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mariacallous · 7 months

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(JTA) — In his first posts about Hamas’ massacre of Israeli civilians, progressive writer Joshua Leifer expressed horror at the accounts of atrocities that were emerging from southern Israel.

He also lamented the range of progressive organizations and figures who appeared to condone or even celebrate the attack — leaving him with “a deep sense that the left abroad has lost the values it was supposed to stand for.”

“I thought we were leftists because we wanted a world without war, torture, the killing of families & children in their beds,” Leifer posted on X. “Self-professed human rights defenders, even would-be colleagues are celebrating and glorifying unspeakable acts that violate the most basic elements of human life. I feel sick.”

The thread of posts — which Leifer later expanded into an article for the left-wing journal Dissent — struck a chord among other Jews on the left. The progressive Jewish writer Peter Beinart shared Leifer’s thread, saying it “captures my feelings exactly.”

Some progressive figures and organizations, from local Black Lives Matter chapters to the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America, have appeared to condone or even celebrate the massacre — which killed 1,300 people, largely civilians — as an act of resistance against an illegal occupation. Some Jewish leftists have mourned the slaughter while placing the blame squarely on Israel.

And others who have also spent their careers opposing Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territory are now decrying their ideological allies’ refusal to condemn the killing of civilians — in some cases their friends or relatives.

“For the people who are most connected to people in Israel, this is a really, really hard and disheartening time,” said Arielle Angel, editor-in-chief of the progressive magazine Jewish Currents. “Because what they see is people totally dismissing the value of the lives of people that they know and that they think should not be considered collateral damage.”

At the same time, Angel said, Jewish leftists are confronting another tension: They are reckoning with the mass killing of Israeli civilians by Hamas — and also continue to oppose Israel’s occupation and airstrikes on the Gaza Strip, which the terror group governs.

“I think this is a new moment,” she said. “If you’re talking to American Jewish leftists, there’s a split in terms of where their energy is going right now.”

She added later, “I’m very scared about the future of the left in this moment.”

Some on the left, including at least one Jewish writer, openly celebrated the attack shortly after it began.

On Saturday, as Hamas attackers were still in Israel, Rivkah Brown, a journalist for the U.K.’s Novara Media, posted on X that the assault should mark “a day of celebration for supporters of democracy and human rights worldwide, as Gazans break out of their open-air prison.” The New York City Democratic Socialists of America promoted a rally expressing “solidarity with the Palestinian people and their right to resist 75 years of occupation and apartheid.”

And in the immediate wake of the massacre, some left-wing Jewish organizations said blame lay with Israel. IfNotNow, which opposes Israel’s occupation, said of the murdered Israelis that “their blood is on the hands of the Israeli government, the US government which funds and excuses their recklessness, and every international leader who continues to turn a blind eye to decades of Palestinian oppression.”

Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Zionist group, acknowledged the “unprecedented assault” and the hundreds of Israeli casualties in an Oct. 7 statement that did not mention Hamas.

“Israeli apartheid and occupation — and United States complicity in that oppression — are the source of all this violence,” the statement said. “Inevitably, oppressed people everywhere will seek — and gain — their freedom.”

Other groups such as Jews for Racial and Economic Justice tread a middle ground, saying, “We recognize that attacks on civilians by Hamas are neither justifiable nor unprovoked.”

Several days later, as the scale of the atrocities became clear, some of those activists walked back or qualified their statements. On Tuesday, New York City’s DSA said it mourned “the loss of life in the region” and apologized “for the confusion our post caused and for not making our values explicit.” It deleted its original tweet.

Brown also deleted her tweet and apologized on Wednesday. “I responded too quickly and in a moment of heightened emotion,” she said. “Witnessing Palestinians defy decades of oppression hardened me to the suffering of Israeli civilians, including my friends and family, and I regret that. I’m sorry.”

On the same day, Jewish Voice for Peace released another statement saying that it “mourns deeply for the over 1200 Israelis killed, the families destroyed, including many of our own, and fears for the lives of Israelis taken hostage.”

The group added, “the massacres committed by Hamas against Israeli civilians are horrific war crimes. There is no justification in international law for the indiscriminate killing of civilians or the holding of civilian hostages.”

On Wednesday, JVP spokesperson Sonya Meyerson-Knox said the group felt it was caught in a precarious position — fearing that public expressions of grief for Israeli civilians would fuel a harsher military response against Gaza.

“We were feeling the incredible pressure of needing to say something that we hope addresses both our fear and our grief and our sorrow and our anger, and that doesn’t allow any of that to be used as fodder for the Israeli government and the United States government warmongering,” Meyerson-Knox said. “Many of us are feeling compelled to process our grief through a hard pivot to a prevention of a scale of death that is utterly inconceivable.”

The Israel Defense Forces has repeatedly said it abides by international law and takes measures to prevent civilian casualties, including by risking its own troops to reduce collateral damage. Human rights organizations and the United Nations have cast doubt on those claims and harshly criticized the conduct of Israel’s military, while other bodies — in addition to the United States and other allies — have defended Israeli actions.

Angel said other activists on the Jewish left shared concerns similar to the ones expressed by Meyerson-Knox.

“Even people who are not expressing grief right now are grieving, and it’s a question of whether they think that that grief is the most important thing, and what they think that public expression of grief is going to do,” Angel said. “People are afraid that there’s going to be a Palestinian genocide.”

The high death toll among Israelis on Saturday had forced a reckoning for some on the Jewish left, since in previous conflicts more Palestinians were killed, Angel said, though she added that the balance of casualties was shifting as Israel carried out airstrikes in Gaza.

“We have never seen Israeli casualties, at least in one event, that exceeded Palestinian casualties,” she said, stressing that she still believed the conflict is rooted in Israel’s occupation despite the death toll. “We have become practiced at answering that and at trying to help people see that. We are not practiced at a situation like this.”

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romanarose · 1 year

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Seattle: Chapter 8

Marc Spector x Jewish!OC

Seattle Masterlist

Previous chapter

Summary: Months latter, it's Hanukkah and Rebecca had been acting strange.

WARNINGS: Usual for this fic, references to dv, miscarriage, trauma, lots of crying, sad and happy. There's one more warning buuuuut its a HUGE spoiler so scroll to he bottom if you want to see it before you read, but know it's nothing bad!! this is a v happy chapter but im putting the warning there incase. OH potentially bulimia, marc briefly suspects it but that’s not what it is. Mentions of weight gain and body insecurity

THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER!!! Say goodbye to Rebecca and Marc <3

*********

She had been acting strange for months..

Like right now, Rebecca was wearing a baggy sweater as she prepped dinner for the last night of Hanukkah. That wasn’t strange, she wore a lot of baggy clothes. She almost never wore tight clothes. But all month, it was baggy, things that hid her body.

Sex was less and less. They hadn’t done it in a month. That was perfectly fine of course, completely up to her. She had given him blowjobs while she touched herself, bringing them both to their climax, and once or twice she got herself off riding his thigh while they made out, but nothing that involved taking off clothes.

She wouldn’t change in front of him. She seemed distracted.

Marc worried she was in a bad place. She had gained weight back in the almost a year since she moved in with Marc, and frankly, Marc had gained weight too. He spent less time working out, more time with her. He had felt a little self-conscious himself, he wondered if she felt insecure about her body. It all started when he heard her throwing up a few months ago, he confronted her about potentially having an eating disorder, but she promised she was just sick. The lack of evidence on her knuckles made Marc believe her, but he was still worried, insisting she go to the doctor after the nausea persisted. That visit was when she started acting strange.

