#60 Water Street

[rabbitcruiser]

Doors, Gates and Windows (No. 78)

Roosevelt Building, NYC

767 9th Ave, NYC

Spingler Building, NYC

Salesforce Tower, NYC

Salmon Tower II, NYC

234 W 52nd St, NYC

10 Jay Street, NYC

55 Water Street, NYC

60 Water Street, NYC

427 West 51st St, NYC

[quaranmine]

i can't believe i spent two weeks in a country infamous for its rain and ill-tempered weather and it rained more back home in Texas than it did on me in Iceland

[falesten-iw]

What makes you react to what's happening in Gaza? and What makes you care about human lives? Is it empathy, ideology, culture, religion, knowledge, or something else that compels you to feel and act?

What would push your government to stop saying, "Israel has the right to defend itself"? What would make columnists stop focusing on self defense and what the demonstrators or students are doing "wrong" and instead use their platform to pressure their government to do what's "right" to stop this ongoing genocide? When did you start caring, and when will you start acting?

Is it when you have Palestinian friends?

When Palestinian children begged for food, safety, and water?

When over 45000 Palestinians had been killed & 98000 injured ?

When left-wing political parties around the world started criticizing Israel?

When Palestinian and Israeli human rights organizations sounded the alarm for years?

When protesters took to the streets every week? Do you still hear their voices?

When human rights organizations like Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch documented the atrocities? Was 60 years of human rights violations not enough?

When journalism associations worldwide recorded an unprecedented number of journalists killed in such a short period?

When UN agencies like the World Food Program or UNRWA reported on the humanitarian disaster and worsening famine?

When aid organizations like Doctors Without Borders or the Red Cross warned of the total collapse of healthcare?

When child rights organizations like Save the Children or UNICEF constantly reported on children’s acute physical and mental health crises?

When Jewish groups like Jewish Voice for Peace declared, "Not in my name"?

When the International Criminal Court in The Hague found strong evidence of crimes against humanity and began prosecuting high-ranking officials? Are you waiting for the court to tell you act?

When your children were upset after hearing what was happening in Gaza? Did that stir your parental instincts?

When the EU's foreign policy chief, Josep Borrell, repeatedly urged Israel to stop the killings?

When your favorite artist spoke out—did that make you reflect?

When students protested at universities around the world? Does the passion of young people give you hope?

When the Pope made a statement about the situation?

When military experts reported how many bombs Israel had dropped on Gaza?

When 2.5 million people were displaced under bombardment, with nowhere to escape in Gaza—a place already called the world’s largest open-air prison even before October 7?

When your employer gave you permission to speak out?

Are you waiting for Joe Biden to say the red line has been crossed and stop sending weapons?

Or are you waiting for Donald Trump to say the magic words: "Enough is enough"?

Or for Benjamin Netanyahu to say "Oh sorry that was a mistake"?

Or are you waiting for God Almighty to come down and say, "Enough is enough"?

Or for the most extreme elements in the Israeli government to say, "Now we can stop bombing"—but will there be any Palestinians left in Gaza by then?

Or will you stop waiting and act now, driven by empathy, knowledge, and solidarity with people who are being oppressed right in fornt or your eyes?

I’ve lost over 200 family members, friends, and neighbors in this genocide. I have 24 of my family’s members and 2 orphaned children, trapped in a makeshift tent and struggling to survive in this freezing winter in Gaza. Is that not enough to move you to act? Tell me then when ?—when will your humanity compel you to step in? Please, act now and donate!

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

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[eglerieth]

Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:

• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind

• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF

• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger

• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves

• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite

• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET

• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”

• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION

• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom

• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating

• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators

• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.

• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels

• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon

• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king

• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing

• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung

• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics

• spent 60 years writing said autobiography

• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read

• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too

• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression

• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors

• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone

• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will

• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves

• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be

• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor

• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor

Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.

[agoodflyting]

Good Omens Historical Trivia That's Haunting Me Today...

So we all know A.Z. Fell & Co is located on the fictitious Whickber Street in Soho and was established in 1800.

Aziraphale has run the shop ever since then and was in contact with Crowley at least until the 1820's when they took their little jaunt to Edinburgh and Crowley got sucked down the tube slide to Hell. They meet up again no later than the 1860's, when Crowley asks for Holy Water.

Stands to reason that between the 1820's and 1860's Aziraphale was in Soho doing Aziraphale things. Running his bookshop. Eating tiny cakes

Yeah... you know what else was going on in Soho during that time?

The worst cholera epidemic in London history.

If you don't know, cholera is a deadly bacterial infection caused by drinking contaminated water. Prior to the 1850's humans weren't really sure what caused cholera, but they knew it was terrifying and also that it was absolutely epidemic in big cities.

TW: this is gross - The main symptoms of cholera are agonizing stomach pain and non-stop watery diarrhea, eventually leading to the skin turning blue due to the thickening of blood from severe dehydration. Patients can lose more than 20% of their body weight in hours as they quite literally evacuate every drop of water in their bodies until they die of heart failure. - OK gross part over

Cholera symptoms show up as short as 5 hours after infection and could kill within as little as 12 hours. Cholera was especially terrifying because of how quickly and painfully it killed you, and because the patient maintained mental clarity up until the point of death. More than half of the people who contracted cholera died within a few days after consuming the bacteria-contaminated water.

