#Greenville Drive

[pokemonwearingsportsmerch]

[moviehealthcommunity]

Tumblr user @aspiringbelle sent in this picture from a minor league baseball game, asking if this counts as a warning. Technically, this does count as a warning, but this is not a positive step forward in accessibility. The accessible course of action would treat health issues related to photosensitivity like the disability that they actually are.

Imagine being a wheelchair user, arriving at a building, and it's only when you arrive that you see signage all over the place that says "this building is not accessible to guests in wheelchairs." If you're going to make something inaccessible, the warning should be an inevitable thing that one comes across much earlier than arriving at the destination. But the real solution is to make things accessible to start with.

This baseball field touts upgrades to its nighttime lighting, which is an accessibility improvement, but it purposefully and knowingly excludes a significant percentage of potential game attendees.

Image ID: A sign displayed on a screen at a baseball field, headed by the team insignia of the Greenville Drive, reading: "NEW LIGHTING AT FLUOR FIELD. The stadium has upgraded to all new LED lighting that is on par with Major League Baseball. Light shows will take place throughout the night including strobe lighting and other lighting effects. These shows will be during home runs, starting lineup introductions, Sweet Caroline, and after every Greenville Drive win!"

[clove-pinks]

After a lot of driving back and forth on Anthony Wayne Trail—named for General "Mad" Anthony Wayne himself, Revolutionary War hero and apparently a Founding Father—we made it to the Fallen Timbers Battlefield and monument.

Our first stop (by accident) was the actual battlefield site, which has a plaque, a few nature trails, and a visitor's center that wasn't open.

I know this is the battlefield site, because it's right next to a mall called "The Shops at Fallen Timbers." Yeah, they built a shopping center adjacent to/basically on top of one of the most important sites commemorating the Northwest Indian War (1785-1795), which saw the United States defeating a confederacy of Indigenous peoples and their British allies, opening a huge territory to US settlers.

It prefigures the War of 1812, which involved the same Chippewa, Lenape, Ottawa, Potawatomi, Miami, Shawnee, Wyandot, United States, and British belligerents. The 1795 Treaty of Greenville, which followed Fallen Timbers, set aside large tracts of northwest Ohio for Indigenous use.

It was edifying to read the 1795 Treaty of Greenville, which names the Indigenous nations I've included from a list on a monument at the site as well as "Eel Rivers, Weas, Kickapoos, Piankeshaws, and Kaskaskias." (Make of the spelling what you will, because the Treaty even spells European names wrong e.g. Fort Lawrence instead of Fort Laurens). The Treaty carves out a number of exceptions for land in the territory ceded to U.S. forts, and a guarantee of free passage between the forts.

Obviously this is very significant in the War of 1812, which mostly took place in a region of Ohio that was granted to Indigenous people not even a generation earlier. William Henry Harrison, military leader and politician, was known for his manipulative and deceptive agreements that kept putting lands into U.S. hands without honoring past treaties. It's a lot of interconnected conflicts between opponents who are already familiar with each other (Harrison, Tecumseh, and Procter come to mind, but it goes even deeper).

I feel a lot of sympathy for the settlers and even the U.S. military personnel engaged in these conflicts; but this park is a rather one-sided presentation of a complicated history. There is an attempt at including more of the Indigenous perspectives, which is something that I think needs a lot more attention in Western War of 1812 history. They wouldn't make a monument like the 1929 Anthony Wayne memorial again.

Fallen Timbers Battlefield is confusing to locate because the historic site with the 1929 monument is also in the wrong place. Only in 1995 did researchers uncover the real location of the battle (near the present-day shopping center).

The GPS took me on some unnecessary adventures, but as you can see, people have been getting this wrong for over 200 years.

We didn't go walking on the trails (at either park), although it was a warm sunny day. I would like to do that in the future. I think you can still see some of the actual fallen timbers (trees knocked over by a tornado) on the real battlefield 230 years later!

[wckhamm]

I was reading up on that train explosion to make sure I was getting all my facts straight and it turns out I got pranked by sensationalists on twitter again

There is no news blackout; this is being reported by every major news site

The cops didn't blow up the train; it derailed, and the chemicals it was transporting could explode catastrophically at any time, so a controlled burn was done to alleviate the risk of an even worse environmental disaster happening

They're not black-bagging reporters trying to spread the truth; there was one reporter being ""aggressive"" and ""disruptive,"" but this one reporter that was arrested happened to be black. It's racism, not an attempt to suppress The Truth (which, again, isn't being suppressed, you can literally Google all of this). The dude was released, unharmed, hours later.

It's still a horrifying result of corporate negligence, but it's not some conspiracy that The Man is trying to cover up. It's an environmental disaster that deserves attention, which it IS getting. Just like, don't get pranked by people trying to spin it into a suppression conspiracy.

[waywardvagabonds]

Texted my therapist back yesterday mid-day to check in about an appointment again. She said she got a temporary space for in person visits but asked if I wanted to still do telehealth on the day I originally requested. I said I still needed the telehealth because that’s the only day I have off the rest of the month and could switch back to in person in November. Have not received a confirmation.

[jankandjonch]

16 days

[imaginespazzi]

Part 2: If Only You'd Been Here

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you (but ain't nobody love you like I do)

(In which a sadistic writer tortures her beloved ship a fair amount and maybe her readers too)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and maybe Fluff if you squint

Words: 6.5K (someone please be proud that it is in fact shorter 🙈)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good morning my lovelies <3 Just a couple of things I changed that you should know before you read. If you follow WCBB, you know UCLA didn't win the Pac-12 tournament in 2023 but in this universe they did. You also probably know they lost in the NCAA tournament last year to SC in the Greenville region but in this universe, for plot purposes, they're gonna be in the Seattle region. I kept their seeding and who they were playing vague because it was gonna get too complicated to figure out. Also if you saw my list of part titles a while ago, no you didn't lol. As always, feel free to know what you liked, what you didn't, and anything you'd like to see in future parts. And as you're reading, let's just remember y'all love me and everything I do is for the plot. Happy reading and have a wonderful week lovelies!

December 2022

The distinctly “car” smell of her car is starting to make Paige more than a little nauseous. Going by the way Drew is pouting in the passenger seat, he’s also clearly over it. They’ve been driving in circles for what feels like hours. At first, still enamoured with being allowed to sit in the front, her little brother had gone along with her ridiculousness. Now, as they approach maybe the 12th or so lap around the neighbourhood, he seems less than thrilled. 

“Alright let me out and you keep driving,” Drew says, fiddling agitatedly with his seatbelt, “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Well hold it in,” Paige retorts unhelpfully as they re-round the block. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, ignoring the glare her brother sends her away. He takes in a dramatic breath and leans back onto his seat. She grips the steering wheel tighter as they pass the house again, still not brave enough to pull into the driveaway of a place she’d once considered just as much a home as her own. 

Drew lets out another groan, “I shoulda just stayed home.”

“Well you didn’t-” Paige’s reply is cut off by the sound of a phone call reverberating around the car. The CallerID reads “Azzi (DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE)”, a name the younger girl had plugged in herself with a warning look the day Paige had left LA. Chewing whatever dry skin is still left on her bitten-to-death lips, Paige clicks accept on the call. 

“What number lap is this?” comes Azzi’s exasperated voice and Paige can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face. 

“Oh you know my car’s feeling the need to exercise today,” Paige hums back, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than she had just a couple of seconds ago. Sometimes, she’s not sure how she managed to go a year with this constant heavy weight pressing down on her ribs, and no Azzi to slowly ease her out from under it. 

“Azziiiiii,” Drew whines dramatically, “please come save me. I’m gonna die in this car.”

Affronted, Paige splutters, “nobody forced you to come.”

“You begged me to come,” her young brother quips back and it elicits a laugh from the girl on the other end of the line. 

“I did-”

“Paige,” Azzi cuts her off, “just come inside okay? You’re wasting gas for nothing.”

“I- it’s just-,” Paige’s hands tighten even more around the wheel, as she stops on the sidewalk, switching on her turn signal, but still not entering the driveway. She leans her head against the wheel, overwhelmed by emotions she can’t quite name. Drew places a comforting hand on her back and she sends him a reassuring smile, trying to shield her younger brother from the havoc in her brain. 

“Hey,” Azzi’s voice floats through the fog, “it’s just me okay? Me and you and us. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

It’s like a child being soothed with their favourite binkie, that’s what Azzi’s promise feels like to Paige. She finally turns into the driveaway, and both Drew and Azzi cheer in tandem. The knot in her chest loosens just a little bit at that because the large crowds that scream for her make her feel adored, but this, her own personal cheer squad for her littlest of achievements, well it makes her feel loved. 

