#0930 training

[skylarless]

[lacnunga]

In the wake of the IA situation, I've seen a lot more posts circulating about using your local library and I just. Sigh

[gorgeousundertow]

@riddlersboyfriend Hi Luke, it's your summer exchange fic!! xoxoxoxo

Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul

Cross-posting on A03 since it's, ya know, long.

First Battalion

CO: Lt Col. Billy Turner. West Point. Demands fawning attention. Shouts. 3/10.

Charlie Company

Capt. Albert Hassenzahl. 

From Cincinnati, Ohio. Worked in steel mill.

27 years old

Sometimes brash or impetuous, leading to friction within the unit. 

Sufficient. 6/10

Sgt. Roy Speake Jr.

From Birmingham, Alabama. Foreman in cotton mill. 

30 years old, yet willing to take orders from younger men.

7/10

Sgt. Mariano Sanchez. 

From El Paso, Texas. Family owned a small grocery.

28 years old, difficulty conforming to protocol. Falls behind on runs.

5/10

T/5 John Davis. 

From Detroit, Michigan. Janitor.

20 years old, works hard but talks too much. 

6/10

Cpl. Harvey White. 

From a small town in rural Kansas, farmer. 

Age: 19. Inept and unreliable. Poor aim, shirks duties. But could improve if properly motivated.

4/10

Pfc. Paul Devoe. 

From New Orleans, Louisiana. Line cook. 

Age: 24. Charismatic and optimistic. Keeps spirits up, though impulsivity is an issue.

7/10

Schedule

0600 Reveille                                                                        

0610 Formation                                              

0630 Tidy barracks                                                    

0700 Calisthenics     

0800 Wash up                                                                      

0900 Barracks Inspection                                                   

0930 Currahee or obstacle course                       

1045 PT drills                              

1115 Outside lecture                                                           

​1200 Lunch                                  

1330 Mail Call                

1345 Lecture/Classroom 

1500 Parachute training                       

1700 Drill

1800 Supper

1900 Lecture/Classroom

2100 Return to barracks            

2300 TAPS

Notes September 1942

Dislike Lt. Col. Turner intensely.

Training is more difficult than anticipated.

Seems that what was true in Boston remains true here. Cannot seem to join conversations with the other men, continue to make them uncomfortable. Thought it would be different here than it was back home.

Notes October 1942

Lt. Col Turner is incompetent, stupid, and worthless.

Perhaps other companies have it better; consider orchestrating a change? Investigate.

Notes November 1942

Chose E Company, 2nd Platoon at random, for observation.

Capt. Herbert Sobel

From Chicago, Illinois. Attending University of Illinois.

30 years old

Would be a close friend of Lt. Col. Turner.

2/10

1/Lt. Richard Winters

From Lancaster, Pennsylvania

26 years old, effective. Has the respect of his men. Commands from the front.

8/10

Sgt. Carwood Lipton

From Huntington, West Virginia. Worked in mother’s boarding house.

22 years old, quiet. And yet the men listen.

8/10

Cpl. Donald Hoobler

From Manchester, Ohio, three siblings, joined National Guard.

Age: 20. Young, but works hard.

6/10

Pfc. Joseph Liebgott

Born in Michigan, moved to San Francisco

Age: 27. Cab driver. Speaks German. Easily angered, needs focus.

7/10

Pvt. David Webster

From New York City. Harvard grad. Writer

Age: 20. Lazy, whiny, as bad at talking to others as I am, in a different way.

5/10

Will continue to observe

Notes December 1942

Col. Sink insisted we march 118 miles, from Toccoa to Atlanta. It snowed. It served no function but to boost the egos of men who did not march alongside us.

Companies became disorderly, and by the end we were not marching in our own battalions. As such, I was marching mostly with E Company.

I spoke with Winters, as he was willing to speak with me. For some reason, he does not seem put off by me as others are–perhaps that is because, apart from Lt. Lewis Nixon III of Nixon, NJ, of HQ Company, no one wants to talk to him, either. Nixon certainly does; he made his way all the way over to E Company from the very beginning of the march, and stayed there, right at Winters’ side. By that token, I spoke with Nixon, as well. The march was miserable, but I believe I enjoyed it more than I have enjoyed any other time here.

We did not talk about much of anything of consequence–Nixon ensured that. I think the man is incapable of serious conversation. You would think someone as thoughtful as Winters would dislike him for that, but clearly he does not. It is odd. They are odd.

I observed the other members of E Company as we marched. They are a tight-knit group, more so than C Company by far. It is not because of their CO, that’s certain; he does everything he can to drive them apart, and clearly loathes Winters. 

Winters does what he can, but his resources are limited serving under a tyrant, an experience I can sympathize with. In truth, it is the NCOs that hold the Company together. To a man, they work tirelessly to keep spirits up, assisting those who are exhausted, making sure they eat and drink and sleep when they can.

Sgt. Lipton in particular has an interesting way about him. He doesn’t lead like the others, shouting at them to haul ass like Sgts. Guarnere and Martin do, in the time-honored tradition of NCOs. He gives orders, but he does so in a way that is almost friendly. I can’t wrap my head around it.

Notes January 1943

Continuing to observe Sgt. Lipton. 

Pvt. Webster is improving, partly because of Sgt. Lipton. (It seems that Pfc. Liebgott has an influence as well, though I can’t fully understand it. To a casual observer–which I do not believe I am–Liebgott bullies him, but in such a way that it almost seems affectionate. It is puzzling). Sgt. Lipton’s approach is different. He encourages Webster (and others, I do not mean to suggest that his efforts are limited to one man–he supports the entire Platoon. Hell, the entire Company) in subtle ways, walking with him to help him keep the pace up, but letting Webster think it’s because he really wants to hear him talk about Impressionist painters or Romantic poets. Perhaps he does. It is difficult to tell; he seems so genuinely engaged.

Capt. Sobel chewed him out for an imaginary offense (a not unusual occurrence in Easy Company) and Sgt. Lipton accepted it with stoicism. But when Sobel turned his back, Sgt. Lipton smirked. He rolled his eyes. There is steel in him.

Notes February 1943

Went for a run with Winters this morning, came across Sgt. Lipton. Winters invited him to join us. Winters runs like a maniac; running with him allows me to push myself, now that we are now longer running Currahee. I expected Sgt. Lipton to decline, particularly given my presence–no NCO has ever wanted to socialize with me–but he did not. He kept pace with Winters easily. He runs very well.

When we finished, we headed for the showers before Reveille, and Sgt. Lipton grabbed towels for each of us, even though it was unnecessary.

Notes March 1943

Have continued to run with Winters every morning. We have not encountered Sgt. Lipton again.

Notes June 1943

Have ceased running with Winters, as it’s too hot and I have concluded that Winters is a lunatic. We have plenty of PT; there’s no need to add on more. I don’t know why I bothered.

Notes August 1943

Couldn’t sleep, as usual. Went out walking through Fort Benning, found myself by the NCO barracks. Stood and smoked for a while. Went back to bed.

Notes September 1943

The S.S. Samaria is miserable. Am crammed into a cabin with Winters, Nixon, Lt. Harry Welsh, Lt. Heyliger, Lt. Roush, and Lt. Meehan from Baker Company. We have to wear life jackets at all times, and Nixon won’t stop talking about how the Titanic didn’t have enough lifeboats, and the Samaria definitely doesn’t.

Sleep is impossible, so have taken to walking the deck at night. Came across Sgt. Lipton, offered him a cigarette even though I know he doesn’t smoke. He described the racks the enlisted men have, and I decided to shut up about my sleeping situation. 