And guess what water had cholera bacteria in it?

The public water pump on Broad Street in Soho in August of 1854

And this wasn't one of those epidemics that starts slowly and drags on. It hit like a bomb. It killed 600 Soho residents in ten days.

That's roughly 60 people a day in a 3-4 block area. Most of them died at home because the disease struck too quickly for them to to make it to a hospital. Survivors described hearses stacked with coffins 4-5 high going down the street nonstop all day long during the outbreak. Entire families were wiped out overnight.

What does that have to do with Good Omens?

Aziraphale's book shop was right in the epicenter of this outbreak.

Neil Gaiman has been pretty free about the fact that Whickber Street is a thinly veiled expy of the real Berwick Street in Soho.

This is a famous map showing the 1854 Soho Cholera epidemic. I highlighted Berwick Street and the public water pump that was the center of the contagion. The black bars (I circled a few in blue) on the map designate deaths. The thicker the black bar, the more people died in that particular house.

51 people died the week of the cholera outbreak on Aziraphale's Street alone.

Cholera was one of those diseases that provoked a lot of panic, not just because of how fast and painful it was, but because of the way it didn't follow common conventions about class or age. Children died while the elderly survived (often because the elderly had no one to gather water for them). Lower class houses were spared while their middle class landlords died. Churches were packed that week, because people in Soho had no idea who would get sick next. The epidemic pretty much burned itself out in a week and a half, since by that point everyone who drank the water had already died. I have to wonder what our resident Angel was up to during that time. Obviously cholera can't hurt him, but that's his neighborhood. There's no way hundreds of people, including entire families with children, are dying painfully in his neighborhood and Aziraphale doesn't notice. That means that in between this scene:

And this one:

Aziraphale would have watched one of the worst disease outbreaks in London history play out right outside his front door. I feel like there's great potential for a good story there if anyone better than me wants to write it.

[andromeda3116]

I mentioned it in my tags, but I think it's worth pointing out in the post proper as well:

Strong hurricanes spawn tornadoes. And particularly in the northeastern quadrant of the hurricane, which is the strongest region of the cyclone. So it's a two-fer, you have the tornadoes hearkening the arrival of the strongest part of the inner bands/eye wall. Like a preview of the fun the next days/weeks/months of your life will be. As a treat.

So it's no contest. Hurricanes are worse, because of *gestures at everything* but also you get tornadoes along with big hurricanes, so you don't even have to choose between them!

I need to settle an argument

reblogs VERY much encouraged, please feel free to prove reasoning in the tags or replies

[ola-family3]

💥🔥Urgent help 💥🔥

I am Ola Ferwana from Palestine ,Gaza. I'm a mother of 3 kids Yamen, Qusai and Mira. My husband travelled to Egypt to get medicines before 2 days of the war 7 of October on Gaza and he was stuck in Egypt until this moment.

I faced very great challenges and responsibilities of my three children in the absence of my husband, as he had traveled and the crossing was closed and we could not see each other.

This is our street of my house, the Israeli occupation damaged all the houses.

I have delivered a girl baby,Mira , through the war, She was 10 months old and my husband didn't see her until this moment.

Yamen was 7 years old, and his simplest dream was to complete the first grade at school, but his school was completely destroyed. He lost the most beautiful thing that he was happy with and enjoyed that he had reached this stage.

Qusai is 5 years old, and until this moment I do not have the courage to tell him that his kindergarten was also destroyed, the first place and refuge in which he was happy, but in this war he lost everything beautiful. He lost his father’s hug, which was his only refuge when he slept at night, telling him his daily story to fall asleep safety.

Mira, my daughter, who had never seen an hour or a moment devoid of fear, came into this world and was surprised by a war that destroyed many, many things. It destroyed her house and her room, which I was waiting for as I prepared and brought her all the beautiful clothes and colorful dresses she needed. She was surprised by the sound of missiles. She could not sleep because of it. My husband hopes to get a smile and a hug from her daughter Which he had been waiting for some time.

We lack of the basic human needs, no food no electricity no water. We were poisoned and infected because of the unhealthy water that we drink.

My three children and I had to be hospitalized. We suffered from liver dysfunction as a result of malnutrition, widespread diseases, and recurring infection.

During this period, I felt remorseful about how difficult it is for a mother to see her children sick and unable to treat them because she is also very sick.

The Rafah border crossing, which is the only way to escape from the war, is closed now.

I hope to provide us by giving support in order to cover the costs associated with ensuring our safe passage of Egypt through the borders. Please stand with me, we are now homeless, with absence of children needs like milk, diapers, with no food.

Please help us by donation to stay a live and leave Gaza with my children. Share this link as you can as possible .

https://gofund.me/4e896ac1

If it is opened, I can't go to Egypt as I don't have the money because my husband is the sole breadwinner for my family.