“Freedom,” Drew yells as he practically flings himself out of Paige’s barely parked car. She rolls her eyes fondly at her mini me as he dramatically pretends to kiss the ground. It’s a small distraction from the memories that are swirling like a tornado in her mind. Minnesota is home, it’ll always be home but this place, this had been her safe haven, something she could hold onto at a time where everything else was slipping out of her hands. And then, like a fool, she’d let go of it. 

The door opens even before they’ve made it halfway to the door and Azzi’s brothers run out into the front yard. Jon pretends to take pictures and José practically falls to his knees as they swarm around the blonde. 

“Paige, Paige, can we get a picture or an autograph please,” they yell teasingly, “please Miss Bueckers we’re your biggest fans.”

“Move over boys,” Tim Fudd’s booming voice hollers, as he swats his children away, “her biggest fan is actually me eh Paige?”

The girl in question nods solemnly, her smile stretching the full length of her face, and both Jon and José let out a groan as their father beams at Paige. And then Katie’s there, not a hint of anything but pure happiness on her face as she wraps the younger girl into a hug. Paige melts into the embrace, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. Because all she can think about is the hundreds of calls and texts from Azzi that she’d left unanswered, all she can think of is Azzi's devastated face as she’d told Paige about just how hard she’d tried and that wretched ache of i don’t deserve this i broke your daughters heart wraps itself around Paige’s  heart. 

Over Katie’s shoulder, Paige watches as Azzi finally walks out into the law, her cheeks immediately turning red from the cold. The younger girl winks at Paige with a radiant smile, before giving all her attention to Drew who almost trips as he excitedly launches himself into Azzi, tiny hands wrapping around her waist. Paige watches, still buried in the warmth of Katie’s arms, as Drew animatedly tells Azzi all the stories he possibly can and Azzi nods along emphatically as if she’s being told the most important facts of her life. And Paige takes a snapshot of it to add to her ever growing collection of moments i just knew. 

***

January 2023

“Call her.”

Paige doesn’t bother replying, burying her face further into her tear-soaked pillow. Maybe if she ignores her teammate, Caroline will get the message and go away. The earth-shattering pain that she’d subdued for the last couple of months had finally reared its ugly head. And that too at the worst time possible, when her team needed to be a source of strength and with cameras catching the teardrops falling as she mourned the loss of not being able to play in the epic UConn-Tennessee rivalry. She’d done so well at holding it in, breaking apart only a couple of times, sometimes alone and sometimes with Azzi on the other end of the line. Until tonight, when the bright lights and roaring crowd had reignited the itch to just fucking play ball. 

“Paige,” Caroline says again, “stop being stubborn and call her.”

“She has a game tomorrow, she doesn’t need my dramatic ass worrying her right now,” Paige replies, getting into a sitting position when she realises the other girl isn’t about to just let this go. 

“You’re eventually going to call her. The two of you haven’t gone one day without talking to each other since this summer,” Caroline gives her a look, a hint of a smirk play on her face when it tints Paige’s cheeks pink, “seriously, just call her.”

It’s not that Paige doesn’t want to. She’d scrolled through her contacts and stopped at Azzi’s one too many time’s tonight. And each time, just as her fingers had hovered over the green call button, she’d felt guilt claw at her neck. Since she’d shown up in LA, Azzi had shown up for Paige every step of the way, checking in regularly, listening to Paige vent her anger at the world and whispering words of comfort that only sounded true when they came from Azzi’s mouth. Sometimes, if she tries really hard, Paige can feel the ghost of Azzi’s arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders, just as they had that one night in LA when Azzi had held her, so delicately as if she was made of porcelain, through the worst of her breakdowns. 

“She needs to focus on her game,” Paige says after a moment. 

Caroline sighs, mind wandering to the countless texts on her phone from Azzi begging her to take care of Paige and to let her know when the blonde wasn’t doing okay, “I know but she’d want you to call her if she knew. You need her.”

“And where was I when she needed me?” it’s the word need that triggers it, the quick snap because it’s all Paige has been able to think about lately. 

Without basketball, she’d had far too much time on her hands and she’d ended up going down a spiral of watching Azzi’s games from her freshman year, something she’d religiously avoided doing when they had happened live. At first, it had just been this immense feeling of pride, seeing her best friend be the college basketball phenomenon Paige had always known she would be. She’d shoved away the envy of it was supposed to be us that immersed her seeing the way the Bruins celebrated their new star player, and just let herself be happy in her best friend’s happiness. 

And then something changed around at the beginning of January 2022. It had only lasted a couple of games, but Azzi had hit a wall. Threes were short, cuts were made at the wrong time and she kept on getting lost on defence in a way that was very unlike her. And all Paige could focus on, eyes glued to the screen, was how completely and utterly exhausted Azzi looked during that stretch, despite the fact that she’d just come back from winter break. The smile had vanished off her face, replaced by stress lines Paige wished she could go back in time and erase. 

It wasn’t until she’d binged through all the games, cheering silently as Azzi slowly returned to form, that the realisation had hit Paige. She’d been slapped with the memory of a store decorated brightly for Christmas and a familiar voice calling her name, as she’d purposely walked the other way, pretending she hadn’t heard and the more than deserved i’m done trying text that had followed right after. For a year, perhaps longer, Paige had convinced herself that she was the only one who had lost something, she was the only one who had a right to hurt, to break. And still, she thinks she’d take all of that pain again a thousand times, if it means she could erase the fact that in all of her self-pity, she’d broken Azzi too.

“Where was I when she needed me?” she repeats again to Caroline, as the brunette stares at her in confusion, “the answer to that Carol, is that I was anywhere but with her.”

Caroline’s eyes soften in realisation as she takes a cautious step towards Paige, “oh P don’t do this to yourself.”

“I want to call her,” Paige confesses in a whisper, tears brimming in her eyes, “it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do all day and maybe- maybe I should have but I’m just- I’ve been so unfair to her.”

“You were hurt Paige.”

“I know- I know that. But so was she. You don’t- god Carol- you don’t even know the things I said to her before she left for LA. And she’s still here,” the first tears fall from her blue eyes, and then the next and the next until there’s a steady waterfall streaming down her face, “you know I almost didn’t let her in when she first came over this summer?”

Caroline doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to come sit next to Paige and wrap her arms around the point guard. 

“I didn’t answer her calls or her texts for a year and still, still she’s picked up every call, replied to every text I’ve sent her since summer. I know- I know I need her and she’s going to be there of course she is. But when she needed me, where was I?” Paige drops her face into her hands, “I just- I don’t deserve her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Caroline rubs Paige’s back and lets the older girl wallow in her guilt. And then she reaches for Paige’s phone on the nightstand, ignoring the little grunt of protest. When the screen lights up, there’s already a notification of new messages from Azzi and Caroline can’t help but smile. 

“I think,” she begins softly, “Azzi’s a smart girl so maybe give that tiny little brain of yours a little bit of rest and let her decide who deserves her,” she hands Paige her phone “let her be there for you. I think maybe she needs that too.”

Caroline gives Paige’s shoulders a little squeeze before heading out the doors, giving the older girl a moment of privacy. Paige sighs, getting herself comfortable against her pillows, and rubbing away her tears, before finally giving in and pressing the facetime call button. 

“Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk about it?” Azzi says as soon as she picks up and Paige can see the concern etched all over her face.

“Or maybe I’m perfectly fine?”

“Ah we’re playing the pretend game tonight. Should have cleared your throat for a second longer maybe Miss Perfectly Fine, your eyes are red as fuck and you sound like a dying cat.” 

“Wow, that was rude. Maybe I’m sick?” 

“With what? The “lies to her best friend” flu?”

“That UCLA education has you making up illnesses now? Damn Az, you’re supposed to get smarter in college.”

“You’re so funny, like so funny,” Azzi huffs sarcastically before they both dissolve into giggles. It’s always just been so easy with them. And Paige’s isn’t a poet, but if she was, she’d write sonnets about the sound of Azzi’s laughter, and the way it makes the corner of her eyes crinkle. 

“I watched the game,” Azzi says after a second, “and I saw you.”

Paige smirks, “so you didn’t actually watch the game, just stared at my gorgeous face the whole time?”

“There’s that comedian streak of yours again.”

“Hey you’re the one who said you were watching me instead of the game. But who could blame you really?”

“I didn’t-” Azzi rolls her eyes, as Paige’s cocky smirk deepens, “stop it.”

“You can admit I’m a pretty girl Az,” she teases, delighted when it makes the younger girl blush. 

“Fuck off, you have enough people telling you you’re a pretty girl.”

