#Signs and Graphics Florida

[qualitysigns]

St. Petersburg, Florida, USA

1958

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Jack Ohman, Tribune Content Agency

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 7, 2024 (Monday)

People in Florida are evacuating before Hurricane Milton is expected to hit the state’s Gulf Coast on Wednesday evening, bringing tornadoes, high winds, a dramatic storm surge, and upwards of 15 inches of rain. Milton grew from a tropical storm to a Category 5 hurricane in a little over a day, fed by water in the Gulf of Mexico that climate change has pushed in some places to 4 degrees Fahrenheit (2.2 degrees Celsius) higher than normal. Veteran Florida meteorologist and hurricane specialist John Morales choked up as he called it “horrific.”

President Joe Biden has approved an emergency declaration for Florida, enabling the federal government to move supplies in ahead of the storm’s arrival, but the state’s Republican governor, Ron DeSantis, has refused to take a call from Vice President Kamala Harris about planning for the storm. When asked about DeSantis’s refusal at today’s White House press briefing, Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre noted that the president and vice president have reached out to give support to the people of Florida.

As for DeSantis, “It’s up to him if he wants to respond to us or not. But what we're doing is we’re working with state and local officials to make sure that we are pre-positioned to make sure that we are ready to be there for the communities that are going to be impacted. We are doing the job… to protect the communities and to make sure that they have everything that is needed." When asked about DeSantis’s snub, Harris answered: “It’s just utterly irresponsible, and it is selfish, and it is about political gamesmanship instead of doing the job that you took an oath to do, which is to put the people first.”

Before this year, Florida had goals of moving toward clean energy, but in May 2024, DeSantis signed a law to restructure the state’s energy policy so that addressing climate change would no longer be a priority. The law deleted any mention of climate change in state laws. Saying that “Florida rejects the designs of the left to weaken our energy grid, pursue a radical climate agenda, and promote foreign adversaries,” the governor posted a graphic on X that said the law would “INSULATE FLORIDA FROM GREEN ZEALOTS….”

Like DeSantis, Trump and Project 2025, a playbook for the next Republican administration, authored by allies of the right-wing Heritage Foundation and closely associated with Trump and Republican vice presidential candidate Ohio senator J.D. Vance, take the position that concerns about climate change are overblown. Project 2025 says the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration, whose duties include issuing hurricane warnings, is “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry and, as such, is harmful to future U.S. prosperity.” It calls for either eliminating its functions, sending them to other agencies, privatizing them, or putting them under the control of states and territories.

The U.S. Supreme Court came back in session today in Washington, D.C. It has decided not to hear arguments about whether the federal Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act (EMTLA) overrules Texas’s state abortion ban. EMTLA requires that hospitals provide emergency abortion care to save a woman’s life or stop organ failure or loss of fertility. Texas’s ban remains in place.

As legal analyst Joyce White Vance commented: “At least no one can pretend we don’t understand the consequences for women, & others, of putting appointments to the Court back in [Republican] control.”

The Georgia Supreme Court today reinstated the state’s six-week abortion ban after Fulton County Superior Court Judge Robert McBurney, appointed in 2012 by Republican governor Nathan Deal, decided last week that the law violates Georgia’s Constitution. In his decision, McBurney wrote that “liberty in Georgia includes in its meaning, in its protections, and in its bundle of rights the power of a woman to control her own body, to decide what happens to it and in it, and to reject state interference with her healthcare choices.”

McBurney’s decision came shortly after a state investigation revealed that at least two women in Georgia died after the Supreme Court’s Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision struck down the abortion protections the court put in place in 1973 with Roe v. Wade. In anticipation of an end to Roe, Georgia governor Brian Kemp in 2019 signed a six-week abortion ban prohibiting the procedure before most women know they’re pregnant. The Dobbs decision allowed that law to go into effect.

The Georgia Supreme Court stayed McBurney’s decision during the state’s appeal of it. Chris Geidner of Law Dork noted that the court did leave in place McBurney’s block on the law’s provision that district attorneys can have access to “health records” where an abortion is performed or where someone who received an abortion lives.

In her attempt to reach new audiences, Vice President Harris sat down for an interview with Alex Cooper of the Call Her Daddy podcast to talk about women’s issues. Call Her Daddy is the second most popular podcast in the country, reaching as many as 2 million downloads per episode. According to NPR’s Elena Moore, Call Her Daddy’s audience is 70% women, 93% under 45.

Cooper began the interview by acknowledging that she does not usually talk about politics, but “at the end of the day, I couldn’t see a world in which one of the main conversations in this election is women and I’m not a part of it…. I am so aware I have a very mixed audience when it comes to politics, so please hear me when I say [that] my goal today is not to change your political affiliation. What I’m hoping is that you’re able to listen to a conversation that isn’t too different from the ones that we’re having here every week.” Cooper said she had also reached out to Trump, adding: “If he also wants to have a meaningful, in-depth conversation about women’s rights in this country, then he is welcome on Call Her Daddy any time.”

On the podcast, Cooper and Harris talked about the prevalence of sexual assault before addressing abortion. When Cooper quoted Trump’s promise to protect women, Harris noted that he was the one who appointed the three extremists to the Supreme Court that overturned Roe v. Wade and that 20 states now have abortion bans, some with no exceptions for rape or incest. Harris pointed out that the majority of women who receive abortion care are mothers and that every state in the South except for Virginia has an abortion ban. For a woman in those states—and one out of every three American women lives in one—the journey is expensive, hard, and traumatic.

“You don’t have to abandon your faith or deeply held beliefs to agree the government shouldn’t be telling her what to do,” Harris said. “And that’s what’s so outrageous about it, is a bunch of these guys up in these state capitals are writing these decisions because they somehow have decided that they’re in a better position to tell you what’s in your best interest than you are to know what’s in your own best interest. It’s outrageous.” Harris pointed out that she is the first vice president or president to go to a reproductive health care clinic, and she noted that those clinics perform Pap smears, breast cancer screening, and HIV testing and that they are having to close because of the abortion bans. She noted, though, that since Dobbs, people across the country have chosen to protect abortion rights.

The article in the right-wing National Review about the interview was titled: “Kamala Goes on Sex Podcast to Lie about Georgia Abortion Law.”

On Call Her Daddy, Harris also brought her economic plans for an “opportunity economy” to a younger audience. When Cooper asked her how she was going to help young people “not feel left behind,” Harris agreed it is “a very real issue and we need to take it seriously.” She promised to address housing costs by increasing the housing supply, working with home builders in the private sector to build three million new housing units by the end of her first term; help with $25,000 downpayment assistance for first-time homebuyers; and enact tax cuts for 100 million middle-class working people, including a $6,000 tax credit for new parents to help them afford the costs of a child’s first year.