He asked if she got bad news, if they were running tests, if it was long covid, anything, but she insisted she was fine.

She wasn’t.

In another life, another version of himself, he would have worried she was seeing someone else, or had fallen out of love with him, but he couldn’t find that in himself to doubt her love for him, not after everything. She continued to prove her love again and again and again, even if she wouldn’t let him touch her. Late night cuddles were traded for staying up giggling over info-mercials at 2 am, no sex but there were afternoon walks, walking hand in hand. If she didn’t want to have sex for whatever reason, he’d be okay with that

But he was worried about her too. Steven and Jake saw it too. Both had asked her about it, but when Rebecca gave them nothing, they dropped it. Marc planned on sitting her down, but he was going to wait until after Hanukkah for that.

But as he watched her shaky hands try to light the candles, voice cracking as she held back tears, he had to step in. Marc took the candles, saying the rest of the prayer as she silently began crying. “kideshanu be-mitzvotav, ve-tzivanu le-hadlik ner shel Hanukah.” Once the last candle was lit, he returned the middle one to the Minorah, he turned to try and take the crying love of his life in his arms, but she held out her hands. “Rivkah” He pleaded, about ready to cry just from the sight of her like this. “Please talk to me, what’s going on” He wanted so badly to hold her, to comfort her, but he respected her desire not to be touched.

She held her head in her hands crying.

Marc could tell she didn’t want to talk, but he couldn’t just drop it. “Is it something I can fix? Because I’ll do it, whatever it is”

She shook her head.

“Did I do something?”

She shook her head again.

Marc waited, watching her cry, shaking shoulders, feeling helpless. “Please baby, can I hold you?”

She steadied herself, removing her hands to reveal red and puffy eyes. She didn’t look broken, just sad, frustrated and emotional. She’d been very emotional these days. Rebecca held her hands out, not for a hug, but requesting his own, which he readily gave. “Marc, I’m going to show you something, okay?” She sniffled.

“Yeah” he breathed out. “Yeah, of course”

Rebecca looked into his large and concerned eyes, taking a deep breath before sliding his cold hands under her sweater to settle over her stomach.

It took a second for his short-circuiting brain to process that his hands were on a bump.

Mate…

Holy shit

“Beccs…” he stared at where her sweater draped over his hands, a round belly forming.

“I’m pregnant Marc” She began crying again.

Marc’s mind yelled at him to hold her, but his body was frozen. “Becca… How long… why… what?” He couldn’t form a coherent thought if he tried.

“Are you happy? Wait, no let me explain first.”

Marc looked up at her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you… do you not want this? Do you not want this with me?” She had to be keeping it if she was this far along.

It was her turn to comfort him. With a step forward, Rebecca took Marc’s perfect face in her hands. “Let me explain, okay? It’s not that I didn’t want this with you… I didn’t even know if you wanted it, which was part of my nervousness. You said you didn’t want kids, years ago… but you also knew I wanted them, but we didn’t really talk about it,” she realized she was rambling, his face not betraying any emotion besides confusion. She figured the news probably fried his brain a bit. With a steadying breath, she continued. “I when they told me I was pregnant, I was in shock… we were so careful and… And I think in a lot of ways I was mourning my miscarriage still, I guess I thought since I wasn’t ready, my body couldn’t be ready…”

“Why didn’t you tell me” He asked

Fresh came pouring down her face. “I was so scared Marc”

A flicker of hurt across his face. “Of what? Of how I’d react?”

“Of losing it!” Rebecca burst into tears, and this time allowed Marc’s comforting hold to take her in, safe and ground, ever present. She mumbled into his brown long sleeve. “I couldn’t bare it if I lost another pregnancy and I had to tell you”

“Oh metukah” He kissed the side of her face as his fingers warmed in the messy expanse of her hair. “I’d want to be there for you, I wouldn’t want you to go through this alone”

“I know, I just… it would be yours this time. I know having a kid isn’t what you wanted, I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to warm up to the idea only for it to be taken away. It was already two months in by the time I found out so I…. I just kept waiting, and waiting, every day expecting to wake up to pain and blood again… and the next thing I knew, it was the 18 week check up…”

18 weeks? What happens at 18 weeks? Is this check up bad? Did she miscarry? No, she’s still pregnant. Wait it doesn’t just disappear… at this stage… is that whats going on? Does she need to go in for-

Marc. Steven Marc out of his mental spiral. 18 weeks is when you can tell the sex

She knows what you’re having…

“You… you know what we’re having?”

He said we.

Does he want this? Is he okay with this?

“That’s the other thing…” She took a nervous step back, wanting to see his face.

“There's more?”

A pause. A long, long pause. “We’re having twins.”

A sacred silence enveloped them as Marc processed everything she had said to him the last 10 minutes. He spoke softly. “I’m gonna be a dad” A small, short, nervous laugh and a hint of a smile gleaned on his face.

She nodded rapidly and Marc swoop in, picking her up in a hug and spinning her sound. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

Happy tears this time. “You’re gonna be dad Marc Spector.”

Marc peppered kisses all over her giggling and tear streaked face. “I love you, I love, I love you”

“So… you want this? I thought you didn’t-”

“I never thought I would, but with you…” a big, wet kiss. “Wait,” he pulled away, hand still on her cheek that still held the scar, but much lighter now. “do you know what we’re having?”

Rebecca nodded rapidly. “Boy and a girl”

“Oh my god” he laughed out. A son and a daughter. “Oh shit you should be resting!” Marc guided her to the couch, feeling more like Steven with the giddiness that flowed through him. He knelt at her side, hands gently at her waist. “I’m so sorry you went through the first half alone, Beccs, but I promise you, I am here for you, for the babies, every step of the way, for the rest of our lives.”

Her fingers found is beautiful thick hair. “Rest of our lives?”

“Yeah, my love, the rest of our lives, I promise I’ll properly propose to you, but baby, you have to know I’m with you forever.”

“Marc, I don’t want you to propose just because I got knocked up”

“Hey” He sat up on the couch, caressing her face. “You didn’t get knocked up, you’re pregnant. And I’ve wanted to propose to you since we were 15, when Tony Sutten grabbed your ass and you punched him.”

Rebecca laughed.”Yeah, you were a little busy beating the shit out of him”

“You were so fucking mad at me”

“Yeah!” She giggled. “‘Cause you got suspended!”

“Wasn’t the first time, wasn’t the last”

With a tsk, she shook her head. “How did you ever graduate, Spector”

“All thanks to you, baby” Marc kissed her deeply, then his face lit up again. “Oh my god! Can I call dad?”