“Yeah but it means more coming from you,” she says quietly, biting her lip. It’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to say to your best friend, at least not in the soft, wanting way that Paige says it. Except they both know that the lines in their friendship are far more blurred than they should be, even if they've both done a pretty fantastic job at ignoring that kiss. Paige had learned over Christmas that Azzi was exceptionally good at the pretending part, moving away the moment Paige’s hands lingered a little longer than they should, changing topics if they even got anywhere near addressing the something between them. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did and Paige doesn’t understand how she can so desperately miss something that she never even had in the first place. 

“So distraction then?” Azzi says after a second, changing the subject back to her initial question. 

Paige closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath, “it was just- it was a lot tonight. I didn’t realise I was being that obvious.”

“You weren’t. I just know you a little too well.”

“These are my favourite types of games, you know. The rivalry, the crowd booing my name and getting the chance to quiet them, that’s- that’s the type of game players live for and I just- I miss it Azzi. I miss shooting, I miss defending, I miss just standing on the fucking court sometimes. I miss playing basketball. So. Fucking. Much,” a fresh set of tears leak out of Paige's eyes, as her free hand fists at her bedsheets. 

There’s silence as Paige’s words linger in the air. In a way it’s freeing to be able to say it out loud, to just let herself feel how she feels instead of fighting them. 

“You’re gonna miss it every day until you play again,” Azzi says quietly, her own voice thick with emotions, “and it’s not really gonna get easier until you get it back. But when you finally do, just- just imagine it okay, your first game back. The feeling of the crowd. Dribbling up the court. Making that first shot as everybody loses their minds. Finally just playing the game you love. That’s when that feeling of loss will finally go away.”

Using Azzi’s steady breathing as an anchor to still her erratic heartbeat, Paige lets herself get lost in the picture the younger girl has just painted for her. She lets her mind run to the future that lies ahead of her and if she focuses hard enough she can almost hear the Gampel crowds roaring as she finally returns to the court. 

“It’s kinda really fucking annoying how you always know what to say,” no it isn’t, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Paige going these days. 

“Surviving an ACL injury will do that to a girl,” Azzi says with a pained smile. 

That’s not it Paige thinks, it’s not experience, it’s you and I really wish you were here. But she can’t say that, so she changes the subject instead. 

“Tell me about your game tomorrow.”

They both settle back into their pillows, getting into more comfortable positions. Azzi tells Paige all about her upcoming game and then moves onto another topic, then another and another and another. They’ll wake up tomorrow morning to phones that died and no memory of when they’d fallen asleep. And then they’ll remember who was on the other end of the line, and if that makes them smile a little too hard, well that’s just another thing they’ll pretend didn’t happen. 

***

March 2023

It’s only natural that when Paige finally feels like she can learn to live with just having a little bit of Azzi, that the world would show her just how wrong she could be. She’s been in a much better headspace these days, her knee finally starting to feel like itself again, bit by bit. The guilt of not being able to help her team is still settled into the pits of her stomach but even with that, she’s reached a sort of acceptance. And while she’s still struggling to fight the part of her heart that wants so much more, she’s learning to be content with just having her best friend back.

It’s that little bit of time in between conference tournaments and the NCAA tournament when it feels like the calm before the storm and it’s the first weekend since before the season that the UConn team finally gets to go out and let loose for a bit. They’re riding the height of winning another Big East title and even if it’s a little bittersweet that they did it without her, Paige is beyond the moon happy for her team. 

She turns up the music in her room and changes the lights for the sake of a little ambience, before sitting down at her desk, to call Azzi and do what little of her makeup she knows how to do. Normally she’d get one of the other girls or Kayla to do it, but she’d rather sacrifice a flawless makeup look then miss out on having Azzi tease her about how she still didn’t quite know how to do her eyeliner properly yet. 

The fact that it takes Azzi longer than the third ring to pick up should be Paige’s first warning sign but instead she’s sucking in a deep breath at the sight of her best friend who looks breathtakingly beautiful tonight. Paige’s heart stutters as she takes in Azzi’s face, the light layer of red lipstick (that Paige wants to kiss off), the blush-tinged cheeks (that Paige wants to caress delicately) and the perfectly done mascara on her eyelashes (that Paige wants to feel flutter against her own skin). 

She lets out a low appreciative whistle, “celebrating that Pac-12 championship in style huh?”

“Something like that,” Azzi bites her lip and really that should have been warning sign number two, “was there- was there something you needed?’

“I can’t just call you?” Paige asks, noticing the tension on Azzi’s face, “are you busy?”

“No it’s not-”

“She is actually,” a different voice cuts in aggressively and Azzi immediately gives whoever it is an exasperated look. Paige doesn’t know who it is, but she guesses it’s one of the UCLA players. It’s no secret they aren’t huge fans of her. They’d made that much clear the few times they’d met Paige during September, always regarding her with a wary eyes. It wasn’t their fault really, Paige understood their protectiveness, in fact she appreciated it more than they would ever understand. 

“Chill Angela.” 

“Are you not busy then?” the other voice who Paige assumes is Angela Dugalic says, clearly a little annoyed. And then Azzi’s phone is being shifted away from her and instead it’s Angela’s face that covers Paige’s screen. 

“Oh,” the blonde manages to get out, taken aback by the sudden change, “hi Angela.”

“Hi Paige,” the other girl says, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. 

“Angela,” there’s a clear warning in Azzi’s voice and Paige already knows, even before the words are let out into the open, that whatever Dugalic is about to say is going to tear her apart. 

“Azzi has a date tonight,” Angela pronounces the last words with a gleeful lilt. 

The world spins and Paige’s head spins with it, as she grips onto her desk for some semblance of stability. She can hear Azzi spluttering in the background as she tries to get her phone back but it’s of no use as the UCLA forward powers on. 

“With a really pretty girl,” Angela smirks at the camera, clearly trying to prove something, “Zoe’s really wonderful. You’d like her, Paige.”

Zoe. Recognition registers in Paige’s brain. She remembers seeing the name flashing on Azzi’s phone a couple of times, accompanied by a photo she never quite caught a glimpse of. But as she tended to do with most phone calls that came during her time with Paige, Azzi had simply just declined the call and texted whoever that she’d call her back later. And so Paige hadn’t really bothered caring about Zoe, chalking her up to being some random friend Azzi had made. But fuck, maybe she should have cared. 

“And Azzi really likes her I think. They’ve been tiptoeing around it for ages you know? But we all knew it was only a matter of time.”

A strangled noise escapes Paige’s throat and she tries her best to disguise it as anything but the cry of despair it is. It feels like there’s a thousand knives digging into her skin, pressing harder and harder until she has no blood left to bleed. 

“They’re gonna make the cu-”

“Give me my phone back Angela,” Azzi’s voice cuts in harshly and Paige hurriedly rushes to contort her features into a smile right before the camera’s back to facing her best friend. 

“So you’re all dressed up for a date then?” Paige manages to get out and the word date sounds like bile on her tongue. 

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” comes Angela’s voice again; the girl seemingly on a mission to break Paige as much as possible, “give her a proper look Az.”

“Angela,” Azzi hisses through gritted teeth. 

“N-no show me the fit,” Paige counters, because that’s what a best friend’s supposed to say right? Show me how fucking perfect you look for a girl that’s not me

Azzi hesitates, swallowing nervously, before she takes a couple of steps back so the camera captures all of her. And Paige wishes she’d never asked to be shown in the first place, hell she wishes she’d never bothered to call tonight. Because she thinks the image of Azzi’s casual light blue jeans and simple green off-the shoulder top will be etched in her mind forever, captioned with the words not for you. 

“You look lovely Azzi,” she whispers quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Zoe won’t be able to keep her fucking hands off of you,” Angela supplies and this time the glare Azzi shoots her is murderous. 

“I think I hear Emily calling your name Angela.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes,” Azzi says pointedly, “yes you do.”

Angela rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest this time. She turns to the phone with a devilish grin, clearly feeling accomplished in being a menace, “nice talking to you Paige.”

She waltzes out, leaving Paige, Azzi and a silence that feels like it could drown them. 

“You could have told me,” the blond says after a second, averting her eyes from the screen, “aren’t dates the kind of thing best friends are supposed to tell each other?”

“Paige-”

“It’s good though- you-uh- you deserve a night out.”

“P-”

“Listen, I uh- I’m going out too so- I- umm- I better get going but-,” Paige takes in a deep breath, “have a- have wonderful time on your date Az.”

She hangs up before Azzi can reply, the concern in the younger girl's eyes becoming too much to bear. For a moment, she stares straight ahead at the wall, just processing. And then she lets herself fall apart. 