The Committee for a Responsible Budget noted today that a moderate reading of Harris’s economic plans suggest they would increase the U.S. debt by about $3.5 trillion through 2035. A similar examination of Trump’s plans says they would increase the debt by $7.5 trillion.

Meanwhile, today, Trump openly embraced the race science favored by Nazis. In a scattered call to right-wing host Hugh Hewitt’s show, Trump called Harris a communist and lied—again—that she has let 13,000 murderers into the country. And then he claimed that murder is in a person’s genes, and “we got a lot of bad genes in our country right now.” He has also noted that “it would be very dangerous” for anyone to admit they were voting for Kamala Harris at one of his rallies because they would “get hurt.”

Hurricane Milton spurred meteorologist John Morales to step forward to take a stand, sharing his thoughts after Hurricane Helene hit. “Something’s shifted,” he wrote. “And it’s not just the climate.” He noted that with Helene on the way, “I did what I’ve done during my entire 40 year career—I tried to warn people. Except that the warning was not well received by everyone. A person accused me of being a ‘climate militant,’ a suggestion that I’m embellishing extreme weather threats to drive an agenda. Another simply said that my predictions were ‘an exaggeration.’

“But it wasn’t an exaggeration,” he wrote.

“For decades I had felt in control. Not in control of the weather, of course. But in control of the message that, if my audience was prepared and well informed, I could confidently guide them through any weather threat, and we’d all make it through safely…. But no one can hide from the truth. Extreme weather events, including hurricanes, are becoming more extreme. I must communicate the growing threats from the climate crisis come hell or high water—pun intended.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[jennaispunk]

Someone Like You

Summary: A vacation you didn’t want to take turns into something you never expected.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3 k

Tags/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, allusions to smut, shitty ex-boyfriend (not Marcus), brief mention of infidelity (again, not Marcus. He would never), meet cute, instant attraction, Marcus being Marcus (aka perfect), reader is shorter than Marcus and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear but no physical description is given

A/N: I wrote this for @whocaresstillthelouvre follower challenge (I hope you enjoy this Mallory!!). The moodboard was dream vacation with Marcus. This moodboard is gorgeous and I am so in love with it. I’m sorry I held onto this for so long. I went at the idea of a “dream vacation” a little differently. This was the idea that immediately came to mind when I saw this moodboard. This is for all my Marcus girlies (gn). Marcus deserved so much better and this is my (lame) attempt at a fix-it fic for Marcus. Thank you @clawdee for the beta read. The title is taken from a Van Morrison song.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You didn’t even want to go on this stupid trip. You’d planned it with Justin, and it was supposed to be a romantic getaway…until you caught him in bed with his ex-girlfriend, the one he called crazy and told you he wasn’t talking to anymore.

Your friends had convinced you to go on the trip anyway. "Fuck him!" they said. "Go on this trip and have the time of your life." Since the trip was paid for already, and you couldn’t get a refund, you reluctantly packed your bags.

The plane ride to Miami was peaceful. The older married couple sitting next to you was celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary. They showed you pictures of their grandkids, and you smiled politely. They were the goal…one that was looking increasingly out of reach.

You dropped your bags in your hotel room with a loud thud. You fell onto the bed and let yourself sink into the soft comforter. The sun shone brightly into the room, warming your skin, and you slipped into a peaceful afternoon nap.

Most of that night was spent sitting on the balcony listening to the ocean crash against the shore and feeling sorry for yourself. How did you not see the signs that Justin was cheating on you? They were there, you just chose not to see them. Every time that little voice in the back your mind started to chirp, you ignored it and told yourself it was just your insecurities. Looking back now, you should have listened. Hindsight is always 20/20.

You woke up the next morning with a renewed determination. You were done thinking about the past, it was time to live in the present. Today was going to be different. Today, you were going to go the beach and soak up all the glorious South Florida sun you could handle. You were going to let the ocean breeze carry all your worries away. This vacation was meant to be enjoyed and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

In your cutest bikini (bought specifically for this trip) and cover-up, you confidently strolled across the hotel lobby. It might be considered modest by Miami standards, but it showed off your assets. A small smile played on your lips as you remembered how sexy you felt the first time you put on the hot pink fabric. All around you were happy couples, holding hands and stealing kisses. Your resolve to not wallow in your sadness faltered just a bit as you made your way to the door, but you held your chin higher. You weren’t going to think about Justin anymore.

“Excuse me…”

You jumped as someone touched your shoulder and wheeled around to see a handsome man looking down at you. If you had to guess, he looked to be around your age. The style of his chestnut brown hair screamed young professional, and his mocha eyes were the kind you could get lost in.

“I think you dropped this.”

His large hand held a hotel key card toward you between thick fingers. Your brow furrowed and you patted the pockets of your cover up only to realize that your room key was missing.

You smiled at him and the heat rushed to your cheeks. Your carelessness struck again. How did you not realize you dropped your key?

“Thanks. It was sweet of you to track me down.”

The smile he shot back at you almost made you melt. It was so genuine, and the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled made you weak in the knees. Your eyes darted over his shoulder, half expecting his wife or girlfriend to be standing behind him, waiting. He was alone, and you smiled just a bit wider.

“It’s no problem.” His soft voice carried to your ears like a sweet melody. “You’re probably going to need this later.”

Your soft laugh was met with a nervous chuckle of his own. His soulful eyes studied you like a work of art but somehow it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t looking at you like other men do.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Marcus.”

He extended a hand toward you, and you froze for a moment. You couldn’t even remember the last time a man introduced himself to you this way outside of a professional setting, and you found yourself intrigued by this stranger.

You offered your name in return and placed your hand in his. His skin was rougher than his appearance suggested, and the warmth radiated right through you.

“So, Marcus, does your wife or girlfriend know that you go around saving strange women from being locked out of their hotel rooms in your spare time?”

His laugh came from his belly, like you told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. It was warm and genuine. Suddenly, you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Actually, I’m not married or even seeing anyone right now.”

Your brow raised and those butterflies intensified. How in the world was this man still single?

Stop! This isn’t what you were here for. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up with anyone while you were here. The purpose of this trip was to stop thinking about your ex, not lust after a handsome stranger.

“Well, there’s a beach chair out there calling my name.” Your eyes darted toward the door and then back to him.

“It was nice to meet you, Marcus. Enjoy your vacation.”

You turned to leave without giving him a chance to respond. It was better to walk away now, before you did something you’d regret later.

Marcus watched you walk away, rubbing his chin as he huffed softly. He certainly hadn’t expected to meet anyone on this trip, but maybe it was fate.

You told yourself that you’d never see Marcus again, that it was just a fluke meeting, a fleeting moment in time that was never meant to be anything. You didn’t believe in fate or destiny. That was for other people.

It seemed that fate was trying to prove its very existence to you, because the very next morning at breakfast you ran into Marcus once again.

“How was the beach?” Marcus asked with that heart stopping smile. “You didn’t get sunburned, did you?”