Thank you for your kindness, empathy and generosity during this challenging time.With sincere thanks and warm regards,

Note: my campaign is vetted by Femme intifada on telegram, vetted by butterflyeffectgroup on instagram, my number is #964. Also, it was vetted on tumbler by @gazavetters and my number is #60

Please donate or share it as much as you can.

Every donation make a different for me.

This is the link

https://gofund.me/4e896ac1

Thank you

Ola

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[heartfullofleeches]

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

-

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night. 

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.” 

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him. 

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door. 

“60.”

“Crap.” 

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time. 

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?” 

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed. 

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.” 

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?” 

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…” 

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up. 

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 9

part 1 | part 8 | ao3

cw: medical emergency

He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—

“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”

“It’s not for her.”

There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?

“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.

“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”

“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”

His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?

Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”

Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.

“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."

Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.

When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”

Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.

Steve takes another breath.

Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”

“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”

They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…

Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.

“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard." "Jesus." "Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”

Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.

A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”

Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”

“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.

Something almost kind. Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.

The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”

They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.

—

part 10

okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived

[3liza]

Methods: We performed a single-blind, randomized human experiment evaluating the effectiveness of five different regimens for the treatment of topical facial OC exposure. Forty-nine volunteer, adult law enforcement trainees were exposed to OC during a routine training exercise and were randomized to one of five treatment groups (aluminum hydroxide-magnesium hydroxide [Maalox], 2% lidocaine gel, baby shampoo, milk, or water). After initial self-decontamination with water, subjects rated their pain using a 10-cm visual analog scale (VAS) and then every 10 minutes, for a total of 60 minutes. Subjects were blinded to previous VAS recordings. A two-factor analysis of variance (ANOVA) (treatment, time) with repeated measures on one factor (time) was performed using a 1.3-cm difference as clinically significant. Results: Forty-four men and five women, with an average age of 24 years, participated in the study. There was a significant difference in pain with respect to time (p < 0.001), but no significant interaction between time and treatment (p > 0.05). There was no significant difference in pain between treatment groups (p > 0.05).

eliza comments: this supports the observation that pain-inducing chemical weapon response is primarily time- and somatically-mediated. eg, none of this stuff actually "works" and any effects are related to time making the chemicals degrade. observations that "i used milk and it helped" are a false observation based on the fact that sitting there and waiting for the chemicals to wear off was working anyway, so putting milk on your skin/eyes in the meantime was assumed to have "worked" when it wasn't actually doing anything (other than the skin reaction to cool liquid being felt as "soothing" superficially).

the action of being treated by friendly medics will always help with injury regardless of the injury, its one of the cornerstones of medicine. it's very important for street medics to present a caring, confident, and gentle attitude towards injured people. street medics aren't medical doctors (except when they are, i know dozens of actual EMTs and MDs and RNs who go to protests specifically to provide medical care) but the principles are the same

i'm still looking for the paper i found years ago about buffered saline. the study above notably does not try saline as a treatment.

[luminalunii97]

The Islamic Republic: we canceled the morality police!

Iranians: so?! Does that change the fact that you have committed genocide in Kurdish cities and Zahedan? Does that restore people's eyesight that you took from them with your rubble bullets? Does that bring back to life almost 500 murdered protesters in the last 3 months, among them at least 60 children? Does that bring back to life 1500 people you massacred in 2019 and those you executed afterwards? Or the 30000 people you executed in the first decade of your rule? And everyone you've arrested, raped, tortured and executed in between simply because they didn't agree with you? Does that mean current executions are stopped? Does that mean tens of thousands of arrested protesters are free? Does that mean fired or suspended students are back to classes and can get an education? Does that mean the poverty threshold is no longer so absolutely high that even the once above average families are considered absolutely poor? Does that erase 40 years of apartheid? State racism? State misogyny? Inequality? Have you stopped bothering religious minorities and are giving them their basic human rights back? Does that mean there's no more child marriages? Legal rape? Does that mean you no longer kill and torture LGBTQ people? Does that make up for the environmental disaster you've caused in Iran? Water shortage? Bewildering fuel shortage? All the lakes and water bodies that are dry now and the jungles that has been destroyed? Currently northern jungles are on fire, are the trees restored? Does that mean you no longer execute environmental activists because they object your unscientific environment policies? Does that mean all censorships and restrictions are lifted? Does that end your meddling in other countries affairs? Does it mean you're not a bunch of thieves and murderers who know nothing about running a country? Does that make up for all the lives you've destroyed? And most importantly does that bring Mahsa Amini back to life???

It's too late for that. Iranians have been loud and clear. We won't sit down until this regime is completely and irreversibly changed. The whole government system, the constitution, and the people in powers. And those who committed crimes have to be put on trial.

(The morality police have been around under different names for almost the entirety of this regime. This is just a temporary stop. Even if the morality police is disbanded for good, compulsory hijab is still a law and it's illegal to not wear appropriate clothing. Any police force is able to arrest non hijabis since they're doing something illegal, it's not an exclusive morality police duty. Plus the morality police was just enforcing hijab in the streets. What about every governmental and private offices and institutions? They all have to enforce mandatory hijab on both their employees and costumers So this news means literally nothing. West media should research these things better before publishing misleading informations)

I strongly recommend everyone to go to #MahsaAmini in twitter and read iranians tweets. Like, I strongly recommend it. I even put the link to make it easier for you. Just click on it.