***

It’s 1 a.m., Paige is drunk and miserable and so fucking tired; it’s an extremely dangerous combination. Aaliyah and Amari had practically had to carry her to her dorm because she’d been stumbling far too much and everyone was worried she’d eventually fall flat on her face. Personally, Paige thought they just didn’t have enough faith in her. She wasn’t even that drunk, she couldn’t be. After all she could still feel that stupid Azzi-sized scar on heart and wasn’t the whole point of being drunk supposed to be not being able to feel? But she has to be drunk because sober her would know better than to do what she does next, would know better than to call Azzi when she has no control over herself. 

“Paige? Is everything okay? Are you okay,” Azzi’s voice is filled with concern when she answers.

“Azziiiii,” Paige slurs, “areyoustillwithyourdate?”

“What?”

“Are. you. still. with. your. date?” Paige pronounces each word slowly. 

“I- yeah. She’s in a different room. Paige, are you okay?” 

“Interesting,” the blonde remarks quietly, “you never picked up her calls when you were with me. And we weren’t even dating.”

She hears Azzi’s breath hitch on the other end, can almost picture her doing that nervous swallow of hers, “ I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t care if she was okay then? Those times she called you?”

“That’s not- she didn’t call me at 1 a.m.” the younger girl justifies hollowly. 

“Bullshit,” Paige scoffs, “1 a.m. isn’t even that fucking late. Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about me waaaayyyyy more than you care about Zara or whatever?”

“Zoe. You’re drunk Paige, go to bed,” and Paige really should listen to the edge in Azzi’s voice.

“Where did y’all go?” she asks lightly, changing the subject, “c’mon Az, best friends share their date stories right?”

“Baltaire,” Azzi relents, choosing to let this battle go. 

“Oooh that restaurant we passed that one time wow,” Paige coos, “too fucking bad you hate fine dining huh? But she wouldn’t know that now would she? Because she doesn’t fucking know you.”

“Paige please,” Azzi breathes out quietly in a pained voice.

“But you know who does know you? Me. And I would have never taken you to some boring old fancy ass piece of shit restaurant like that.”

“Don’t-”

“I would have taken you on a picnic. Do you remember that park you loved, the one by my air bnb? There, that’s where I would have taken you. And I’d have gotten you supermarket sushi even though I fucking hate that shit but I know, I know, you like it. And flowers. Did she get you flowers? Because I- I would have. Roses and peonies and lilies, a whole fucking bouquet.”

And Paige is crying again, for the second time tonight, one hand gripping at her phone as the other one tries to wipe away the frantically falling teardrops. 

“And we’d stay at that park til the sun goes out and I’d take a polaroid of you in the sunset and I’d keep it forever. I swear Azzi, I’d keep it forever and I’d put it on my wall.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, as if it’s the only word she knows, as if it’s the only word that matters. 

“I’d bring my laptop so that when it finally gets dark, we can watch a movie. You choose Az, whatever you want. And I’d get distracted and start playing with your hair or something and you’ll pretend it’s annoying you but you’d be smiling. Fuck I love your smile.”

“You can’t- you can’t just say these things Paige.”

“Why not? It’s the truth right- why can’t I say the truth?,” Paige says petulantly, “but hush okay I’m not- I’m not finished yet. And then, then we’d just lie under the stars and it'd just be you, me and the sky. Perfect.” 

Azzi lets out a broken sob and Paige hates it, she hates it but she keeps on talking. 

“And then I’d take you home and I’d kiss you,” she whispers the last bit like a confession, “everywhere. Fuck, I’d make it so good for you Az. So good. Everything you wanted, everything you needed, I’d give you all of it. I’d make you come apart on my fingers and then my tongue-”

“Shut up,” Azzi’s voice is suddenly cold and frosty and it feels like all the heat has been sucked out of Paige’s room as well, “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Azzi-”

“No,” Azzi all but yells, “you don’t get to say all of that to me.”

“Then who does? Her? Zia or whatever? Who the fuck even is she?” Paige spits out venomously.

“Zoe. Her name is Zoe and you wanna know she is Paige?” 

She should say no. She should apologise for interrupting Azzi’s date and hang up the phone, but no, Paige doesn’t do any of that, “enlighten me why don’t you.”

“She’s the girl who was there,” Azzi says, her voice cracking, “she’s the girl who held me last year when I was going through the worst time of my life. She was there when I couldn’t make a fucking shot and I thought maybe I’d never be good enough. She was there when I let the pressure and the media and all of it get to my head. She was there when I was crying my eyes out over losing the one person I was sure would always stay. She- she’s who you were supposed to be because she was there, and you weren’t.”

Paige isn’t sure if it’s the bitterness behind Azzi’s words or the brokenness of her sobs that is the reason for the ache in her own chest. All she knows is that she still remembers tearing her ACL, and she doesn’t think it hurt as much as this. 

“It was supposed to be you,” Azzi sniffles, “I wanted it to be you. Because I’d have let you- fuck- Paige- I’d have let you take me on a picninc and if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favorite mac and cheese. I- I know you don’t really care about flowers so I’d get you chocolate, the rum-filled ones that you love. And that sunset polaroid would have been a selfie of us, where you’re kissing my cheek and I’d have it framed. I’d pick out a movie but first- first you could watch whatever basketball game was on and you’d get exasperated when I don’t know the team because I’m literally a basketball player,” she lets out a wet laugh, “but I know you secretly like explaining the NBA to me. And then- then I’d have let you take me home and I’d let you take everything. Whatever you wanted, it’d be yours.”

The vivid image of a date that never happened fills every inch of Paige’s brain. She feels like she’s in a bad dream, trying so hard to reach for a happiness that keeps on evading her grasp. 

“But you weren’t there then Paige, and you aren’t here now.” 

“Azzi-” Paige chokes out. 

“Go to bed Paige,” the younger girl says, her voice shaky but adamant, ‘Get some sleep. Maybe you’re drunk enough that you won’t remember this when I call you tomorrow.”

“Right. So we’re gonna pretend this never happened. Again. We’ll just keep on pretending forever I guess,” Paige retorts bitterly. 

“Yes, we will. Because if I stop pretending, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive.”

***

The buzzer rings around Climate Pledge Arena as the UCLA women’s basketball team loses in the Elite 8 on a last second buzzer beater. Azzi’s face contorts into one of sheer disappointment, and in the stands, Paige feels her own heart drop. She’s not one to root for a team outside of her own and god knows what would happen if Nika found out that she’d been screaming her head off each time the Bruins, or at least one specific Bruin, scored, but for Azzi, well, there’s not many of her own rules that Paige follows when it comes to her best friend. 

It had taken a fair amount of convincing on Paige’s part to even be able to come to this game. Everyone had wanted to leave immediately after the Sweet 16 loss but Paige had insisted they needed to stay in Seattle, do something to get the team’s mind off of the terrible end to their season. And that wasn’t a complete lie because even if she hadn’t been able to help when they needed it on the court, she could try and help boost morale. But she knew her teammates weren’t fooled. They knew the schedule just as well as she did and they knew exactly what or better yet, who she wanted to stay for. 

On the court, Paige can tell Azzi’s fighting back tears. The brunette had given it her all, scoring an efficient 34 points and really the game could have gone any way. That last minute heave from the opposing team really probably shouldn’t have gone in, but at the end of the day the NCAA tournament was a lot about skill but also a little about luck. But Paige knows, Azzi isn’t thinking about any of that, too busy finding a way to blame herself even though she’d had a near perfect night. They were just too similar sometimes. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker through the stands, clearly looking for a familiar face. Paige resists the urge to run on to the court and pull the younger girl into her arms and soothe away the defeated look in her eyes, if only for the fact that Azzi doesn’t actually even know she’d figured out a way to stay back for this game. Despite being in the same city, they hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time together and while Paige’s teammates had tried to be of some help, Azzi’s teammates had seemed determined to pull her away as much as possible. All of that on top of the fact that they’re still playing that stupid game of pretend had left Paige wanting for just one moment alone for the two of them. 

As soon as the UCLA team starts heading back to their locker room, and the crowd starts leaving, Paige scurries towards where she knows Azzi will be. Their assigned locker room isn’t that far from where UConn’s had been and Paige gets there in almost record time, her mind firmly planted on being there for Azzi. She’d missed so many opportunities, but this time, this time she’d be there. 

Azzi’s leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and Paige has to take in a breath at the sight of her. Sweat sheens against her tan skin and her gameday braids are falling apart just a little but still, she’s perfect. Before Paige can take a step towards her, there’s another girl, all dark hair and long legs, brushing past her, rushing to get to Azzi’s side. It’s like the world has stopped and yet is spinning too fast all at the same time, as Paige watches this girl, Zoe, pull Azzi, Paige’s Azzi, into her arms. 

