubtedly Cap trying to convince the doctor he meant well. But he didn’t. He meant harm, and it was thanks to Bruce’s physical might that he was prevented from doing something more dire than light vandalism). He was mortified Steve had come back.

Bucky should’ve left when asked, should’ve listened when you said you were fine.

Another mess of his for Captain America to sweep under the rug. Another reason for people to avoid him–proof he was right to keep away from the agents who came and went from this massive jail, with only one prisoner. He should’ve hidden from you, too.

All he wished for was to fall asleep next to your hospital bed, to the sound of your measured breaths… and all he had gotten was an ass-kicking.

***

He didn’t answer his door when Steve knocked. FRIDAY asked him if Captain Rogers could enter, and he told her to fuck off. Then, he put his face in his pillow and let every ounce of anger rip from his lungs until he was hoarse. He was tempted to hold his breath and count to a million, but again, the idea of you finding out he had done that to himself–punished himself for his rash behavior… the pillow thumped against his door with an unsatisfying umph.

Bucky watched the digital clock above his door count the minutes from eight-fifty-three to two-zero-seven. His stomach growled. He growled.

Then…

Something knocked on his door. Just once… a soft thud. And–giggling?

“Sergeant Barnes, you have a visitor.” FRIDAY paused for a solid five seconds. “She appears to be intoxicated. Would you like me to send Agent 257 away–”

Bucky would have ripped his own door off its hinges (making him three-for-three with doors), if it weren’t for the fact that you pitched forward the second he opened it, straight to his chest, cheek squished against his sweatshirt. You winced, but sleepily. Your head listed back. Glazed-over eyes blinked, but they recognized him.

“Mmmhello. I brought ice cream.”

You rapped him in the shins with a grocery bag full of something with heft. You were alone, the floor was deserted… how? And also in a hospital gown, and a robe, thankfully, so your modesty was preserved, but still. Feet bare. Your hand was bleeding a little from where an IV was once inserted. Your shoulder was wrapped in more deliberate bandages than it had been upon landing, with that elbow lashed across your chest for extra stability, but still… a pink stain was forming. No doubt you were going to bust your stitches, if you hadn’t already.

“You’re supposed to be in Medical,” he said hurriedly, as he tugged you into his suite with one arm around your waist. He eased you to sit on his bed, tossing his spare pillow against the headboard and encouraging you to lay back. The plastic bag slipped out of your fingers (it did in fact have at least two cartons inside of it). Temporarily, he left it on the floor.

You peered at him with one eye shut, so you might view him more clearly. You smirked. The drugs were still present.

“Your voice is scratchy.”

He cleared his throat, but it was sore. “I’m alright.”

“I told them–where’s Bucky? He’s my person. Emergens-person. Where’d he go?” You laughed, and then flinched. Hard. “Fuck.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to go.”

Your jaw dropped dramatically. “Why? I needed you.”

“I wasn’t… patient.”

“You? Pssssssh. So patient. Patientest guy ever.” You tried to boop him on the nose, and spectacularly failed at even nearly reaching his face. Bucky was so frustrated with you, while being equally relieved you were there, that he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh.

“Mmm. No. Not when you’re hurt.”

“You didn’t think I’m fine, but–” you struggled to remain upright. It wasn’t possible to push yourself, so you shrugged with your good shoulder. “‘M fine.”

“You were shot.”

You bobbed your head proudly. “Twice.”

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re lucky.”

“Hungry.”

“Lucky, I said.” He brushed some fallen hair off your face. You smirked with one side of your mouth.

“You like rocky road? Sam says… ‘syer fav.” You pointed at the ground and whispered: “Down there.”

Bucky leaned over the edge of his bed. Sure enough… a pint of Ben and Jerry’s rocky road was on its side in the bag, beside another flavor. Upon further inspection, it was a gourmet vanilla with STEVE printed on it in block letters. Along with two spoons, one of which was a large cooking utensil and could only be considered a spoon by virtue of the curved bowl at the end of a long handle. He hazarded a glance at you when your fingers found his collar, which you were clinging to like he was your anchor to earth. You beamed at him with shuttered eyes.

He picked up the bag, and set it on his bedside table. “Where did you find this?”

You giggled. “Freezer.”

Bucky caught you as you started to slump to your bad side. “Did you walk here?”

“Skipped, I think.”

“How did you get out?”