It thoroughly moved Rebecca to see that Marc and Elias’s relationship had progressed so far that sharing these moments with his dad came as second nature to him. “Of course my love, you can call everyone”

Marc stood up to get his phone. “Dad’s going to lose his mind, I bet he never thought he’d get grandkids” It occurred to Marc that Elias was the only grandparent this baby would have, and Asa would be the only- “Oh I gotta call Asa! Wait, no, you should call Asa” Marc grinned. “He’s gonna be an uncle, Beccs”

She nodded, smiling widely. “He’s gonna be an uncle”

Marc thought of Randall, wondering if he could see this, if he knew…

It was like Rebecca could read his mind. He supposed she could, after all this time. Grabbed his hand. “Those babies will have two uncles who love them so, so much”

Marc knelt down between her legs, kissing her stomach. “May God bless you and keep you, May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe, Sarah,” He stood up to kiss Becca’s head. “And Rebecca” Pulling out his phone, he started dialing Elias. “God, I gotta call Dad, and Asa, Matt, Layla, Foggy, Frank, Peter…” He mumbled off the names of friends he had to call. As he anxiously waited for his dad to answer, he wondered how he got here, how much he had changed. He went to shabbat regularly, and always celebrated with Rebecca, he had the prettiest woman he’d ever seen as his girlfriend and hopefully fiance soon, he talked to his dad regularly, loved and was loved in return by Steven and Jake, and had a group of friends that started out as partners to protect the streets of New York but had ended up being close friends he spend time with outside of Khonshu’s work… Since when did he have friends other than Rebecca and Steven? Since when did he have a group of friends?

Since when was he… happy.

‘Marc? Everything alright?’

“Yeah dad” Marc laughed, looking over to his beautiful girlfriend, smiling and heavily pregnant with his children. ”Everything is great”

***********

SPOILER WARNING: Pregnancy <3

I cried writing this, and cried finishing it. This fic, Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside, and Leather and Lace are two other series I have going, both finishing up but i wanted to get this last chapter done for Hanukkah. This si the first fic ive ever finished and im emo about it. It's been such a journey exploring Marc and Rebecca through present day and flashbacks, watching Rebecca come back to her regular self, and watching Marc grow as a person, from who he is in the midst of Moon Knight, to who he is at the end of this story, in love, lots of friends, reconnected to his religion, has his dad, his brother in law who is like a younger brother to him, and a group of friends in New York. It's been really nice to watch, because Marc and Rebecca deserve happiness.

I hope no one is disappointed in the lack of Jake and Steven. Unfortunetly, my focus on this was Marc, and his journey but I have plenty of fics with both. If you love steven, i suggest you check out sunshine!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26 @ahookedheroespureheart @arsonfrogger

#marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfic #marc spector moon knight #moon night fanfiction #moon knight thoughts #marc spector jewish reader #jewish reader #jewish marc spector #hanukkah special #moon knight hanukkah fic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight #seattle moon knight fic

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galpalaven · 1 year

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favorites! beginnings! annnnd hero!

Favourites: Which song of the band’s is your MC’s favourite? Which is the fan-favourite?

Penny's favourites are always the ones with a sacrilegious undertone. Pretending that the playlist I made is their songs, her favorites are Heaven Knows and Don't Stop the Devil.

The fan favourite that got played at the audition is Love Bites (So Do I) and she's very, very fond of that one as well.

Beginnings: When and how did they know they wanted to be a professional musician? Was there a deciding factor?

Penny grew up surrounded by music!

I know that the MC has a canon (shitty) family, but Penny has had a family for a long time as one of my OCs, and I really just couldn't get rid of them, even if it fit the game narrative.

Her mother, Rivkah, was someone who sang with her children often when they were small. She encouraged them to play instruments and listen to music whenever it was possible. Her eldest, Penny's brother, Ilya, took to singing and the violin, though he was more well-known for his skating career in his adolescence. Ilya is almost 30 now, pursuing a doctorate in linguistics, but Penny has been slowly talking him around to playing violin on a track she's been itching to record.

(Ilya's voice claim is Hozier!)

Penny also has a younger sibling, Ash (they/them), who sometimes helps out with the editing/music production side of things. (I have an equally horrible/dramatic idea for how they can be involved in the story as well)

From pretty much the second that Penny could talk, she was singing. She used to put on little concerts for her family at holidays, and took voice lessons as she got older. She also plays guitar, the drums, and piano. Of the three, she was the most musically inclined, but she didn't really decide she wanted to pursue it until Seven.

She and Seven had planned out pretty much everything about who they wanted to be to the world by the time they were, like, 14. They absolutely picked out their stage names together while sitting on his roof because she snuck over late on a school night. They were going to be Penny Loveless and Seven Lawless, the most rockin' duo to ever hit the music scene.

It was real for her because it was real for him. When they stopped being friends, she considered giving up making her own music, but by that point it just... she didn't want to do anything else.

The stage calls her name. She can't deny it even if she wanted to.

Hero: What is their favourite thing about G? Why is your MC such a big fan?

It's the voice and the lyrics and the music style, babes. Griffin's hot, sure, but she finds the lyrics inspirational and Misfit Alley's sound is something that really scratched an itch she didn't know she had.

She's quite mellow about being a fan, though. The hero worship was something she did as a kid -- she's in her mid 20s now and treats him like a colleague and an equal more than anything (something that has him intrigued).

Infamous OC Ask Game

#penny loveless #infamous if #tHANK U

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nathaniel-history-and-stuff · 2 years

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Did you know that one of the oldest works of literature gives a spiritual meaning to being transgender? Disclaimer: this video will cite ancient sources that do not use language about gender in a way we would consider appropriate today.

The poetry attributed to Enheduanna, a high priestess who lived around 2300 BCE in Mesopotamia, written in praise of the Sumerian goddess Inanna, contains these lines:

"To destroy, to build

To lift up, to put down

Are yours Inanna.

To turn man into woman

Woman into man

Are yours Inanna."

Inanna (who is also known by her Akkadian name, Ishtar) has sometimes been misunderstood as a fertility goddess. While her sexuality is sometimes linked to the prospering of crops, she is always portrayed as an androgynous maiden and is not usually motherly. She embodied the transgression of social norms and natural boundaries. Her primary role was as the goddess of both sexuality and love as well as war and destruction. Enheduanna's poem makes it clear that people would not always find Inanna a comforting figure:

"With joy of heart she sings

And soaks her mace in blood and gore,

Smashes heads."

"She shrieks and the gods start shaking

She raves."

And yet Enheduanna also calls her the "Lady of the Greatest Heart." Many of Inanna's devotees came from the despised classes from ancient Mesopotamia: sex workers, "effeminate" men, public entertainers, and other people who didn't fit into expectations for gender roles and family life.

Enheduanna's poem describes Inanna's saving of an oppressed individual:

"The maid, a woman evilly spurned,

Taunted to her face

Sways beneath the wrath

Thrown on her everywhere

Her only path a wanderer

In dim and lonely streets…

This dreadful state

The Lady would undo…

Over the maiden's head

She makes a sign of prayer

Hands then folded at her nose

She declares her manly.

In sacred rite

She takes the broach

Which pins a woman's robe

Breaks the needle, silver thin

Consecrates the maiden's heart as male

Gives to her a mace

For this one dear to her

She shifts a god's curse

A blight reversed."

While the life of queer folks in ancient Mesopotamia was not likely to be comfortable, and their categories and language might sometimes feel backwards to us, they did have the opportunity for a goddess to recognize them and guide them into a spiritual path.

Next time I'll talk more about Inanna or Ishtar's devotees, their functions, and practices.

Sources:

Translation of Enheduanna's poetry comes from Betty De Shong Meadow, Inanna, Lady of Largest Heart: poems of the Sumerian high priestess Enheduanna (University of Texas Press, 2000).

Inanna / Ishtar as a goddess of transgressing boundaries: Rivkah Harris, "Inanna-Ishtar as paradox and a coincidence of opposites," History of Religions vol. 30, no. 3 (1991).