After the night of the date (and everything else they’re ignoring), Paige hadn’t bothered to bring it up and Azzi had never said anything about it again. Naively, the blonde had thought that maybe that meant nothing much had transpired after the date, silently patting herself on the back for possibly even having had a hand in that. Except, the way Zoe holds Azzi isn’t fucking platonic and the way Azzi relaxes in Zoe’s arms, isn’t fucking friendly. 

“I”ve got you Az,” Zoe whispers into Azzi’s hair and Paige wants to die. She should look away, she should walk away but her feet seem to be glued to the ground. And she remembers the way Azzi’s eyes were searching the crowd and oh- she’d been looking for- Paige can’t even let herself complete the thought because she’s sure she’ll burst into flames the second she does. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Azzi says quietly to Zoe. To Zoe, and not Paige. If she could feel anything beyond the dagger twisting in her heart, maybe Paige would hear the way there’s still a tinge of disappointment in Azzi’s voice, as if she’s wishing it was someone else. 

It takes Zoe pressing a kiss into Azzi’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from the brunette for Paige to finally tear her eyes away. Her feet finally move and then she’s running faster than she has in a long time, ignoring the way it causes her muscle to ache. She can’t tell if her rapid blinking is to usher away the tears or to try and prevent the memory of Azzi with some other girl from welding itself into her eyelids. It blurs her vision and in the speed of things, she can barely tell where she’s going. Paige runs chest-first into a wall, bruising her elbow. Her phone slips out of her hands, falling to the ground with a loud thud, the screen protector cracking into pieces. 

And when Paige looks at the mess of her phone on the floor, she thinks it couldn’t possibly have cracked harder than this silly little stupid heart of hers.

[kawaiijohn]

Good morning. Where do I even start today- trying to keep up with disaster relief is tough since a lot of my normal sources are without power or incredibly focused on doing the actual recovery.

I guess I'll start with one of the sources I get a lot of breaking news from and what he said yesterday:

Ryan Hall is a YouTube weatherman with an incredible team that delivers free weather broadcasting through his YouTube lives during major events. He's from east Kentucky and is very invested in Appalachia weather recovery and awareness. The man's a local and he's part of the reason I'm even aware of the risks heavy rains can bring in this region of the states.

And this post from the national weather service office in Greenville - Spartanburg SC, that serves a wide area around it;

"this is one (forecast) we wanted to get wrong. this is the worst event in our office's history."

This thread concludes: media was sent to Florida and so a lot of people don't quite know what's going on in appalachia- if you can I suggest reading this person's entire thread, which is too long for me to type or try to post on here and keep it readable, so try the second link under here for an unrolled thread that'll be easier for screen readers;

Minor update from yesterday's post: the governor of Tennessee finally fucking declared a state of emergency after his shitty day of prayer and fasting announcement. It took him like six hours to get off his ass and do it.

The power is still majorly out as of this morning in a vast area of the states. As you can see, a majority is in Appalachia, central Georgia, and the Florida big bend. Florida, I know for a fact, has tons of electrical technicians working to restore power and cell service.

This map really highlights the state divide from eastern Tennessee/Kentucky and the Carolinas too.

Despite the doom and gloom, a few things are starting to get better.

Quite a few dams managed to hold, and some roads in west NC are more passable, but there are so many people reporting that it was taking them upwards of seven hours to get out of Asheville, which is a major city.

Below has a few pics and statements about the state of roads late last night/early today.

The end of this tweet says "this is an absolute mega disaster for Western NC on the order of hurricane Katrina."

With how long the recovery might actually take, I'm certainly hoping it's handled better. One of the responses on this thread mentions no military presence/help as of 20 hours ago, but this has since changed with the national guard finally deploying in some areas.

Overall, fooding hit historical levels in a lot of states, with Atlanta GA even declaring a flash flood emergency at one point, which is the highest risk level of a flash flood warning - it means "get out and get up high NOW"

Rescue and recovery operations are on the way.

Local groups, storm chasers, and organizations are on the way. The national guard is deploying and helicopters are coming from volunteers and the military alike in the most affected areas.

Chris Hall, a storm chaser who works with a lot of organizations, has been driving around doing things like setting up starlink access in Asheville and helping serve hot food with a Florida based disaster recovery group since Friday.

Hell he even posted this, which if you know the waffle house index, is a little neat to see- for context, fema will look at waffle house closures in areas hit by natural disasters to gage preliminarily relief need.

Waffle houses are infamous for never closing. So for a limited menu to be served, it means this spot in GA was still hit pretty hard.

If you want to and can, here is one place with local donation resources for west NC

And different organizations and weather community types to help that are boots on the ground type volunteers with a bit more of a national focus;

If you are good at adding alt text or doing text description for screen readers, please help me with these posts. It is incredibly hard to do those sorts of things on mobile due to my own limitations.

Please be safe.

[etraytin]

News from the Hurricane

Still in Charlotte but the deliveries from Amazon are starting to roll in, giving us supplies we will need to go back in the next couple days. We now have a portable toilet, a solar panel for our large power bank, and a safety gas can that will let me carry and store five gallons of gas without freaking out about it constantly. I also got bath wipes and those shower caps they use in hospital for waterless hair washing, plus more paper plates and plastic cutlery. Most importantly, I sank just an obscene amount of money into a legit battery pack for my CPAP, one that is supposed to last for 4-6 nights per charge rather than one night per charge like the power bank.

Being in Charlotte is comparatively great, we are staying with family and they have a guest room so we have privacy, lights, air conditioning, toilets and showers. I don't forget for a minute how lucky we are. It has still been kind of rough at times, sometime in weird ways. I came right to the edge of a mini-breakdown in Walmart yesterday, trying to stock up on things that were not available, trying to decide what was important enough to add to our very limited car space, wondering what things are going to be like when we get back and what I'm going to be kicking myself for forgetting. And around me everyone else was just shopping like normal, of course, because life is normal here. It was a little like being in a dream where I knew I had to get ready for something important and scary but nobody else around me understood anything was happening and whenever I tried to find something it wasn't there. I ended up cutting my trip short and sitting in the car to decompress with emergency candy and some texts with my best friend, talking me down from hundreds of miles away.

It finally occurred to me last night that now that we have a gas can, whole new horizons of supply-getting have opened up for us. If we take that gas can back and I put it in the minivan, I can easily make it back to Charlotte, or to Greenville, or several other places depending on which roads are open. We can get more stuff, it's just a little more complicated right now. It was enough to calm my rabid squirrel brain down and let me relax, at least. Things are going to be okay. The power will not be off forever. Heck, once we get the power back on we will be able to help the folks on city water who need to wait for the treatment plants to be repaired before they get water.

Oh, and my dad talked me out of buying the last gas-powered chainsaw at Lowes just because I thought I ought to have a chainsaw and this was the LAST ONE. I think I probably owe him one for that. Sure I had some vague idea of helping with a chainsaw crew, but I don't even know how to use a chainsaw. I know how to run a shelter and do mass-care feeding and drive an emergency response vehicle, why on earth would I try and help out with a chainsaw instead?

On the actual news front, our family in Spruce Pine is safe and sitting pretty on generator power, just completely cut off. My 101 year old client is safe too, taken out of town by his adult kids as soon as the roads opened up. And I heard from our neighbor this morning, there is cell service in our neighborhood, patchy and poor but real! Things really are looking up.

[psychopunky]

Deadly Premonition x Reader WIP

Heyo since I can't get the next chapter of Stalk, Drop and Roll out take this. I did it like at the beginning of 2024 so the writing might be bad. Sorry it's not postal. Summery: It's the start of Deadly Premonition but with the reader. All the context need is the reader is York's childhood friend and not a FBI agent. Warning: Animal Death Word Count: 2574

Yet again you found yourself in York's small call. He had his cellphone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He was talking about Tom and Jerry to someone. You sat in the passenger seat with York's laptop on your lap. The official laptop holder with your own laptop bag and backpack between your legs.

Zoned out of York's conversation a while ago. He let out a grumble and tossed his phone into the cup holder. Getting your attention away from the view outside the window. “What's wrong York?” York sighed his hand going out to the laptop in your lap. Slapping at his hand not letting him mess with the laptop. Last thing you needed was more of his distracted driving. “The phone cut out. You think the FBI could spring for a satellite phone.” As York spoke you opened the laptop turning it towards him. Not wanting to see the gruesome crime scene photos.

