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inafieldofdaisies · 1 year ago

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WIP Whenever | Tagged by @josephseedismyfather and @jillvalentinesday

This week we're taking a look at John and Sabrina's first date in their AU and Oliver crashing it in style.

John stared at the neon sign spelling "Rue's" before he passed through the door of the small diner Sabrina had suggested they meet at a couple of minutes prior. With its 50s themed interior, the place was close to her precinct and as far as possible from the usual spots he ended up eating at. To think of it… he couldn't even the remember the last time he had been in a diner. If ever. Who cares if I feel out of my element? He refused to dwell on the uncertainty as his eyes scanned the restaurant, quickly skipping over the patrons that sat at the long sit-down counter and moving to the dark brown booths on the far right. John couldn't stop a smile from emerging the moment his gaze came to rest on her, and she raised her hand in a wave. His feet moved on their own as excitement at finally seeing her in person climbed up his spine. "Sabrina.", he uttered out in a greeting when he reached her. "Hey, yourself." His heart did another concerning flip at the grin she paired the words with. I'm going for a check-up once I'm back in Atlanta.

He slipped off his coat, smoothing down his navy colored suit jacket before he took the seat across from her. "I haven't ordered yet, naturally.", she pushed a menu over to him, "I kind of know the menu by heart, so if you have any questions about what's good, shoot." "Thank you.", he flipped it open, slowly scanning over each page when he felt her fingers run over his forehead. "What happened?", concern seeping into her tone while her touch heated his skin, making him wonder how it would feel all over his body. If she would think the same about his. His eyes shot up to hers for a second, trying to figure out what had prompted her to invade his personal space for once. "Did the bat do it?", his visible confusion making her add, "The scratch, I mean." Her hand retreated and he brought up his own up to the spot she had pointed out, feeling nothing beneath his fingertips, the dull pain long gone. "No, no.", he shook his head, "It didn't touch me. Thanks to you." She beamed at that, most likely thinking back to the embarrassing situation, "Then who scratched you, Mr. Duncan? Any other women I should know about?" His lips formed a smirk at her words, "If you count an angry bride throwing her bouquet at me after she mistaked me for her runaway groom…" "A bride you say?", she quirked an eyebrow, "Portland strikes again." "Yes." "So…", she pulled his thoughts away from leaning over the table and kissing her, "See anything you like, yet." Fuck. You have no idea.

He kept his face passive despite how his pants were feeling tighter by the minute, "What would you recommend?" "You don't strike me as a burger guy…", Sabrina paused, "How about the heddar-topped barbecue meat loaf? It has vegetables and potatoes on the side." He nodded, encouraging her to continue as he closed the menu, "For me… I was thinking stuffed hash browns with sour cream. Oh, and their chocolate pie is to die for. One piece of it afterwards, for sure." "Sounds good.", he leaned back against the booth, wondering if he was sticking out like a sore thumb when a waitress made her way to them at Sabrina's signal. "Hey, Sal. We're ready to order." "Neat.", the woman with a name tag "Sally" pulled a pad from her apron before sending a strange look towards him, "I almost mistook him for Les, Rina. I was gonna ask if he had been called to court or something." The remark made Sabrina laugh, "No, he's staying behind today." "Gotcha." She quickly recited their order to Sally, adding a water for him and, much to John's suprise, a milkshake for her, and soon enough they were back on their own.

Oliver observed Sabrina and John from his seat at the far end of the counter at Rue's, successfully blending in with the lunch crowd around him as his frown deepened at the sight he was witnessing. It's like I'm an extra in a rom-com, goddamn it.Her occasional laughter carrying over every so often made him feel glad he hadn't dragged Leslie with him, knowing the sight would break his heart. The two meeting in one of the usual dining spots their team frequented for meals would have added even more salt to the wound, especially since she and Leslie had no doubt found themselves in that very booth before, only under different circumstances. He hadn't placed an order yet, waiting for his opening, for the perfect moment to unleash chaos on the unsuspecting fucker, take on the role of chaperone. The second John leaned in over the table, thumb running over her lips in a move that should have been criminal with its predictability, he sprang into action. I should arrest you for that alone and stop you from embarrassing yourself further. Long strides ate up the distance between the three of them, and whatever the schmuck was saying had Sabrina so enamored she didn't even notice McKenzie approaching their table. "What a small world.", he remarked as he slipped into the booth John was occupying, half-sitting onto his expensive looking coat. The things I do for you, Parish. Still, not the worst stake-out I've been at.

His words broke whatever spell had fallen over the two, making them separate. "Ollie.", Sabrina breathed out in surprise as he felt daggers being stared into him from his right, "What are you-" Good, stare, fucker. Game on. See how much long you keep your cool for. "Grabbing lunch, what else?", he said and sent her one of his devilish grins before he raised his hand to call Sally over. A sigh left her lips, "Oliver." "What?", he was certain the innocent expression he gave her wasn't exactly fooling her, but he didn't care, "You're not going to make introductions, Rina?" Sabrina huffed but as usual, her annoyance melted away too quick, always having a soft spot for him despite his misdemeanors, "You two kind of already met." "Still, my ma raised me better.", Oliver turned slightly, offering his hand to the man next to him, "Oliver McKenzie." He didn't back down from the greeting he was forcing upon her date, and after a few beats John accepted his handshake, a mask of friendliness slipping over his scowl, "John Duncan." "Ollie…", Sabrina started, chewing on her lip as he leaned back into his seat and Sally appeared by his side. "McKenzie, the usual?" "Yes, thank you, love.", her cheeks flushed at the wink he paired the pet name with.

He wasted a second to stare at Sally's retreating form before turning forward again, reminding himself he had more important matters to take care of, "You were saying, Rina…" "Are you really going to eat here? We're-" "On a date.", John finished her sentence, and the irritation peeking through in his voice made Oliver smile brighter. He exhaled dramatically, "You're really going to make poor old Ollie eat alone? I've been eating at my desk for days, Rina. You won't even notice I'm here, promise." "I..", her gaze darted between him and John before she nodded quickly. Oliver clapped his hands together, "Then it's settled. I've always wanted to do a three-way." The fucker beside him chose that exact moment to lift his glass to his lips, water going down the wrong pipe at the statement. "You okay there, bud? Worry not, I've been to a CPR course.", Oliver asked and patted his back for good measure, ignoring Sabrina's stare that was full of warning while her date tried his best to mask his coughs.

"And that's how I got this scar.", the detective next to John shifted in his seat before scratching at his beard, finishing yet another story after spending almost half an hour reigning over the conversation. But who's keeping track? Oh, yes, I am. Underneath the table, John's leg was bouncing in a rhythm that paired with the occasional smiles, Sabrina would aim his way were the only thing keeping his temper in check. "Mind if I steal one of your potato wedges, bud?", Oliver asked, and before he even got permission, he reached over his hand and swooped up one of the last pieces of potato left on his plate. After annihilating his own meal the detective had moved onto desert, staking his claim on the last piece of the infamous chocolate pie the lunch rush had spared, then had proceeded to switch to casually stealing whatever food John was yet to finish. He could help but imagine driving his fork into his hand before it had time to retreat, giving him another scar to gush about to strangers. Instead, John forced a smile, hoping his composure wasn't crumbling as he gripped the utensil between his fingers. "John?", Sabrina had an amused look in her hazel eyes, "Look at you daydreaming." "Pay attention, Johnny.", Oliver leaned in to whisper in a way only he would hear, "Don't be getting too cocky after "last night". I doubt it was that magical to excuse disrespecting her." His words left little doubt he had read the card sent with the roses, and had gotten the wrong impression from the message within. The only thing he got as a response from John was a stoic expression, as he refused to entertain his childish games and allow him to destroy whatever good impression Sabrina had formed about him.

A miniscule part of him argued that the man currently sitting on his coat was worried about his friend and testing him, set on making sure he was good enough to date her. A test. Inevitable hazing. For the second time this week. Go figure. Sabrina seemed completely unaware of the words whispered quietly, "You sure you don't want anything else they have as dessert options, John?" "What would you-" "It might be time to head back, Rina.", Oliver cut him off. Her brows furrowed as she checked her watch, an apologetic look taking over her features, "Shoot, time flies. Raincheck on dessert?" At his nod, she quickly pulled out her wallet and on instinct, John's hand shot out and covered hers before she could open it, "I'm paying." "John…" "I insist, Detective." Beside him, Oliver snorted, but John ignored his strange reaction as he tugged at his coat until it was free from being used as a designer seat cover by the man. His hand reached into its right pocket to fish out his wallet and … came up empty. No. Absolutely not. He checked the other pockets, refusing to accept the fact that somewhere between the hotel and diner, it must have gotten stolen. Robbed, again. "I-,", he blinked, hand fisting the woolen garment as he took a deep breath. "John?", she searched his face, trying to figure out what had suddenly gone wrong. "I can't find my wallet." "Did you forget it at the hotel, maybe?" He shook his head while Oliver just leaned forward and for once, remained silent, "No, I'm sure I had it with me…" He had paid for the flowers, then for his breakfast at the café…it had been on his person the whole time. "I'm so sorry.", Sabrina muttered at the same time as her fellow detective produced his wallet on the table. "Ollie.", she sighed at the realization he'd had it all along. "Larceny, Detective McKenzie, really?", John bit out as he grabbed his wallet. An arrogant smirk took over his face, "I was just messing with you, Mr. Duncan. No need to go into attorney mode on me. Especially on your date." "My credit card is missing." "You mean this one?", Oliver raised his hand in front of his face, and one second, his fingers were empty, then, the next, they were holding John's card. "Oliver likes illusion.", Sabrina explained as she finished her milkshake, the same one whose foam had left traces on her bottom lip and kept teasing him before detective McKenzie had crashed their date. He had gotten so close to kissing her, wondering if she'd taste even sweeter. John covertly readjusted his dress pants, suspecting Oliver wouldn't be above making a blatant comment about any type of situation happening below his belt. "So he steals my wallet? Wouldn't exactly hold up in court as excuse." The detective rolled his eyes, then turned to face him with a serious expression, that made him wonder if he would get an apology. "Theft,", Oliver began as he raised a finger, "physical removal of an object that is capable of being stolen without the consent of the owner and with the intention of depriving the owner of it permanently." The last part carried the most emphasis and was accompanied by a satisfied leer. John just stared him down before another jab was made, "But then again, you probably know that, seeing how you had your luggage stolen and all that. I would hope." "I'm very well aware of the definition.", he gritted out, making the man's grin widen. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, "Good, good. It would be a shame if Rina was being wooed by an impostor.", his voice lowered at the same time Sabrina called out his name, "Because I assure you, buddy, we won't take kindly to that sort of thing." "Ollie.", she repeated, her patience unwavering despite how many lines he was crossing. Her words prompted him to pat John's upper arm playfully as he released a heartfelt chuckle, "I'm just pulling his leg, Rina. A free practice run. How is he going to handle meeting everyone else, if he can't deal with some innocent jokes from little me?"