#queer history #ancient history #ancient queer history #lgtbq #lgbtqplus #history #Enheduanna #Inanna #ishtar #paganism

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prometheusinitiative · 10 months

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Ridley | Chapter 4 Trial | Your Voice, As I Remember It; ATTN: Everyone

In the commotion, nobody has noticed Ridley regain consciousness.

Despondent, she lays there, unblinking—the trial feels like it goes on for hours. Her blue eyes, finally full of vivacity for the first time in years, are dull and lifeless, black tears running silently down her pale face.

There they go again. People talking like they know what’s best for her.

Never asking her.

Never seeing her as anything more than what they already see her as.

Monstrous.

Feral.

Berserk.

Something dangerous.

Something inhuman.

But then, just like Encke said, apologies and all, the exact thing she wanted to avoid happened anyway, activated by another instance of fearing for her life and another instance of the loss following it.

She doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t want to understand it.

The only resolution she can come to as she listens is that her family, her best friend, her guardian, the only person she’s ever trusted and relied on, is dead. And maybe he will come back. Everyone else has so far, haven’t they? Nothing different at all about this case.

But the sheer callousness, to finally see firsthand all the talk of justice, of doing the right thing, whatever the hell it is, of coldly murdering someone who asked for nothing and gave everything, and the lack of care and familiarity with him to assume he wouldn’t turn his nose up at the most brutal retaliation imaginable is…

And it wasn’t even him. It started with her. Maybe Wren was right to do that, if so many people thought she would be the one to instigate such violence after everything.

It doesn’t matter how much she doesn’t want to be a cipher, a cryptic, something beyond the scope of being human.

To others, Rivkah Krolik is, and always will be, some kind of monster.

She gives her fingers an experimental flex as she reverts to a human form, listening as Wren blames her, as others point the finger, the tears flowing hotter, faster. Laben isn’t there to defend her. He isn’t there to comfort her. They talked about this. They talked about this. One Day the day would come where he wouldn’t be there, and One Day is finally happening, and she covers her ears and curls in on herself. It should have been her.

“He gave you everything,” she whispers, more to herself than the rest of them.

Then, louder: “He never asked you for anything.”

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Ridley finally finds her voice, still scared out of her mind, but clearly lucid. Her hands wring together close to her chest; she cringes away from the wall after relaxing too far against it.

The depth of the hurt and betrayal is indescribable as she looks slowly to each member of the cohort, lingering on Jules, on Morph, on Wren. Her lip trembles as she looks from Kezia to Michiya to Tracy, mouth hanging open in a question she can’t find. Everything about her is lost, and the only thought she can settle on is Laben’s not there.

Wren’s confession and justification do not bring her comfort.

“Every single time this happened… He said he would do it. Do you not remember that…? If you told him… If you asked him… He would have given you everything. He did give you everything, even when some of you didn’t deserve it. Because he didn’t want any of you to go through what we went through. He didn’t… Didn’t want any of you to know how it feels. Killing people.”

There’s no rage. No screaming. There’s nothing at all.

But it’s not Wren who draws the deepest part of her out—it’s Encke. Ridley is silent as the tears thicken to black tar again, hot enough to leave visible burns on her face. Her arms feel cold and empty, devoid of the static that became so familiar and comforting over the past few months.

Nothing changed, in the end.

With some difficulty, Ridley drags herself to her podium and the empty space beside it, exhausted and bleeding again as she sits there, fingers curling tightly around the console to hold herself upright.

She looks around the room again, a meaningful, forlorn gaze held with every single person there that only softens when she sees Oz, Morph, Emmeline, and Jules.

Even Ivette has her lowering her head respectfully before she directs her attention to Wren again, a bloody hand hovering over his name on the display.

“Wren… If you know what it feels like to lose someone you love… Then why do you get to take someone I love?”

#submission #trial #ch4 #ridley

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rivkahstudies · 3 years

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Good morning to the online learners, my disillusioned college peers trying to crawl to the end of their degree, the ones who love to learn but are constantly thwarted by red tape and bureaucracy, the ex-gifted kids, the ex-not-gifted kids, the textbook pirates, the class skippers, the gap year takers, the kids who stay up late just to experience something that isn't the work grind, the one-week-at-a-timers, the one day-at-a-timers, the neurodivergent students every institution ignores and overlooks, and everybody who has been and is being traumatized by public or private education systems. Good morning to y'all and y'all only.

#dont comment on this post im too tired to interact with people who say 'what about x' on a post that is obviously a cry for help #rivkah talks #studyblr gets real

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gladiates · 3 years

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Beyond the Basic in French Adjectives! (AKA synonym list!)

@rivkahstudies made an amazing post with some advanced adjectives in Brazilian Portuguese, and with Rivkah's permission, I made a similar one for French in case anyone finds it helpful! I know I can relate to the struggle of always saying things like "the movie was good" or "the homework was difficult" instead of something more distinctive.

In most cases, I've only listed the masculine form of the adjective, which is the base to which you can create other adjectives from. If you need a refresher on how to create these forms, I recommend the University of Texas's Tex's French Grammar website (you can just search "tex french grammar adjectives" and you get lots of good info!) I can also make a post reviewing this information if people would find it helpful—feel free to comment or message me if that's something you're interested in!

grand (big)

énorme (enormous)

immense (immense)

vaste (vast)

massif, massive (massive)

monumental (monumental)

petit (small)

minuscule (tiny)

miniature (miniature)

menu (minute)

mineur (minor)

microscopique (microscopic)

bon, bonne (good)

excellent (excellent)

sensationnel (sensational)

incroyable (incredible)

extraordinaire (extraordinary)

magnifique (magnificent)

mauvais (bad)

horrible (horrible)

terrible (terrible)

atroce (atrocious)

affreux (awful)

épouvantable (terrible, effroyable)

facile (easy)

simplificateur (uncomplicated)

simple (simple)

basique (basic)

de base (basic)

élémentaire (elementary)

difficile (difficult)

éprouvant (challenging)

ardu (arduous)

laborieux (laborious)

redoutable (formidable)

éreintant (grueling)

beau, belle (beautiful)

superbe (gorgeous)

ravissant (ravishing)

éblouissant (stunning)

magnifique (exquisite)

séduisant (alluring)

aimable (friendly)

affable (affable)

avenant (likable)

plaisant (pleasant)

gentil, gentille (kind)

convivial (convivial, sociable)

drôle (funny)

hilarant (hilarious)

désopilant (hilarious, hysterically funny)

amusant (humorous, amusing)

divertissant (entertaining)

plein d'esprit (witting)

heureux, heureuse (happy)

joyeux, joyeuse (joyous, cheerful)

plein d'entrain (buoyant)

euphorique (euphoric)

content (content)

satisfait (satisfying, content)

triste (sad)

démoralisé (downcast)

malheureux, malheureuse (miserable)

désespéré (despairing)

mélancolique (melancholic, gloomy)

sombre (somber)

other cool adjectives I like

adorable (adorable—useful when you want to talk about your pets!)

affectueux (affectionate—another good one for my kitty)

énervant, agaçant (aggravating)

angélique (angelic)

franc, sincère (candid)

insouciant (carefree)

incapable, nul (clueless)

encombré, en désordre (cluttered)

compatissant (compassionate)

dangereux (dangerous)

fou de joie (ecstatic)

élaboré (elaborate)

fait à la main, fait main (handmade)

humiliant (humiliating)

idiot (idiotic)

illustre (illustrious)

somptueux (lavish)

paresseux (lazy)

luxueux (luxurious)

mystérieux (myserious)

naïf (naive)

passionné, ardent (passionate)

calme, tranquille (peaceful)

prestigieux (prestigious)

excentrique, original, bizarre (quirky)

sarcastique (sarcastic)

scholarly (érudit, savant)

malencontreux (unfortunate)

optimiste (upbeat)

zélé (zealous)

Feel free to comment or message with any corrections, I'm not a native speaker, so let me know if anything is off! 🙂

#french #french language #french vocabulary #french vocab #langblr #french langblr #studyblr #vocabulary #vocabulaire

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siennadraws · 2 years

Note

for terys:

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

How easily does your OC forgive?