York glanced at the laptop reaching over to tap a few keys. Your eyes went to the road double checking nothing was wrong. It was raining heavily as the car flew down the road. Another warning about his speed on the tip of your tongue. It would be the hundredth one on this trip.

When he messed with the laptop too long you swatted his hand away. “The road, York.” Fixing him with a glare as you warned him. York chuckled, shaking his head. “You're much too cautious. I've had this car for years and it’s fine.” York pat your thigh to reassure you. Closing the laptop you kept it in your lap. Resting your hands on top of it.

With one hand he pulled out a cigarette pack. He had done his bet to not smoke on this trip knowing your dislike for cigarettes. You weren’t far from Greenville now, probably another ten to fifteen minutes. Figuring you could stand at least one cigarette after this long trip.

Watching York as he held a cigarette in his lips as he pulled out his lighter. He flicked it a few times but it didn’t work. Your heart sank at the thought of your gift finally going out for good. You reached your hand out to take it from him. 

York glanced at the lighter then to your hand finally the road that neither of you were watching. Dropping the lighter suddenly. His hands fly up to the steering wheel. Your own eyes snapped to the road in a panic.

Only catching a glimpse of a man in a red raincoat standing in the middle of the road. York jerked the wheel to one side making the car jerk with it. The seat belt locked keeping you from jerking with the motion. Crashing into the forest lining the road. A sudden dip in the forest floor made your heart stop. York fought with the car as it skidded down hill. Between the heavy rain and the muddy forest floor it was impossible to stop. Uneven ground jostled the car with branches smacking the windows. York’s laptop slipped to the floor as you both got bounced around. “York!” Screaming in a panic as you watched the car skid out of control. York's voice was drowned out by the branches, bushes, rocks and rain all slammed into the car. A tree branch slammed hard into the windshield cracking with a sickening crunch. York grunted as he yanked the steering wheel back and forth. Fighting for control as he guided it through the trees. A tree scraped down the entire passenger side of the car. The ungodly noise of metal being scraped and dented hurt your ears. Looking to York in a panic he was white knuckle gripping the steering wheel. Teeth clenched around the cigarette still in his mouth. York kept jerking the wheel trying to get the car to move. Barley dogging the trees in the way. You could hear the barks engaged as York pressed the brake pedal to the floor. The seatbelt dug into your torso keeping you firmly in place. Every jolt and shake of the car made the belt dig into your shoulder and hips.

Suddenly the trees cleared but only for a split second. A feeling of weightlessness suddenly hit. In the same moment you realize the car was in the air it hit the ground. Squeezing your eye’s shut as the car starts to roll. Slamming into the ground over and over as it rolls across the muddy ground. Glass breaks, things fly and you keep your eyes shut. The crunch of metal with every hit on the ground. It’s over in a moment as the car rolls one last time landing on its roof. Rocking to a stop your heart slammed in your chest. Body trembling as blood rushes to your ears muting all sounds. Trying to breathe causes pain to shoot through your face. Your body screamed for air making your breath come out fast. Soon turning into hyperventilating as adrenaline took hold. The seat belt kept you suspended upside down. Each point where the seat belt met your body was burning. Stabbing pain with each movement your own weight working against you. Keeping your body pinned against the seat belt continues the pain. 

Snapping your eyes open, you looked out the broken windshield. Not able to see out of it due to its shattered state. Looking around the car you quickly noticed York was missing. The driver's seat was empty with the driver's door wide open. York's laptop and phone lay on the ground just outside the door.

“York!?” You scream, hands flying to the seat belt. Your first thought was he got thrown from the car. Your hands were shaking so much that your fingers couldn’t grip the seatbelt. Wedging your hand under the belt going across your chest. Trying to tug it off but it stayed firmly in place. Your head started to spin as blood rushed to it.

Horrible scraping noises filled the small space of the car. The car rocked as the door next to you cracked open. It only moved a few inches before stopping. Looking at the door in horror you yanked on the seatbelt again. Sounds of the surrounding world started to flood your ears again.Heavy rain drowned out almost everything but you heard York. He yelled for you over the rain. Calling back to him the door was pulled again this time giving more. It got about halfway open before York appeared crouching in the small opening.

“Oh thank god.” You mumbled breathing out a sigh of relief. Flinching as the breath that comes out your noise sends another shock of pain through it. Something must have smacked you in the face. Looking to York for help or reassurance.

“Think you can get down?” He started removing his soaked suit jacket. Laying it over the glass covered roof. “Maybe … everything hurts.” Grabbing at the seatbelt you tried to unbuckle it, nothing happened. Giving it a few more tries it appeared to be stuck. York started to reach out when the buckle clicked, releasing you into a sudden drop.

Falling out of the seat onto the ground with a yelp. York's suit jacket keeps glass from imbedding into your face and hands. Laying on the ground the world spins as blood rushes around. There’s no time to recover as York starts to pull you out. His hands grabbed your arms as he pulled you out the door.

Once outside icy rain hits your skin like needles. The sudden jolt of cold snapped you out of the foggy mind set. Scrambling to get to your feet York helps you up fully. Cold nips at your skin right away making you shiver. Looking at the car you are amazed that you're both able to walk away.

Small fires have broken out not only on the car but the surrounding area. The rain keeps the fires from getting out of control. Looking to York you took a few moments to check him over. He looked unharmed for the most part.

Rain already started to soak your clothes leaving you shivering. York’s clothes suck to his body, his hair matted to his head. He leaves you for a moment to retrieve his jacket. Shaking out the glass before returning to your side. Draping the suit jacket over your trembling shoulders. The thick fabric helps to shield you from the rain. Fabric heavy as it soaks up the rain pouring onto it. “Thanks.” Reaching up, pulling the jacket closer around you. York looked at you pausing for a moment before leaning in. His eyes narrow as you both have to blink rapidly to keep water out of your eyes. “You’re bleeding.” He reaches up, swiping a thumb over your upper lip. Flinching at his touch, your face tender from whatever happened. When he pulled his hand back blood coated his fingers but it washes away quickly from the rain. York looked to the side where a small path led away from the crash. “Can you walk?” He asked, looking back at you. Reaching a hand out offering it to you.

Pushing his hand away you nod. “I’ll manage.” York gave you a nod back before he led the way. Trailing behind him a few steps your pace slowed as you felt every inch of your body ache. York stopped looking up and down the trail getting a lay of the land.

“Looks like we are being welcomed.” You could only snort. “I’ll leave the ‘meet and greet’ up to you Zack.” 

Looking at York you adjusted the jacket trying to keep the rain off of you. Slipping your arms into the jacket soaking up the warmth. It hung off your frame weighing heavily on your shoulders. It was dripping water now but the smooth lining kept the rain off your skin.

“I think we should let Zack do all the talking. He’s got a better way with words.” Poking fun at York as you try to shake off the shock of the crash.

York smiled, chuckling a little. “Let’s go, can't keep the good people of Greenville waiting.” York walked ahead. Trailing behind him you glanced around at the thick and dark forest. The rain was constant with no signs of slowing.

Hair stuck to your head and face as water started dripping down off your face. Looking at York’s back as he walks ahead you could see his shirt clinging to his frame. His chest holster was strapped firmly across his chest. His gun poked out from just under his left arm.

Being with York meant any weird thing could happen. Mr. FBI had a habit of getting stuck on the weirdest cases. A sudden noise cut through the air. A cross between a growl and cry of some animal. Speeding up you closed the distance between you and York. Reaching out you touch his back feeling him tense up under your hand.

“What the hell was that?” Glancing behind you as you press close to York. York stopped glancing around before he looked over his shoulder at you. “We are in the woods. I would imagine it's an animal.”

Glaring up at York you shove at his back stepping around him. Walking ahead of him just wanting to get out of the rain. Walking past a rock formation that blocked part of the path. Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Turning to look you saw a dead dog ripped to shreds. Laying on the ground as a mix of blood, mud and rain surrounded it. Letting out an involuntary scream as you backed up from the gore on the ground. York was at your side in an instant, his right hand grabbing at his gun. His eyes landed on the dog and he faltered. Dropping his hand he let out a small ‘oh’ before he relaxed. “Oh? It’s been ripped apart!” Squeaking out as you moved closer to York. Grabbing his arm as you were unable to look away from the sight of the dog's body. Bloody water was being washed away down the path slowly erasing the scene. “Again it's the woods. I suspect a bear or some type of large animal was getting its lunch. After all we are in nature and not the city any more. We are bound to see things like this.” York's logic was sound but it didn’t help you. The crash now being in the woods going in some random direction hoping for salvation. York didn’t pull away from your hold instead he reached up taking your hand. Pulling you away from the scene guiding you down the trail again. Around a bend in the trail you spotted a shack in the distance. A tall chain linked fence stood just past the shed with a door blocking a wooden walkway.