He was there the next night, and the next. He didn’t seem to mind my smoking. If he wasn’t on deck in the same place, I would have left him alone–I wouldn’t have gone looking for him. But he was always there, as if he was waiting for me. He didn’t say much, though neither did I, I suppose. We just looked out at the black sea.

Notes November 1943

Sgt. Lipton–and the other Sgts from Easy Company, I suppose–have mutinied on Winters’ behalf. It was brave. It was the right thing to do. It could force Sink’s hand, push him to realize how incompetent Sobel is. (We should try it in First Battalion). 

But I don’t know what’s going to happen to them. To him.

Notes December 1943

It’s all right. Two Sgts. were punished, neither of them were him.

It is clear that my interest in Easy Company is not beneficial, and no longer necessary. I am not gaining anything. I should not be more informed on the goings on in a Company that isn’t my own–that isn’t even in my Battalion. I’m going to stop taking notes altogether, anyway–loose lips and all.

Notes May 1944

Have been transferred to Dog Company. If I see Lt. Col. Turner in combat, I’ll kill him.

This is all pointless, anyway. In all likelihood, I am going to die. We are all going to die. Even…even he is going to die.

Notes June 1944

Sgt. Lipton was injured at Carentan, I do not know how badly.

I was also injured. I will recover. 

There were some incidents at Normandy. I shot an NCO; he was drunk and endangering the men. I shot six POWs. They were my first kills. I have killed more, since.

The looks men gave me, before we came, as if they weren’t sure what I was capable of. 

They know, now. I know, too.

Notes July 1944

Sgt. Lipton was wounded in the groin and on the face. He is in the hospital here in Aldbourne, recovering. He is several beds down from me. He receives visitors throughout the day.

Now that he is up and about, he comes to say hello sometimes, as I am not yet able to walk. He does not avoid me, as the other men do. 

He ought to; it would be better if he did. It’s useful that they fear me. It will make me a better leader.

Notes August 1944

Have been transferred to HQ Company, working alongside Nixon. It’s for the best.

Notes December 1944

Have been transferred back to Dog Company, as they are short on officers. We will be needed, I am told, for what’s coming in Belgium.

Notes January 1945

I couldn’t stop watching 1st Sgt. Lipton. With Winters leading the battalion and Lt. Dike as the empty shirt they’ve put in his place, Lipton has been the Company together. He is exhausted–we all are, of course, but it hurts somehow to see it on him. His eyes are shadowed, I could see it even from a distance. I patrolled the lines of Dog Company often, to catch a glimpse of him. I insisted that our medics share supplies, food. I wanted him to eat. To be safe. I was at the edge of the line when German artillery rained down, and I swear I heard him laughing. It was beautiful.

I would have gone across that field at Foy even if Winters hadn’t sent me. Someone had to go, and I was glad it was me. It was the easiest decision I ever made–it wasn’t even a decision, my feet were going before I even had the thought, as soon as they had Winters’ permission to do so. 

And now, I’m in command of Easy Company. It feels…right. Like I should have been with them all along. I know these men. I know what they need.

I knew what 1st Sgt. Lipton needed–he needed to know that someone had watched him, had seen what he had done. Had seen the man he is. And so I told him, in a church, while a choir of girls sang in golden light. It was…a risk, because letting him know that allowed him to see me, as well. To an extent. 

He still does not seem frightened of me. If anything, he seems a little amused. I don’t know what to make of it, exactly. But I don’t dislike it.

Notes February 1945

I’ve been promoted to Captain. One would think this would be welcome, but it is not. I couldn’t stop thinking of the men who have died, while I’m still here. I tried getting drunk–it’s what everyone else does, Nixon, Welsh, all of them. I’ve never really seen the point, but last night I thought, what the hell, it’s worth a shot.

I’m sharing quarters with 1st. Sgt. Lipton (he should be Lt. Lipton, but it hasn’t come through yet. Promotion won’t ruin him as it has me). I stumbled there, and I was…I couldn’t…I wasn’t as in control of myself as I would have liked to be. 

In truth, I wasn’t anything close to control. I came into the tent so drunk I couldn’t see straight, and I was crying. I hadn’t cried before, not once in the entire war. Not with all the deaths. Not for the men who died or the men I killed. But I cried when I got my fucking captaincy. 

Lipton was in bed, and I sat down on his cot. Aren’t you supposed to forget things that happen when you’re drunk? Why do I remember all of this? 

I remember I tried to kiss him. At least, I think that’s what happened. It is a little fuzzy. All I know is that I was sitting there on his cot and he was in bed, lying down and listening to me, and then I was half on top of him. I think I remember my mouth on his…fuck, you’d think if I’d gone and done something so colossally stupid I would have the decency to be sure about it. You’d think it would be seared into my brain, something I could go back to sometimes, in the privacy of my own thoughts. But there’s nothing, really. Just a vague sense of closeness, of Lipton, right there.

I got to my own bed, somehow. He must have put me there–by that point, I was too drunk to know my own name. And in the morning he greeted me with his usual smile and a cup of extra strong coffee. As though nothing at all had happened. So I guess nothing did.

Notes February 1945

Lipton is sick. He’s been sick for a week or so, but he’s getting worse. It won’t stop. He won’t stop–just keeps acting like he’s fine, even though his fever is running so hot Doc Roe keeps trying to get him off the line. It’s pneumonia, and we’re out here in the cold, and he still won’t go. I’m so furious with him I don’t know what to do. 

I can’t watch over him every minute, so I’ve put Luz on him. Luz has the right approach–firm, but with a smile. Lipton doesn’t respond to direct orders; I’ve tried that.

He remains infuriatingly competent, even when he coughs so hard I worry he’s going to drop a lung on my jump boots. Easy is running on fumes, and yet Lipton has it as organized as can be. And I can’t help coming to him for advice, to discuss options, even when he should be resting–because his advice is invaluable to me.

This town, Hagenau, has been blown to pieces. Is still being blown to pieces. We barely have roofs over our heads, though of course that’s practically a luxury, considering some of the places we’ve been. Easy CP is in a building with only one bed, and I’ve put Lipton there. It took some doing–I thought I was going to have to carry him there, and frankly he’s bigger and stronger than I am. Well, maybe not stronger, with pneumonia. 

I could sleep in another room, of course, but I’ll be sleeping on the floor, in the same room. I want to be able to hear him if he needs anything, if he takes a turn for the worse. 

Notes February 1945

Something happened last night. I don’t…I’m going to write it down, to see if that way I’ll understand it.

At 0230 I went to bed. The patrol did not go well. Two prisoners is not a fair exchange for Jackson. I was…upset. But I still moved quietly, so as not to disturb Lipton–only he was awake. He called me over, asked how the patrol went. I told him. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It should never have happened,” I said.

He shrugged, his muscled shoulders moving in the low light from the fire I’d had Luz light in the hearth, and the cooler light from the moon.The room was warm, and he wore only his undershirt. “Lots of things have happened in this war that shouldn’t have, sir.”

I couldn’t argue with that. He slid to the side, gesturing for me to sit down on his bed, as I’d sat a couple of weeks ago, drunk off my head. I obeyed, but I frowned at him, unsure. “What are you doing awake? Can’t sleep? Should I get Roe?”

Lipton shook his head, a little smile on his face. “No. I’m feeling much better, sir. I wanted to see how you are.” 

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I…I’m fine?” It sounded like I was asking him for the right answer, but how I was wasn’t something I’d considered in…well, in years, I suppose. Since well before Normandy. 

“Good,” Lipton said, taking me at my word. “Would you like some of this?” He held up a bottle and I blinked at it. It was schnapps–I’d taken it from a German couple next door, along with some kind of pastry. Apfelstrudel, they’d called it. 