Your cheeks felt warm as he looked you over. How could such a simple question get you flustered?

“Nope. I got the perfect amount of sun.”

The two of you chatted for a few minutes before your phone buzzed in your pocket.

“Sorry, but I gotta go or I’ll be late for my massage.”

His hand jutted out to stop you as you turned to leave.

“This is going to sound crazy, but would you have dinner with me tonight? There’s this amazing restaurant overlooking Biscayne Bay.”

You bit your bottom lip as you considered his proposal. What would be the harm in having dinner with him? Why shouldn’t you have fun while you’re here? You needed a distraction and Marcus certainly fit the bill.

“Dinner sounds nice.”

His body visibly relaxed when you agreed, and you could have sworn you heard him sigh.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven?”

“Seven it is.” You responded and headed off to your massage.

That was the moment that everything changed, although you didn’t know it at the time. You’d spent every night with Marcus since then and the more you learned about him, the harder you fell for him. The two of you lived closer than you thought, he was in DC and you were in Baltimore. You scoffed when he told you that he was an FBI agent with the art theft division, but he showed you his badge and swore you to secrecy under penalty of death. He winked and laughed, and you were sure he’d stolen your heart then and there.

He was here on a case and decided to stay an extra week to use up his vacation time. He was a total foodie, he talked at length about the amazing restaurants in DC. Every detail you learned about each other just made the attraction grow.

The week practically flew by as your time was occupied by Marcus. He took you to the institute of Contemporary Art and Pérez Art Museum and watched you with a smile as you marveled at the art, and he explained the finer details. The way he spoke about the art had you completely captivated.

On your second to last night in Miami, he took you to a bar with a live band. You couldn’t believe your eyes when he jumped up on stage with the band and they played one of your favorite songs.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him on stage. The image before you didn’t jive with the mild-mannered, soft-spoken man you’d spent the last few days with, but it intrigued you all the more.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

The smile was still plastered to your face. He looked so carefree up there on the stage.

“It was definitely worth it to see you smile like that, Sunny.”

He wasn’t going to tell you that he’d cashed in a favor from the lead singer. He wanted you to think it was totally random.

After leaving the club, he took you for a moonlight walk on the beach. The night sky was crystal clear. A thousand stars dotted the sky, like a painting created for just the two of you.

During a brief moment of silence between you, he took your hand and laced your fingers together. It all felt so perfect, too good to be true. You never thought that you would meet someone like him.

He suddenly stopped walking and tugged your hand. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked down at you. After everything that happened with Teresa, he wasn’t looking for anyone. She had broken his heart, and he wasn’t sure if he was even ready to try again. Looking at you now, with the ocean breeze in your hair and the moonlight illuminating your skin, he knew he couldn’t walk away.

“Everything okay?” You asked

He smiled at you and looked down at the sand before looking back up.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all week.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you and gently cupped your cheek. He gazed into your eyes, almost hesitant before he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours.

You tensed for the briefest of moments, you didn’t expect him to kiss you, but you were glad he did. You kissed him back, slightly parting your lips to let his tongue in your mouth. It couldn’t have been any more romantic: the moonlight, the soft swish of the waves upon the shore, and the most perfect man you’d ever met holding you in his arms.

As you packed your suitcase to head to the airport, you couldn’t help but think about the last few nights. You got lost in the memories of the way he made you come on his fingers before he made you come on his cock, how he intertwined his fingers with yours as he pinned your hands to the mattress, the way he talked you through your second orgasm: That’s it, sweet girl…just like that…so beautiful. He even held you afterwards, something Justin never did.

It really was like a dream come true. This vacation was wonderfully unexpected, and you didn’t want it to end. You didn’t want to go back to the real world, back to your job and your old life….not when you’ve had a taste of what could be.

Marcus paced the hotel lobby waiting for you to check out. After Theresa, he’d almost sworn off love completely, then he’d met you and he was smitten. He knew that this could work, he would be kicking himself later if he didn’t try.

You smiled as his sweet face came into view. Your heart clenched in your chest. Was this this last time you would see him? You couldn’t let that happen. This couldn’t be the end.

“This week turned out better than I expected.” you said with a soft laugh.

You wanted to say more. You wanted to tell him that this had probably been the best week of your life, but you held your tongue. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

He took your hands in his, smiling as caressed the back your hand with his thumb. His mocha eyes took in every inch of you, committing it to memory until he saw you again. It was now or never. He was going to tell you that he didn’t want this to be the end, the two of you could make this work. A short train ride was no big deal, and you could see each other often. All he knew was that he couldn’t just let you go.

The way he said your name made your heart stop. It sounded so beautiful rolling off his tongue, just like when he had you in bed.

Your lips pressed softly against his, swallowing his next words. You didn’t need anymore words. You just wanted to keep the magic alive for a few more moments before reality came crashing down.

The hum of the car engine behind you broke the spell. It was over, your Uber was waiting to take you to the airport and back to your life. You shoved a piece of paper into his hand and smiled as your eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

“If you’re ever in Baltimore, give me a call.”

He chuckled softly as he watched you walk away and get into your ride. As you drove away, he looked down at the small piece of paper in his palm. There was no way in hell he was going to let you get away. He’d be calling you sooner than you thought.

[girlsdressingrooms]

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024) 

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

 In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style. 

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

[mediumgayitalian]

prev chapter

———

“Okay,” Will says, when they’re comfortably on the road. This early in the morning, Highway 17 is practically empty; nothing but sunny skies and clear air rushing through the open roof. The emptiness may also be attributed to the fact that it is a random Tuesday. “Pick a number between one and nine.”

“Uh, five.”

“Good choice, good choice.”

He opens the centre console, digging around Nico’s – well, and his, at this point – collection of CDs to find the right one. He makes a little noise of triumph when he finds it, blowing on the back and wiping it on his shirt before sliding it into the port.

“One half-assed polish isn’t gonna fix those scratches, Solace,” he teases.

“If you weren’t such an emo fuck, Playlist Five wouldn’t be so scratched.”

Nico laughs, conceding this round. Will looks inordinately pleased, nose scrunching along with his tiny smile even as Linkin Park starts blasting through the speakers, which he hates.

“Three songs ‘til Britney,” he grouches as Nico starts hollering along to Points of Authority. Nico shakes his head, still grinning – as if he didn’t make these playlists. If he is truly so miserable, he wouldn’t have put the song on at all.

(Nico knows, in the very back of his mind, that Will actually and truly cannot stand Linkin Park. To him, it’s not music at all. He has never been able to get into it, as much as he truly likes music of every genre. If Linkin Park is on this playlist, and they’re on more than one of the playlists Will has made specifically for their shared car rides, it’s because he cares about Nico more than he hates the band. Nico shoves this knowledge deep into the dustiest corners of his mind, because that’s more than he can afford to think about.)