Excitement filled you at the thought of being out of the rain. Letting go of York’s hand you take a few steps forward. York grabbed your hand, stopping you from going further.. “I saw something go inside the shed.” He took a step forward placing himself in front of you.

“Stay behind me.” York spoke in a low voice just above the rain. “Look who's scared of the woods now.” Taking a step back letting him lead you again. Approaching the shed lets you get a better look at it. It's old but solidly built, more than enough to hide from the rain. York led you to the front door making you stand to the side. He opened the door, stepping inside briefly. It only took him a moment to sweep the small shed. He stepped back out, opening the door more gesturing for you to come inside. Ducking inside you sigh as the contest rain pouring onto you finally stops. York shuts the door as you start trying to wipe off the excess water. The shed was two small rooms with the main one filled with shelves. The other room appeared to hold a giant generator. It was a good sign as it meant you two might be in a part. This must be a maintenance shed for the place. Turning to York you open your mouth to speak only to freeze. He was soaked to the bone much like you. Water slid down the contours of his face dripping off his jaw onto his soaked shirt. A white dress shirt that stood no chance against the rain. It clung to his body like a second skin showing off every part of his body. He was not wearing an undershirt letting you get an eyeful of his chest. Without meaning to your eyes rake down his torso. Every patch of his shirt that meet skin was see through.

Holding your breath as your face starts to heat up. It was unfair how good York looked like this. His body was toned, the shirt clinging to it making every dip and curve more defined. You couldn't even bring yourself to do more than glance at his soaked pants.The material clung to his thighs showing the outline of his legs. Tearing your eyes away you look at his face meeting his mismatched eyes. Embarrassment flared up as you prayed he didn’t catch you ogling him. There was no doubt you looked much the same. The only difference was York’s suit jacket hanging off your frame.

[tragicbeauty1991]

Not my usual fandom content but I wanted to post here because I haven’t seen nearly as many people talking about the devastation in the Southeastern US from Hurricane Helene as I would have expected and wanted to make those who may not know the extent of the damage more aware of the situation from my personal experience. I don’t think people who aren’t living it realize just HOW bad it is.

This is a map showing the areas with power outages in the immediate aftermath of the storm and some stats on the rainfall.

I live in upstate SC, and we have been without power since the storm hit Friday. That means some of us have gone about a week with no refrigeration, no AC (it gets toasty down here even in the fall), no internet, no way of powering critical things like oxygen machines for those who require it, and no cell service in some places. We are slowly getting power back but the number of people without power is still in the thousands. Luckily, we do have a generator at my house and we didn’t have any major damage to the house, cars, etc. There are trees and power lines down everywhere, though. I heard about one older lady and her husband who had a tree fall on their camper with them in it… He passed away holding her hand while being crushed by the tree. She is in the hospital and will need rehab. It is getting easier now but for awhile was very difficult to get gas. People were waiting in line for hours. A lot of stores are still just now opening up and groceries are limited because so much was lost with no refrigeration. It was so bad someone pulled a gun in a grocery store to get fresh meat. We had a few places that had a curfew for awhile because all the streetlights and traffic lights were out and it wasn’t really safe to drive. But overall, compared to many, we are doing well. It’s inconvenient but not devastating.

These are some images from Greenville taken during the worst of the storm. I live about 30 minutes away from this area.

Western NC was hit MUCH worse. We were supposed to go to the Asheville/Hendersonville area for my anniversary this past weekend but fortunately we didn’t make it up there because entire towns were just wiped off the map. Chimney Rock Village, one of my favorite places to visit, is just GONE. Asheville was totally cut off from the outside world for a few days and only accessible via air. Flooding there was just DEVASTATING. Parts of I-40 and I-26 between NC and TN were totally washed out. People are reporting coming across bodies of those who didn’t make it out. At one point, over 1000 people in NC were considered missing…

Here’s a pic of the damage to I-40.

And here are some before and after pics of Chimney Rock Village and the surrounding area. Most of what was there is now in Lake Lure.

My church parish (I am Orthodox.) is working with IOCC to help with relief efforts in Western NC. If anyone is able to donate, please consider offering what you can. If you are not comfortable donating through a church organization, I’m sure there are others out there you can donate to but this is one that I know is legit.

If you find a group accepting physical donations rather than cash, these are some suggested guidelines.

Anyone else who has further info on how to donate or who lives in the area and would like to check in, please add your own updates.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Chapter Three of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: Linley's finally back home in Pigeon Creek, not that she's pleased to be there. But she's not back home to take in the sights or engage in a nostalgia trip. Linley's in Pigeon Creek for one reason and one reason only. There's no way she's leaving town without getting what she wants - even if she has to go through the man she married to get what she wants. Things are rarely ever as easy as just getting the papers signed, are they?

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2177

A/N: Chapter 3 is on deck! Linley's finally home in Alabama and the fur is going to fly! So this is where the drama in this story begins!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

The sun is just rising when the plane lands in Alabama. You rent a car and settle in for the four hour drive to Pigeon Creek. It's as you're driving through Greenville that your phone rings.

"Hello?" You hope this isn't your dad.

"You bitch!" It's Tasha. "I was your first friend in New York and I have to find out you're engaged like everyone else did? By reading the papers?"

"I know, Tash. But she didn't really give me a choice. She turned the ring around on my hand and blurted the whole thing out. If I had my way I would've been telling you all about it over mimosas this morning."

"Well you still can, y'know, babes? I'm at that little spot around the corner from your place with a few of the girls. Why don't you come by? We'll each treat you to a celebratory mimosa."

"I wish I could, Tash. But I'm not in New York right now. I'm in Alabama." You wince at the explosion of sound that comes through your earpiece. It sounds like all of your friends are loudly screaming advice down the phone to you, and if you weren’t driving and wearing a headset you’d have pulled the speaker away from your ear. Once the noise dies down, it takes you twenty minutes to placate her before you can hang up the phone, which is exactly how long it always takes to drive to Pigeon Creek from Greenville.

Everything in Pigeon Creek looks exactly like you remember it. Dusty and hot, with the same people doing the same things, just a little more worn than you remember. But you’re a woman with a mission. You’re not back in town to take in the sights and reminisce. On the contrary, you’re here for one thing and one thing only. If only you can drum up the courage to speak to Jake again. You drive through town twice in your discomfiture before finally taking the long drive home. It feels like it takes hours and minutes all at once. God, you hope Jake still lives in the same house. You don't know what you'll do if he isn't there. You’re not exactly equipped for a manhunt here.

You must be in luck for the first time in the past few days, because when you pull into the driveway of the house you used to call home, the same old truck is in the driveway. More than the truck though, the entire house seems to be just like it was the day you left. There's a little more ivy covering the sunny yellow siding, but it all looks exactly the same. The birds are making a riot as you sit in your soft-top rental convertible and take stock of the situation. How does coming back to the same place automatically make you feel like the same person you were before you left?

You carefully pull the engagement ring off of your finger and stick it in your purse before double and triple checking that all three copies of the divorce agreement are in your purse where you left them. With a fortifying breath, you step out of your rental and walk towards the front porch. The first change you see is the seaplane waiting down by the dock. When did Jake buy that old plane? Then there’s the sweet dog sitting on the porch. Bear looks just like he did when he was a puppy. But he doesn't seem to remember you, instead he barks at the sight of you. Either Bear doesn't remember you, or far more likely, his daddy brainwashed him into believing you're the enemy. But you can't go back, not now, so you walk carefully towards the porch.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, the old screen door bangs open. It's Jake, wearing a pair of old wranglers sitting low on his hips and a worn sage green t-shirt so tight and worn that it looks like it's been molded to fit his torso. His golden hair is sticking up in greasy tufts. There's grease all over his face and an engine part in his big hands. He looks good, you note dimly, your mouth dry and mind racing.

"Shut up, puppy." He still sounds damn good, too.

"I'm sorry about him. He's a barky little thing but he's mostly harmless. What can I do for you?" He doesn't recognize you. Not one bit. His green eyes are flirtatious as they scan your form. Who'd guess that an off the shoulder top, a pencil skirt, a pair of heels, and some sunglasses were enough to camouflage you from the man who at one point knew you better than you knew yourself?

"I'd like," you tug the sunglasses off of your face and cross your arms over your chest, "for you to get your smart ass down here and give me a divorce!"

The smirk drops off of his face incredibly quickly, soon joined by the engine part clanking to the deck below. The sound is so startling and loud that it has the dog loping towards you and has you taking a few steps back. 