“I don’t really drink,” I said warily, thinking of that other night. 

Lipton grinned. “Neither do I, but I figure you got this for me for a reason, right, sir?”

“The woman said it would cure you.” 

Lipton held out the bottle to me expectantly, so I took a small sip. It burned going down, too sweet. I handed it back to him, and he took a sip himself, placing his mouth where mine had been. I watched his throat as he swallowed. I was so close to him, I could hear the sound his lips made as they left the bottle. “Another?” he asked.

I shook my head. I didn’t understand what was happening–maybe nothing was happening, maybe this was all perfectly ordinary–but I sure as hell wanted to remember it clearly tomorrow. Lipton took another sip, made a face, and closed the bottle, setting it down on the floor. “Have you had a lot of that?” I asked.

Lipton shrugged, loose. “Some.”

“Enough to cure you then,” I said, and he laughed. 

“I guess so.”

I could feel his hip against my leg, and the room got a little brighter with the light of an explosion from a couple of blocks away, and I could only hope it hadn’t done any more damage than we’d already sustained tonight. His eyes are so soft. “I should let you sleep.”

I didn’t stand up, though. I meant to, I meant to get up and go sleep on the floor like I’d insisted I would. I was going to, any second, but I hadn’t yet when Lipton said, “You could sleep here with me.”

I try not to let my emotions show on my face, but I must have looked surprised (I was more than surprised), because Lipton added, “We’ve all slept in tighter quarters than this, in Bastogne. There’s no need for you to sleep on the floor, sir.”

And it’s true. I slept as close as I could to other men in foxholes, because otherwise we would have frozen to death. But this room had a warm fire. There was no reason to. And yet, Lipton slid to the side, making a little more room for me–there wasn’t a lot, it was a small bed–and so I…lay down. 

I didn’t take off my boots, or my jacket or anything. I didn’t want to risk taking the time, in case he changed his mind. I lay on my back, but that didn’t quite work, it was too close, so I turned onto my side. I should probably have faced away from him. I didn’t.

His face was right there. I could have kissed him again (did I even kiss him, before? I’ve never been certain). He blinked at me in the darkness, but I didn’t move. Eventually, his eyes closed, but I lay there for a long time, long enough to feel him relax and curl into me. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, and I thought I felt his breath against my hair, but I couldn’t be sure. 

When I woke up in the morning, he was gone.

Notes February 1945

I haven’t known what to do with myself all day. Lipton has been hard to pin down–now that he is feeling better, he is working harder than ever. Winters canceled the second patrol, but we still need to act as though it is going forward, which means the same amount of work, plus I needed to make sure Lt. Jones is squared away. 

I had Liebgott and the others firing across the river, while Webster and Sgt. Martin hid in the house. By the time I got back to the CP, it was 0300.

Lipton wasn’t in the bedroom waiting for me. He was awake and working with Luz, sorting through the supply delivery. I stopped in to say goodnight and when he said goodnight back, he…well, he smiled at me. But Lipton smiles at everyone. 

I don’t like this. I don’t like being uncertain. 

Notes February 1945

It’s Lieutenant Lipton now, at long last. Welsh caught up with us, and he had Lipton’s bars with him. I was there when Winters pinned them on, when Lipton shook his hand. There were so many of us there–Nixon, along with Luz and Webster in the other room. Hell, even Lt. Jones was standing there. What felt like it ought to have been a close moment, something for just me and him, wasn’t, couldn’t have been, with so many men around. But of course it wasn’t just for him and me–why would it have been? I’ve only been his CO for a month. Of course he would want to share this with men he’s known for years. He’s earned that and more.

But I was impatient. I couldn’t…after spending yesterday so uncertain, I didn’t want to spend another moment that way. And we were equals now, or almost. We were both officers, at least.

So I took him by the arm and brought him into the other room. It wasn’t private, by any means–they were all still right there, Harry and Nixon drinking from Nixon’s flask, Winters watching them in that amused way he has. And we were going to be heading out soon–I’m writing this in the back of a jeep as Winters drives, in fact. But I couldn’t wait.

“Yes, sir?” he said, expectantly.

I had absolutely no idea what to say. “Um. Yes. Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

He smiled, wide and sincere, that smile that spreads so far across his face that it lifts the downturned corners of his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

I had to think of something else, some reason to keep him here away from everyone else while I thought of a way to ask what I needed to ask him. “And you’re sure you’re feeling better? Because we could go to an aid station.”

He reached out and squeezed my arm, just below the elbow. It was a little thing, something I’d seen the men do all the time. Hell, Winters and Nixon were never not touching, it seemed. “I promise, I’m fine, sir.”

Just a little thing, but it seemed like I could feel his hand on my skin, even through my coat. No one ever really touches me. “I…” I cleared my throat. “I’m glad to hear that.” His hand slid down, so that his fingers touched the bare skin of my wrist, just resting there. From the other room, it wouldn’t have looked like anything, but it felt like everything. “Lieutenant Lipton…”

“You can call me Lip, you know, sir,” he said. “Everyone else does.”

“Lip,” I repeated, quietly. It probably came out as a whisper. I don’t think I will call him Lip, in front of other people. I think I’ll keep that close.

“Sparky!” Nixon called from the other room. “We’re moving out in an hour, think you can manage that?” 

Lipton’s fingers tightened on my wrist before letting go. “Yes,” I said, without looking away from him. I heard the sounds of the other men leaving, of Winters talking to Jones, of Luz giving Webster a hard time, of Welsh and Nixon bantering back and forth. Lipton stepped back, and I felt the moment slipping away, as if this was my only chance, and if I didn’t say something right then–though I still didn’t know what I should say–I would never get another try.

So I reached out and grabbed the back of his neck. His mouth was warm and soft, tasting of coffee and stale bread. He kissed me back, and the relief in that was enough to make me dizzy.

We broke away to catch our breath, and he smiled against my mouth. “Ron,” he whispered. 

We had to leave that room, then, and that house full of broken walls and rubble, to gather the men and move on to another house in another town. But he’ll call me Ron again, I believe, when we’re alone. And I’ll call him Lip. And maybe there isn’t anything else that needs to be said, for now.

[chitrolls]

Coming out of my hibernation now that I'm settling in post-move. I even have a decent job! My hours are 0930 to 1800 during my month of training, but I'll be switching to 0800 to 1630 when I'm on done. :)

My fantroll juices have been a steady trickle, so I'd like to perhaps mess around again.

[a-tale-never-told]

Anon Files Addendum

Addendum #3: On September 3rd, at 0930, Hiroshi Hinata was chased down by Franz Fisher in a high speed car chase, with Fisher attempting to shoot and kill the man. We Anons attempted to interfere by throwing oil on the road to make his car crash, only for Hiroshi to drive in front of a train to cut off his pursuer. He was mostly likely targeted because of the pictures with his son, Mahiru and Honami. Why Franz considers the Hinata family that big of deal to kill Hiroshi over, is currently unknown, as is how much he actually knows about the family. Be cautious at all times

[agelessbodycayman]

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[jtstrainingblog]

03AUG24 I had a good start to class today. Several people, working on teaching new stuff, I was happy it was going well. Then I had a student I had to kick off the mat. I absolutely hate that. Not going to go into details, but unsafe behavior, disrespect, and disrupting the whole class to try harder and harder to prove how tough they were left me the choice of laying them out or telling them to leave. I've spent the day feeling a failure.

Training:

0930-1200: Martial arts

Kenpo: yellow belt and purple belt; Hanbo: jodan/gedan and yoko/ura block strike drills, hanbo retention from elbows, knuckle wrap, and knee push; Kyoshoryu; Danzanryu Oku review of mizukuguri, komi iri, and kote gaeshi

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Thursday, 11 January, 2024.