“‘S a secret. Give me one ice cream to find out.” Your bottom lip made a convincing, pleading moue. “Please?”

“Y/n…” Bucky trailed off.

“What?”

There was no sense in trying to have a real conversation with you while the anesthesia worked out of your system. And hadn’t he gotten his way? Even if Banner was going to have his head for it in the morning…

You found his cheek and patted it. He reached for the pints you had brought with you, stolen from the fifth floor kitchen freezer in some brief moment of lucidity.

“Which one?” he asked.

“Dealer’s choice.”

“...okay.”

He pried the lid from the rocky road, and held out the reasonable spoon to you. You were unable to wrap your fingers around it, try as you might. You couldn’t both hold onto him and a spoon, and that was the problem. Sitting upright was a no-go, as was keeping your eyes open. You wanted to do all those things, badly–but the drugs won.

Bucky was nothing if not committed to solving as many of those issues as possible. He re-situated himself, so he was seated on your uninjured side. You didn’t need to look at him; you were in physical proximity, so you could focus on the spoon. He closed his hand over yours, around the handle, to give you a start, but you yawned.

“Mmm. Why you makin’ me sleepy?” You laid your head on his arm. He huffed. “Mad at me?” The murmur was so quiet he almost missed it. In turning his head to dispute that idea, his jaw pressed against your hair. You hummed.

“Never,” he admitted, as your breaths became shallow.

God.

You had been in his suite before, but… this was the closest you had been to him, while in said suite. A brief hug had happened before you left for Prague, a tiny little reminder of the one other time he had held you close, but he was awkward about it at the time–Sam was there, for one thing, and he still didn’t know what to do with this overwhelming need to be near to you. If touching was allowed. Like… this kind. More or less, he was a human pillow. You were always initiating moments where your skin connected. Was he permitted the same privilege?

He let his head rest on yours. It rose with each inward, but steady breath.

In the quiet of the early morning, Bucky Barnes finished off a pint by himself. Well… he ate it all, but not strictly alone. You were beside him, sleeping peacefully as the rest of the anesthesia left your bloodstream, and your normal human cells started the diligent labor of healing you. You were okay. You had told him as such. He had no choice but to believe you, so… he sat up all night, measuring out time in ice cream spoons, and trying to make peace with the fear which curled up behind his ribs.

The ice cream didn’t force the fear to find its ease. But it helped. Felt good on his throat. Soothed his heart.

Yeah... It helped.

***

In the light of the morning, you yawned (with no recollection of how you got there), and Bucky admitted rather sheepishly what he had done. He couldn’t lie to you. You seemed to forgive him for giving over to his panic, given the way you touched his cheek and told him that you were sorry to cause him such concern. You asked him to re-dress your stitches with fresh bandages, to use the same hands which were instruments for destruction to help you. He did so. Seeing your stitches was enough to properly cow him.

He cleaned your wounds twice a day, everyday, until you were healed.

It was the permission he sought to touch you, without feeling like he was taking advantage… When your stitches came out, and all that was left as evidence (of your injury, and of Bucky’s last outburst) was a faint heart-shaped scar, Bucky took that as a sign that he had to let go of fear, where you were concerned.

Just release it. It wasn’t serving him. It wasn’t helping you, either.

The day he decided to release fear was the day he reached for your hand first.

***

other drabbles in the nftn universe:

the girl

if this is all we have

what happened in paris

the heir

birds

tag list: @morticiaofthedead @peterhollandkait @hogwartsahist0ry @harrietbaudelaire @general-kenobi357 @hawsx3 @subwaysurf45 @nahthanks @sergntbarnes @agni-l @mass-percussion @ayleehweasleyobrien @saranghaey @music-give-me-life @enchantedbarnes

message to be added to the tag list! :)

[goodgooner]

Match report: Slavia Prague 0-4 Arsenal (0-7 agg)

Vivianne Miedema’s scores her 100th Arsenal goal as we book our place in the Champions League group stage

[ukrainenews]

Daily Wrap Up August 31, 2022

Under the cut:

The EU has agreed to suspend a visa travel deal with Moscow to curb the number of Russian nationals entering the bloc for holidays and shopping, stopping short of a full tourist visa ban demanded by some central and eastern European countries

Ukrainian forces have had “successes” in three areas of the Russian-occupied region of Kherson, according to a Ukrainian regional official