"I mean it, Jake. I have a flight to catch. It's not going to take long. There are three copies, all equipped with idiot-proof tabs. One for me, one for you, and one for my lawyer." You hold them out to show him.

He just stands there in disbelief. 

'Will you just speak already?" Your voice is a barely suppressed growl. But instead of Jake talking, you get a bark from the dog, and he doesn't seem to want to stop the racket, either.

"Why do you think I'm going to do that? After seven years, you think you can march up here and demand a divorce? No asking me how I am, how my mama is? None of that? I mean, come on, Linley. I at least thought you'd tell me I look good."

See this? This is why you left. "You want me to tell you, you look good?! What, did Pigeon Creek run out of soap or something?" You're starting to see red. Jake has always been so flippant.

"Do they laugh when you say those things wherever you've been?" He looks angry and sad. You are too. You have been for longer than you remember how it feels to be happy - truly, completely incandescently happy. 

"You knew where I was. It was on every envelope that I had my lawyer send you, a lawyer I spend $350 dollars an hour on. You know, the envelopes with our divorce papers that you've sent back unopened three times?" This is why you left. Jake always drives you to distraction.

But you can't even think. The dog's barking is disrupting every thought. Without thinking, you're snapping, "Oh will you just shut up, Bear!"

At the same time, Jake's snapping, "Give it a rest Bryant."

Bryant? What happened to Bear? The sweet puppy you raised with your own two hands? The one you asked to protect his daddy before you left? Did Jake really fall to such lows that he even got rid of the dog you'd once had together?

"Bryant? What happened to Bear?" Your voice must show your sorrow at not seeing him, because Jake's expression softens momentarily.

"He passed away." Then it hardens again in an instant. "You weren't here." That set expression on his face seems to be his newest tactic for dealing with you.

"Have you even been to see your dad since you got back to Pigeon Creek? Does he know you're here? Cause I'm not signing a single thing until you go see your daddy and let him know you're in town. So go on, now. Get in that Yankee excuse for a car and go see your daddy, Linley." His condescending tone is what sets you finally, officially off. You're screaming as Jake stomps up the stairs and shuts the screen door in front of your face. 

You haven’t heard this particular rage in your voice in years as you shriek, "Jake! Jake! You stubborn, dumb, ridiculous, redneck hick!  You won't sign because I asked you to!"

"I'm not signing because you moved away and turned into a hoity toity yankee bitch! And it pisses you off!" The rattle of the front door latching sends rage bursting even further through your veins. You can't go back to New York without these papers signed. Of course, just as you lose sight of Jake through the front windows, you remember the front door key you'd hidden when you and Jake had bought the place. 

It's all too satisfying to see Jake jump, beer sloshing out of the bottle in his hand when you say, "Hey, genius! Next time you lock somebody out, make sure they don't know where the spare key is."

"Well you see, here's the thing about spare keys. It would be nice if your wife told you where it was!" You really can't believe what you're hearing.

"Jake. You and I both know that I'm not really your wife. I'm just the first girl who hopped into the back of your truck."

His face drops when you say those words, in a way that you don't understand.

"Well, allow me to remind you!" You're left watching in shock as Jake unplugs the phone from the wall and rushes into another room. When you hear the lock click, you know something you aren't going to like is going to happen.

Meanwhile, in New York:

Carole Bradshaw knows three things, as a fact. One, Bradshaws are made to be in office. Two, that Linley Floyd girl is bad news. Three, in politics, you can't have any secrets. So the day after she finds out her son asked his girlfriend to marry him, she goes on a digging expedition. Or well, she has her Chief of Staff, one Beau Simpson, commonly known as Cyclone, go on a digging expedition.

"We can't find any record of a Pete Floyd anywhere in Greeneville, Alabama, ma'am." Like a dog after a bone, Carole immediately knows she's on the right track

"What about her high school? They have to have some record of her, right?" God bless Cyclone for picking up exactly what she's putting down.

"I've checked that already, your honor. There is no record of Linley Floyd at Greeneville High School. Before you ask, there are no other records of her for the other schools in the Greeneville area either. I’ve checked every school, public and private within a two mile radius of the city limits."

"He does this kind of thing to make me suffer, doesn't he? I wish I knew what the hell that boy was thinking about when he asked to marry her! Whatever happened with that, that…" Carole snaps her fingers, and Cyclone, as always, fills in.

"Callie Bassett, ma'am?" 

"Yes!" Carole's triumphant. "Her! She would've been perfect for him! She's rich, from a political family and she's from California! Can you imagine what the polling numbers would be like if he married a Bassett? California would be a clincher in an election! All of those electoral votes!"

"Maybe she really loves him, Your Honor?" Carole's laughter when she hears those words is nearly a cackle.

"Not a chance in hell. Now find me any information you can get on Linley Floyd. Yesterday! I'm going to call my son." 

Across town, Bradley Bradshaw's at a ground breaking ceremony for a new children's hospital when his phone rings.

“Something wicked, this way comes,” he mouths, just as he picks up the phone.

"Hey, Mom. You sound like you feel better." He's lying - his mom still sounds annoyed.

"Why yes, Bradley. Of course, I'm alright. It was just a little bit of a shock. And my polling numbers went up by two points! Guess they like the reminder that I’m a mom. Say, have you and Linley decided on a date yet?" Bradley can't hide the grimace on his face at the thought of what would happen if he answers wrong. It'd make his mom really happy, but Linley? She'd murder him for not discussing it with him, first.

"We haven't decided yet, mom." Bradley signs another couple of autographs as his mom prattles on about how his polling numbers would be better if there were no skeletons in Linley's closet and how that would be better for his political career. His hums and haws work for only a little bit before she's changing the subject back to Linley and her family again.

"Alright, well do you happen to have the Floydses number in Greeneville? I thought I should introduce myself." She's up to something. After a lifetime of her and her controlling schemes, Bradley knows that much.

"Mom, I'd kind of like to meet her parents myself, first." His mom's chuckle makes him groan, even as she reminds him yet again, "If there are any skeletons in her closet, we need to know, Bradley!"

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[goalhofer]

[some1s-sista]

Lazy Sunday Confessions

We met the eldest daughter in the big city (Greenville NC - home of the ECU Pirates) for lunch and some shopping. She picked up the lunch bill which I didn’t want her to do but she insisted. I love that both of my daughters have become such successful independent women. Guess we did something right.

We had an overnight guest last night which was a surprise to me! Hub’s friend was driving from Charlotte to Maryland so he passed I-95 so he could stay here with us for the night. I didn’t find out til a few hours before! Someone forgot to tell me. So we got home from the City and I ran around like a maniac straightening up before he got here. Luckily I had just cleaned the guest room after the last of the kittens left.

Said kitten is now named Oliver and he’s spoiled rotten.

Hubs is watching the game tonight so I’ll sit here and “watch” too (likely while playing games on my phone! But we’re making nice snacky snacks as dinner to have while watching …

Chicken Wings w/ blue cheese and celery

Veggies and dip

Queso and chips

And smoked jalapeño poppers (bacon wrapped jalapeños stuffed with smoked cream cheese)

Ok. I’m starving!

[offender42085]

Post 1193

Before and After....

Zachary Hunter Strange, South Carolina inmate 374331, born 1998, incarceration intake June 2020 at age 21, scheduled for release May 2031

Possession Stolen Vehicle, Trafficking Methamphetamine, Distribution Methamphetamine

In June 2020, the Eighth Circuit Solicitor David Stumbo announced that a man was sentenced to 15 years in prison for his role in trafficking methamphetamine in Laurens County.  

Zachary Strange, 21, of Gray Court, pleaded guilty to charges of trafficking methamphetamine, possession with intent to distribute (PWID) methamphetamine, and possession of a stolen vehicle.  

Strange was sentenced to 15 years in prison by Circuit Court Judge Donald Hocker as part of a plea agreement.  Due to the nature of the charges, Strange will be required to serve 85% of his sentence before being eligible for release.

The first incident occurred in August 2018.  Officers were conducting an undercover narcotics operation in Laurens.  During the operation, Strange was arrested with 9.87 grams of Methamphetamine in his possession.

In May 2019, while out on bond for the first arrest, Strange was driving a vehicle that was reported stolen out of Greenville County.  Strange bailed out of the vehicle when pursued by deputies, who discovered 211 grams of meth in the abandoned car.  Strange was found by the deputies a short time later and taken into custody.

Since Strange's incarceration he has been charged in seven separate disciplinary hearing for conduct, and as a result has been sanction with complete loss of privileges for a sum total of 21 months, and a further revocation of earned "good time" towards an early release of 3 months.

4a