We enjoyed a sunny afternoon but a little chilly at 54 degrees.

Herb told us how many days until "Pitchers and Catchers" have to report for Spring training, but since I don't know or care anything about Baseball, I was only half listening.

Warmup

4 Rounds

10 Banded Shoulder Dislocates

10 Naked Barbell Push Presses

Most of the girls pretended to do these while actually being involved with social issues.

Strength

Dumb Bell Alternating Arm Military Presses 5/5 5/5 4/4 4/4 3/3 3/3 2/2 2/2

Ed/Bernie=55 Smoothie/Chad=50 Tim/Herb=45 Dana/Paul/Tom=40 Coach/Joe=35 Kayla/Elisa=25 Linda/WG/Alicia/plus a few others=no posting

WOD

Run 400 / Row-Ski 500 / Bike 1000m

THEN, 8 ROUNDS

5 / 5 Dumb Bell Hang Power Snatch (50/35/20)

5 Toe's 2 Bar

AND FINALLY,

Run 400 / Row-Ski 500 / Bike 1000m

Paul=10:50 Kayla=10:58 Elisa=11:02 Dana=11:08 Bernie=11:20** Ed=11:29* Tim=12:00* Joe=13:15 Smoothie=13:19* Coach=13:30 Herb=14:10* Tom=14:45 Chad=16:10 Linda/Alicia/WG and others=no posting

Cool-Down:

Wine and Snacks inside the Barn.

Kayla brought those great smelling and tasting dumplings, Elisa or Alicia or both brought a big tray of veggies and dips, Miss Linda brought Pigs in Blankets, and Smoothie brought Poison Meat-Balls that he made himself. There were 8 reds and only 1 white wine available, all of which disappeared.

A somewhat scatter-brained discussion ensued after most of the wine was consumed concerning what time the workouts should begin on weekends. The background of this is that everyone agrees that one class each day could easily accommodate the attendance, and would make life easier for your old coach. The result of the discussion is that the Saturday and Sunday classes will start at 0800, BUT NOT YET. So forget that I even brought this up and just wait for an announcement. Maybe in a couple of weeks.

Robert and WG came to the workout but didn't. Robert had some minor surgery today and was craving commiseration. WG has a knee injured and is resting it. WG at least used a few ERGs with savagery, but Robert just stood around and gossiped like a little girl. Very unusual for Robert, he brought us a bottle of wine. Yeah !! It seems that his sweet wife Amy has a stash, and Robert will be sneaking a bottle out of this for our Thursday Night Tastings for the next several weeks.

There is a Bourbon/Whiskey/Wine (my title) tasting at the Schwartz's on Saturday the 27th of January (if there is such a day). It officially begins at 6 and ends at 9, but actually goes from 5 pm until midnight or later. It's a major annual highlight of our CF community. Members of LHCF and the Schwartz family at large are invited along with a significant other. Or you could just be like Kayla and bring a bus load of Alabama relatives and your current fiance' and his extended family.

Keeping our eyes on the weather...it is supposed to get rather nasty.

Saturday at 0730 and at 0930.

[sourcreammachine]

(train announcer voice)

THIS IS THE 0600 SERVICE FROM SANTIAGO TO AUCKLAND TĀMAKI

THE SERVICE WILL TAKE 36 HOURS

THIS SERVICE CALLS AT:

Antofagasta Salvador Allende (0700)

Chuquiago la Paz (0800)

Lima (0900)

Quito (1020)

Bogotá (1100)

Caracas (1200)

Panama (1230)

Managua (1330)

Guatemala (1400)

Oaxaca Emiliano Zapata (1445)

México Tenochtitlán (1500)

Monterrey (1545)

San Antonio (1615)

Houston (1630)

Nawlins (1700)

Birming Ham (1730)

Atlanta Peachtree (1745)

Charlotte (1800)

Richmond Staples Mill Road (1830)

Douglass Union (1900)

Philadelphia 30th Street (1920)

New York Grand Central (1930)

Boston South (2000)

Montréal (2030)

Québec Palace (2045)

Happy Valley (2200)

Limerick Colbert (2230)

Dublin Heuston (2240)

Belfast Grand Central (2250)

Glasgow Central (2310)

Manchester Piccadilly (2345)

Birmingham New Street (2355)

London Workers’ Cross (0010)

Hamburg (0030)

Berlin Rosa Luxembourg (0045)

Dresden (0100)

Prague (0110)

Vienna (0130)

Pest (0145)

Belagrad (0200)

Sophia (0230)

Istanbul Byzantium (0300)

Ankara (0320)

Antioch Abdullah Öcalan (0350)

Beirut (0410)

Holy Quds (0430)

Gaza (0435)

Cairo Ramesses II (0500)

Asyut (0520)

Luxor (0530)

Aswan (0540)

Khartoum (0630)

Malakal (0700)

Juba (0730)

Kampala (0800)

Kisumu (0815)

Nakuru (0820)

Nairobi (0830)

Arusha (0900)

Dar es Salaam Julius Nyere (0930)

Nampula Samora Machel (1030)

Antananarivo Sorano (1130)

Perth Boorloo (1230)

Adelaide Tarntanya (1500)

Melbourne Naarm Southern Cross (1540)

Canberra (1600)

Sydney Warrane (1615)

Christchurch Ōtautahi (1715)

Wellington Pōneke (1730)

Auckland Tāmake (1800)

what if we all kissed

[knowsvaluemoved]

@pizzalegacy​ :  #

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: the resident child  - what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone:

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone : the standard iphone ringtone - my muse’s last text to your muse: [ text | the resident child ] : combat training is at 0930. [ text | the resident child ] : i can not watch you do that again.

[poddyshobbies]

鉄道寸景 ～ 山本駅 / 検測車

Railroad Snapshot on yamamoto station. / Inspectuin Train

山本駅 ～ 筑肥線（西線）と唐津線の分岐駅です。検測車はこの駅で折り返し運転をすることがあります。写真は検測しながら西唐津の車庫に向かう列車でした。

↑ 佐賀（唐津線）・伊万里（筑肥線）方向　↓ 唐津方向

起点・接続であった頃の賑わいを偲ばせる駅舎が残ります。

西唐津車両センターに入ったキヤ141

DATA:2020.2.18 長崎 0507~0808 肥前山口 0843-0851 久保田 0901-0918 多久 0925-0930 相知 0944-0953 山本 1003-1020 大川野 1124 -1140 伊万里 1210-1226 大川野 1237-1255 山本 1302-1310 唐津 1323-1327 西唐津 2/9 1215-1218 唐津 1224-1232 浜崎 1239-1252 大入 1325-1339 筑前前原 1344-1352 今宿 1354-1402 姪浜 1414-1430 筑前前原 1432-1440 筑前深江 1446-1450 大入 1536-1545 鹿家 1551-1602 東唐津 1606-1615 西唐津 1630-1638 鬼塚 1642-1655 相知 1702-1715 多久 1717-1741 佐賀 1759-1820 鳥栖 1826-1831 弥生が丘 1848-1902 太宰府信 1946-1953 南福岡 2014-2021 竹下小 2022-2025 博多 2029-2033 竹下小

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 2 - Of Pride and Competition

The memory of last night lingering in each of you, Levi tries to handle your sudden sheepish disposition. Will things remain awkward, or will you be able to get past your emotionally-charged argument following the death of the original Special Ops Squad? What will happen to Levi's team when it is repopulated with members of the 104th Cadet Corps?

Are either of you ready for the uncertainty that follows?