After paying the bill, they left the diner with Oliver putting himself between John and Sabrina, even taking it as far as to throw his arm over her shoulders. If she minded the gesture meant to keep them apart, she didn't let that show, continuing to chat happily as they walked back towards the precinct. The whole time John had to step around other people on the sidewalk, feeling left out despite her attempts to include him in the conversation. Third wheel… that's a first. He was used to getting women's undivided attention when he would take them out on dates, to a point they would hang onto his every word. By the end of the date, he would spot the same look in each of their gazes. Hunger. Determination. "Take me home.", they'd whisper, oftentimes rubbing their high heel along his calf, further cementing their intentions. It had gotten so easy. Predictable. Mundane. An itch he would scratch then move on. Go through the motions every once in a while when the urges would grow too restless to tolerate. As much as he hated the fact Oliver had invited himself to their date and brought chaos with him, the lunch in turn had been the most eventful he'd attended in years. And he'd managed to keep his temper in check despite the detective's persistent attempts to make him slip up. He didn't doubt if he was to meet the rest of Sabrina's team, the encounter would turn into a impromptu interrogation as they'd try to determine if he was the right fit for her. John had no plans on letting it all go that far. A date. Maybe another after it. Sleeping with her… as much as he wanted to cross that line completely… was inadvisable. Then he'd be flying back home. Only to see her again once Mooney's trial would begin.

"Go, Ollie, I will be right up.", Sabrina thankfully waved Oliver off as the three came to a stop in front of the main entrance of the station. "Nice seeing you.", the man reached out his hand to John, squeezing his palm in a warning while giving him a friendly smile. He didn't let any of that get to him, having faced tougher opponents, dealt with more convoluted tricks than whatever Oliver had up his sleeve, literally and figuratively. The second the door shut behind him, John turned back to Sabrina, taking hold of her hand. "We're having a redo of our date as soon as possible.", he said as he gazed into her eyes. "Why? I thought it was lovely…" "You see, when I asked to take you out, I meant just you, not letting someone wanting a 'three-way' to tag along, too." She let out a giggle, "I will have you know Oliver is very sought after. Quite the ladies man. He's not your type?" His thumb rubbed circles into the center of her palm, and he swore he could see her pupils dilate while her lips parted, "I don't care about his golden bachelor status, Detective. I don't like sharing." Every fiber of his being screamed at him to pull her in and clash his mouth to hers, not caring they were standing on the sidewalk about to give passersby a show. "John.", his name was barely audible as his lips lowered, inches from hers, his heart rate picking up again to a point it felt like the organ wanted to escape his chest. She took a step back suddenly, his hand holding hers becoming the only thing stopping her from stumbling backward when her boot went over the curb. John tugged her towards him to stop her momentum, and she braced a hand against his lapel as she released a surprised laugh. "Don't tell me my bad luck is creeping onto you, Sabrina." "It's not. I hope." He nodded, feeling like he was under a spell, unable to move his gaze away from hers. "I need to go, John.", she muttered, smoothing down his coat, "Thank you for lunch. And for paying for Ollie's food… I could have taken care of it." "Nonsense.", his free hand tucked her hair behind her ear before it cupped her cheek, "Let the man live his three-way dream." She smiled at that before his head dipped again, his approach halting when she whispered his name. "I really don't want you to kiss me right now." Another first. "Why?" "Because I need to stay focused… and I have a feeling I won't be able to if you do." "Yeah?" "Certainly." It was his turn to step back, letting his hand drop from her face. Pride took over his system at the admission, at the proof she was feeling it too. The tension between them that had materialized from the moment they had met and kept him awake at night, and his dreams filled visions of her. "A redo, Sabrina. Just the two of us. I want it to be just right.", he squeezed her hand. "Okay." "We can talk later, iron out the details. I won't keep you." She nodded, yet made no move to leave. "I meant to ask… did you like the flowers?" "Flowers?", visible confusion was written all over her features. In ways he shared it, because from Oliver's hushed remarks, it sounded like he had seen the bouquet, read John's note for her. "I guess I might be ruining a surprise then." She nudged his shoulder, "So this is when you got the scratch." "Yeah." "Now I feel bad." "Don't be. You didn't throw the bouquet. Though, you could technically find the bride for me so I can press charges." "Quite the eventful work trip, Mr. Duncan.", she quipped as she finally moved around him. He reached for her hand again, bringing it to his lips, and kissed the top of it. An old-fashioned gesture. Yet another first. After the slightly disastrous lunch date, he craved any type of physical contact he could get while still respecting her request. "Goodbye, Detective." "Stay out of trouble for me.", Sabrina called out as she hurried inside the precinct. He hadn't missed the way she reacted, how her breath had hitched when his lips had made contact with her skin.

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @poisonedtruth @theelderhazelnut @madparadoxum @cassietrn @corvosattano @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @direwombat @strangefable @dumbassdep @euryalex @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @fangsandroses @wrathfulrook and anyone that would like to share something <3

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itsmemordred · 1 year ago

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Barbecue sauce (also abbreviated as BBQ sauce) is a sauce used as a marinade, basting, condiment, or topping for meat cooked in the barbecue cooking style, including pork or beef ribs and chicken. It is a ubiquitous condiment in the Southern United States and is used on many other foods as well.[1]

Ingredients vary, but most include vinegar or tomato paste (or a combination) as a base, as well as liquid smoke, onion powder, spices such as mustard and black pepper, and sweeteners such as sugar or molasses

Some place the origin of barbecue sauce at the formation of the first American colonies in the 17th century.[2] References to the sauce start occurring in both English and French literature over the next two hundred years. South Carolina mustard sauce, a type of barbecue sauce, can be traced to German settlers in the 18th century.[3]

Early homemade barbecue sauces were made with vinegar, salt, and pepper. Sugar, ketchup, and Worcestershire sauce started to be used in the 1920s, but after World War II, the quantity of sugar and the number of ingredients increased dramatically.[4]

The Georgia Barbecue Sauce Company of Atlanta advertised an early commercially produced barbecue sauce in 1909.[5] Heinz was the first major company to sell bottled barbecue sauce in 1940. Soon afterward, General Foods introduced "Open Pit." Kraft Foods only entered the market in around 1960, but with heavy advertising, succeeded in becoming the market leader.[4] Kraft also started making cooking oils with bags of spice attached, supplying another market entrance of barbecue sauce.[6]

Different geographical regions have allegiances to their particular styles and variations of barbecue sauce.

East Carolina – Most American barbecue sauces can trace their roots to a sauce common in the eastern regions of North Carolina and South Carolina.[3] The simplest and the earliest, it was popularized by enslaved Africans who also advanced the development of American barbecue, and originally was made with vinegar, ground black pepper, and hot chili pepper flakes. It is used as a "mopping" sauce to baste the meat while it is cooking and as a dipping sauce when it is served. "Thin, spicy, and vinegar based," it penetrates the meat and cuts the fats in the mouth, with a noticeably tarter flavor than most other barbecue sauces.[7]

Western Carolina – In Lexington and the Piedmont areas of western North Carolina, the sauce is often called a dip. It is similar to the East Carolina Sauce with the addition of tomato paste, tomato sauce, or ketchup.[8]

South Carolina mustard sauce – Part of South Carolina is known for its yellow barbecue sauces made primarily of yellow mustard, vinegar, sugar and spices. This sauce is most common in a belt from Columbia to Charleston.

Memphis – Similar to the Western Carolina style, but using molasses as a sweetener and with additional spices. It is usually served as a dipping sauce, as Memphis-style barbecue is typically a dry rub.[9]

Kansas City – Thick, reddish-brown, tomato-based, and made with sugar, vinegar, and spices. It evolved from the Western Carolina and Memphis style sauces but is thicker and sweeter and does not penetrate the meat as much as it sits on the surface. Typical commercial barbecue sauce is based on the Kansas City style.[9]

Texas – In some of the older, more traditional restaurants, the sauces are heavily seasoned with cumin, chili peppers or chili powder, black pepper, and fresh onion, while using less tomato and sugar. They are medium thick and often resemble a thin tomato soup.[10] They penetrate the meat easily rather than sit on top. Bottled barbecue sauces from Texas are often different from those used in the same restaurants because they do not contain meat drippings.[11]

Alabama white sauce – North Alabama is known for its distinctive white sauce, a mayonnaise-based sauce that also includes apple cider vinegar, sugar, salt, and black pepper, which is used predominantly on chicken and pork.[12]

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michaelrobertvliek · 2 months ago

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Road to Glory: Traveling from Douglasville to Athens for Georgia Football Games

For passionate Georgia Bulldogs fans, the excitement of game day starts the moment they hit the road. Traveling from Douglasville to Athens has become a tradition for many, offering a chance to bond with fellow fans, enjoy the scenic Georgia landscape, and build anticipation for the big game. This 90-minute road trip is more than a drive—it is essential to the Georgia football experience.