The next couple hours pass by comfortably. There isn’t much to remark on the side of the road except the odd fruit stand, or farm advertising eggs and honey, so onward Nico drives. He keeps an eye on the odometer, but mostly trusts Will’s calculations. If he says they won’t need gas ‘til Anthony, wherever the hell that is, Nico believes him. 

“Highway changes to the 98 through here,” Will says, nodding to the tiny sign that boasts nothing except Ft. Meade CITY LIMITS, right next to the giant banner half the size of the church it's attached to that reads, REPENT OR BURN. 

Ah, Florida. Please one day change.

“Do I need to exit?”

“Nope, the road just changes to a different number.”

He eases off the gas as they approach the tiny town, watching carefully for state troopers. And, like, children, probably. So far he’s passed twelve gun ranges and one school, but whatever. He can have priorities, even if this garbage state doesn’t.

“Hm. 98 is a better number.”

“Absolutely not,” Will tells him, aghast. “17 is a prime number!”

“Ninety-eight is more fun to say. Also, prime numbers suck.”

“You take that back –”

Nico slides up his sunglasses, shaking his head fondly. Nerdiest nerd to ever nerd. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so endeared.

He presses back on the accelerator as they exit the town, turning up the music as Will’s rant ends. He shucks off his shoes – Feet off my goddamn dash, Solace – and curls up into his seat, burying himself in a book. Nico glances away from the road to try and read the title, but quickly gives up since the font is bright fucking purple, for some reason, and in some horrible looping shape that he knows will give him a migraine. All graphic designers should be in prison. 

“Hey, there’s apparently a gator reserve forty-five minutes ahead.” Nico squints again at the book. Barely, he can make out “roadside” and “weird”. “‘Weird American Roadside Attractions’,” Will reads aloud, noticing Nico looking. “Such as a very nice and highly rated gator reserve –”

“No.”

“Road trip, Nico. Adventure.”

“I’m super happy to adventure away from living fucking dinosaurs, Solace.”

“Aw, come on, they’re kinda cute –”

“Two thousand pounds per square inch of jaw strength! You are the one who told me that!”

“You don’t think you could take one in a fight?”

Nico stares at his best friend incredulously. He’s got a thoughtful little frown on his face, looking at the sky as he contemplates. Nico notices, vaguely, that the shade of his irises is the exact same colour. 

“No, I do not. Obviously.” He pauses. “You think you could take a fuckin’ gator?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“See, that’s crazy, because fifteen seconds ago I genuinely believed you were an intelligent person.”

“Do not lie to me and tell me you don’t have a list of animals you know you could take in a fight,” Will says, instead of rising to the bait. He waits, meeting Nico’s glare, eyebrows raised.

“An ostrich,” Nico admits, begrudgingly. “I feel like – one good punch to the throat –”

Will smiles smugly at him. “That’s what I thought.” He turns back to his book, fiddling with the corner of a page. “Also, ostriches are more closely related to dinosaurs than alligators. So. Check and mate, motherfucker.”

They pull into Anthony at around eleven, at pretty much exactly a quarter tank – just like Will predicted. He looks inordinately pleased about it, so Nico shoots off a quick prayer to the karma gods. 

He trips on his way out of the Jeep. Nico smirks.

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” he says, unaware of Nico’s hand in his humbling. Nico waves him off, attention turned to the gas pump.

Annoyingly, as he pulls out his card and handles the pump, he remembers Will’s scrunched nose and pursed lips as he’d explained, when they were 16, how gas station pumps were frequently more germy than their toilets, and cleaned approximately one hundred percent less. Suddenly, his hand begins to feel grimey.

Twelve bags of chips, a gas station slushie, and a pair of clean hands later, Will is still nowhere to be found. Nico frowns, craning his neck to look around the tiny parking lot as if he somehow missed Will’s neon orange shirt the first time he looked. Still not catching sight of him, he walks hesitantly back to the Jeep, tucking his snacks away and biting his lip, contemplating. Will is both very fast and very easily distracted, but he has enough sense not to go too far in a random town five hours from home. If he sticks by the car and waits, Will’ll be back soon. 

But, on the other hand, waiting is torture.

Easy decision, really.

He locks the door, hopes that no one will show up with a pair of wire cutters and a flathead screw driver, and sets off. The first thing he notices, and he adds it to his mental list of things to loudly complain about when Will is locked in the car with him, is that it is fucking sweltering. In the hours approaching the afternoon, the day has gone to pleasantly warm to so hot the air is actually thick with it, and he doesn’t have wind ripping through the open windows to cool him down. Plus, he’s wearing jeans, and for the first, and hopefully only, time in his life, he envies his friend’s cargo shorts. 

The second thing he notices is that Anthony, Florida, is empty as shit. All the love in his heart to the people who call it home, but also, move, maybe. He’s hesitant to stray too far from the gas station, in case Will comes back and finds him gone, but there are no hills or anything. He can see quite far down the road. The only thing he sees is a possum starting a fight with a poor random guy – which, actually, is kind of fun to watch. 

Perhaps he has judged Anthony too harshly. 

“Nico!” shouts a voice, startling him. He whips around and finds Will, standing in the goddamn centre of the road, the dumbass, waving like a lunatic.

“There is no possible way I was going to miss you,” Nico informs him when he’s close enough. “You are approximately the height of the Washington monument. I could not miss you if I tried.”

“I wasn’t waving to get your attention, I was waving to shoo away the eagles that mistook you for a mouse.”

Nico kicks him in the shin. Will, well used to his violence, dodges, grinning, except in the act of hopping away from Nico’s dangerously hardy boots, he somehow wraps his foot around his own ankle and goes sprawling.

Nico smirks. “Who’s the short one now.”

Faster than he can even follow, Will’s hand darts out, wrapping around his ankle, and tugs, yanking him yelping on the asphalt next to him. 

“Foul!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Neeks.”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Nico screams at the alarm bells blaring in his brain, he doesn’t mean it like that and you know it oh shit he’s looking this way quick look normal look normal –

“I can do war if that’s what you want, Solace,” he manages, honestly quite proud of himself for managing speech with approximately fourteen percent of his brain still functioning. Damn.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway.” He crawls to his feet, offering Nico a hand. He takes it, dutifully fighting the urge to pull Will down again, just to be an asshole. He’s cool like that, and most definitely being normal about the scrape of Will’s callused fingers against the inside of his forearm. “I found maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, and I need you to come look at it immediately.”

“Sick,” Nico says, immediately intrigued. He and Will have their differences, sure, but if there’s one thing they can agree on it’s their sense of humour. 

He follows will down the road, passing the gas station again. (His car, thankfully, remains in one piece and beautifully not-robbed.) They dark across an empty intersection, walking across a yellowed lawn as they approach a run-down, patchy, one-storey bungalow with a rusted sign that reads: The Iron Works.