Levi’s Office 0930 Hours

Silence was thick in the air as you went about scrubbing the floors of Captain Levi’s office. The tea you placed on his desk sat untouched and cold, and Levi would scarcely look at you. You had been at this for a half-hour already and your hands were raw. The strong scent of lemon was beginning to make you feel sick, but you ignored it in favor of completing your task faster.

It was easier to focus your attention on a dirty floor than the whirlwind of emotions in your chest anyway.

Levi tried desperately to ignore your presence in the room, internally cursing himself for the weakness he had shown the night before. It was not his intention to let your importance to him slip past his lips. Caring and compassion were weaknesses that had to be stomped out both in the Underground and in the Survey Corps.

Weaknesses get you killed.

Furthermore, your own confession weighed heavily on his mind. Damn you Erwin - this is a fucking pain in the ass , he thought, his grip tightening on the pen he was holding. His eyes were a dark grey, like the clouds of an oncoming storm. The nonverbal agreement between you both seemed to be that you wouldn’t talk about it. Levi liked it that way.

The raven-haired soldier briefly lifted his head from his work to see you on your hands and knees, working diligently on the floors. While he was more-than-satisfied with the work you were putting in, he was also keenly aware of the damage you were doing to your hands. If you scrubbed any harder, you threatened to make yourself bleed.

“Take a break, Brat.”

“I’m almost done, Captain. I’ll get out of your way soon.”

“Not the point. If you don’t take a fucking break you’re going to bleed everywhere and just make the floors filthy again. Get up, that’s an order.” Levi commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a small sigh, you stood, placing the scrub brush back in the bucket before moving them both to the corner of the room. The last thing you needed was for one of you to trip over the damn thing and ruin the work you had already put in. Without a task to focus on, you became increasingly aware of the sharp, throbbing pain in your hands.

The next thing you heard was Levi’s trademark “Tch,” followed by the sound of his chair scraping across the floor. His footsteps echoed in the otherwise quiet room as he made his way toward you. The next thing you were aware of was a firm, but gentle grip on your wrist.

“Come here,” Levi muttered, shielding his face as he led you through the office to his bedroom and into his private bathroom.

You stood there dubiously, unsure of what he expected of you.

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, Idiot. Sit on the edge of the tub.” He barked, slipping past you to get his first aid kit.

You complied, keeping your eyes locked on the floor while you waited for his return.

Levi decided he didn’t like your uncharacteristic silence; nor did he like the sheepish disposition he was met with since this morning. Regardless of what had transpired last night, he didn’t like things being so…so…

Awkward.

The silence, the way you looked at your shoes like a child being scolded, his inability to make his own mouth fucking move for anything other than commands - it all pissed him off. Levi grumbled to himself as he made his way back to the bathroom, kit in hand.

You were startled to see him squat in front of you, his eyes searching for yours.

“I’m going to wrap your hands. Just stay still.” He muttered, opening the kit and procuring some antiseptic, antibiotic cream, and wrapping.

“I can do it myself.” You replied, an eyebrow quirked.

“And make a mess of my bathroom? No fucking thank you.”

Much to Levi’s surprise, you actually snorted. “I’m pretty sure if I can keep your office clean, I can make sure not to fuck up your bathroom.”

“Yeah well, my faith in brats is pretty minimal.” He reminded, as if you could forget.

“Luckily the only brat here is you.”

Silence.

You were pretty sure you were about to get decked across the face for your comment and floundered for a proper apology. Hell, you weren’t even sure where you got the balls to let something like that slip past your lips.

“Captain, I - that was -”

What came next was almost more frightening than a fist: Laughter.

You sat in stunned silence, your eyes wide as you watched Captain Levi actually laugh . He was still squatting in front of you, but his eyes were shut and he had one hand on his forehead, a grin on his face.

“You’ve been quiet as a fucking mouse all day and this is the moment that your characteristic sass comes back? You’ve got to be shitting me.” He cackled, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m pretty sure if you were anyone else I would have beat the shit out of you.”

“Honestly, that’s what I was expecting.” You conceded, still dumbfounded.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost, Cadet.”

“Can you blame me? You laughed.”

“Contrary to the rumors you Brats like to spread around, I’m not emotionless.”

“No, just almost emotionless.” You quipped, looking away from Levi. It was difficult to maintain your composure when he regarded you so sincerely.

Why do you have to be so alluring?

For the first time in a long time, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier found himself sincerely enjoying the company of someone else. It eased the sting of the losses he had experienced the following day, if only slightly. The revelation should concern him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, f/n. Now let me clean up your damn hands.”

—

Training Grounds, One Week Later

Levi’s new squad was a royal pain in his ass. They may be talented, but they were young, stupid, and really fucking annoying most of the time. Well, everyone but f/n, the captain mused, keeping his expression flat.

Eren was especially difficult for Levi to handle. His passion and dedication were admirable, sure, but he was too emotional and almost refused to fucking think .

Mikasa was in a league of her own, skilled in all aspects of being a soldier, but her loyalty was not with the Survey Corps. It was with Eren.

Connie was alright most of the time. The kid had better-than-average skills, and he was dedicated. However, the air in his head could fill a hot air balloon.

Jean irritated Levi; he was a skilled soldier, but also extremely fucking arrogant . Levi assured himself his distaste for Jean had nothing to do with his ceaseless attempts to get into your pants, or the fact that he was overly touchy with you whenever he got the chance. No, it was just his arrogance.

Sasha? Don’t get him started on Sasha. She was…something.

Prying Eren back from the hands of the Military Police had been a feat requiring unfathomable sacrifices of soldiers and innocent citizens alike. Managing to finally detain the Female Titan, Annie Leonhart, was a bitter victory for all of you. So many dead, so much destruction, all for a prisoner that couldn’t even be questioned. While Eren was safe for now, it was clear Levi and Erwin had their work cut out for them. For now, training served as a welcome distraction for everyone on the squad. Besides, he wanted his new members up to his standards within two months.

He had seen you train and had trained with you many times, even before the last expedition. Frankly, he made you train with him and his squad while Hange dug her greedy paws into Eren. While she experimented to her heart’s content (and to Eren’s increasing frustration), he wanted to get you close to the skill level of the Special Operations Squad. After all, you were his “personal assistant” - He wasn’t about to let you get your ass killed after one expedition.

Your extra training with Captain Levi made you useful when running drills and training scenarios. Levi found himself leaning on you when it came to explaining certain intricacies that came with his brand of training. He was a hardass - a very, very particular hardass. You were the only one who would be able to satisfy his requirements from the very beginning.

Well, you were the only one left. The thought left a bitter taste in Levi’s mouth, so he quickly turned his attention to the sparring pairs he had set for his squad members. Mikasa already had Sasha on her ass, Armin was desperately trying to hold his own against Connie, Jean and Eren were practically at each other's' throats in an attempt to be the one on top, and Krista had tapped out during your sparring match with her five minutes ago.

To Captain Levi, this meant you weren’t getting in enough training. “Oi, Cadet l/n. Take on Krista again.”

“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t think I should.”

“And why is that?”

“Well,” you winced, glancing at the injured cadet on the floor, “I was a bit too rough and damaged her shoulder.”

“Tch. Krista, what the hell were you doing? Was the fight really that one-sided?” Levi demanded, marching over to the pair.

“Well - I - Yes, actually it was.” She murmured, her eyes cast downward. “Since she started training with your squad originally, I can’t keep up just yet.”

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to pair you with one of your old comrades just yet.

“Go get patched up, Cadet. When you’re done, come back and give me thirty laps around the green. We’ll start with your stamina.” Came the Captain’s calculated response.