What is your OC’s favorite season?

Hi Anon!! Thanks for the ask!

How does your OC talk/what does your OC's voice sound like?

Terys has a husky voice, on the medium range, and she talks in a, I'd say sultry but like, not necessarily in a sexy on purpose way, just in a I'm mysterious way djskdkd.

When she talks with her friends she's very casual, although her Trade sounds formal because that's what she learned, but in more formal situations she'll talk firmly.

Who is/are your OC's closest friend(s)?

In her clan that's Wenalen, Aiselen and Miriam, they're hunters who started training at the same time as her.

Wenalen is an half elf, one of his fathers is a human ex antivan crow, who was almost killed by another crow when he defected, but the elf dad found him and nursed him and the Clan just liked him too much to not let him stay.

Aiselen is the daughter of a circle mage who escaped and joined the clan, and now helps other elves do the same. She's a mage and a very powerful one at that, Aiselen could have been the First, but she's really shy and not much of a public speaker.

Miriam is a former circle mage, who fled when she was 15, with Rivkah, a newborn at the time, after Rivkah's mother begged her to. Miriam accidentally eavesdropped her talking about her pregnancy and became part of the secret. Aiselen's mom was the one who picked her up after she escaped at night. She's a badass djsksk

In the Inquisition her bestest friend is Solas, but she's also close with Blackwall, and to everyone's surprise Sera and Dorian.

How easily does your OC forgive?

This one is really funny. Terys plays favorites for sure. If you're her friend, you're easily forgiven, if you're her enemy, not so much.

But she is merciful, and she doesn't like to waste lives. Everyone who wants should have a shot at redemption, at trying to make the world a better place.

What is your OC's favorite season?

Summer! Terys likes the heat, and the beaches. Seeing the sun set as she eats dinner, etc.

#ask game #terys lavellan #anon #ask

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mysticmachmir · 4 years

Text

Archangels in Judaism

Photo Source

Disclaimer: I am working under my personal theology that G!d created angels to act as messengers and ministers in this world - they are devoid of free will unlike humans, they are not gendered, and they are everywhere. There are aggadot that angels beckon grass to grow, or in some modern terms, gravity is an angel - doing G!d's will. Judaism is an over 3,000 years old tradition and there are as many texts to back up my thoughts as there are to refute them. Hence why I am clarifying my perspective.

What are archangels?

The word archangel is Greek, meaning “chief messenger/principal messenger.” Archangels are a class of princely Angels with authority over heavenly realms, earthly nations, or other angels. The term “archangel” does not actually exist in Jewish literature until almost modern times. Instead, it is a default translation for several Hebrew angelic terms such as Irinim (Watcher), Sar (Prince/Archon), or Sharet (Ministering angel). (Dennis 75)

There are many different types of angels, each one tasked with a specific mission and function. Some angels are created for one specific task, and upon completion of the task, they cease to exist. Other angels, after completing their task, may be given another one to do. This is the case with the angels we refer to as ministers or archangels. (Chabad) One key thing to note is their lack of free will - they cannot go against Hashem's will.

Who are the archangels?

Within Jewish literature, there is technically 6 or 7 (or even 10) talked about in total, but the ones that are written the most on are Michael, Rafael, Gavriel, and Uriel. These four are the ones I will be talking about. I will go over correspondences to them (elements, sefirot, domains, etc) for each one, and then I will suggest one traditional way they can be called on for protection.

Michael

Sefirah - Chesed (Lovingkindness/Mercy) Element - Spirit Water Direction - South Wind - Wind of Seeing G!d Throne - Right of G!d Metal - Silver Animal - Human Quality - Cleansing Attribute - Reflection/Compassion Tribe - Reuben Soul Level - Ruach (Emotional Being) Realm - Yetzirah/World of Feeling Biblical Figures - Sarah, Avraham

Gavriel

Sefirah - Gevurah (Boundaries/Severity) Element - Spirit Fire Direction - East Wind - Wind of Balance and Counsel Throne - Left of G!d Metal - Gold Animal - Lion Quality - Shining Attribute - Balance/Strength and Courage Tribe - Judah Soul Level - Chayah (Divine Spark) Realm - Atzilut/World of Transcendence Biblical Figures - Rivkah, Yitzchak

Uriel

Sefirah - Tiferet (Balance/Beauty) Element - Spirit Air Direction - North Wind - Wind of G!d Throne - Front of G!d Metal - Bronze Animal - Eagle Quality - Shining Attribute - Illumination Tribe - Dan Soul Level - Neshama (Mind-Soul) Realm - Briah/World of Thinking Biblical Figures - Leah and Yaakov

Rafael

Sefirah - Yesod (Truth/Foundation) Element - Spirit Earth Metal - Iron Direction - West Wind - Wind of Wisdom and Understanding Throne - Back of G!d Animal - Bull Quality - Merging Attribute - Healing and Tending Tribe - Ephraim Soul Level - Nefesh (Life-Force) Realm - Assiyah/World of Action Biblical Figures - Rakhel and David

Protection from Angels

One of the main ways the angels are invoked is the prayer said in the krias Shema, where we call on the four archangels to protect us within the night.

Photo Source There is also a history in 1st-4th CE that Jews in Rome and Greece would engage in adjuration, calling on angels for selfish means. This is considered to be working against G!d's will, as angels have very specific tasks and they are not supposed to deviate from that plan. Hekhalot literature has a lot of this magic, I personally see this type of magic as against my theology but that's between you and G!d.

If you are enjoying my writing, feel free to donate here: https://ko-fi.com/ezrasaville

Sources: Chabad Jewish Encyclopedia Magic of the Ordinary by R. Gershon Winkler A Gathering of Angels by Morris B. Margolies The Encyclopedia of Jewish Myth, Magic and Mysticism by Geoffrey W. Dennis JHOM - Angels - Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael Cosmic Reference Library by Kohenet Ketzirah (@devotaj) https://www.telshemesh.org/

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eliasbouchardslut · 4 years

Note

listen i dont follow u very much on purpose bc your posts give me every kind of heebiejeebies but being mutuals w rivkah And martin leads me to unfortunately have to see your horrible horrible words. i dont like the words that you put onto the internet quite frankly (PLEASE dont think thsi is hate mail I dont have anything against u personally I just Hate when u talk about elias baking bread from pussy yeast)

You think those two are innocent? Martin and Rivkah are the biggest enablers I blame them for like 40% of my posts

#this is the second ask ive gotten where simeone admits to being too scared to follow me #hfjrkdnfbdjfbendbfns #ask

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stone-man-warrior · 3 years

Text

January 22: 2021: 3:20 am:

===================================================

From Bing internet search: “Rebecca name meaning”

Rebecca or Rebekah (Hebrew: רִבְקָה (Rivkah)) is a feminine given name originating from the Hebrew language. The name comes from the verb רבק (rbq), meaning "to tie firmly"; Jones' Dictionary of Old Testament Proper Names and the NOBS Study Bible Name List suggest the name means captivating beauty, or "to tie", "to bind".