[blingblong55]

This town -Simon "Ghost" Riley

pic credits: @ave661 (middle and right)

Based on a request: (Its a long as so I'll link it so you can read the anons idea) Link here ---- F!Reader, childhood!friends, hidden feelings, angst, friends to strangers ---- A/N: Songs that also fit: Too Young- Louis Tomlinson, This Town- Niall Horan, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, Always you-Louis Tomlinson

It's a story to tell over at the old pub you and he used to hang around on the weekends. But how can a man begin to tell the sorrowful story? How can he explain in his bruised hands he holds the locket you gave him when you two were kids? He will maybe ask if this was a curse, the only curse an old soul like his has. 

It could've been something, it would've been something, it should've been beautiful. 

In this world, it was always he and you. Scraping your knees when jumping off the rocks near his home. Playing tag in the street until the moon greeted you and his mother would call his name. It's the kind of beginning all beautiful loves start with. Friends since childhood, went through life together and by 28, he would have proposed to the girl he had loved his whole life, 40s would be of dropping the kids at school, 50s of early retirement and 60s were for the potential grandkids, 70s would've been the stories shared of their early lives.

Would've...what a shit word that became in his life. 

In the teenage years, after you had some glow-up, you became the girl everyone knew. The pretty, popular and funny girl the school knew of. He was the friend of the popular girl, the one people barely noticed or cared for. Simon was the same kid who always had a scar or bruise on his face, compliments from his father. One thing Simon hated more than the bastard of his father was the guy you were with. Bloke knows nothing but how to wank and fuck any living thing, he recalls.

Why were you with such a guy? It was a must. Like those cheesy movies where the pretty girl stays with the popular guy, all for the status of each other. Your feelings weren't real for that guy. He wasn't funny, wasn't smart and he wasn't Simon. The boy you shared a kiss with at age 7 because of an accidental bump whilst running through the grass. 

It was during a small break between classes that you found him drinking water. You smile. He always did look good, even the stupid bruise on his jaw made him look so good. 

"Y/N," he straightens up. "Simon," you smile cheekily. "Oh no, what's that smile for?" He crosses his arms over his chest and you can't help but get lost in his honey eyes. "Well...I was wondering if maybe we can...talk?" You say, unsure of how to word this confession. "Did my mum put you up to this?" 

"No, this is...me just wanting to talk." 

"Go on," his voice softens. Does he always do this for you?

You hesitate, but what is life without words? You breathe in and say, "I like you...there I said it and... don't stay quiet because you know I get nervous and I will continue to just talk and talk and talk and-"

He cuts you off by saying, "I'm sorry, Y/N, I... don't..think..this..well I just don't feel that way for you. We're friends, nothing more," he ends his part of the conversation, pats your back as he walks away and you are left in the corridor of the school alone. 

As Simon walks to his classroom, his heart and mind fight the words that he had just said to you. Why was that mean? Did I even mean to say them? He thinks. 

Graduation happens. You and he never talked after that day. Not even a congrats or a hug, life went on without him in your life. Throughout those last months in school, he felt a feeling of regret when he'd see you with that guys arm around you. He would occasionally walk around the old park just to see if you would still go on your daily walks. 

By the time he was about to leave town, he found himself at the old house. He heard your parents moved to a new part of town, so if this was the last time he heard of you, it better be on his terms. And as he walks through the pavement, he finds himself looking at your window. He leans over a car, lights a cigarette and just waits to see if maybe you or some ghost roamed the home. 

Was it the feeling of losing a friend that hurt or losing his one chance to feel something other than pain and hatred? Maybe it's just nervous, after all, he leaves tomorrow. 

You were both just 16, it was puppy love, nothing would've lasted if he reciprocated those feelings, right?

And if it was, why does he feel some kind of hurt as he packs his bags? Why does he want to run to your new home and call your name? Is there a reason why? It's not love, it can't be love, he thinks. I'm not worthy of that, you've heard my dad, he says out loud. "Simon?" Tommy opens the door. "Tommy, not today," he looks back at his bag. "...Fuck" he whispers. 

It's been a long nineteen years since he last saw you and heard your precious voice laugh at a cheesy joke of his. Nineteen years and the feeling in his chest is still there when he arrives home. Manchester was always home for him, it was the only place he knew best when he came back. 

One day, as he was cleaning his closet, looking for his dog's leash, something fell and hit his head. "What the fu-" he looked down and there it was. 

"Why give me this?" A thirteen-year-old Simon asked you. You smile, "You said you wish you could always be near me so you can feel safe...and since I'm going to my nans for the week, have this locket on you, and I swear I'll be there. Keep it safe, okay?" you kiss his forehead before entering the car. He nods and waves, "Call me, Y/N, please!" he calls out and you nod. "Every day!" you scream out as the car drives further away. 