As Krista left to see her shoulder tended to, Levi’s piercing gaze focused on you instead. “It seems that you need a sparring partner at your level. If Mikasa wasn’t currently trying to wrangle Eren and Jean, I’d put you with her.”

“I have a better sparring partner in mind.” You smirked, feeling cocky after such a one-sided sparring match.

“Hoh? Who exactly did you have in mind?”

“I think it’s time the student showed up her teacher, Captain.”

A flash of amusement spread over Levi’s face, but he soon crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a firm line. “You really think you can take me on, huh?”

“Not only can I take you on, Captain.” You said, leaning closer to him so you could speak to him without the others hearing, “I’ll have you on your ass before you even know what hits you.”

Levi wasn’t sure whether to laugh at you outright for your overconfidence or punish you for it. He supposed he could give you the chance to face off against him and punish you after you lost miserably. Add salt to the wound to teach her a lesson, he thought.

“Alright, Cadet. Let’s see if you can survive even a minute sparring with me.”

The bond that you and Captain Levi had formed since you became his assistant had only grown. He thought of you as a friend, though he wouldn’t publicly admit it. Though, knowing you, he didn’t have to. In private, you were something of a reprieve from his daily stressors. You made sure his workspace was clean, provided a great fucking cup of tea, and made sure that his paperwork was done in a timely manner and that he actually slept . Levi decided this was the reason he was so soft on you at times, not immediately punishing you for sassing him. He found your snarky comments and sarcasm oddly soothing in his office and out. You saw Levi for Levi - He wasn’t just Humanity’s Strongest to you.

Maybe that’s why I’m so quick to give in to her ridiculous challenges.

A wide grin had spread across your face when you realized he agreed to spar with you. “Thank you, Captain! It’ll be fun to go against you!”

“Fun for me, sure. Especially once I get to wipe that cocky smirk off of your face.” Levi quipped, clapping his hands twice.

“Oi, Brats. Stop your sparring sessions for a minute and watch what happens when you try to challenge your Captain. Apparently Cadet l/n needs a lesson in how quickly overconfidence can fuck you over.”

The squad - his squad, he reminded himself - turned their attention to f/n in disbelief. Either you were extremely brave or extremely stupid.

Captain Levi knew you were both.

Wordlessly, you each assumed a fighting stance, carefully observing each other’s movements. The tension in the air was so thick that Eren was certain he could cut it with a knife. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of leaves and the calm breathing of both Captain Levi and Cadet l/n.

Realizing you weren’t going to take the first move, Levi lunged forward before planting his left foot firmly on the ground and twisting himself into a roundhouse kick. You dodged his attack effortlessly, e/c eyes trained on his each and every movement.

Needless to say, he was impressed that you even managed to dodge, expecting you to block instead. However, he didn’t have time to entertain the hubris of one of his subordinates, so he continued his onslaught in rapid succession. Punch after punch was either smacked away or avoided effortlessly - as if you were dancing.

Frustration mounted in Captain Levi. For someone who was so keen on sparring with him, you hadn’t gone on the offensive once yet. If you expected to tire him out and then strike, they would be there all night.

I have to end this now, Levi thought as he searched for an opening. Then it dawned on him - you never let him see your back. Each dodge, each block that you put up kept him from getting to your back. That’s where I get her. She can’t defend herself from attacks that originate from behind her.

Using the inhuman speed Levi was known for, he shot past you and whirled around to lock you in a chokehold. What he didn’t see the moment he passed you was the smirk that plastered your face. He realized a moment too late that you had made no move to stop him from getting behind you.

With a mirthless chuckle, you grabbed the arm he had reached with and, using his momentum, flung him over you and onto the dirt with a loud thud. Taking advantage of the mere seconds Captain Levi would be dazed, you jumped on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing his legs down with yours. Your hands found his and you pinned them next to his head, panting heavily.

Levi gaped at you, his grey eyes finding yours. You had completely changed your fighting style to erase all of the patterns he had grown accustomed to when training you. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words caught in his throat as he saw the animalistic look on your face. With every heaving breath you took, your body pressed against Levi’s.

“I win.” You murmured, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “What was that about teaching me a lesson, Captain?”

Your voice was a sultry purr in his ear and he could no longer ignore how tight his uniform suddenly felt. However, he would not let you have the win - even if he had to play dirty.

“I still plan to bend you over my desk to teach you that lesson.” He murmured in your ear, his hips shifting slightly under you.

You gasped and for a moment your grip on Levi lessened.

That was all he needed.

Before you could rectify your mistake, Levi had pushed you off of his torso and wrapped his legs around your hips, rolling you under him and pinning you. By now, he was panting too. His uniform was a mess, his hair disheveled, and his pupils blown. This time he would ensure you conceded, so he had pinned both of your arms with one of his and wrapped the other hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, but not enough to actually cut off your air supply.

“Do you yield, Cadet?” He growled, his voice rough with poorly-concealed desire.

“Yes I - I yield.” You whispered, absolutely breathless.

Ostensibly the two of you had taken a moment more than necessary to stare at each other in such a compromising position because Eren loudly cleared his throat.

Suppressing his desire to shoot a glare at Eren and give him a week of stable duty, Levi removed himself from you and stalked away. “You’re dismissed for the day. And Cadet l/n, I expect you in my office after dinner to start scrubbing my floors with a toothbrush.”

Panting, extremely aroused, and even more pissed off, you groaned. It was going to be a long night.

—

Dinner Hour

As the day left you, you found yourself becoming increasingly irritated with Levi. That should have been your win. It would have been your win if he hadn’t used such a dirty tactic.

A sore fucking loser, you cursed, ignoring the irony of your statement.

You were so annoyed, in fact, that you disregarded Levi for the rest of the day. You did not bring him tea, you did not organize his workspace, and you certainly didn’t provide him any relief from the workload weighing him down. When you sat with Eren and the other cadets at dinner, you could practically feel his glare burning a hole in your uniform.

Frankly, you didn’t fucking care. You’d be sure to give him a piece of your mind later.

--

Levi’s Office 1900 Hours

“What the hell was that, Levi?” You snarled, slamming the door to his office behind you.

“Which part? Me kicking your ass or me absolutely kicking your ass?” Came his monotone reply as he continued reading over a report from Hange.

“How about you playing dirty to secure your win? I had you . Are you that much of a sore loser?”

“I never tapped out. You wrongly assumed that the fight was over - your cockiness is what fucked you.” Levi couldn’t mask the amusement in his voice. Getting you riled up was fun once in a while, he decided. Furthermore, it was fitting revenge for ignoring him all day.

Your move, f/n.

He wouldn’t listen to your ranting about it? Fine. You’d make him listen. You stalked around the desk and whipped his chair around to face you, pinning him in place with your hands on each armrest and your knee between his legs. “So the comment about bending me over your desk to teach me a lesson wasn’t dirty?” You snapped, your eyes boring into his.

“It’s not my fault that you lowered your defenses because of something I said.”

“Something you knew would get a response out of me! You don’t just fuck with someone like that!”

Levi’s patience was thinning, his eyes darkening, “Do you really think an enemy is going to play nice when you’re out in the field, f/n? Do you really think they won’t use any perceived weakness against you?”

“You aren’t an enemy. It was a sparring match between a Squad Leader and a Cadet - between two friends.” You hissed, knuckles white on the armrests of Levi’s chair.

“Our perceived relationship is of no fucking consequence during sparring. You know that. Sparring is meant to hone your skills and keep you from getting your shitty ass killed when you get into a real fight.” He snarled, brow furrowing.

“So using my obvious attraction to you is fair game? We don’t address it. We don’t give it the fucking time of day, but suddenly it’s okay to use during sparring?”