============

https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1352358086443495424

https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1352354332654657536

https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1352365808958238723

https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1352379010169368577

The numbers above refer to a two sided record album, such as the one linked below.

2 overturned = 2 sides, turn it over, play the other side = 2 overturns

58 Targeted = Is a reference to the Pope’s Flying V Guitar = “Holy Grail” in Range

144 not yet targeted = 12² = Police Down Range (based on E = MC² where the projectile is a bullet, do your own math)

These are all disturbing when combined.

What to know:

The British have a saying about new born babies.

“They all look like Winston Churchill”

as spoken by two British people talking about the babies in the hospital nursery window while passing in the hallway.

https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1352577113233223685

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESOkNEr1s_8

youtube

It’s early (really late). Have to sleep on this more.

That part about Maryland looks like it’s about money to me.

“Delmarva Peninsula”

Search this account for what I already explained about Delmarva, and why it’s important as a money stronghold, and why so many banks are located there.

Billion dollar babies, are the same as Jesus’ on a mast, to catch wind, to move the boat forward, to find more Jesus’, to nail to the mast, to catch wind, to move the boat forward, to find more Jesus’...

In search of land, riches, slaves, and power.

======================

3:47 am:

https://twitter.com/markknoller/status/1352066447888027651

https://twitter.com/i/events/1352520795633815553

The Mark Knoller Tweet is referencing the red stripe on the AF-1 that Trump is said to have suggested is a good idea, to make the airplane stand out in a cloudy day better while traveling over Canada.

The red stripe is a bad joke of course, it was done to get a reaction, and to find out who would respond, and in what way.... a COVID test or sorts.

Those troops in the underground parking are sort of like AF-1.

I don‘t know what to think about this part, because I know the national guard are all dead, but there are some national guard being shown to me on Twitter, so, I’ll just present what I know and let others have a look.

The idea I see in Knoller’s Tweet seems to be that the Red, can turn Green when you flip it like a record album.

Or,

The Green, can turn Red, when you put it underground.

I don‘t know what way is up on this one.

Green is Green Jello terror cell armed w/nitrous gas.

The Red is what happens when “You’ve been made” and they shoot you’re ass out of the sky because you put a big red stripe on your airplane while flying over Canadian airspace in “Peacetime”.

Go figure.

====================

4:13 am:

Maybe you don’t need to know what way is up on this.

Maybe the point is at the hospital nursery, where some of those young men are fathers of infant children, are targets, little Winston Churchills of the future... Billion Dollar Babies all ripe and ready to harvest for the British Still training at SDA nanny school in Arizona, “Intel” (see “Trump seven nano meter wafers” on this account to learn more about nannies, intel, and wafers.

Skip a head to 2:33 in the linked video, it’s about training of terror soldiers, made with kidnapped US Citizens babies, trained by Seventh Day Adventist nannies... unless you want to believe that mirror is a seven nano meter wafer.

I wrote more about this on the day it happened, and again later on a couple of times.

I think the military babies are being stolen by the Christian terror pirates that took over the US Government when SAG news media hijacked the White House.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdRb0wyTbU0

youtube

Dog’s & Butterfy’s:

https://twitter.com/AnnWilson/status/1352322462785155072

Truth:

It is far more likely that Ann Wilson is at the White House, or, is acting as US President from a remote Island Volcano Amp Guru location, than is Joe Biden, or was Donald Trump.

Time Warp terror can do that.

I know Ann Wilson enough personally to believe that she is there, not who we think, or who we are told in charge.

The fat lady must sing.

========================================

Giant Bird of Paradise:

These get to be about 30 feet tall on the islands. This one is just a baby:

If you happen to be someone who a terror soldier on the islands wants to talk to, they will point at those Giant Bird’s of Paradise and talk about them all day long, everywhere you go with your terrorist friend, they will be pointing at these big beautiful plants and the flower it makes. They might take you on a private tour to go hunt for as many Giant Bird’s of Paradise as can be found there, and pretty soon you will be looking at giant bamboo, I mean giant too...

... this stuff grows about eight inches taller every day.

Some things to consider, is where you are taking the tour with the terror.

Polynesia.

Polly is the name of the Pope’s bird.

The person who takes you on a hunt for giants, is the Pope’s bird, Polly, there are millions of Polly’s. They are everywhere, you cannot get away from them... so, don‘t be a giant when in Polynesia, it’s bad for you. Polly will make you kneel, to kiss the feet of the Pope’s bird.

=================================================

5:00 am:

If I were secretly running USA from a remote location at Amp Guru, it would be from here:

There, you can find the seven sacred pools of Hana, but if you call them the Seven Sacred Pools of Hana, they will kill you, so, it’s just “Hana”.

Is very beautiful there, I wish is was safe, I would like to go there once more.

I think this is the place where she at:

Mahalo.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jN7opA1Y6KQ&t=47s

youtube

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piratechaos · 4 years

Note

that wasnt very good hate so heres another. ik i just sent rivkah hate for being a h*mest*ck but ur literally reading h*mest*ck in 2020????????? i have to laugh. also i love u

JDJDJDJDJSJDJ what are you talking about this is the best anon hate.

yes im reading homestuck for the first time in 2020 yes i stan Dave strider yes we exist

#homestuck

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shakespeareanqueer · 4 years

Text

Call Me Bucky (30s One-Shot)

Summary: Bucky and Steve make friends with a proud and sassy girl named Rivkah.

Word Count: 3,212 words || My Masterlist

Contents: The word ‘kyke,’ antisemitism, some violence and fighting

A/N: This is the most delayed entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan Little Darlin’s Birthday Challenge. It was due back on March 10th for Bucky’s birthday (shortly after Clea’s birthday which was back on Feb. 25th; happy extremely belated birthday!!!) My prompt was 40s AU (though I seem to have been removed from the list; apologies if it’s for being late!) This is also definitely set in the 30s (oops) bc Bucky & Steve are in high school. Anyway, it’s finally here! First thing I’m publishing in this apocalyptic hell world we’ve found ourselves in. Enjoy!

Photo by R. Mac Wheeler on Unsplash

“Hey, darlin’.”

Rivkah slowly closed her locker and turned her attention to the guy leaning against the one next to it. The figure was taller than she realized, and her eyes raked over and up his broad chest before reaching his startlingly blue eyes, slightly crinkled. Plastered across his face was an immensely smug smirk.

Well, two could play at that game.

She leaned your side against her locker, mimicking his cocked and cocky stance, and gave a small nod. “Hey yourself.”

He seemed flustered for a moment, and reacted probably how he expected her to— with wide eyes and a stuttered “Um-”

A satisfied smirk of her own tugged one corner of Rivkah’s lips skyward.

He gathered his wits about him, but he’d lost his edge a bit by the time he finally stammered out, “You—You’re new here, right?”

“Yes. Very,” Rivkah responded, shifting her weight on her feet and staring down at her shoes.

She spared a glance up at him. He was eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Curiosity? Intrigue?

“You gonna introduce yourself, seeing as you’re the one who approached me?” Rivkah asked, a smile lacing her tone that didn’t quite reach her face.

He missed a beat, but then he extended his hand, and she took it. It was a bit rough and work-worn, firm but gentle. “James.”