The Journey from Douglasville to Athens

The drive from Douglasville to Athens is straightforward but beautiful. Most fans take the route via I-20 and GA-316, a highway passing through quaint Georgia towns, offering glimpses of rural life and rolling hills. The trip, just under 80 miles, is filled with excitement, especially as the miles to Athens shrink and game day energy builds.

Some fans choose scenic backroads to avoid traffic and enjoy a slower, more relaxing drive. These alternate routes pass through small towns like Monroe, allowing travelers to explore local shops and eateries before arriving in Athens. Whether you choose the quickest highway or the winding backroads, the drive to Athens offers a great way to start the game-day adventure.

Fueling Up Along the Way

Before hitting the road, many Douglasville fans stop for breakfast or coffee at their favorite local spots. A quick meal at a popular spot like Martin's or a coffee from a local café sets the tone for the day. For fans leaving early in the morning, these small pit stops are perfect for getting energized for the long day ahead.

Further along the drive, there are many places to stop for snacks or a meal. The Varsity in Atlanta, a famous fast-food joint, is a frequent stop for Georgia fans craving their renowned chili dogs and burgers. You can buy fresh fruit or boiled peanuts at roadside stands if you want something lighter. These small stops offer great food and add to the experience, making the trip even more memorable.

Arriving in Athens: Tailgating Traditions

Once fans arrive in Athens, the true fun begins. Tailgating is a massive part of the Georgia football culture, and you can feel the buzz as soon as you enter the town. Parking lots, parks, and streets surrounding Sanford Stadium are transformed into a sea of red and black tents, grills, and excited fans getting ready for the game. Music fills the air, and the smell of barbecue creates the perfect game-day atmosphere.

Tailgating in Athens is a full-day event, with fans arriving hours before kickoff to set up their spots. Many bring elaborate food spreads, from fried chicken to homemade dips and peach cobbler. Georgia Bulldogs fans are known for hospitality, often sharing food and drinks with fellow tailgaters and visiting fans. Whether git'srilling burgers or sipping sweet tea, tailgating in Athens is as much a part of the game day experience as the football itself.

The Excitement of Game Day at Sanford Stadium

The real highlight of the trip comes when you enter Sanford Stadium. The energy in the stadium is unlike any other, with over 92,000 fans coming together to cheer on the Bulldogs. The stadium comes alive with the chants of " o Dawgs!" and the iconic ringing of the Chapel Bell after a victory, an experience every fan cherishes.

For those making the trip from Douglasville, the excitement of seeing the Bulldogs run onto the field is the culmination of hours of anticipation. Whether it's your first game or your 50th, the thrill of game day in Athens never gets old. With the Redcoat Marching Band playing, the fans chanting, and Uga, the team's beloved mascot, leading the charge, the atmosphere inside Sanford Stadium is electric.

Post-Game Fun and the Drive Home

Win or lose, the post-game atmosphere in Athens is always lively. The downtown area is filled with fans celebrating a victory or unwinding after a tough game. Local bars and restaurants become gathering spots for fans to share a meal, enjoy a drink, and discuss the game's highlights. Places like The Grill or Creature Comforts Brewing are popular post-game hangouts where Bulldogs fans can continue the game day celebrations.

For those heading back to Douglasville after the game, the drive home is often filled with chatter about key plays and predictions for the rest of the season. Some fans make one final stop for a late-night meal before hitting the road. It's a great way to wind down after a long day of tailgating, cheering, and celebrating. The drive back may be quieter than the trip to Athens, but it's filled with memories of another great Georgia football game.

A Road Trip Tradition Worth Taking

The road trip from Douglasville to Athens isn't just about getting to the game—it's about the entire experience of being a Georgia Bulldogs fan. Every moment of the journey adds to the excitement, from the scenic drive and the delicious pit stops to the thrill of game day at Sanford Stadium.

For fans who make this trip yearly, its beloved tradition strengthens their connection to the team and their fellow fans. Whether it's the tailgate's excitement, the crowd's roar, or the quiet drive home after a long day, the road trip from Douglasville to Athens is a key part of what makes being a Georgia fan so special. So pack up the car, put on your red and black, and hit the road—there's nothing quite like a Bulldogs road trip.

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sciencespies · 4 years ago

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Chefs Are Helping Hungry Voters Waiting in Line at the Polls

https://sciencespies.com/history/chefs-are-helping-hungry-voters-waiting-in-line-at-the-polls/

Chefs Are Helping Hungry Voters Waiting in Line at the Polls

In this unusual election season, airwaves and inboxes and newsfeeds are jam-packed with images of snaking lines at the polls, discussions of mail-in ballots, and endless back-and-forths about the relative virtues of in-person versus absentee voting. Almost everyone agrees that casting a ballot in the United States shouldn’t be so difficult or so complicated. And one intrepid group of cooks and chefs has decided to roll up its collective sleeve and do something to ease the waits of those standing in line. Chefs For The Polls is the brainchild of the renowned chef José Andrés whose World Central Kitchen has fed people everywhere from Puerto Rico after Hurricanes Maria and Laura and California during the ongoing wildfires. But wait a minute, aren’t havoc-creating storms and out-of-control fires a far cry from the everyday American business of voting?

Nathan Mook, CEO of World Central Kitchen understands the question, agreeing that it was a bit of a leap from offering humanitarian relief in the face of natural disasters to bringing food to polling sites in cities such as Chicago and Atlanta and Louisville. “What is a disaster relief organization that’s on the front lines of earthquakes and hurricanes doing involved with elections in the U.S.?” asks Mook.

But, he explains, “We had a shift in our thinking about the role World Central Kitchen can play in situations that might not on the surface be as obvious as a hurricane. We were thinking, ‘Nobody should stand in line for this many hours.’ And wondering, ‘Is there something we can do?’”

Read our story: “José Andrés’ Generous Helping of Humanity”

And indeed there was. Because the restaurant industry has been so hard-hit by the coronavirus pandemic—especially Mom and Pop places, food trucks, small catering outfits—Mook and Andrés hit on an elegant solution: They raised money from donors to underwrite the purchase of food locally in each city—tacos in Milwaukee, barbecue in Atlanta, cupcakes in Houston, empanadas in Portland, burritos in L.A. Those vendors would offer their particular specialty to people waiting in line at polling places in their city.

The new initiative’s tryout came in June during the Democratic primary in Louisville, Kentucky, where just one polling place was allotted for 600,000 people. “We didn’t know what to expect,” remembers Mook. “We were working with chef Ed Lee who had been doing a lot of work during the pandemic to support the industry. We got a few food trucks, and Ed was there cooking burgers. It was very successful—a nice way to reach families that need food. So we thought, ‘Let’s see what we can do around the country.’”

Chef José Andrés, recipient of the 2019 Julia Child Award, donated a number of defining items from his humanitarian efforts around the globe to the Smithsonian’s American History Museum. The collection, which was on view temporarily last year, includes his stockpot, a stirring paddle and a vest he wore while preparing meals in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria.

(NMAH)

Andrés, the high-profile public face of both Chefs for the Polls and World Central Kitchen, is passionate about voting in America, notwithstanding that he was born in Spain during the Franco regime. Famous for television shows and his Washington, D.C., restaurants Jaleo and Minibar, he broke new (and delicious) ground last year when he opened the ambitious Mercado Little Spain in New York’s sprawling Hudson Yards development. Andrés, who won the prestigious Julia Child Award in 2019, says he wanted to give something back to his adopted country during this turbulent election cycle.

“We created Chefs for the Polls to make sure that every American—we the people, Republicans and Democrats, people waiting on line for long hours for different reasons—have the right to a plate of food and water,” Andrés explained to late night television host Trevor Noah in October, adding that in many states, “Men and women, especially in poor neighborhoods, [are] waiting for 3, 4, 12 hours. This should not be happening in America. I’m only trying to make sure every American has the possibility to vote. And bringing food and water to them as they wait in line we believe is the least we can do.”

“You may be a Republican, you may be a Democrat, but let’s face it,” he told Noah, “we are in the middle of the biggest pandemic that we’ve experienced over a hundred years. We need to protect every single American and the very simple act of voting.”

Paula Johnson, curator of food history at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, sees Andrés in the context of the growing movement for food justice, the theme of the Smithsonian’s recent Food History Weekend. “José Andrés is a passionate, tireless, and incredibly effective advocate for food justice,” she says, adding that Andrés “takes action to ensure that individuals and communities have access to healthy, safe and nutritious food.”

As the Covid-19 pandemic continues to threaten vulnerable communities, World Central Kitchen is working with restaurants and kitchens to “get meals to those who need them most.”

(World Central Kitchen/WCK.org)

One result of Andrés’ very effective advocacy is that Chefs For The Polls now has more than 50 restaurants, food trucks and chefs as partners, bringing food that might be a voter’s lunch, dinner or snack to polling places in more than 25 cities. The organization has teamed with Michelle Obama’s When We All Vote and LeBron James’ More Than a Vote, and on Early Voting Day, which was Saturday, October 24, Chefs For The Polls brought nourishment to polling sites in more than 20 states.