“Behold,” says Will gleefully, “the Abstract Iron Centaur.”

And behold, Nico does.

Gaping, he observes the structure standing proudly under the sign. Striding proudly, rather, its front legs bent to simulate movement, its human arms poised as if ready to strike. It wears a medieval knight’s helmet, and holds a rusted axe. The entire structure is a little taller than Will, and made of, presumably, iron, rusted into a light roan red.

“Abstract Iron Centaur,” Nico repeats, after several minutes of silence.

Will still looks delighted. “It was in my book. I had no idea what to expect and also I didn’t believe it was real. Isn’t it the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s…something.”

“We gotta take a picture, Neeks. I never want to forget this thing.”

Nico allows himself to be pulled, still somewhat bewildered. It’s not even the oddest thing he’s ever seen, it’s just – he has many questions, like, for example, why? How long has this creature existed? How long will it persist? Who created it? Why is it in Will’s dorky book? Does it house a soul?

“Okay, squish in, this camera is older than your elderly ass and doesn’t have a timer.”

The familiar jab breaks him out of his stupor. “Seven months older than you, fucker.”

“Geriatric.”

Without warning, Will crowds them under the Abstract Iron Centaur’s lifted arm, and then presses his widely grinning cheek right flush to Nico’s, raising his beat-up camera to the air.

Nico’s brain goes static.

“Say cheese!”

“Hnngh,” says Nico, as the camera blinds him.

Luckily for his continuously worsening blood pressure, Will pulls away the second he hears the click, shaking the ejected negative to help it develop, and Nico has a second to remind his lungs that they have a function, actually, get your shit together, I am not dying in fucking Anthony, Florida. 

“You look like a dork!” Will says, delighted. “Look!”

Blinking at the photo shoved one sixteenth of an inch from his eyeballs, Nico indeed looks. The Abstract Iron Centaur looks more foreboding on camera, somehow, but Nico barely notices it – instead, he finds his gaze drawn to the beam so wide it forces Will’s eyes shut, and the dazed, dopey look on his own face; eyes wide, mouth dropped, slightly, and posture undeniably leaning into Will’s magnetism. 

Humming to himself, Will slips his wallet out of (one of) the (many) pocket(s) of his shorts, tucking the photo inside it. Nico melts into a puddle of goo on the dead grass. His mortal soul escapes his body, descending rapidly. His atoms return to star dust. Et cetera.

“Oh, shit, we gotta go if we want to reach Georgia in good time.”

“Right,” says Nico, voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Let’s go.”

He absolutely does not haul ass to his car. He walks at a normal pace, for normal reasons, thoughts in a normal place. 

“Back on the 75,” Will instructs as they peel out, sliding sunglasses on his nose. “We gotta scoot around town a bit to get to the entrance, but it won’t take long.”

“D’you know this place?” Nico asks, even though he doubts it. As far as he knows, Will was outside of Sarasota one time: in the move from Austin. He supposes his mother might have had a concert up here, or something, and unusually, let him tag along, but he doubts it.

“Nah, just memorised the map.”

Nico hides a smile. “Oh, of course.”

It’s all too easy to tease Will, but there was a reason he was valedictorian. There’s a reason for his many shining scholarship offers, his endless well of ridiculous facts pulled from nowhere. He is, genuinely, the smartest person Nico has ever met.

Even if he genuinely believes he can fight an alligator and win.

“Two hours ‘til we cross state lines,” Will says brightly, shouting slightly over the wind as they merge onto the highway. “And then on to infinity!”

“Onto infinity,” Nico agrees, matching his smile. 

Already, he’s proved Nico wrong. They’re farther now than Will has been since he was seven, and there’s nothing in his expression that suggests he wants to slow down. 

Privately, and quietly, Nico lets himself start to hope. 

———

next chapter

[pandemichub]

If Tumblr prompts you to sign in use read mode/reader mode and it will display the post as text.

Please advocate for evacuation of incarcerated people, homeless people, disabled people, those in care settings, immigrants and animals (pets, wild life and farm animals). Don't leave people behind ❤️

ID: The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies @disasterstrat

Disability and Disaster Hotline 800-626-4959 linktr.ee/disasterstrat

Disability-Led Response Supporting @FightForRightUA

disasterstrategies.org

ID: New Disabled South@DisabledSouth

Working to achieve liberation and justice for disabled people in the U.S. South | 501c3 nonprofit | Check out our 501c4 arm @DisSouthRising newdisabledsouth.org

Also visit hcbssouth.org

Fight for prisoners to evacuate:

Insta caption screenshot

anthony.depice @arianajasmine__: Thank you @fighttoxicprisons for all of this information - please give them a follow.

Jails Not Evacuating-

Manatee County Central Jail- Mandatory Evac Zone A Ran by Manatee County Sheriff Rick Wells-

**Twitter- @ ManateeSheriff

**Instagram - @manateecountysheriff

Phone- **General Line- (941)-747-3011

****Extension 2222 - Office of the Sheriff ****Extension 2915 - Central Jail Information ****Extension 1549 - Public Safety Communications Center

Lee County Jail- Mandatory Evac Zone A

Lee County Sheriff Carmine Marceno-

**Twitter- @ SheriffLeeFL Llll

**Instagram- leesherif

Phone- **Main Headquarters - (239) 477-1350 **Main Jail - (239) 477-1500

Tweet elicia donze @eliciadonze. 28m

FREE SHUTTLES TO SHELTERS IN THE TAMPA EVAC ZONE.

CALL 800-729-3413 FOR ASSISTANCE. FL Division of Emergency M... • 18h

Tomorrow, 10/8, there will be free shuttles operating in Pinellas, Pasco & Hillsborough counties assisting with #Milton evacuations to shelters.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8 FREE EVACUATION SHUTTLES Free shelters and free transport assistance available

PINELLAS PASCO HILLSBOROUGH

Call 800-729-3413, 7 am - 7pm for Evacuation Assistance

Visit FloridaDisaster.org/Updates for times & locations

Tweet Art Candee @ArtCandee

It's sad how many people don't know that there are shuttles that will pick you up from your home and take you to a free shelter during Hurricane Milton. The fact that people still push the "poor people can't afford to evacuate" line is really sad.

Please help combat this and spread the phone number to request a shuttle, and let people know Uber and Lyft are also offering free or discounted rides to evacuate the storm and get to a shelter.

Also important to note that there are shelters who are specially equipped for people with special needs.

UBER AND LYFT TO PROMO CODE: miltonrelief

SHUTTLE #FOR EVERYONE EVACUATION ZONES: 1 (800) 729-3413

UBER AND LYFT TO EVACUATE CODE: miltonrelief SHUTTLE

#FOR EVERYONE EVACUATION ZONES 1 (800)729-3413

ID: Erin Regan Animal Sanctuary IF YOU ARE EVACUATING FROM FLORIDA AND HAVE NOWHERE TO GO OR CANNOT AFFORD A HOTEL...