A smile falls on his silent lips, "...Y/N..." his thumb caresses the design. Once he opens it, he feels as if he is that young again. "Are you still there, Y/N?" He whispers and then, realisation hits. It was never nerves or whatever bullshit he told himself back then, it was love, always has. 

All the dots are connecting. For the past nineteen years, he always had some love or whatever all those hookups and awful relationships were, but never did they stick around. Never did he feel more for them than what he has always felt for you. His cold heart still beating warm when he thinks of you. You are all he has ever known, the smiles, the late-night confessions, stories, the silly inside jokes, the feeling in his chest today. 

He hasn't seen you in years, what if you don't remember him? What if when you see him, your heart doesn't call his name when he screams yours? Will you ever even forgive him? Will you wrap your arms around him and call him home like he has called you? 

He must find you, so he calls and looks for you in every corner of this place. He finds nothing, just more lost hope at every corner he looks into. His heart and mind excited each other at the thought this would be some sappy romance moment. His mind creating a script, all truths, just finding better words to tell you he loves you, loved you the moment you kissed the similar scar on the knee at the park when he cried over the pain. He's loved you from the day he learned to say your name. 

Why does he miss you so much today?

Why must you be the drug his body needs? God does he miss you and your addictive heart. 

He has been around the world, where he could've found a good woman who made him happy but no, his heart has always belonged to one girl. You. 

By the time he gets the street right, he finds you sitting down and as he smiles and nearly runs to you, he stops when he sees this image of you. 

Sitting by the fountain, he sees you and a man. His arms wrap around your body, giving you darling kisses as you chuckle. It was then that Simon Riley knew this was it. He will spend his entire life wandering earth, looking for another soul like yours. You didn't see him of course, your fiance capturing all your attention. Simon was close to not caring and pulling you away from that man, but that would be cruel. And as he tries to make up excuses for this man being near you, he sees the ring. 

Oh...oh you fool, he thinks. 

His heart is near death. It screams your name, trying to find you so it can keep beating but when you don't whisper, Simon nods and lets his heart die. Let it rot, so it can learn its lesson, he thinks. 

It would've never bloomed, Simon and you...right?

It's no use to even go and say hi. The locket that contained your picture was still in his fist. It'll be the last reminder of what was meant to be a life romancing in dark streets through town. 

In his head, the home you dreamed of will forever be just a dream. No four kids, no library, no big kitchen so you and he can dance around at midnight. No you...no him...it'll all be stuck and dead in this town. 

He crossed rivers, mountains, and enemies and survived wounds soldiers like him get, all to come home to you. And all this was for nothing. In his world, he would've married you, given you chubby babies and late Saturday mornings. No gun, no bomb and no other man would've kept him away from you. 

In his mind, he is with you. In his dead heart, he sits by and watches that chubby baby learn to walk. He would've adored seeing you in a white dress, walking to him as he wiped tears away when he d his dream of a perfect life was minutes away from being real. 

What a mess he is as he asks for another drink. A mess he never should have been if he had told you that your name is carved all over his body. 

It was this town that saw him live and it'll be this town that sees him die because if he can't have you, at least he has this place. 

A/N: Remember, I collect tears for potions, so please drop them by for collection, thank you. - The place of tears co.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[27moremoons]

A Year of Genocide

The Civil Defense Directorate in the Gaza Strip published statistics for the year of genocide on the Gaza Strip, which can be found in English and Arabic in the attached PDFs, or as a Flipbook here.

PDF found here

In the last year, 3,654 massacres were committed by the enemy, resulting in over 51,870 martyrs and missing people. 902 families were erased from the civil registry, and 36 were martyred by starvation. From these, 986 martyrs were medical staff, or about 1 in every 40 known martyr, 175 martyrs were journalists, and 85 are civil defense officers. 2,300 of these bodies were stolen by the IOF from 19 out of 60 cemeteries.

149,036 Gazans are either martyred, wounded, or missing, 69% of them children and women.

187 displacement shelters were targeted by the IOF, including 27 in the last two days.

462 schools and universities have been destroyed by the occupation, and 12,700 of the martyrs were students, while 750 of them were teachers, and 130 of them scientists and academics.

34 hospitals, 80 health centers, and 162 health centers were taken out of service, and 131 ambulances were targeted.

Out of 1,245 mosques, 815 of them were destroyed, in addition to three churches.

200,000 housing units were destroyed, using 85,000 tons of explosives, equivalent to six Hiroshima bombs.

3,130 km of electricity networks were destroyed, 330,000 meters of water networks, 655,000 meters of sewage networks, and 2,835,000 meters of road and street networks.

86% of the Gaza Strip has been destroyed.

[erikiara80]

The mean green

I was thinking about the parallel between the Are you real? in 2x07 and 4x09

And these screenshots in one of kaypeace21's posts. The dialogue in the elevator, when Erica says that she will drink the green goo, because you can survive for a while without food, but not without water, raises the question of how Will was able to survive for a week in the UD. But we only realize that in S4, when we see that there is no water in the lake. Imo, not a random location, for many reasons.