“James,” she parroted, furrowing her brow. It didn’t seem to suit him; too formal for the boy/almost-a-man with the shirt partially untucked and several waves of chestnut hair escaping that morning’s hasty pomade job.

He must have noticed her reticence because he added, “You can call me Bucky if you like…” He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed slightly, glittering with something dangerous. “I think it’d sound pretty comin’ from your lips, doll.”

Rivkah quirked one brow. “Is that so?” she asked calmly. “Well then I hope to see you around…”

Rivkah hiked her bag back up on her shoulder and began to glide past him, brushing his arm with her hand as she went.

“James.”

🏫

If Rivkah thought that was the last she would see of James, she was sorely mistaken. After the final period that same day, as she walked away from the school, she found she had a Bucky for a tail.

“Hey, doll, what’s your hurry?” he called, jogging after her.

“Maybe I just walk fast,” she replied. “James.”

“Bucky, please,” he huffed.

“Gesundheit,” she replied, barely containing the smile that crept onto her face at her own joke.

“What does that even—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Even though his legs were significantly longer than Rivkah’s, Bucky was struggling to simultaneously keep up with her brisk pace and process a conversation that involved German words he didn’t know. The poor dear.

“Would you slow down? I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Walk and talk, James. This is New York City,” Rivkah replied, striding with even more determination out of playful spite.

He jogged back to her side. “What do you say to a milkshake, doll?”

“Where?” she asked with an impish lilt to her voice.

“Tommy’s?” he proposed.

Rivkah pulled a face. “Ooh, points deducted for poor taste.”

“C’mon, Tommy’s is all right,” Bucky whined. After a moment longer of her giving him the cold shoulder, he admitted, “Cramer’s is obviously the best in Brooklyn but it’s so far.”

A sly grin spread across her face. “Points added back. Cramer’s is, in fact, the best in town. Best in the whole state, if you ask me. And it is not too far. You afraid of a little stroll, James?”

“Crown Heights is more than a little stroll, doll,” he argued. “And how many times I gotta ask you to call me Bucky?”

Rivkah ignored his question. “You wanna get a milkshake with me, it’s Cramer’s or nothin’. In fact, I think I’ll go to Cramer’s either way; I’m craving one of their famous egg creams. Whether or not you want to join me is up to you.”

He stared at her wordlessly for several moments, starting to lag behind again.

“Well?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. “You in or you out?”

Rivkah received her answer by his rush to catch up and loop her arm through his.

With a smile on both their faces, they made the trek to Crown Heights.

🎒

En route to Cramer’s diner, Rivkah learned a lot about James Buchanan Barnes, including his full name. She learned his best friend was a skinny twerp named Steve who was an incredible artist and super feisty and righteous to a fault and a really great guy he wished more girls would give a chance to.

He assured her that he was not in love with Steve, but after all his raving, she was not so sure.

She learned he was fascinated by science, even if a lot of the concepts went over his head, and he invited her to the upcoming Stark Expo. She was sly and ambiguous with her answer.

Reading between the lines of the information he provided verbally, Rivkah surmised that Bucky was a passionate, nerdy, loving and loyal puppy dog of a boy. Despite the suave impression he had tried to make, his infectious enthusiasm for life was clear, and she didn’t stop smiling the entire way to the diner.

When they arrived, Bucky attempted to play the smooth gentleman again. He opened the door with a flourish and bowed low, allowing her to enter before him. She chuckled as she stepped into the diner and was instantly met with an uproar of greetings, from customers and employees alike.

“Hela, bubbeleh!” a cheery-looking old man sitting at the counter called out. He was the kind of adorable old man one might find in a cartoon—pinstripe trousers all the way up to his belly button and cinched with a belt, wrinkled collared shirt and sweater vest, wire-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose as he worked on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper, worn brown loafers on his feet which only barely brushed the floor from his perch on the stool.

Bucky couldn’t help but think this might be what Steve would look like in sixty or seventy years.

“Hela, Zayde!” Rivkah replied cheerily.

It suddenly clicked for Bucky that this was Crown Heights, the Jewish hub of Brooklyn. And the language he could hear peppered in with English in all the buzz around him, the language Rivkah and the old man exchanged greetings in, must be Yiddish.

And he had wondered why she laughed when he called her name ‘exotic sounding.’

Rivkah kissed the old man’s cheek and gave him a quick, affectionate squeeze. Just as Bucky was about to pull a chair out for her at the table nearest the man, a table he intended them to share, she skipped behind the counter and disappeared into the kitchen. Bucky stared, dumbfounded, his hand still on the back of the chair as he stood speechless.

When she emerged again through the swinging door, she wore an apron and a smug grin. “You said milkshake, yo?”

Rivkah sauntered out from behind the counter with a single set of silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. She placed it in front of the seat that Bucky had begun to pull out for her, arching her back deliberately because she found his astonished, ogling expression amusing.

When she stood back up, she reached out one finger and gently shut his gaping jaw. “What flavor milkshake would you like, James?”

“Uh, um, chocolate, please,” he stammered, his cheeks rapidly growing red.

“Good choice. Additional points for good taste,” she complimented, then drifted back into the kitchen.

When she returned with his milkshake, Rivkah went to place it on the table, then let her hand hover about an inch above the tabletop with the glass still in her grip. “You know,” she mused. “If you sat at the counter, it would be a little closer to what you had in mind. I could come and stand by you and steal sips of your milkshake when I’m idle.”

“The counter’s full up, doll,” he countered, glancing up and down the line.

“Not completely. There’s a seat open next to Zayde.” She pointed, and the old man she hugged earlier, who was watching the two of them with amusement, tipped his hat towards the pair.

Bucky folded in on himself in his chair nervously, and Rivkah clicked your tongue. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite. And even if he did, he hasn’t got enough teeth left for it to really hurt.”

Without waiting for his assent, she swept back over to the counter and placed the chocolate milkshake in front of the vacant stool. She patted the seat twice with an overly sweet smile on her face before skipping off to take an order on the other side of the room.

Hesitantly, Bucky shuffled over to the seat. The entire way across the checkered tile floor, the old man’s eyes never wavered from him, an air of amusement he recognized from Rivkah’s glimmering through them. When Bucky was finally sat on the stool, he took a long sip of his milkshake before turning uncertainly to the old man, who was still watching him.

“So… your name is Zayde?” Bucky asked cautiously.

The old man let out a low, rumbling chuckle, that quickly turned into uproarious laughter before settling into a violent coughing fit. Bucky patted him on the back lightly to help him through it.

Rivkah zipped over, concern writ on her face at the old man’s. He waved her off, but she still passed her glance warily between him and Bucky.

Eventually, when her Zayde’s breath had evened out, he asked, “Vu hostu gefunen dem bkhur?” ‘Where did you find this boy?’

“Er iz a fraynd fun shule,” she answered. ‘He’s a friend from school.’

“A goy, dokh,” he said. ‘A gentile, obviously.’

“Yo,” she confirmed. Rivkah glanced once more at Bucky with a look he couldn’t identify. “Ober a mensh.”

Her grandfather nodded and took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes still sparkling with mirth.

After a pause she asked, “Vos hot er gezogt tsu makhn ir lakhn?” ‘What did he say to make you laugh?’

“Er hot gefregt tsi meyn nomen iz zeyde,” he answered.

A soft giggle bubbled up from her chest that was quickly transformed into a hearty laughter. The resemblance between the two was obvious.