“To give is a great feeling,” says Dan Raskin, the fourth generation of his family to run Chicago’s Manny’s Deli. It’s just one of the many small restaurants participating in Chefs For the Polls, and like others, it had been struggling during the pandemic. “It was pretty desolate downtown,” notes Raskin. “We connected with World Central Kitchen and started delivering our food to different neighborhoods. The thing to me that was best about this was not just providing the meals to people but supporting the businesses that are keeping people working in Chicago. So when they came to us and said, ‘We have another program.’ Without hesitation, I said, ‘Of course!’”

Raskin not only offered his Jewish delicatessen’s classic corned beef sandwiches but also turkey sandwiches and a vegetarian version made with marinated mushrooms—something for everyone. Given the long lines to vote, “most people eat the food right away,” says Raskin, but some take it home to savor later. “It’s important to support everybody. One of the things I liked about this: It’s not based on who you’re voting for. It brings the community together.”

And while Chefs For The Polls can’t help shorten the lines—or put an end to the snow or rain or heat bedeviling those waiting hours to cast their ballots—it can ease the wait by putting a little sustenance in voters’ bellies.

#History

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revisionaryhistory · 5 years ago

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Three Days ~ 3

AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

I straightened my clothes when I got out of the SUV. I realize my first impression is already shot to hell, but I'm attempting to make up some ground. In front of her door I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths before knocking. I tried to re-frame my sudden nervousness as excitement. When she opened the door two things happened. My mouth started to water and my jeans shrank at least one size.

I went with it. "You look beautiful." I kept my voice soft and smiled.

The peach shirt and white jacket set off her eyes and slightly tanned skin. I liked the slight swell of her breasts showing out the top of her shirt. Just sexy enough. I mean, I have nothing against naked breasts, rather like them, but this was a good first date look. Believe it or not, there is such a thing as too much. And there's time and place for more. This wasn't it.

Emma smiled and put her hand on my bicep, "Thank you. You clean up nicely."

I laughed, "I didn't really pack for a dinner date."

"I thought you might be limited, so I went with jeans."

My head jerked a little in surprise. "That's really nice. Thank you." I had to stop myself from staring. I'm not sure what I'm more amazed by: her kindness or the ease with which she speaks about her thought process. She says it like it's no big deal, but it is. Or maybe I'm more jaded than I thought. I snapped myself out of my thoughts, "Ready to go?" She nodded and I put my hand on her lower back, leading her to the vehicle.

I started backing out and remembered I didn't know where we were going. I put on the brake, rested my hands on the steering wheel, and looked over, "Which way? Where we going?"

"I had two ideas. In town there's a pub. Typical pub food. Bar on one side. Restaurant on the other. Probably live music, but its not loud on the restaurant side. Or about five miles north there's a place on the river with outdoor tables. They specialize in ribs and barbecue, but have everything from steak to seafood."

"Outside on the river sounds good. Nice night for it." I pointed at the navigation screen. "You put it in. Then we can talk without getting lost."

She laughed, "Are you sure we haven't met before? I'd completely get talking and forget to tell you where to turn."

"I think I'd remember." I smiled and watched her press the buttons. Her nails where longer than her fingertips. Long enough to feel, but not so long as to do damage. I should probably stop thinking like that or my my pants are going to shrink more.

"How is the moving going?"

"Good. They hired movers for the actual move. I'm here to shift boxes to other rooms, hook up electronics, and hang things. I think mom used the move as an excuse to get me to visit. When my step-dad retired they moved upstate. Now they're closer again, so it'll be easier."

"Are you an only child?"

"I am. Mom and I left Romania when I was eight then moved to New York when I was twelve." I didn't know if she knew my history or not. It was very vain to think she'd googled and read interviews. I wasn't sure if she was a fan. I liked how my job wasn't part of the conversation. That couldn’t last, but it was nice for now. "What about you?"

“I have an identical twin. Amelia.”

I don't think she was done talking, but I burst in. “That's so cool. Emiliana and Amelia. Did you switch around to fuck with teachers and boyfriends?”

An evil grin crossed her face. “All the time. Our parents mostly. They could never tell us apart. They tell this story about how my dad was so sleep deprived that he forgot to put on our color coded booties and they're not one hundred percent sure which one we really are.”

“Oh fuck! Priceless.”

“Once we hit our junior year Amy cut her hair and started dying it red. If we wanted to pull anything off we had to pull our hair up and shove on a hat. She's got a daughter now and since we're identical twins Katie is genetically my daughter too.”

My mouth dropped open, "I'd never thought of that." I raised my eyebrows, "Never been out with a mom before."

"First time for everything."

We laughed and conversation was easy the rest of the short drive. She pointed out the river walk and restaurant as we drove across the bridge. I was thinking an after dinner stroll was a good idea.

It was early enough that getting a table by the water wasn't a problem. Either the time or the hostess recognized me. She sat us in the corner of the deck with water on both sides. It was a beautiful view. My date and the scenery. Date was better. Before the hostess left she looked at me, "I'll send your server right over, Mr. Stan."

I guess that answers that.

There was a drink menu on the table. I picked it up and looked at Emma, "Do you drink?" She nodded and I handed her the menu. "A beer on the water sounds good."

The server showed up, took our drink orders, and by the time she brought our beers we were ready to order. There was a lull in conversation between discussing the menu and whatever was going to come next. We both took a drink to fill the space. I pulled at the label on my bottle nervously. "What do you for a living?" I knew I was opening the door for the same question, but it was the next logical topic.

"I teach first grade."

I never had a teacher who looked like her. "Why first?" I liked finding out why people made the choices they did.

"I like teaching the little people to read. Kindergartners are too squirrelly. There's a lot of time just teaching them how to be in school. Lots of crying in Kindergarten. Fifth graders are starting to be smart asses."

I nearly spit my beer across the table.

She laughed and handed me a napkin from the dispenser on the table, "They are! The hormones are starting to kick in. No thank you. Third and fourth are assessment years and it's all about getting them ready. Second is this weird hybrid where you're reteaching what they missed in first and getting their basic skills ready for third." She took a drink and continued. "First graders are perfect. They get so excited when they can put sounds together to make words and then read the words in a book. Or when they figure out three plus two is the same as counting three stars and two stars, figuring out the algorithm. I love teaching them to subitize. That’s knowing how many things there are without counting them. We play songs and games. Their little faces light up and they're so proud of themselves. The ones who struggle. It's hard to figure out how to help them and keep their confidence up. They break my heart." She put her hand over hers.

Her love of what she did was obvious. I couldn't remember talking to a teacher after I left school. My teachers just tortured me with homework, papers, projects, and group work. I shook my head, "Until right this second I had never thought of a teacher being excited about their students learning."

"You either had shitty teachers or hated school."

"Both." I looked up, searching my memory. "Leaving Romania was good, but I didn't speak anything but Romanian. I was a good student, but when we moved to Vienna I had to start over. I couldn't communicate. I couldn't read. It was hard. Mom threw a fit because my teachers used the language issue to not push me. She wasn’t having it. Then we moved here and it was starting over again. I was in that awkward stage, had at least three chins, didn't have any friends, and could barely speak English."

She cringed, "I don’t like your teachers. You have to work harder. There's always kids with stories. Whether they’re new, or a parent has died, or they don't speak English, or they've been abused, or they’re just different. You have to work harder to find a way to connect with them and be different for them. You have to have the relationship to help them learn. I'm not going to lie, sometimes you don't like a kid, but that's the job. You're the adult. Figure out how to make it work."

"Yeah, I didn't have teachers like you. It got better. Puberty helped and so did partying." I smirked around my beer bottle as I drank. "My teachers didn't look like you either. Would have paid more attention if they had. Well, maybe not paid attention, but enjoyed class more."

Her shoulders raised a little and one side of her mouth curled up, "Want me to teach you to read or something, Seb?"

"Now there's a loaded question." She’s still figuring out what to call me. Fuck. I might be sad when she figures it out and sticks to one name.

Luckily or unluckily our appetizers arrived. The flirting was fun, but we’re early into dinner. Lots of time for flirting. Good to mix it up.

We'd ordered a sampler. I picked up one of the fried pickles, "There's a place in Atlanta where these are called frickle pickles."

"I grew up in Alpharetta."

"Did you? I've spent a lot of time in Atlanta." I kept going without even thinking. "The Marvel movies filmed there and most of Falcon and the Winter Soldier will be filmed there." I stopped with a pickle about to my mouth. "Umm."

"There's the elephant in the room." Emma popped a french fry covered in cheese and bacon in her mouth.

I chewed my pickle slowly to buy a little time. What for I don't know. It's awkward. I wiped off my hands and finished my beer. "I was enjoying ignoring the elephant." I leaned forward onto the table. "I liked just being a guy on a date."

"You still are." The look on her face was showed she was amused.

I liked that she wasn’t taking the topic seriously. I'm pissed I brought it up. We were doing fine getting to know each other without the complications of what I do. No one explains that part to you in acting school. You just learn about the craft, business, and what not to do an audition. They don't teach you about someone posting a picture of you laying shirtless in the park. You're doing what everyone else is doing, but if you were anyone else no one would care about you laying in the park getting some sun. This is why actors, and models, and sports stars date other actors, and models, and sports stars. All of those things which become a normal part of your life are normal for them too. It's not normal to other people. And until I mentioned filming in Atlanta I was having a damn fine time being a guy helping his parents move.

I want to fucking scream.