All this green is connected to gates/Mind Flayer/One. Then there's Kali's nickname, K, a street name for ketamine. Another one, that was used in the late 60s, was mean green. Even the name of the man Kali wants to kill, Ray Carroll, can be associated with drugs (Alice as a slang for LSD) Same for Kali's power. Making people see or not see what she chooses, reminds of what drugs and mind control do.

"LSD mind control experiments" (Powell in 1x03) "...elaborate experimentations in perusal of mind control" (1x08 newspaper). And Richard Brenner was head of the Narcotic Enforcement Division from 1954-1971, so from the year Henry vanished in Dimension X to the year Will and El were born.

In the article that El reads in the cabin, the line about Brenner's experiments is slightly different, more specific about what they did.

"extensive... into physiology... perception." So, they used drugs to alter people's perception of reality.

There's a lot of green in K's scenes. Even her mask is green.

Kali, "K" (ketamine) and the green toy (mean green) in Terry's memory, one of the many hints that we can't trust what we see (more about that scene here)

Just like we can't trust what we see in Nina. They show both the green toy and the Magic 8 Ball a few times, the massacre happens on September 8, Kali's name is in the crossword in 4x01, and Henry mentions her and Terry, so that memory is probably not what really happened.

Henry asks El to join him. In 3x03, before she looks for Heather in the void, we see more green liquid and Join Us.

Like the green Join Us on the bulletin board behind Will

In 3x06, we see this green bottle, after the conversation about the keys and the gate.

Speaking of keys, there's a big green key at Melvald's, because Will and El are the keys, and getting to Mike is the key, too.

At the end of S3, connection between the lab and "chemical leaks"

EDIT: In @threemanoperation 's post about the mentions of caves and holes, I noticed something:

in this shot, we see Will and El while Hopper mentions being stuck in one place, in a cave, imo a hint that, because of experiments/ drugs/mind control, they're all stuck in a time loop. Interestingly, Lucas' shirt is green. Maybe just a coincidence. Maybe not.

In 2x01, Bob points to a green Halloween bucket. On Halloween, Will almost gets possessed by the Mind Flayer. It's also interesting that Bob's very first line is that he's not a big fan of orange. Orange is associated with Hopper, because of Agent Orange, but orange barrels, cubes, haze are also street names for LSD. I'll make a post about that, too.

The song that plays when El arrives at Terry's house is Green green grass of home. An interesting choice for a mother-daughter reunion. The song is about a man who returns home, to his mama and papa. "It's good to touch the green green grass of home", but then the man wakes up and realizes that it was just a dream (Becky says that Terry is stuck in a dream). He's actually in prison, his parents are dead and he's about to be executed. So, touching the green grass and dreaming that you're home= being drugged and believing/seeing things that are not real?

And you know what? I'm starting to think that even the color of Joyce's car could be a hint. There's a green car in Terry's suspicious memory... It's all connected. They've all been manipulated.

Also, this green soap in Nancy's vision of Henry and Brenner.

And there are probably other things I didn't notice.

@chirpsythismorning

[study-with-aura]

Saturday, July 6, 2024

All of my new school supplies came in today! It was actually only the calculator and the erasable gel pens, which I really love! Thank you to whoever it was that recommended them to me several months ago! I also love the new calculator, except the manual is in Chinese. I'm sure I can figure it out, but if not, Dad can also read it fluently, so I can ask him if I get stuck on how to change modes or whatever.

I will be heading to my environmental science camp after church tomorrow, so I will be gone again until at least Friday. More than likely, like last time, I will post on Saturday since I am sure I will be tired after unpacking and studying a little.

I have one week of work left of the theory course I am taking. Thus far it has been interesting. I love all of the analyses that the professor does. I struggle with that still. My piano teacher is glad that I've started studying for the harmony and counterpoint exam already. It is going to be a tough one!

We had a lot of fun out on the lake today. We took the boat out, and while Dad and Julien did some fishing, Mom and I enjoyed lying out (with lots and lots of sunscreen). I also went swimming at the beach and went waterskiing with some friends we met up with out there. I'm getting better at it!

It's past my bedtime, but I was up until midnight on the 4th. The fireworks got over around 10pm but then there was traffic and the drive back home, and I needed to shower after being out in the sun during the day and around a lot of people. The fireworks were beautiful over the water, and we had a lot of fun at the concerts before the fireworks. I also got queso asado street tacos for dinner! They were so good! I love food trucks when we're in the main city for fun events like this. They always have something yummy.

Good night everyone! Have a great next week, and I will update again probably on Saturday! 🌱🌞

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned classical music forms and genres + studied ternary form + studied sonata-allegro form through Mozart's Eine kleine Nachtmusik

Theory - Studied 2-voice counterpoint + completed self-assessment

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 1: Lesson 9 (review of factoring quadratics with perfect squares)

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for one hour

Reading - Read pages 223-258 of Lumara by Melissa Landers and finished the book

Chores - Cleaned refrigerator, stove and kitchen counters + put away groceries

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Luke 1 + week 20 reflections)

Morning Yoga

Went to the lake with family

Packed

Journal/Mindfulness

[thesmokingguns]

25 Hours a Day w/ Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

“Want to go somewhere quieter?” His eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the bar. All onyx gleam against mine as he waited for my reply.