We have 40 acres in Picayune, Mississippi where you, your horses, farm animals, and pets can ride out the storm. We are about 9 hours from Tampa.

Tents and RVs welcome.

Please email tracypaula@erinregananimalsanctuary.com for assistance.

Tweet elicia donze @eliciadonze

PET FRIENDLY SHELTERS IN HILLSBOROUGH COUNTY TELL YOUR FRIENDS Hillsborough County @HillsboroughFL.

Quoted tweet

Hillsborough County will open nine emergency storm shelters at 2:30 p.m., today, Oct. 7 for residents in evacuation Zones A and B, and those whose homes are vulnerable to storm surge, flooding, and wind damage....

Hillsborough County Florida EST. 1834 Hillsborough County to open the following emergency storm shelters at 2:30 p.m., today, Oct.7:

Hillsboro county Florida graphic.

Hillsborough county to open the following emergency storm at two therapy today, October 7

Burnett middle school 1010 N. Kingsway Rd., Seffner, FL 33584 pet friendly

Middleton high school 4801 N. 22nd St., Tampa, FL 33610 pet friendly.

Durant High school 4748 Cougar Path city, FL 33567 pet friendly.

Sickles high school 7950 Gunn Highway, Tampa, FL 33626, pet friendly

Shields middle school 15732 Shields Way, Tampa, FL 33626 pet friendly

Pizzo elementary school 11701 Bull Run Drive, Tampa, FL 33617 general population, not pet friendly

Erwin technical College 2010 Hillsborough Ave., Tampa, FL 33610 special needs only, pet friendly

Sumner high school 106050 County Rd. 672 Riverview, FL 33579 special meets only, pet friendly

Strawberry crest high school 4691 Gallagher Rd., Dover, FL 33527 special needs only, pet friendly

hcl.gov/stay safe

Dr. Serena Arnold

You don't necessarily need to leave the state or drive hundreds of miles. Sometimes 5 or 10 mile difference will make all the difference.

Deadliest part of a hurricane is the storm surge.

If you live 20 feet of elevation or lower these are the people who need to evacuate.

Find out your elevation if you don't know it at WhatIsMyElevation.com. Compare it with the storm surge forecast at NHC.NOAA.gov.

Summary

"Number 1, shelters cannot and should not ask for your ID in order to access them. You have a right to seek shelter regardless of your immigration status, regardless of your citizenship status and regardless of whether or not you have a government ID on you.

Number 2, well undocumented immigrants may not qualify for FEMA assistance, their children with citizenship do.

Number 3, ICE should not be operating at this time as it is a state of emergency.

Absolutely nobody should be deterred from being safe during a natural disaster."

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise - Part Two

A Rafe Cameron Series

Chapter Two

WC: 6.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | PART THREE

            No one said anything for a long time. What could be said? Your own questions raced. All answers led back to the same thing. This was really happening.

            The side roads proved to be easier to navigate but were like the highway; filled with abandoned cars. Every now & then, you would see a body or bodies. You winced every time. There was a never-ending sickening sensation in the pit of your stomach.

            In the backseat, Micah stared out the window hard eyed, a fist covering his mouth. Millie sat still beside him, staring blankly into her lap. Nuha was crying quietly, calling the attention of Sayyed every now & then. He would often go back & forth between placing a comforting hand on your thigh to placing the same hand on Nuha’s knee.

            Time passed as the wrangler moved forward. Sayyed was able to keep a constant speed of 50 mph along the back roads, traversing through smaller towns. It wasn’t long before you began to see signs for Atlanta. There would still be almost four hours until you all returned to the Florida border. At some point though, Sayyed began to slow down, his eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror.

            “What’s wrong?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder to see what he could possibly be looking at. Rafe was flashing his lights.

            The two vehicles pulled over, & everyone piled out, stretching their legs as if they were all on a normal road trip.

            “What?” Sayyed asked, his tone clipped.

            Rafe ignored the tone, gesturing back to his truck, “We’re gonna need gas. We won’t make it back at this rate.”

            Sayyed inhaled sharply, understanding the problem. You stood by his side, while your friends spoke quietly to one another.

            “Then I guess that’s what we look for.”

            “Maybe we’ll find a phone.” Millie commented, “A landline. You never know.”

            Rafe rolled his eyes, but Sayyed nodded, offering a small smile, “Maybe.”

            Less than five minutes later you rolled into a gas station. There were cars blocking all pumps, but they would be useless anyway. If cell phones weren’t working, why would a pump? Everything these days was computerized.

            “Great idea.” Micah deadpanned, staring at the pumps.

            “Shut up, dude.” Rafe crossed his arms, “You never siphon gas before?”

            “Not a delinquent fuck-up, so no.”

            “Dude.” Rafe’s nostrils flared.

            “Guys. Quit.” Millie stared between the two.

            Sayyed began walking towards the store connected to the station, “We can get stuff here for gas, stock up.”

            Nuha, Kai, & Luka stayed behind with the cars while the rest of you moved forward. The store was unlocked. But that was the end of your good fortune. The shelves had been ransacked. Products littered the floor, broken glass crunched under the weight of everyone walking through.

            Ignoring everyone else, you slid behind the counter, eyeing the few packs of cigarettes left behind. You weren’t a heavy smoker, only partaking in the habit socially when alcohol was involved, but desperate times…

            You gathered the few you came across, all unpopular brands but you didn’t care. If this was the reality of the world right now then cigarettes would be few & far between. You had to get them where you could.

            “Good idea.” You jumped, dropping a few packs.

            Rafe stood behind you. Your eyes met but you quickly lowered yours. Instead you bent to pick up the packs; Rafe helped you.

            “Are you okay?” He asked. You snorted, far from.

            “Kind of a stupid question, Rafe.”

            “I know but…” He sighed, cocking his head toward the rest of the store, “Your boyfriend is very gung-ho right now & I doubt he’s been checking in on you.”

            The comment didn’t sit well with you. No one was reacting normally for the situation. This was unreal. Rafe’s subtle jab about your boyfriend upset you but you brushed it aside. Emotions were high, people were confused. Before you all discovered the state of the world, they had gotten into a tiff, the reason you still didn’t know why. But you wouldn’t feed into whatever it was Rafe was getting at.

            “I’m fine, Rafe.” You stood, forcing a smile as you found a plastic bag for the packs, “Thanks.”

            You felt him watching you as you grabbed a couple others random items from behind the counter.

            “You guys find everything we need for gas?” You asked, not wanting him staring at you much longer.

            “Yeah, guess when people ran through here in a panic they didn’t think this far ahead.”

            Side-stepping Rafe, you were about to return to your friends when Rafe gently grabbed your elbow, “_____, seriously though. You know I’m here for you.”