I drummed my fingers beside the plate. "I liked being the homeless guy you met in the baking aisle."

She frowned and put her hand over mine, "I didn't think you were homeless. There's a rehab facility up the road. I thought you were an addict stopping for chocolate before checking in. To help with the withdrawal."

I threw my head back and laughed hard. "Even better!" I turned my hand over, holding her fingers, and rubbing my thumb over her soft skin. "Can I go back to being that guy?"

“You're still the sweet guy running errands for his mom. The one I waited for at the check out. Before I knew his name or recognized him."

My eyes were wide and I was doing that thing I do where I'm licking my lips and playing with my tongue. That can mean lots of things. Right now is intrigued with a side of slightly nervous.

"It's going to be hard to get to know you if you don't tell me about your friends and what you do with your downtime."

She had a good point. I wasn't sure what my plan had been. Her talking about herself all night wasn't going to work. "I can do that. Talk about my friends."

Things have gotten more complicated. Not for the reason I expected. We've pretty much worked around the how do I be an ordinary man with a not so ordinary job problem. Now the problem is I'm holding her hand. It's soft and warm and I don't want to let go. I want to stay touching her. I can not figure out how we're going to eat.

#Sebastian Stan #fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction

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willisinternational · 4 years ago

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judefan832-blog · 4 years ago

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sugarfreecapsicle · 5 years ago

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country mile - part three

Moodboard by the lovely @sebashtiansatan

bucky barnes x reader southern!au

warnings: nsfw smut in later chapters (will be indicated), ptsd, angst, fluff, lots of pining and details about generic southern united states area, mentions of war

summary: Even years after coming home, Bucky Barnes still feels out of place in the humid farmlands of southern Georgia. But he’s not the only prodigal to return back home.

if anyone is interested, I do have an (embarrasingly) long spotify playlist I’ve created as I’ve worked on this - let me know if you’d like the link!

Faces hold memories like scrapbooks - once you choose to look again, everything from the past is so obvious and revisited in mere seconds. Your knees wobble as you stand, hesitant to move to hug him as you had greeted Mrs. Wilson earlier. Bucky holds his ground, Commando slowly getting to his feet and sitting at Bucky’s side. Before you can ask the inevitable how-have-you-been, he’s glaring.

“What are you doing here?”

You falter for a moment, then find your ground. “It’s good to see you, too, Bucky. I almost forgot what an absolute ass you could be.”

He scoffs as he pulls clattering keys from his back pocket. “Right, I’m the asshole. I’m the one who left in the night without a goodbye.”

You blink, and he’s already at his truck with Commando riding passenger, dirt and gravel pluming behind his tires. Thick summer heat weighs on you like guilt.

The next few hours comprise of cleaning, making your childhood home livable again. Layers of dust caked the flooring, bedding, furniture - and a few phone calls later had set up running water and electricity to the home within a day. Having run into Laura Barton at the general store was fortunate since a call to her husband Clint resulted in his assisting you in checking the perimeter and interior for pests. A thousand thanks later, he insisted on you joining his family for dinner at Wilson’s despite the owner already inviting you over.

“So now you don’t have to worry about picking out a seat or sitting by yourself at the bartop,” he shrugs with a smirk. “Be there at six on the dot.”

You roll your eyes but nod and wave him off as he jogs to his car. With the windows open, the house almost breathed. Dust specks danced in the air, remnants of your hard work in the main living space, the master bedroom and the full bath on the first floor. Day two would be kitchen and the second floor bedrooms and bathroom.

You begin unpacking your suitcase when the thought of a hot shower is interrupted by the reality of no running water. If anything could be trusted, it’d be that your visit to the restaurant tonight for dinner would put you in a spotlight you didn’t want - which meant that you would be under intense scrutiny including your presentation.

Knocking at the bright blue door, sweat beads and treads down your back beneath your gray shirt. A curvy redhead answered the door with a quirked eyebrow and matching smirk.

“Y’know,” she hums, “I almost lost ten bucks to Clint because of you.”

You shrug and smile back. “Sorry to compromise your winning streak. Mind if I borrow your shower?”

She steps out of your way and offers up her main bath - white and beautiful, gold hardware immaculate against the thin rays of setting sun. The entire house, but especially this room, smelled so uniquely of Natasha - sweet summer berries and dark liquor - that you felt the familiar twinge of jealousy creep into your stomach as you undressed and tested the water.

Natasha had been one of your oldest friends in town which wasn’t saying all that much - it appeared that the majority of the remaining citizenry made up almost half of your graduating class at the County High School. Even in school, her door was always open to you as you needed it despite what her alcoholic father barked as a rule.

You smirked at the memory, the water a little metallic against your chapped lips. Maybe a little of Natasha’s unabashed courage could rub off on you, too, just by being here.

On her insistence, you handed over your door key and let her cart over outfits for you to model for her approval on your first night out in town. She certainly had an eye for fashion of the attention-grabbing variety - so you wagered if attention would be focused on you at Wilson’s, you better make it worth your while.

“You coming?” You’re dressed and checking your phone for any missed calls or texts when you notice a lack of Natasha behind you.

“Not tonight,” she calls from the kitchen at the back of the small house. “I’ve got a shift at Peggy’s.”

A small weakness in your confidence wriggles around, but you chin up and wish her a good night before heading out the door. With the sun mostly behind the trees and mountains the majority of the blistering heat had died with the light and took a minute amount of the humidity with it. Crickets and cicadas sang lullabies as your feet crunched against dry grass by the roadway.

The sound of rollicking blues and jazz pounded from the walls of Wilson’s - a white sided building with a bright cherry red roof that barely contained the tantalizing scents of home cooked food. Patrons laughed and sang and drank inside, some stood outside nursing cigarettes and cigars as they chatted about the events of the day.

Upon entering, the packed room turned and waved in greeting, too many voices calling out at once over one another for you to accurately respond to any. You waved, albeit a little shy, and made your way to the family seating around the back room behind the bar. A lump caught in your throat at the happy family of five sitting at a long table, passing food and laughter around in equal measure.

It shouldn’t hurt this much.

Clint and Laura wave you over, introducing you to the children one by one. Their oldest Lila is the spitting image of Laura - you, of course, don’t hesitate to tease Clint about her luck - and Cooper the middle child grimaces exactly like his father. And newborn baby Nathaniel coos and flexes his fingers as the table flows in rhythm of familiarity.

Despite their insistence prior you can’t help but feel the odd woman out with them. Lila asks you plenty of questions that keep you involved in conversation, mostly about your tattoos and if they hurt, and Cooper mostly pushes his food from one side of the plate to the other.

Sam rounds the corner and nearly drops the large tray full of orders in his hand as his smile opens over most of his face. He calls your name, sets the tray down at the visibly wrong table and rushes over to give you a tight hug.

“You show up here and have the nerve to not tell me you’re in town?” he laughs, lifting you from your feet as you stood to hug him. “What kinda home training have you forgotten all the way from Atlanta?”

You flush and tuck hair behind your ear, finding solid ground again with Sam’s calloused hands sitting at the small of your back. He had never been one for personal space - unless you were on his shit list.

“I ran into your mom earlier, so I thought she would’ve told you,” you start with a bite to your lip. “It’s only my first night back.”

He blows air past his lips in a scoff and hugs you again, rocking back and forth from foot to foot. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. This town’s been missin’ somethin’ since you left. More than just Bucky’s common sense.”

You’re dazed at his name, a tight lined smile lingering on your face. “It’s good to be back, Sam. I’d better let you get back to your tables before Thor decides to eat what you left at his table.”

Sam turns abruptly and begins fussing at the gargantuan blonde ex-football star who’s eyeballing the barbecue and banana pudding. You take your seat again and try to resurrect your appetite.

“Who’s Bucky?” Cooper asks, stabbing at his peas. Both Laura and Clint freeze and start at each other, silently communicating a strategy.

“He’s...an old friend,” you cover, chewing into your fresh cornbread. “His parents owned the big farm off Route 27.”

The boy nods and chews slowly as if to ponder your answer. “So why-”

“Coop, your food is gonna get cold if you keep talking,” Clint is quick this time, prepared to stop any further intrusive questions. “No dessert if you don’t clear your plate.”

Eyes roll and he’s sulking again at the minuscule vegetables that remain.

You feel powerful thuds slam against the linoleum floor before you’re able to catch a glimpse of a long haired brunette with a metal arm rushing out of the restaurant, scowling and brooding all the way.

“I..I’ll be back,” you offer to Laura first and then Clint. “I just need some air.”

Rushing past the back door and the screen door that guards the wood from bugs and weather, you manage to get close enough to call after him without drawing too much attention. You’re surprised to watch him slow to a stop a few feet away.

“Lose your appetite?” You ask on approach. He doesn’t move to meet you halfway and hasn’t spun to face you.

“Nah,” he answers, low and spiteful. “Just didn’t want to sour your homecoming.”

Bucky’s form although fading dark against the pinky-purple sky is taut, tense.

“Kinda prideful to assume you’d affect it that much.”

His hair shakes and his shoulders loosen. “You’re still that teenage girl that has no idea what the hell she wants, aren’t you?”

It’s a jab, you know it, but he’s at least facing you now albeit with a glare in his stormy blue eyes. Fireflies dance in the tall grass behind him, leaves passing over and under one another to create their own music.

“I knew what I wanted, Bucky. You’re just bitter it wasn’t you.”

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justlookfrightened · 6 years ago

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Houston Chronicles, Part 21

Read the beginning here. Read the last installment here.

“Marcus, you date a lot, right?’