The world got quiet for a second as heat flooded my cheeks as I nodded your head, watching him stare for a second too long before closing out the tab, slipping his hand on my lower back as you stood up ready to go.

Izzy smelled like the woods after the rain, the wet pine and forgotten secrets mixed with the harder edge of city life, whiskey and tobacco, making him so distinct. You were wrapped in the scent of him as he guided you through the crowd towards where he had parked the 60’s Chevelle in a glossy black that must have cost a fortune.

Not that izzy seemed to bat an eye about money, it was just another thing he had.

A chill racked your spine, his thumb pressing into the bones, running it up and down as he opened the passenger door for you, leaning in as you bent to get in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up soon.”

He was shutting the door for you, moving to the drivers side before you could gasp or call him out for what he had just said to you. His words leaving you with your mouth gasping like a fish out of water.

This was only my first date with him, despite this strange feeling that I knew him from somewhere. A memory just scratching at the surface but I hadn’t been able to bring it to the top yet.

I was aware he was driving me to his place, unsure if I should say something to him about it but feeling the nervous energy pulsing through your body, tingling you between your legs as my clit swelled with need and the damp desire flooded the silk panties I had slid on earlier today.

That same sense of will he see them now making my heartbeat wildly?

Izzy reached over, his veiny hand laying on my knee, a collection of cool silver rings chilling my skin as he turned his palm, walking his fingers up the flesh of my thigh as a shattered gasp of shocked want filled the air. A terror filled me as I realized that pant of want had escaped my lips. It was my needy sounds in the car.

“It’s okay, violet.” My eyes went from where he was resting his hand high on your thighs. HIs fingers lazily stroking with a surety that you weren’t sure existed in a bone of your body.

Violet? That wasn’t my name.

“On your lower back you have a birthmark, all violet in color and looking as soft as the petals of a flower.” He explained the nickname when he saw your confusion, my blush rising as I wondered how he knew about the spot that would only be clear in your swimsuits.

Sure I had spent time at the pool but that had been during the summer, weeks ago now that autumn had fully settled its dry bones over Indiana. Plus Izzy had been in LA, only visiting home recently to visit his family.

How could he have seen it?

But that information he didn’t volunteer to me with words. Instead he looked at me at the redlight, unafraid to make me wiggle uncomfortable in his gaze. He knew his effect on people and still didn’t care. He watched me in a way that was familiar, like his eyes had been on me for months and now you just realized all those times your hair had stood on end, looking around to see who caused me the feeling, was in front of me.

He smirked as he watched me swallow, his left hand moving to cup my jaw, thumb pressing where I had swallowed and trailing it down.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” The whisper was raspy with need and your eyes widened at the way he was affected by you.

As quick as he was on me he was off, pressing the gas as he squeezed my thigh, roaring down the street and getting closer to his house.

Everyone in our hometown knew where Izzy Stradlin lived. It was an old colonial style with so much land that you couldn’t even see it from the road. The wrought iron gates had been snuck over by local kids trying to get a glimpse of their celebrity. It had gotten to a point that Izzy hired a guard, who was currently opening the gates for the two of you to drive in.

Izzy nodded at the man as he drove down the drive, turning around the circular drive as he parked the car in front of the house, giving my thigh one more squeeze before jumping out and striding confidently to my side and pulling open the door for me.

“Before you come in, little violet, I’m going to give you a chance to back out of this.” I looked at him, shivering as leaves made sounds of bones tumbling in the wind. Autumn was craving to be winter. “I’ll drive you back to your house. Or you can come in and spend the night with me. I’m warning you. Think about this because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let you go after one night. You might have found yourself well and truly fucked, little violet.”

Blinking I felt my heart speed up. Izzy was 29, eight years older than me. We hadn’t known each other in school and didn’t have mutual friends. Us meeting had been strange. He had walked into my job at the law firm, where I did clerical work with some guy my mom had dated at one point, and asked if I would have dinner with him. When I had blinked, confused he had gone on giving me a time and asking me my address, which I gave to him without thinking.

Sure enough at 6:55 my mother was yelling at me that he was here, her energy as excited as mine. My mother had me when she was 16 which made us close in a way that all our friends had always been jealous of.

When I walked down the stairs, wearing the slinky back top that tied in the back and tiny little denim skirt  with strappy heels I had stolen from her closet she had told me to call her if I wasn’t coming home, making me burn like the sun as I threw open the door as Izzy walked up to meet me.

His eyes had widened as he stole a final drag of his cigarette, the cherry at the end burning as bright as his eyes as he looked at me as if I was the first girl he had ever seen. But he recovered quickly, holding out his hand as he helped me into his car and whisking me off to dinner and drinks.

And now I was in front of his house having to make a choice if I wanted to sleep with him tonight; I knew that was what was going to happen if I went inside with him.

“Can I use your phone?” he blinked, confused before smirking, recovering as he nodded his head, helping me inside his house.

I slid off the wool jacket I was wearing, letting Izzy take it as he motioned to where the phone was in the hall and mentioning he was going to go get us drinks.