A pregnant silence filled the room. One you were not keen on entertaining for long.

“What about you, then, Levi? What about your obvious issue during the fight that you had to dismiss the squad for? Is that something I should use against you the next time we go head to head?”

“F/n,” Levi started, his tone dangerous, “I suggest you shut your fucking mouth right now.”

“Why,” you mocked, “did I hit a nerve, Captain?”

“Because if you keep talking,” He began, leaning towards you threateningly, “I absolutely fucking will bend you over my desk to teach you a lesson.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.”

Suddenly, as though pulled together by powerful magnets, your lips met in a fierce battle for control. Your fingers sought purchase in raven hair and you tugged it as the war of tongues, teeth, and lips raged on. You were vaguely aware of being lifted by your ass out of the chair and unceremoniously dumped on the desk. Papers were scattered everywhere as Levi cleared the area, taking his place between your legs.

He held your neck in a tight grip with one hand, his other roughly shoving into your pants to find your slit. “Do you understand what you do to me?” He growled, biting at your clavicle as you bucked your hips into his hand. “I want to devour you. I want to own you.”

The thin string keeping both of you at bay had snapped, leaving chaos in its wake. Any semblance of reason - of control - was lost in the fray.

“Levi I-” You began, your fingers digging into his hips as you pulled him closer. “I want you. I need you.” You breathed, your e/c eyes cloudy with desire.

I think I love you. A mutual thought that threatened to escape both of you.

“What have you done to me, F/n?” Levi choked out, burying his head in the crook of your neck and suckling on the sensitive skin.

Before you could go further, a sharp knock on the door got your attention. You both quickly pulled away, righting yourself before Levi spoke.

“Name and Business.”

“Oh come on, Shorty! It’s just me - I need to talk to you about our latest findings regarding Eren!” Came Hange’s cheerful voice.

“Tch. Shitty Glasses. Come in.” He groaned, glancing at you.

You were both aware of the line you had crossed, how you had both fucked up.

“Levi, I —”

“You’re dismissed, Cadet.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

So my boss shared her outlook calendar and there was a 3-hour block for Wednesday marked “Leadership?” And I know this was probably a training meeting or something but I can’t help trying to imagine Gabriel’s calendar.

0800-0900: Be Inspirational

0900-0930: Brainstorm clever jokes with Sandalphon

0930-1145: Thwart the Evil One (Delegate??)

1145-1300: Review new Earth fashions

1300-1330: Pick up new suit

1330-1400: Surprise inspection of Aziraphale’s bookshop

1400-1700: Leadership?

1700-1730: Meeting with Michael about paperwork redesign (Delegate??)

1730-1800: Uriel’s performance review (what is Uriel’s job again?)

[maestings]

CALLING ALL: Night Shift Nurses!

Just some background- I work on a 36 bed Med/Surg and Oncology Unit, we have a 6:1 - patient:RN ratio. It is fast paced, even on the night shift which is 1845-0730 or later. I have been an RN for a year now and I was a tech on this same floor. I have learned SO much that Nursing school never taught me, and things clicked in my brain that didn’t click while I was still in school.

It’s been an amazing year and now I am training new grad RN’s on orientation to our floor! I have done orientation with a few that are experienced, but just new to us, and with a few that trained with someone else for most of their orientation before they came to me.

Now, I am training brand spanking new grad RN’s and I am so excited about this! I really like helping ppl connect the dots and helping them to feel welcome and making sure they never feel stupid or bullied. No new grad will leave the floor and cry in the their car if they are on orientation with me. I had an amazing RN for orientation and she and I became close friends outside of work, I had such a wonderful experience as a new grad.

Questions I am always asked by RN’s new to night shift:

1. How do you make it work with life?

A: I PLAN! I plan ahead as much as possible, and I schedule life around work.

2. How do you sleep?

A: When I am not working I sleep on a regular schedule. On the day of the first night shift back I get up in the morning and do whatever until the afternoon, when I try to get in a couple hour nap. Then, when I get off work I try to be in bed by 0930 at the latest (if possible) but absolutely no later than 10. I get up between 1530-1700 and head out by 1800.

3. How do you eat?

A: I am still trying to figure out the best way to schedule this, but recently I have been doing a couple small lower carb snacks earlier in the shift, and then fast until about 0400 and have another healthy snack. I was doing a “lunch” meal at midnight for a long time, but I don’t think it works well with my metabolism.

4. How do you manage with pets and/or children?

A: I have two dogs, one of which has chronic health issues. My younger brother comes to my house after he gets off work, and it is his “part time job.” He walks them and plays with them, and he is a presence at my home that keeps people clueless as to when someone is going to be at my home which is great for security purposes. I can trust him with my pets and my home. I know everyone isn’t fortunate enough to have family nearby for this, but I recommend finding someone you know you can trust to help with your pets and children. My pets are family, they are my babies, and they will never pay for the career I have chosen.

5. How do you workout and try to get or stay healthy?

A: This has taken some trial and error. Originally, I was trying to go to the gym after work in the morning, or before work when I woke up, but I cant maintain that long term. Now I focus on getting there when I am not working, and fitting it in as much as I can, while still allowing recovery time.

I have found that EVERYONE does something a little different! What works for some doesn’t work for all and working night shift takes a lot of planning, at least for me.

I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR WHAT OTHER NIGHT SHIFT NURSES DO TO MAKE IT WORK!

[nitewrighter]

[squints at your blog like a drive thru menu] hey yeah can I get a uhhhhhhh fuckin uhhhhhh large mchanzo please. thanks.

*drive-thru intercom crackle* McHanzo machine broke.

(jk here’s some McHanzo. I love me some corny anime tropes, don’t you?)

Taking place after A Conversation

—-

If Hanzo had to name the worst thing about being on the run—well, there were a lot of ‘worst’ things about being on the run. The guilt was bad. Devouring, rotting guilt that clawed itself even into in his moments of peace like veins of mold in cheese. There were the assassins, and there was the exhaustion of his own vigilance against his family’s assassins that made every day without an immediate threat on his life feel like a lie. But up in the top three was probably not knowing when he would get his next shower. He did have resources–safehouses and the like, which he had gotten from assassin and mercenary work, but those were few and far between. He had gotten a lot better than he would like to admit at quick, desperate wash-ups in public bathroom sinks, and he could count on both hands the time he had risked pursuit by the authorities or the Shimada clan just to get a few minutes in the shower at the home of someone he had just killed. Being able to bathe on his own terms for the first time in too long was probably the most luxurious thing he had experienced since he first came to the Watchpoint.

 Steam flooded the showers of the watchpoint dormitory. Hanzo’s fingers were well past pruning but he set his hands against the tiles of the wall and let the water pound his shoulders. He tried to let the sound of water drown out his thoughts, but still they bled into his consciousness.

What am I doing here? he thought, Genji is doing far better without me than he ever did with me. Why invite me? Spite? his stomach turned, Pity?

“You know you’ve been in here nearly 30 minutes, right?” McCree’s voice cut through the steam and bounced off the walls and Hanzo’s head jerked up.

“I—I…” to be honest Hanzo had completely lost track of the time. Not like him. Sloppy. 

“Not to put a damper on your beauty routine but Jack did say we gotta convene with him at 0930 to establish your intended role with us. You being Mr. ‘Spy Network’ and all.”

Right, thought Hanzo, That. Might as well just toss any resources I have into this circus too. Forget about any contingency plans for when this whole organization goes down in flames. Again.

“It’s hardly a spy network,” said Hanzo, turning off the water and sticking his hand out of the plastic of the shower curtain, padding around for his hanging towel, “Merely a collection of contacts. I cannot exactly send them out to gather intel. We all have to watch our own backs.”