“Not during playoffs,” Marcus said, changing into his gym clothes. “Besides, you have Eric, right?”

“I’m trying,” Jack said. “I want to take him out to dinner. On a date. Really special. I was hoping you would have some recommendations. Maybe somewhere we could go tonight.”

“Tonight?” Marcus said. “Let me think. He likes food, right? So not just steaks. There’s one really good place, but no way you can get it tonight.”

“I can pay,” Jack said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Marcus said. “You need at least a couple of weeks, and we should be busy then, yes?”

“I hope so,” Jack said. “I was hoping to take him out for one good date before the craziness starts.”

“Give me some ideas. You want barbecue? Asian fusion? Mexican?” Marcus asked. “You have something to celebrate?”

Later, Jack found himself in the lobby of Bitty’s building, in dress shoes and slacks, open-collared shirt and sport coat. He tried to remember the last time he’d dressed up specifically to impress someone -- not because of a dress code, written or unwritten, but because he wanted one particular person to think he looked good, and to know he made an effort to do it for them.

Maybe Bitty’s graduation from Samwell? But that was more to make Bitty’s parents realize they couldn’t intimidate him. Or maybe it was to intimidate them, which didn’t sound very good, even in his own mind.

Instead of buzzing him in, Bitty texted, Be right down.

A minute or two later, Bitty himself appeared, also dressed in slacks and sport coat, but with a jaunty bow tie.

“I don’t usually go with the tie during the day here,” Bitty said. “Especially at work. But I thought you might like it. What’s our plan?”

“Starting with dinner at a place called Xochi,” Jack said. “Marcus and Foxy both said it was good, and that you’d find it more interesting than a steakhouse or seafood place.”

“It’s supposed to be delicious,” Bitty said. “What then?”

“Maybe a walk?” Jack said. “I thought about a concert or a play or something, but we need to spend some time talking. Like a first date. Get to know each other.”

“Sounds lovely,” Bitty said. “Shall we?”

“I drove,” Jack said.

“Still the same car?” Bitty asked. “You did like this car.”

“No need to change it,” Jack said.

Jack started the car and turned on the air conditioner. It amazed him that he needed in in early April, but it wasn’t so much the temperature as the humidity. His hands felt clammy on the steering wheel. Or maybe that was nerves.

“Um, do you mind if I just park where I’m staying?” Jack said. “The restaurant’s just a five-minute walk. But I don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives.”

“That’s fine,” Bitty said. “And I don’t have any objections to seeing where you’re staying. We’re both grown-ups.”

“We just need to act like it?” Jack suggested, cracking a small grin.

“Well, maybe not too much,” Bitty said. “We had a lot of fun together.”

“We did,” Jack said.

Once they were seated and had their orders taken (tuna appetizer, the half chicken for Jack, the quail for Bitty), Jack just looked at Bitty. Bitty, for once, didn’t seem to know what to say either.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jack finally said. “Everything I want to say leads to the past, but I don’t want to dwell on that.”

“It’s kind of hard not to mention the past, given our history,” Bitty said. “All our friends in common, even our families … but there’s no need to dwell. Maybe we focus on catching up to where we are now? What are your parents up to these days?”

“Well, Papa still commentates on the Habs games,” Jack said. “Which means he’s frustrated at being at loose ends in April again. His real estate investments seem to be doing well. Oh, and he’s starting that foundation he used to talk about, the one that would bring hockey programs into underserved areas. He got that idea from you, you know.”

“He’s finally doing that?” Bitty said. “I thought he decided he wouldn’t be able to have enough of an effect to do much good.”

“He’s got some of his friends on board,” Jack said. “I think the pilot is going to be Atlanta -- they’ll start with bigger cities where there are rinks, just no low-cost ways for families to access the game. Then they want to get the clubs to help too. Most of them do things in their own cities, but maybe have them support a program in their AHL cities as well. Something like that.”

“So he wants American kids to be as hockey-crazy as Canadians?” “And Minnesotans,” Jack said. “And kids from the northeast.”

“Gotta keep kids off the streets by handing them spears and strapping blades to their feet, right?” Bitty said. “And then telling them to go run into each other.”

“It sounds crazy when you say it like that,” Jack said.

“What about your mother?” Bitty asked.

“I don’t how many charity boards she sits on,” Jack said. “Mostly arts groups around Boston and in Montreal. She might teach a class on the business of entertainment for women or something like that at Samwell next year.”

“Fancy,” Bitty said. “I guess that MBA she earned is coming in handy?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “When I was a kid, I didn’t get why she’d go back to school. It seemed like so much work, when she’d be gone for class and then working in her office at home. But she liked it. I think maybe it’s one of the things that made me want to go to college.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Bitty said.

“Really?” Jack said. “After everything?”

“Yes, really,” Bitty said. “You make it sound like everything’s in the past and we have no future, though.”

“I hope we do,” Jack said. “I want to say just tell me everything I did wrong so I can fix it, but I don’t think it works that way.”

“Jack, sweet pea, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you have a therapist here? In Houston?”

Bitty asked.

Jack shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve been doing phone appointments with Sydney in Boston.”

“Maybe you should find one sooner than later,” Bitty said. “It’s just -- you took nearly two days to return a text. And it’s -- not fine, but I understand. But maybe you should have someone to help you, someone that you see face-to-face? I know it’s much harder for me to hide things that way.”

“You bit the bullet and went to therapy?” Jack said. “What made you go?”

“Hush,” Bitty said. “You know I had a psychologist helping me with my checking problem in school.”

“I know Murray made you go,” Jack said. “The times I suggested therapy after you graduated, you acted like I was insulting you.”

“I was scared,” Bitty said. “I didn’t want to have to tell another human being how unhappy I was. I was working so hard at keeping up the ‘everything’s hunky dory’ front. Then when I first left, I couldn’t afford it. But I spent some time with someone here deconstructing some of my hangups. And I know it’s my fault that I didn’t communicate my unhappiness to you earlier, and I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for abandoning you so abruptly. But really, I’m not that good of an actor, and you never noticed I wasn’t thriving. And when I did say something, you laughed at me for thinking I deserved more.”

“No, Bits, not that,” Jack said. “You deserve every good thing. I didn’t get why you wanted to work so much, though. That seemed strange. And if I wasn’t so wrapped up in myself, maybe I would have understood that. Or maybe you would have tried to explain it instead of just trying to keep me happy. Which I understand wasn’t a healthy thing for either of us. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Sounds like you listened to Sydney, at least some of the time,” Bitty said. “And here we are, dwelling on the past … How do you like the food?”

“It’s delicious,” Jack said. “One of the best things I’ve eaten that you didn’t cook. What about you? I have to tell Marcus and Foxy what you thought.”

“It’s great,” Bitty said. “This is delicious. I really like the flavor the bacon gives it.”

“What about your parents?” Jack said. “You said you’re getting along better. How are they doing these days?”

“Coach is really hoping for a state championship before he retires in a few years,” Bitty said. “He’s already got his eye on an eighth-grader who he things will be the quarterback to do it. Mama’s part-time at the pediatrician’s office. And we are getting along, but I think it’s easier with me being a few states away.”

“I can see that,” Jack said. “I can’t have any, but do you want dessert?”

“That chocolate mousse is calling my name,” Bitty said.

“Bitty! Bitty!” Jack whispered.

“Hush, you,” Bitty said. “When’s the last time you talked to Shitty? Besides a couple of days ago?”

************************

Read the next installment

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #omg houston chronicles #my fic

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bullpenribs · 2 months ago

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Craving authentic BBQ in Atlanta? Check out “Bullpen Ribs & BBQ”, one of the well-known BBQ restaurants in Atlanta GA for slow-cooked meats that will leave you wanting more. From hand-pulled pork to fall-off-the-bone ribs, every bite is a taste sensation. Expert pitmasters use fine ingredients and time-honoured techniques to craft classic and innovative dishes.

#BBQ Restaurants in Atlanta GA

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wineanddinosaur · 5 years ago

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The Nation’s 10 Best Brunch Cocktail Programs (2019)

It’s safe to say that we have officially graduated from the days of bottomless Mimosas and DIY Bloody Mary bars. Be it a hangover helper classic like the Corpse Reviver No. 2 or Ramos Gin Fizz or spritzes or even a whole new genre of daytime cocktails, brunch-goers are demanding more from the bar than ever before.

One big trend in the brunch world these days is cocktails that are lower in alcohol, ideal for afternoon consumption. At the base of many of these drinks is sparkling wine, such as Italian prosecco. Enter Riondo, which has become one of the larger producers of DOC prosecco in Italy’s Veneto region in just over 10 years. The company believes in using the charmat method (in which the wine’s fizz is created under pressure in large steel tanks) to produce a lighter, softer sparkling wine — ideal for cocktails. Riondo offers three different styles of prosecco: the gently frizzante Spago Nero, to the more boldly bubbly rosé and spumante.

Once again, VinePair has teamed up with Riondo Prosecco to find the restaurants with the best brunch-time cocktails across the country — and you won’t be surprised to find that a good number of them involve a little bit of bubbly. Here are the ones that will leave you lingering at the bar long after the last plate of avocado toast has been cleared away.

1. Brezza Cucina Location: Atlanta, GA

Brezza Cucina, from legendary chef Jonathan Waxman, has become a brunch staple in Atlanta’s Ponce City Market. Here, Waxman blends his enthusiasm for all things Italian with his California upbringing in dishes like the frittata with prosciutto, burrata, and kale. Stay in the savory vein when it comes to choosing a beverage with The One and Only, a light, fresh drink made with celery syrup, Don Ciccio fennel cordial (an Italian-inspired liqueur made in Washington, D.C.), gin and prosecco.