Calling home my mother reminded me to have fun, knowing that she had taught me my whole life how to be safe. It was the fun part that she thought I didn't have enough of.

Slipping from my heels I groaned a soft sense of freedom as I returned to my height. Bare feet on cool wood floors quietly moved around until I was in the soft glow of a fire, watching Izzy carefully stroke it as warmth filled the room.

As a log cracked his eyes lifted from the flames to me, pausing as if he just remembered I was there with him and he wasn’t alone. The look was enough to make me dizzy with need as I moved into the living room further as he set down the poker, stepping to meet me.

His arms fit around my body in a way that felt like we had done this a thousand times before and not just tonight.

“You’re staying?” I nodded, my tongue suddenly heavy as I watched the way his lips lifted in the barest of smirks, “I’m going to kiss you now, little violet.” His fingers pushed back my hair as he got closer, not breaking eye contact with me, “And when I kiss you, everything is going to change.”

Before I could ask when he meant he was pushing a palm into my lower back to bring us flush together, his left hand tilting my chin up and cupping my cheek as he pressed his lips against mine in a possessive dominance that made my toes curl.

My hands slid up, over the black button down he had worn to clasp behind his neck, pushing myself up as I opened my lips, deepening the kiss that we were sharing. Heart thundering as Izzy’s tongue dragged along mine, our tastes becoming something new. Something that was distinctively ours.

It was delicious.

All at once it wasn’t enough, I needed more of him.

“We have a lifetime, little violet.” he warned as I pushed my hips against his , feeling the hardness he had for me.

“I want to start my lifetime now.” Izzy’s eyes flashed in desire before he was swooping me up, letting me wrap my arms around his waist as he spun us towards the couch in front of the fire, laying me down on the leather.

His body over me as he pushed against me, making me groan in need as I pushed up against him as he kissed me, claiming me and needing me. Our hips grinding against each other. Just his pants and my panties as a barrier.

But Izzy made quick work of all that, leaving us breathless and naked between kisses as his cock jutted, hard and leaking dots of precum that had me hungry for his cock. I wanted to taste him instead of letting it go to waste.

“I don’t want a barrier between us.” I should have told him that he needed to wear a condom but I didn’t want a barrier either. I wanted all of him. I wanted to see the way my body coated him with my wetness, to see how he looked covered in me.

“I’m on the pill.” He nodded, pushing the head into me as I felt the way my lips parted, hands searching for something to gasp as I looked down.

Both of us were staring, watching the place between my legs where our two bodies were joining together. Inch by inch he claimed me, pulling out to watch the way I made his cock glisten with my cum before burying himself back inside of me. Both of us are entranced by the beauty of our two bodies together.

“Fuck.” Hearing him moan for me made me look up from where our desire was fueled and to his face. The way he watched my body, how he looked like I was his euphoria. It made my stomach knot with need.

Reaching out, I stroked his cheek, his eyes flashing up as he looked at me, Izzy was lost in me. His eyes not holding that calm collectiveness that he had displayed. He was losing himself and it was because of me.

Tugging his hair I pulled his lips to mine, sitting up as I slid him deeper inside of me,rolling his hips so that he could get deeper inside of me. Filling me in a way that had me so full I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk after this.

He wasn’t even going that fast or hard, taking it easy as if each second he was inside of me was a time that needed to be savored and appreciated. He was engrossed with me, so wrapped up as we panted, letting out sounds that I hadn’t know were possible against each others lips as we moved together to music that our bodies were performing.

“You’re perfect, little violet.” His thumb stroked the birthmark I had always been embarrassed about, turning my feelings into something beautiful. Making something I hadn’t been happy about into something beautiful for me.

I was so close, Izzy seemed to sense my buildup. He pulled from our kiss, eyes on my face like he didn’t want to miss a moment of pleasure between us.

“Let go for me. Let me see the way you look when you come on my cock for me. Let me see you, little violet.”  His words rattled me as I wanted to do it, wanted to have him watch me as I shattered apart for him.

My orgasm burst between us, his eyes widening in primal need as his hands gripped my hips, thrusting deeper, harder as he fucked me through my orgasm, letting me collapse against his couch as he covered me, chasing his own moment

“Izzy, fuck!” I cried out for him as my toes curled, a second orgasm shattering me and blinding my vision with tears.

“Yes, say my name again.”

“IZZY!” I cried out for him as I felt him, the warm thick feeling of being filled with ropes of cum as his cock rutted it deep inside of me, filling me with him before he laid against me, supporting most of his weight on his forearms as he tried to remember how to breathe.

The world was quiet chaos of crackling logs and breaths that shook our chests.

“I’ve been waiting months for you.” his lips kissed my collarbone as I tried to make sense of what he was saying to me, “Months of watching you just trying to be ready for you. I knew you were a hurricane. I just had to get ready for the storm.” His lips slid down as he kissed my stomach, my head heavy as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Lets get you showered. I need to take you again, little violet. I want to make love to you twenty five hours a day.” My heart finally threw its opinion out there. Taking over for my brain who wanted to live and my vagina who wanted him.

My heart knew we were well and truly fucked.