“James, ‘Zayde’ means grandpa in Yiddish,” Rivkah replied, failing to repress a few more chuckles.

Her grandpa extended his hand to Bucky and gave an affable, toothy grin. “My name’s Martin, but you can call me Marty.”

Bucky took the man’s small and wrinkled hand, but kept his gaze on his granddaughter. “I’ll tell you what,” he said slowly. “I’ll call you Marty when your grandkid calls me Bucky.”

Marty furrowed his brow and looked at Rivkah curiously as he withdrew his hand.

Rivkah simply shook her head and rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like to be called Martin,” she said. She heard herself hailed from the other side of the room, and sent a wave to let the customer know she had heard. “But feel free to call him Zayde. All of the regulars do.”

Rivkah winked at Bucky and gave her grandfather a loving smile before going to assist the customer across the room.

Bucky’s confidence melted the second she walked away, and he glanced furtively at Marty. “You… you do speak English right?”

“Yes I do, kid,” he confirmed. “And if you want, you can call me Mr. Cramer.”

🥤

This became a habit—Bucky walking with Rivkah to the diner after school, sitting and sipping his milkshake through her shift. She refused to accept payment for the milkshake, insisting it was her treat (not informing him that she was gifting him her one permitted free drink per shift). He accepted, but always slipped a dime into her apron when he gave her a goodbye hug on the way out, which was a generous tip considering what the shake would have cost.

Over the course of a few weeks, Bucky became rather well acquainted with her Zayde. They chatted amiably, and Bucky never got annoyed when Marty rambled on about the history of various wars and the history of espionage, just as Marty never tired of Bucky discussing space and all sorts of scientific topics he didn’t understand.

Marty wasn’t there every day during Rivkah’s shift, but on the days he was, he always watched Bucky leave with a smile on his face before turning to his granddaughter and pronouncing, “Der goy iz a mensh.” ‘The gentile is a mensch.’

After about two weeks, Rivkah finally met the famous Steve. Bucky hadn’t been waiting outside the main doors of the school like usual, and after a few minutes, she would have been late for her shift if she waited any longer even with her bustling pace, so she reluctantly headed for the diner without him.

About an hour into Rivkah’s shift, Bucky finally came in, supporting a bloodied and bruised boy on his arm. The boy was skinny, but slightly taller than she had expected. The way Bucky described him as so scrawny and shrimpy, she had expected someone as short as her, but he was a few inches taller at least. Short for a guy maybe, but not unreasonably so. Skinny, though, definitely.

His size was not the thing to be focused on at this particular moment, however. What was of concern was the blossoming black eye and the blood rushing from his nose.

Rivkah immediately dashed out from behind the counter and supported Steve by the other arm, despite never having met him before. The customer she was tending to looked offended for a brief moment, before catching sight of what had diverted his server’s attention; then he just looked horrified.

“How can you let that in here?” the man asked, disgusted. “He’s dripping on your floor!”

“Good thing it’s me who’ll have to clean the floor and not you,” Rivkah retorted, helping Steve settle into a chair at a table near the door.

The man scoffed and hastily started gathering his things together, making a show of getting ready to storm out of the establishment. So Rivkah made a show of tearing up the ticket she had started taking his order on.

Then, hurtling past the annoyed customer without a care, she barreled into the kitchen to get supplies to tend to her wounded friend-of-a-friend.

She patched him up, and got to talking with him, and soon enough, Rivkah and Steve were as good of friends as Rivkah and Bucky.

Well, Rivkah and James.

🥤

Yes, Rivkah had yet to call Bucky anything but ‘James,’ even after weeks of being friends. Even after gifted milkshakes turned into shared milkshakes, and friendly goodbye handshakes turned into goodbye hugs, and ‘Mr. Cramer’ turned into ‘Zayde.’ She enjoyed playing with him, and he enjoyed being played with. If he was honest, though, he really did want her to cross that threshold and get familiar enough with him to call him by his nickname.

On this particular day, Steve had met Rivkah outside of the school, informing her that Bucky would be a little late to the diner since he had to accompany his sister Becca to her dance practice.

It was a slow afternoon at the diner. Zayde wasn’t there, nor were very many customers. Steve and Rivkah found themselves chatting over egg creams amiably.

Suddenly, a gaggle of teens Rivkah vaguely recognized from school came barging into the diner. There was a particularly burly one right at the front who looked like he was just about foaming at the mouth.

He pointed a stubby, accusing finger at Rivkah where she was perched behind the counter. “You!”

“You!” Rivkah responded instantly, straightening up. “Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Dot’s brother,” the boy snarled.

“Who’s Dot?” Rivkah asked.

At the mention of Dot, Steve’s face turned even paler than it was before. “Dot was the girl Bucky was goin’ with.”

“I didn’t even know Bucky was goin’ with a girl,” Rivkah replied.

“He sure was, and you’re the kyke what stole him away from her!” Dot’s brother surged forward, making to leap over the counter and tackle Rivkah, but Steve stood in his way.

“Woah, Bruce! Slow down! She didn’t know!” he defended.

“Didn’t know what? I am so confused!”

Dot’s brother, whose name was apparently Bruce, grabbed Steve by the shirt collar to throw him aside like a rag doll, but Rivkah stopped him with a shout. “Hey! If you’re gonna fight…”

Bruce made a gross animalistic growl noise. “You want we should take it outside?”

“No, I was gonna say—” In one graceful movement, Rivkah gripped the counter and hopped over, kicking Bruce in the stomach before landing on the ground. “Don’t leave me out.”

Upon being kicked, Bruce dropped Steve, who ducked under his arm and went to punch one of the cronies who was hanging a few steps behind. It landed, but the larger boy was barely affected. He swung a counter lob at Steve, which knocked him to the ground.

“Stevie!” Rivkah exclaimed.

In all of the commotion, Rivkah had missed the bells above the door ringing, signaling the arrival of Steve’s best friend. Her attention was drawn to him when he gasped dramatically. “Doll! I can’t believe you called him Stevie before you called me Bucky!”

While he was playfully scolding Rivkah, Bucky was kicking the ass of several of Bruce’s cronies. Steve was battling it out with the guy that had knocked him to the ground. The jock was burlier and stronger, but Steve was smarter and faster, quickly figuring out his fight pattern and dodging effectively.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve panted, ducking under the guy’s arm and landing a jab to his ribs. “She called you Bucky first, before you got here.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I,” Rivkah confirmed. Bruce tried to grab her around the waist, but she resourcefully smashed her egg cream glass over his head, then Steve’s, then finally the metal cannister from the machine that held the extra.

Bruce fell to the ground just as Bucky pulled the guy Steve was battling off of him and tossed him towards the door. He and the last remaining cronies scampered out the door.

Bruce glared at Bucky as he tried to get up off the floor. He had to grip the stool, since the room was spinning. “You left my sister for this psycho bitch?”

Bucky’s face scrunched in confusion. “I took your sister on one date to Coney. I wasn’t ‘with her.’” He held up his hands in air quotes. “So how could I leave her?”

He spared a guilt-laced glance up at Rivkah. “And I, uh—” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not with her either, so…”

“Whether we’re together or not, I’ll still lay you out if you bad mouth me or Bucky ever again, you hear me?” Rivkah shouted, pushing Bruce, who was clutching his head, out of the diner doors.

Bucky grinned broadly at his girl.

#my post #fanfic #bucky boy #marvelll #writing #my writing #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #30s au #30s bucky #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x oc #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #fluff

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