2. Dante Location: New York, NY

By now, you’ve likely heard of Dante, owned by Linden Pride and located in NYC’s Greenwich Village is dubbed one of the World’s 50 Best Bars. There, creative director Naren Young has a reputation for offering many iterations of Italian aperitivi, like the Negroni and Spritz, but there’s more to his list than that. Consider the Clarified Milk Punch, a boozy concoction of Compass Box Scotch, Italian herbal liqueur Strega, peach, and chamomile, all topped with prosecco. Order a companion plate of cinnamon pumpernickel French toast with ricotta, caramelized bananas, and pecans to match.

3. Irving Street Kitchen Location: Portland, OR

Photo credit: Matt Friedman @mattfriedmancreative

Grabbing a table on the patio at the Pearl District’s Irving Street Kitchen is practically a rite of passage in Portland. There’s only one drink to consider in this instance: the citrusy Rosé All Day (Lillet Rosé, Crème de Pamplemousse, lemon and prosecco), a cocktail that tells you how to proceed right in its name. Then, the only choice left to make is between chef Sarah Schafer’s Moroccan Slow-Poached Eggs and the Guajillo Butter Fried Chicken & Waffles.

4. Bar Beau Location: Brooklyn, NY

Hidden in plain sight just off the BQE (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway) in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg, Bar Beau is one of the prettier bars to open in the five boroughs in the last year. Once past the coffee bar facade, the whitewashed speakeasy has a horseshoe-shaped bar with a Mediterranean vibe — and drinks to match. Try the chic-ly named Gucci Flip Flops, made with sparkling wine, Combier peach liqueur, and Escubac (a gin-like botanical spirit) alongside the umami-rich breakfast udon from Bar Beau’s brunch menu, which just launched this spring.

5. Hearth & Dram Location: Denver, CO

At LoDo’s Hearth & Dram, the food is all wood-fired and the drinks are mostly whiskey based — the restaurant has 300 different expressions from around the world behind the bar. But if you’re looking for something a little lighter in the warm Denver summer months, that’s there, too. Order the crab beignet or the avocado toast with housemade tahini and cool down even further with a Succulent Spritzer, made with Trakal (a pear and crabapple liquor from Patagonia), prickly pear liqueur, Chareau Aloe liqueur, cucumber, and a prosecco float.

6. TRIA: A Level Above Location: Chicago, IL

The Bertucci family has run Fabulous Freddie’s Italian Eatery in South Side Chicago’s Bridgeport neighborhood for almost 30 years, so when the three Bertucci sisters decided to expand with TRIA this spring, they already had a devoted following. To go with the brunch time farrotto dolce (oatmeal’s slightly sweet Italian sister) opt for The Oat Street Beach, made with vanilla vodka, peach purée, oat milk, and prosecco, which comes with a brûléed Granny Smith apple on top.

7. Chop Bar Location: Oakland, CA

Chef/restaurateur Chris Pastena is behind some of Oakland’s most beloved restaurants, including this casual Jack London Square district hangout. Here, you’ll find regulars communing over plates of chilaquiles and pork belly hash alongside the fruity, perfectly spicy Serrano Slam, made with serrano-infused vodka, St. Elder elderflower liqueur, strawberry-raspberry juice, and prosecco.

8. Grand Tavern by David Burke Location: St. Louis, MO

Guests will find Grand Tavern, from celebrity chef David Burke, nestled in the Angad Arts Hotel, which is fittingly located in the heart of St. Louis’s Grand Arts District. When it comes to day drinking, look no further than the AAH Spritz, which is made with strawberry-ginger-infused Aperol and prosecco, uniquely served with a homemade strawberry-ginger fruit roll-up. Not to be outdone by the bar, Burke isn’t holding back in the kitchen: Think brioche French toast, buttermilk pancakes and barbecue brisket with truffle mac & cheese “toast.”

9. Steuben’s Location: Denver, CO

Steuben’s, with two locations in Uptown and Arvada, has been featured on the Food Network and for good reason: It’s a Denver favorite that’s all about making the old new again. Here, you’ll be faced with deciding between such elevated throwbacks as scratch biscuits and gravy and lemon ricotta pancakes. If making a choice is proving to be too much, let us handle your drink order. Get The Spritz, made with Aperol, Lillet Rosé, elderflower liqueur, bitter lemon tonic, and prosecco — one of the more decked-out spritz riffs we’ve seen in a while.

10. ZuZu Location: Scottsdale, AZ

Located in the funky Hotel Valley Ho, this restaurant is as lively as the scene by the pool. With the help of local farmers and suppliers, get ready for a taste of the southwest by way of the Planks + Eggs (crispy potato planks, red chile short rib stew, fried eggs, cotija, lime crema, and scallion). The cocktails bring their own flair. Case in point: The Fizzy Lifting. Made with Aperol, prosecco, Campari-infused blood orange foam, and carbonated blackberry. It’s just what the doctor ordered to help you stay cool on hot desert days.

Honorable Mentions

Avenue Le Club Location: Long Branch, NJ

Transport yourself to Nice without ever having to leave the Jersey Shore. Do as the French do and dig into this modern brasserie’s top-of-the-line raw bar (who doesn’t want to start the weekend with king crab legs?) or simply go straight for a classic: the croque madame. Whatever you decide, the perfect cocktail to wash it all down is the French Mimosa, a combination of ginger syrup, absinthe, orange juice, and topped with prosecco — à votre santé!

Call Location: Denver, CO

Named to Bon Appetit magazine’s Hot Ten restaurant list in 2018, from the start Denver’s Call has attracted more attention for its daytime menu than its evening offerings. The team behind the RiNo neighborhood spot, mostly alums from Colorado restaurant royalty Frasca, stays true to its motto — fresh, vibrant, craveable — both on the plate and in your glass. Ask for bartender Joe Buckley’s Love Mail, made with Cognac Park Saison Rum, rhubarb honey syrup, and prosecco.

Harold’s Location: New York, NY

Lauded chef Harold Moore of Bistro Pierre Lapin is also behind this hip, brightly tiled, all-day spot in SoHo’s Arlo Hotel. Should more virtuous menu items, like a matcha & chia seed bowl or shakshuka, be calling your name, that means you can have an extra hot pink Hibiscus & Sage Highball. The hibiscus-and-sage infused vodka-based drink gets its sweetness from pomegranate syrup and its lift from a good dose of prosecco. And it won’t weigh you down too much for an afternoon of shopping.

This article is sponsored by Riondo Prosecco.

The article The Nation’s 10 Best Brunch Cocktail Programs (2019) appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/the-nations-10-best-brunch-cocktail-programs-2019/

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weshipyourride · 6 years ago

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Destination: Mulberry Gap

In a land where roadside farm fresh eggs and boiled peanuts can be found around any corner lies one of the southeast’s premier mountain bike destinations: Mulberry Gap Mountain Bike Get-A-Way. This cycling-focused retreat is located 12 miles north of Ellijay, Georgia (population: 1,719) in Gilmer County, the mountain bike capital of Georgia and home to over 1,100 miles of trail throughout the Chattahoochee National Forest.

Get-A-Way Year-Round

Situated on a 15 acre, multi-level, terraced plot of land tucked deep into the mountains, a visit to Mulberry Gap feels a lot like going to summer camp, yet it's really the perfect year-round retreat to explore the mountains of northern Georgia. Upon booking your stay, whether it be a cabin or tent space, you will have easy access to amazing mountain bike trails right from camp. Ride shuttles are also available to trail access. Off the bike, you can enjoy hiking, waterfall swimming, paddle boarding or even a soak in a hot tub. Accommodations include nice bath houses with showers, wifi, fully stocked beer cooler and two home cooked meals per day.

Trails throughout the southeast are unique in many ways. Unlike trail systems west of the Mississippi River, southeastern trails retain some moisture as rain is common, and the humidity is heavy. While the terrain varies among singletrack, rock gardens, gravel roads and as much, or as little, elevation gain as desired, so does the style of riding. Cross country riders will love the ability to interconnect miles upon miles of trail, while enduro-style trail riders can easily find long, technical descents to shuttle, hike or pedal to.

Where to Ride

These are some of our favorites:

Pinhoti Trails 1-5 (16.7 miles) - The Georgia Pinhoti Trail (Pin-hoe-tee) trail is one of the many crown jewels of our northwest Georgia region, and sections of it are the closest and most popular ride in/ride out trails from Mulberry Gap.

Windy Gap Downhill (11 miles) - Windy Gap offers steep climbs, technical rock gardens and loose, rocky downhills on the singletrack.

Snake Creek Gap (17 or 32 miles) - Rocks, roots, stunning views and more rocks await you.

Jake & Bull Mountain (25 miles) - This trail system has it all, from the flow of Jake Mountain to the more technical singletrack of Bull Mountain. The payoff of Bull Mountain’s downhill is huge and will leave you smiling as you wrap up a day in the saddle. This is an epic ride you will not forget.

Things To Do

Ellijay, Georgia offers plenty of off-the-bike activities for something to do before, after or between rides.

Apple Picking - Most visitors come in the fall months for their opportunity to go apple picking at numerous, nearby orchards including Hillcrest Orchards, R & A Orchards and B.J. Reece Orchards, to name a few.

Winery Visit - Apples aren’t the only fruit growing in Ellijay. Plan your visit to taste Appalachian bread wines from Engelheim Vineyards or Cartecay Vineyards

Shopping - There are many small shops within walking distance of each other. From clothing to art, you’ll find exactly what you are looking for as a memento.