            Your eyes searched his. He was being genuine. Rafe was a lot of problematic things, things that you also happened to be, but he could also be a good friend when needed. You nodded, “I know. Let’s just get to where we need & hopefully things will begin to look up.”

            “Yeah.” He let you go, “Hopefully.”

            Sayyed & Rafe filled their tanks with gas from other cars in the parking lot & managed to get four or so gallons worth left over before hitting the road again. You were relieved that sleep claimed you not long after.

            Sleep was fitful. But you slept through until Sayyed gently shook you awake. You wiped the sleep from your eyes, glancing at him worriedly.

            “We’re outside Gainesville.” He informed you.

            Your heart faltered. Had that day been a normal day, had the world you returned to been the same one you left, you would have been excited to go back home to your apartment & crawl into bed after showering off the four days of camping filth. But now, you only felt apprehensive.

            “Are we going?” Sayyed was silent for a beat before he nodded, “I think it’d be good for us to get some things from our places. We can’t stay, we’ll be quick. But I think the others need it.”

            “But the report said to avoid populated areas. Returning to campus…”

            “I know.” He agreed, his voice low. It was then you noted that the three in the back were sleeping as well, “But if it’s a virus then we can get our masks, other stuff. Stores will be eviscerated to the likelihood of finding what we need is less likely. We have better luck getting what we need from what we already have.”

            “I just don’t…” You stopped, pressing your lips together.

            “I won’t let anything happen to you.” With one hand on the wheel, he gripped your thigh firmly, protectively.

            “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

            You weren’t the only one against the idea of stopping in Gainesville. Adrianna fought tooth & nail until the cars rolled up outside the frat house. She remained in Rafe’s truck, condemning you all for getting out, claiming one, if not all, of you would bring back the virus.

            She wasn’t wrong, & her claim spiked your fear. It was the same reason you didn’t want to return. But you were never the go against the grain type. So you followed behind the others as they walked up the steps of the frat.

            It looked like time had frozen. Red solo cups were still spotted here & there like a game of I Spy. The lawn had random objects fitting of a party that had been thrown the night prior. But the party had been almost a week ago. As you drove through campus, it was eerie. It wasn’t as unsettling as the highways had been but knowing that your small college town had become a ghost town still gave you a ghastly feeling.

            You clung to Sayyed’s arm as Rafe & Bear stood by the double front doors, gently pushing them open.

            “Boys!” Rafe hollered, his voice echoing back to him. You watched as Rafe & Bear traded wary looks.

            “Maybe that’s a good sign.” Nuha noted, looking to her brother for confirmation.

            “Nuha, you should go back to the car.” Sayyed said, “In case it’s… bad.”

            “I’ve seen ‘bad’ plenty of times within this house.” You could see she was trying to steel herself.

            “C’mon, Nuha.” You reached for her, “He’s right. There’s nothing for us in there anyway.”

            She didn’t resist as you pulled her back to the car. Micah & Millie followed, realizing they too had no reason to go inside. But a morbid part of you wanted to, felt the need to. To see the worst of it. However, you knew, deep down, the worst would not be coming for a long while.

            Back at the cars, you watched as Nuha, Micah, & Millie climbed into the wrangler. In Rafe’s truck, you could see Adrianna glaring heatedly at the frat house. You decided to try to see what was on her mind.

            “I think it’s risky, too.” You began.

            “Risky?” She spit the word, “It’s fucking moronic. It’s a goddamn virus that takes out mass populations. And they want to go walking into a mansion that housed over thirty of the school’s filthiest boys.”

            “Yeah.” You sighed, “Maybe it’s where it originated from.”

            Your attempt to lighten the mood is met with a contemptuous look.

            “Great time for jokes, _____. Our classmates are dead, our families…”

            “We don’t know that.” You bit out, surprised at your own resistance.

            Adrianna finally softened, shaking her head, “I know. But… the chances. They are low, you know that.”

            You shook your head, not wanting or needing to think on it. You were an only child & your parents weren’t as involved in your life as you would’ve liked, but they were still your parents. You thought about your mother sitting around her bedroom all alone, staring out the window, waiting for your dad to come home. And you imagined your dead flying some private jet over the Maldives. Perhaps their lifestyle & career saved them from the virus. You still had a reason to hope.

            Muffled conversation sounded behind you & you spun around, watching as the boys came out one by one, a few bags in each of their hands.

            “Essentials.” Sayyed raised a duffel as he approached you. One by one, he handed everyone a CDC approved mask. Rafe & Bear reluctantly took a couple for themselves after pushback from the group but didn’t wear them.

            “This isn’t fucking COVID.” Adrianna reprimanded them from behind her mask, “It’s worse.”

            “I believe in my genes.” Rafe countered.

            You rolled your eyes, walking away. You were not a politically outspoken person, but even you felt the urge to ridicule his idiocy. Adrianna was right. It was obvious that whatever was ravaging the world was wholly & entirely worse.

            There was no plan set after leaving Gainesville. You, Micah, & Millie stopped by your apartment, gathering a few items. For you it was a bag of clothes, toiletries (namely menstrual products), & a picture of your parents from before you were born. Back in the car, the loose plan was to drive to the coast towards Jacksonville. Adrianna said there would be a military base somewhere along the way.

            But nearly thirty minutes on the road, Rafe flashed his lights for Sayyed to pull over.

            “We’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep making us stop.” You heard Sayyed say as he hopped out of the SUV to talk to Rafe. Luka was with them.

            Their conversation was muffled & fast, unable to make anything out. Sayyed eventually got back in the car, an annoyed expression across his face.

            “What now?”

            “We’re making another stop.”

            “What?” You asked wide-eyed as he pulled back onto the road. Rafe overtook him, leading the way. “Where?”

            Sayyed said nothing, only shaking his head.

            You & Millie traded worried looks.

            A few minutes later, after pulling into a quiet neighborhood outside Keystone Heights, Rafe’s truck pulled in front of a Mediterranean style home. You were in the middle of unbuckling yourself when you saw Luke bolt out of the truck, running towards the house.

            “Hey!” Sayyed yelled, quickly following him.

            You didn’t know what was happening, but you couldn’t deny being scared. What the hell was going on?!

            “Luka!” Sayyed tried to catch up to him, but Luka disappeared as he dived into the front door of the house.

            “Oh, shit.” Nuha breathed, hopping out.

            “What? What is it?” You rushed out behind her, the others quickly joining. Sayyed was at the mouth of the door to the house, peering inside as he called out for Luka. Rafe rested against his truck, pulling out a cigarette from his own pack. He lit it, looking equally as bothered as Sayyed had.

            “What the hell is going on?” You stepped towards him.

            He shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “Luka’s parents.”

            The fire you had felt brewing inside you quickly extinguished. You turned back to the house, your heart pounding. Oh, Luka…

            Luka was not one of the people in your friend group you were very close to, but you knew well-enough that he was proud of where he came from. He was a family guy & was eager to become the next literary star to pay off his parent’s debt. All you really knew about his family is that his parent’s went bankrupt & were unable to pay for his college.