United Nations inspectors arrived on Wednesday in the southern Ukrainian city of Zaporizhzhia on a mission to prevent a nuclear accident at a Russian-occupied power plant where nearby shelling has prompted global fears of disaster

Russia halted gas supplies via Europe's key supply route on Wednesday, intensifying an economic battle between Moscow and Brussels and raising the prospects of recession and energy rationing in some of the region's richest countries

There are multiple reports of heavy explosions in the Nova Kakhovka area of the Ukrainian region of Kherson in the south

“The EU has agreed to suspend a visa travel deal with Moscow to curb the number of Russian nationals entering the bloc for holidays and shopping, stopping short of a full tourist visa ban demanded by some central and eastern European countries.

Meeting in Prague, the EU’s 27 foreign ministers promised to suspend the 2007 visa facilitation agreement with Russia that makes it relatively easy to obtain travel documents.

The EU’s high representative for foreign policy, Josep Borrell, said there had been a “substantial increase of border crossings” from Russia into the EU since mid-July, which he described as “a security risk for these neighbouring states”.

While the EU had already suspended the visa facilitation agreement for officials and entrepreneurs soon after the Russian attack on Ukraine in February, ordinary Russians could continue to come to the EU for holidays or other reasons.

“We have seen many Russians travelling for leisure and shopping as if no war was raging in Ukraine,” Borrell said. “Member states considered that we are not business as usual. It cannot be business as usual.”

The informal agreement struck on Wednesday still needs to be translated into EU law and it was not immediately clear when the suspension would come into force. Borrell said it would become more difficult and take longer for Russians to get a visa from an EU member state, and the number of new travel documents would be reduced “substantially”.

The European Commission has been tasked with coming up with guidance about the stock of 12m existing visas for Russians. The Czech foreign minister, Jan Lipavský, acknowledged there was no quick fix. “There are various ways forward and we can’t answer this straight away,” he said, without going into details.

The common policy will mean EU member states can continue to issue visas to Russians, after France and Germany argued against a blanket ban.”-via The Guardian

~

“Ukrainian forces have had “successes” in three areas of the Russian-occupied region of Kherson, according to a Ukrainian regional official.

Yuriy Sobolevskyi, the deputy head of Kherson’s regional council, said Ukrainian troops had enjoyed successes in the Kherson, Beryslav, and Kakhovka districts.

Sobolevskyi did not provide any details about the alleged success of the Ukrainian troops, but his comments came as Russia’s defence ministry claimed that Ukraine’s attempts to mount a counter-offensive in the south of the country had failed.

In its daily briefing, the Russian defence ministry said Ukraine’s forces had suffered heavy losses in equipment and men.

It also said its forces had shot down three Ukrainian helicopters and that Ukraine had lost four fighter jets during two days of fighting around the Mykolaiv-Kriviy Rih frontline and in other areas of southern Ukraine.

It has not been possible to independently verify either side’s claims.”-via The Guardian

~

“United Nations inspectors arrived on Wednesday in the southern Ukrainian city of Zaporizhzhia on a mission to prevent a nuclear accident at a Russian-occupied power plant where nearby shelling has prompted global fears of disaster.

The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) team reached the city 55 km (34 miles) away from the plant, where they were likely to spend the night before arriving at the facility on Thursday.

Although Russian-installed officials suggested the visit might last only one day, the IAEA hopes for longer.

"If we are able to establish a permanent presence, or a continued presence, then it’s going to be prolonged. But this first segment is going to take a few days," its chief, Rafael Grossi, told reporters in Zaporizhzhia.

"It's a mission that seeks to prevent a nuclear accident," he said.

Russia captured the nuclear plant, Europe's largest, in early March and its military force has been there ever since, as has most of the Ukrainian workforce who have toiled to continue running the facility, which had supplied 20% of Ukraine's electricity.

Fighting was reported near the power station and further afield on Wednesday, with Kyiv and Moscow both claiming battlefield successes amid a Ukrainian counter-offensive to recapture southern territory.

Ukraine repelled Russian attempts to attack in the direction of Bakhmut and Avdiivka, two towns located north of the Russian-occupied city of Donetsk, its armed forces' general staff said on Wednesday. Pro-Moscow troops have focused on Bakhmut in their push to extend control over the Donbas region, it said.”-via Reuters

~

“Russia halted gas supplies via Europe's key supply route on Wednesday, intensifying an economic battle between Moscow and Brussels and raising the prospects of recession and energy rationing in some of the region's richest countries.