Bike Shop

Forgot something or need to have your bike fixed? Support this local shop:

Cartecay Bike Shop - This full service bicycle shop offers great lines of bicycles including Rocky Mountain, Kona and Yeti.

Places To Eat and Drink

Ellijay Coffeehouse - Where locals go to get their morning buzz. Come for the caffeine, stay for atmosphere. A great little shop, with delicious coffee.

Cantaberry Restaurant - A fresh take on southern cuisine. Vegan and vegetarian options available.

River Street Tavern - A full bar with an extensive beer offering, this American pub will surely have what you’re looking for after a day on the trails

Pink Pig - When in North Georgia, you must eat barbecue.

How To Get There

There are nearby airports within a short drive to Mulberry Gap. Chattanooga Airport (CHA - 1.5 hours) in Tennessee is a great option. Alternatively, Atlanta International Airport (ATL - 2 hours) is also available. No matter which airport you fly into, a beautiful drive awaits through scenic mountain towns.

If you are driving there, Mulberry Gap is located 25 miles east of Interstate 75 along country roads and highways.

How To Get Your Bike There

Ship your bike with BikeFlights.com and save time, money and hassle instead of flying with it. We suggest shipping directly to Mulberry Gap Mountain Bike Get-A-Way; however, you can also ship to Cartecay Bike Shop. The latter is a great option if you’d prefer to hire a pro to assemble and/or pack your bike. Always call your ship-to location in advance to coordinate with them and let them know that your bike will be coming.

#bikeflights #packshipride #shipitandripit #mulberrygap

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years ago

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Take Me Out

A/N: Happy Birthday to my girl @yaachtynoboat711. I hope this is to your liking. If not, we’ll give it another shot.

Everyone has their own piece of Heaven on Earth. Your’s just happened to be baseball. While most people saw March as the first break of Spring, you considered March the beginning of the greatest sporting season on Earth. Since you were old enough to understand the wonder of baseball, you dreamed of seeing your beloved Washington Nationals in person. Unfortunately, childhood rapidly dissipated into the hustle and bustle of adulthood and the likelihood of fulfilling your wish seemed to wane.

Until he came along.

“Baby girl, should we wear the home or away jerseys today?”

Your face lit up as Chadwick held assorted jerseys to his chest for you to choose from, “Let’s do the home jersey. I like the white on your skin.”

He smirked at you, “Eh, I’d rather have on a Braves jersey but, if it makes you happy, I’ll do whatever.” Sliding the sleeves over his arms, he turned to the mirror to examine his outfit. The jersey remained unbuttoned, leaving his solid chest and torso open for your consumption. Your hands found their way to your neck, clutching your imaginary pearls as your breath hitched. The silence of the room exposed you, making your embarrassingly shaky breathing bounce off the walls louder than you intended. Chadwick turned to face you, tilting his head to the side curiously. “You sure you wanna go out, Yaa? You look out of it and we haven’t went out in this Atlanta heat.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, trying to remember what the day’s purpose was. If he didn’t cover himself soon, you weren’t sure that you could keep your cool in the friendship.

Chadwick was everything you wanted in a partner and then some. Not only did he meet your physical wishes, he was smart, talented and a genuine person.

You never intended for feelings to grow on your end. Heeding the warnings of your mother and friends, it was foolish to attach emotions to an artist on any level. Women threw themselves at him whenever they could, oftentimes ignoring your presence or interrupting conversations to speak and ultimately be declined. Chadwick’s time was valuable and adding a relationship to the mix at the height of his career would only complicate things for him.

But, you couldn’t help your feelings.

Sometimes you wished that he wouldn’t hold doors open for you or spend time doting over you and your accomplishments so that you could detach from him and keep the relationship platonic. His constant attention and admiration made it difficult to separate friend Chadwick from the imaginary relationship you created in your head.

“Alright, it’s time to go,” He exclaimed, emerging from the bathroom of his downtown Atlanta hotel suite. “If we time it right, we can get to Suntrust early enough to get a drink before I show you your surprises.”

Your face scrunched in fake annoyance, “Chad, I done told you already that I don’t need any surprises. All I need is baseball and a beer.”

“Since when have I ever listened to you? Let me treat you to your first baseball game the way you’re supposed to enjoy it.” His eyebrows wiggled in excitement as he waited for your frown to transform into a smile. When you finally caved, he jokingly tickled your neck. “Ahh, there it is! Keep that smile on all day for me, okay?”

“Chadwiiiiick,” you whined, more from frustration with yourself than with his request.

“C’mon, Yaa, just loosen up. I promise it’ll be worth it once we get there.”

After some additional coaxing and an agreement to let you choose the breakfast spot the next morning, you agreed to let him handle all facets of night’s outing.

Your apprehension turned into childlike squirming in the front seat of his rental when the lights and sounds of SunTrust Park peeked over the Cobb County horizon. The smell of fresh barbecue from a restaurant inside The Battery teased your nose, connecting with your mouth to water in anticipation. The energy of all the baseball fans, young and old, seemed to bounce from their bodies to yours asChadwick tried his best to lead you through the crowd without being seen.

“Where are we going,” you asked once you passed what you assumed was the normal entrance for fan seating. If he was playing some type of prank, you wanted him to quit before the game started.

“I pulled some strings and got us VIP seating. There, I spoiled one surprise. Enjoy the rest of the evening with no questions.”

The stern look and finality to his request made you equal parts upset and turned on. Deciding to follow directions, you quickly emptied your brain of the six other questions you were carrying and followed his lead.

When your VIP seats came into view, your jaw dropped in shock. Chadwick had managed to secure seats that offered a near perfect view of the field. If you wanted to, you were sure you could call the players by name and get a response.

“You like it, Yaa,” Chadwick asked, a cheeky grin spread across his face while he gauged your reaction.

“I-I, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Just enjoy yourself for me.”

His smile erased part of your anxiety. The whiskey neat he ordered for you did the rest of the job. By the top of the fifth, you were in full blown fan mode, abandoning your seat in favor of standing.

“Let’s go boys,” you hollered with your hands cupped to carry the sound. “Let’s get a fuckin’ run!”

Chadwick laughed at your obnoxious behavior before tugging on the hem of your jersey. “Sit down, Coach. They got it.”

“We need a win, dammit!” Sitting down, you took a sip of your whiskey and looked to Chadwick. “Am I doing too much?”

“No, you’re having a good time. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” His hand landed on your knee, gripping it lightly for reassurance. “Plus, the way these white people are looking at you know your shit is funny. So, keep going.”

Your hearty cackle rang out in the immediate area, drawing attention to the way your head was thrown back in laughter.

The sixth inning turned into more of the same, you standing to scream directions to the players and him reeling you back in.

At the seventh inning stretch, he knew he needed to calm you down for his final surprise of the night.

“Alright, Yaa, have a seat. I got something to show you.”

“Wha-”

Your question was cut off by the announcer directing everyone’s attention to the scoreboard. Nothing could’ve prepared you for Chadwick’s face stretched across the large LED screen for everyone to see.

“Is it working,” he asked someone off camera. “Okay, cool. Uh, hey, Yaa. It’s probably weird seeing me up here in front of all these people.”

“Chad, what are you doing?” you hissed only to be ignored by your friend.

“We’ve been friends for a long time and, I’ve watched you grow into an amazing woman. You’re incredibly intelligent and caring. The way you are dedicated to helping everyone around you makes me want to be better. I’m not sure where I’m going with this so, I’ll try to wrap it up. In front of all these people and if you’ll have me, can we take this friendship to another level? I want you to be my lady.”

Your hands clamped over mouth in attempt to hold in your surprised scream.

“What do you say, Yaa,” the announcer asked.

To ratchet up the embarrassment, the ballpark camera panned to your exact location, highlighting the expectant faces of Chadwick and the people around you.

The longer you waited in shock, the more nervous energy you could feel radiating from him.

“If you not with it Yaa, we can just stop right here. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” He apologized, wringing his hands. “But, please, don’t zone out on me like that. Please.”

“Yes,” your answer was abrupt and almost unheard over the chatter around you.

“What? Did you j-”

“Yes, Chadwick. Hell yeah I’ll be your lady!”

Chadwick couldn’t open his arms fast enough to catch your body as you threw yourself into him. Had your wildest dream really come true? Were you really holding on to Chadwick in front of thousands of baseball fans as fireworks shot off in the background? You couldn’t have wrote a more fitting fairytale moment if you tried.

He buried his face in the crook off your neck, letting the vibrations of his relieved laughter rumble against your warm skin.

“Fuck, girl. You had me worried for a second.”

“I’m sorry, Chad. I just-are you sure? Me?”

Pulling back, he cupped your face with both hands to look into your eyes, “I’m sure. I will always be sure, Yaa.”

His forehead his dropped against yours as his hand traveled to grab the back of your head. Before you could refuse, his lips pressed against your set, gently at first to test the waters. When you didn’t refuse, he deepened the display of affection.

Time seemed to stop as your mouths danced in perfect sync, an expression of all the feelings both of you had concealed from each other. It took all your resolve to keep your tongue out of the mix, considering the headlines that would spawn from the Black Panther’s full blown makeout session during America’s past time.

“Baby,” he mumbled against your lips. “We gotta stop.”

“Huh? Why? What’s wrong?” You attempted to catch his bottom lip again, making him chuckle.

“Not here, Yaa.” Gripping your wrist to stop your hands from roaming, he kissed the inside of each one before getting close your ear. You could feel the scratch of his beard as whispered into your ear. “Save that energy for later, love. You gon’ need it.”

#chadwick boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chadwick x reader #chadwick boseman x you #birthday request

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