“Been there,” said McCree as Hanzo finally found the towel and pulled it into his shower stall.

“’Been there,’” Hanzo repeated, toweling himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist. “You know,” said Hanzo, pushing the shower curtain aside, “You are just as secretive, if not more so, about your dealings before you joined this splinter cell than I am.”

“I was on the run. Not a lot of glamorous stories there,” said McCree, “One of the highlights was stopping a robbery at a ramen restaurant… and the train thing, I guess…” 

“’Train thing?’” said Hanzo.

“Took down a Talon strike team,” said McCree, flicking up the brim of his hat and smiling at him, the smile faded though, “They were after this glowy purple box thing. Looking back, I wonder if I made things worse, giving it to them…”

“You gave it to them?” said Hanzo.

“I kicked it off the train rather than let them kill the whole train trying to get it!” said McCree.

“It could have been a weapon that could kill far more people than just one train,” said Hanzo.

“I think about that too but… truth is I didn’t know. Thankfully, I still don’t know what the hell that thing was. Maybe it just speeds up Talon’s wifi or somethin’…”

Hanzo snorted.

“I hope it just speeds up their wifi…” said McCree, taking off his hat and itching at his hair. He shook his head. “Anyway. Meeting with Jack,” he moved to turn around and walk out of the showers, “0930 Hou–Fu–”

McCree slipped hard. His prosthetic arm flailed to try and grab for the doorway and missed in his descent. 

“McCree–!” Hanzo stepped forward too, grabbed his arm, felt the prosthetic grip his forearm and yank him down too in McCree’s fall.

The stream of panicked thoughts constricted around Hanzo’s mind as they both fell. If he cracks his skull open I’m finished. There’s no way to prove it wasn’t an attack. Only a few days in to coming back into Genji’s life and I’m already destroying the things he holds dear again. They’ll kill me. Make me leave the watchpoint. I don’t know which is worse. 

Both grunted as they hit the tiles of the shower floor. 

“Are you all right?” Hanzo said in an instant. 

McCree’s eyes were squeezed shut in pain until they flicked open and he gritted his teeth, “This is why we don’t take no gotdamn thirty minute showers!” McCree snapped at him. He realized his nose was inches from Hanzo’s and instinctively his eyes flicked down to see that, though Hanzo’s towel had come loose at the hip, perhaps by the grace of god it still served as a buffer between him and McCree’s jeans. Hanzo’s own heart was pounding at his throat and ears. Aside from a few embraces from Genji, this had been the most physical contact he had had with another body in a painfully long time. He caught himself and cleared his throat.

“I’ll um–just…” he kept one hand braced against the tile floor as he grabbed at the loose edges of the towel at his side

“Yeah–just–uh…” McCree was looking off, apparently pretending that the nearby shower drain was some kind of avant-garde artwork that he was struggling to understand as Hanzo fumbled between him, the floor, and his own towel.

Hanzo finally managed to roll off of McCree into a kneeling position to re-secure his towel as McCree grabbed his hat off the floor and shook droplets of water off of it.

“Thanks for the uh… attempted save,” said McCree, not making eye contact, still swatting water off of his hat.

‘Yes, well… I hope future attempts are… more successful,” said Hanzo, “Not that I… hope there is ever a need for future attempts again.”

“I getcha,” said McCree.

“Mm,” Hanzo grunted. 

“…Can we agree to…”

“Never talk about this again?” said Hanzo.

“Yeah,” said McCree.

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

“Good,” said McCree.

“Good,” agreed Hanzo.

A long pause passed between them. Hanzo half-forced a rueful chuckle.

“What?” said McCree.

“I think this is the longest we’ve gone without you calling me ‘Asshole,’” said Hanzo.

“Look at that,” said McCree, pushing his hair back, “Makin’ progress.”

—-

“Is there a reason why you two moved your seats 10 feet further away from each other than usual for this meeting?” said Jack.

McCree and Hanzo exchanged glances.

“I don’t understand the question,” said Hanzo.

“Yeah, we always sit like this,” said McCree.

Jack took a deep inhale, knew full well that was bullshit, and decided not to press the issue further.

[abriefinquiryintodayoldhate]

June 8 2020

“Be a sleaddog. Push through pain.” -Msgt Blout

0500 We are formed up on the center pad at the 350th Special Warfare Prep Squadron. Chow.

0626 We are Formed up again outside on the center pad waiting for the instructors. We fall out into the classroom. During Morning formation Sergeant Torres asked us what our foundation is and told us we needed to write a paragraph and have it to him the following morning. He gave us about a 10 minute lecture challenging us to figure out what our foundation is when the storms of life come in white or foundation is built on and he asked us is it built on the sand or is built on the rock.

0730 MSGT Blout, the superintendent and silver star Combat Controller over our training is giving us an introduction lecture.

“One AFSOC operator is worth 2.5 million dollars.

( A whole entire Army company or an entire SEAL platoon, each seal is worth 250k)

“That is how essential One Air Force operator is to the battlefield.”

Dr. Orr lectured until 0845

“Those that can will, those that can’t won’t.”

0930 Medic Brief

0945 Run Coach Brief

10OO Major Torres - Nutrition Brief

1115 Lunch.

As I’m leaving the line with Emmy tray of food, SGT Neely is walking over to the table he’s sitting at.

We lock eyes and he smiles. He is the course director and A Combat Controller. My inspiration. As I’m sitting down he comes over and I stand at attention.

He asks, “Hey have you gotten your personal life together?” I respond, “Hooyah SGT.”

As he’s leaving he says, “This is a second chance. Don’t fuck this up.”

1221 TSGT House, our course Proctor walks into the front of the room. Looks up

“Maybe you’ve heard this quote before maybe you haven’t, it’s pretty popular. I have it tattooed...

Today is not a good day to be a pussy.”

He then walks out.

12:44 SMSGT Herera walks in

“Drop”

Everyone is in the front leaning rest position.

“Recover”

“Hopefully that is the last time I ever have to drop you.”

Then he begins his lecture.

“Take care of your family, take care of yourself, take care of each other.”

14:47 LT. COL Bates walks up to the front to begin his lecture and looks around at the white board behind him. He turns around “Dry erase marker. GO!” Then sticks out his hand.

I sprint upstairs grab three markers and come back down and hand them to him. He looks at me and shouts “these aren’t the colors I wanted!” He smiles and says thank you. Everyone laughs.

He starts to talk about life, family and commitment.

Life.

“The little things that take a little more energy, have a bigger pay off.”

Family.

“Who is else is going to be that little babies dad? Who else is responsible for showing them what a man is?”

“Fall in love with somebody. Have kids, it’s amazing. Have children, that is the true human experience.

“Is it going to be a little harder in the pipeline? But it’s going to worth it, for real.”

Commitment.

31k per student the Air Force spends for the Special Warfare prep course.

“ You better commit right now and work your little tail off.”

“Don’t get to comfy cos this place is preparing you to get punched in the face. And when you get punched in the face you’re going to hear you spent 9 weeks and 31k and you’re not ready?”

“I firmly believe our country is the envy of all nations.”

“The world needs the United States.”

We had 3 guys quit the first day. 107 to 104.

On a personal note, I’ve been putting aside my feelings for April to detach from all the emotions from the past two weeks.

I love her so much and miss her but I know she would want me to focus and lock in so I succeed, then pass selection. I’m doing that.

It dosent hurt that bad anymore. I’ve never had to grieve someone like this, especially the love of my life, like the really one I’ve loved the most and flip the switch off. I finally did it. I feel so confident I’m going to get selected. I’m not crying anymore.