European governments fear Moscow could extend the outage in retaliation for Western sanctions imposed after it invaded Ukraine and have accused Russia of using energy supplies as a "weapon of war". Moscow denies doing this and has cited technical reasons for supply cuts.

Russian state energy giant Gazprom (GAZP.MM) said Nord Stream 1, the biggest pipeline carrying gas to its top customer Germany, will be out for maintenance from 0100 GMT on Aug. 31 to 0100 GMT on Sept. 3. 

The president of the German network regulator said that Germany would be able to cope with the three-day outage as long as flows resumed on Saturday.

"I assume that we will be able to cope with it," Klaus Mueller told Reuters TV in an interview. "I trust that Russia will return to at least 20% from Saturday, but no one can really say."

Further restrictions to European gas supplies would deepen an energy crunch that has already triggered a 400% surge in wholesale gas prices since last August, squeezing consumers and businesses and forcing governments to spend billions to ease the burden. 

In Germany, inflation soared to its highest in almost 50 years in August and consumer sentiment soured as households brace for a spike in energy bills.”-via Reuters

~

“There are multiple reports of heavy explosions in the Nova Kakhovka area of the Ukrainian region of Kherson in the south.

The town, which is occupied by Russian forces, is strategically placed on river Dnipro, with a bridge that has been repeatedly attacked by Ukrainian forces.

In the last few weeks, ammunition depots in the area have also been struck.

Local social media accounts speak of air strikes and a large fire in the vicinity of a furniture factory.

There are also reports of fresh explosions near the main Antonivskiy bridge across the Dnipro south of Kherson city, as well as explosions in the nearby Oleshkiy area.

There has been no official comment from either side on the reports.

The reports come days after Ukraine announced a new offensive in the south aimed at dislodging Russian forces in Kherson.”-via CNN

[auskultu]

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 6, 1968

Quan Long, a Mekong Delta city of airy, stucco buildings and thatched peasant huts, was invaded yesterday by a Viet Cong force that occupied a hospital there for a few hours, burned many huts and then retreated through the surrounding rice paddies. Early this morning they struck again with mortars, setting fire to a dispensary building.

The United States, according to informed sources in Cairo, has released to Egypt the contents of a message from Secretary of State Rusk to the Israeli Foreign Minister, Abba Eban, urging that Israel settle for indirect rather than direct negotiations with the Arabs. The note, whose apparent purpose is to generate goodwill for the United States among the Arabs, also appealed to Israel to accept the Security Council resolution calling for a withdrawal from captured Arab territory. 

The new Czechoslovak leadership under Alexander Dubček dismissed its ideological aide, who has attacked rebellious writers and students, and announced that it would publish a “full account” of the Central Committee sessions that resulted in the ouster Jan. 5 of the former party leader, Antonin Novotný. The moves were seen as symptoms of the growing openness of public debate in the country. 

According to Bolivian and American sources, Ernesto Che Guevara talked freely with a C.I.A. agent for two hours before he was executed. The C.I.A. is reported to have been instrumental in the destruction of the guerrilla movement in Bolivia, but there is no evidence that it participated in the decision to eliminate Mr. Guevara. 

With only the stanchest liberals objecting, the Senate tacked an amendment onto the civil rights bill making it a crime to cross state lines with intent to incite a riot. The Senate also rejected by a close vote an amendment that would have removed single-family, owner-occupied homes from the proposed ban on housing discrimination. 

White House spokesmen are fending off a lot of questions these days about President Johnson's reaction to his riot commission's report Mr. Johnson has remained silent it is reported, because he thinks the panel should have addressed its suggestions to a reluctant Congress and doesn’t want to quarrel over the report’s failure to praise his programs.

Without an opponent in the New Hampshire primary, Richard M. Nixon has begun campaigning against President Johnson. If the Administration fails to bring the war to a satisfactory conclusion by November, he said, the people would be justified in electing a new President He said he would end the war and bring peace to the area. 

Mr. Johnson’s name will not be entered-in the Massachusetts primary, leaving only Senator Eugene McCarthy’s name on the ballot

[trossards]

self-care is deleting all sports apps on your phone when your team doesn’t win so you don’t get any notifications