            Sayyed eventually went inside the house after not hearing from Luka, Kai close behind. Kai & Luka were best friends after all. The rest of you stayed outside. You mimicked Rafe, picking a pack at random from the bag of smokes you took outside Atlanta. Rafe lit your cigarette as your fingers shook.

            The group was silent, morbidly so. It was like waiting in the lobby of a hospital, wondering if a loved one made it through the 50/50 surgery or not. But considering the circumstances of the world then, the chances were violently lower.

            You were about to light another cigarette when Sayyed & Kai finally appeared, Luka between them. They were dead, his parents. You didn’t need to ask or see for yourself. Luka’s vacant, red-eyed face said it all. He collapsed on the front lawn, his head in his knees. Kai stayed with him, his own eyes watering as he placed a comforting hand on his best friend’s back. Sayyed approached you, his eyes momentarily glancing at the cigarette between your fingers.

            “So?” Rafe questioned. You elbowed him, “Rafe.”

            Sayyed ignored him, gently grabbing you by the wrist to lead you away. You tossed one more glare at Rafe. He held up his hands, a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

            “Asshole.” Sayyed grumbled once you two were a few feet away.

            “They’re dead, I know.” You began, not needing to hear it.

            “Yeah, but…” Sayyed inhaled sharply, casting his eyes at Luka. At this point, Nuha was hugging him as he cried.

            “It wasn’t the virus.” Your eyes rounded.

            “What do you mean it wasn’t the virus?” You kept your voice low, but it was difficult.

            “There was a note.”

            Oh, my god. You covered your mouth.

            “We think it happened before.” Sayyed continued.

            “Sayyed.” You croaked.

            “There’s no way of actually knowing. It hasn’t been long, that much is obvious. But their note, it only says that they are sorry & that they love him.”

            “What the fuck?” You couldn’t keep yourself from crying out just a little. “They were just gonna leave him…”

            “We don’t know that, for sure.”

            “Oh, please, Sayyed. Quit being so diplomatic.” You sneered, tearing your eyes to stare at Luka. You wanted to hold him.

            “What matters is that we’re here for him.”

            “His parents sure fucking wouldn’t be.”

            “_____!” Sayyed tightened his voice.

            You forced yourself to reign in your anger & pain for Luka. The world was fucking dying, yes, but one of your friends’ parents just left their bodies to be found by their son, whether or not they knew the world was falling apart.

            “So, what now?”

            Sayyed ran a hand through his unkept hair, “We bury them.”

            You would have much rather been outside in the disease riddled word than curled up on the floor of Luka’s living room. The house was his grandpa’s. It was the only thing his parents managed to keep after losing all their money.

            It was dark outside, as much as it was inside. The energy was depressing, reasonably so. Adrianna, being the only one with any medical background, was able to roughly determine when Luka’s parents passed. It was before. Their bodies maybe a week old.

            Your heart crumbled for Luka all over again with the information.

            But it was also with Adrianna’s recommendation that they don’t bury the bodies.

            “With the virus, & with no way of testing, their bodies could still be carriers of the virus.” She told the group at the dining table. Luka was in the other room, laying on the couch, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “We shouldn’t risk moving them. Any of us.” She had repeatedly firmly before Sayyed could argue.

            “I’m not being a pragmatic bitch, Sayyed.” You could tell Sayyed wanted to counter that that’s not what he was thinking, but she continued, “It’s for all of us. We don’t know anything about this virus. How it gets transferred, the obvious symptoms, how long before said symptoms show, fucking nothing.”

            “We cannot risk it.” She ended, “Not even for Luka’s peace of mind.”

            Sayyed sat back, shaking his head, “It’s fucked up.”

            Many of you nodded in agreement. It was silent for a while, as everyone likely thought of what you all could do. It was inhumane to leave their bodies up there, rotting. Luka would never get the image out of his head.

            “We burn it down.” Your head shot up at Rafe’s suggestion.

            Everyone turned to stare at him incredulously. He had his back to everyone as he ransacked the kitchen, pulling out any bottles of alcohol he could find. As much as you hated yourself for it, you wanted to be right there with him, desperate to swallow a fifth.

            “You’re such an asshole…” Millie replied exasperated.

            Rafe half scoffed, half laughed in return, shaking his head, “I don’t hear any of you coming up with anything.”

            Adrianna nodded, “He’s right.”

            Everyone looked at her, “When the details of a virus are unknown the next step is to contain it. Quarantine. Obviously it’s too late for that. But for the sake of Luka, we can’t leave his parents up there like that.”

            “So, we burn the house down?” You shook your head.

            “Yes.” She blinked, “We can’t go near them, more than we already have. Sayyed, you said Luka was the only one to touch them?”

            “Yeah. Kai & I didn’t even enter the room.”

            “That doesn’t make you guys safe but still.” Adrianna shrugged her shoulders, “We burn the house down, his parents with it. It’s the closest Luka will get to a burial & the best we can do to contain any potential exposure.”

            “Aren’t we already fucked just by sitting here?” Micah asked next.

            “Not exactly. I mean, it’s not ideal, obviously. But if his parents did pass before the virus reached this area, then we’re likely fine. But absolutely no one goes back up there. Not even Luka.”

            “Guys.” It was Kai. He was standing in the threshold between the living room & dining room, “Keep it down. We can hear you out here.”

            A cacophony of apologies sounded.

            With that, everyone quieted down. Rafe brought over a handful of glasses & a couple bottles, placing them at the center of the table. Millie glared up at him, ready to share her thoughts when you hurried to grab a bottle, raising it, “To Luka’s parents.”

            Rafe caught your eyes. You knew that wasn’t what he intended but you didn’t care. There was enough pain to be had that day.

            Unshed tears blanketed your vision as the house in flames grew smaller in your side view mirror. It was the morning & the group would be moving forward. Luka didn’t say a word or put up a fight when Sayyed & Adrianna told him about their plans to burn the house down. He simply walked outside & got into Rafe’s truck.

            Sayyed wore a mask & gloves as he took a gallon of gasoline into the house & began dispersing it throughout. By the time he made it outside, he had emptied what was left on the porch, tossing the gallon to Bear to catch. It was Rafe who lit the match.

            No words were said as the last three climbed into the cars. A moment of silence passed as everyone watched the house go up in flames. Then Sayyed shifted into drive & drove away.

            The world was truly ending.

            “You grabbed the wrong fucking map.” Micah jabbed, “Perfect, Adrianna.”

            Everyone was pulled over again, somewhere on Highway 100.

            “It’s either Starke or Hampton, alright?” Adrianna returned sharply, “So get off my back.”

            “Both of you, calm down.” Sayyed said exhaustedly, “We’re tired. It’s been a lot in less than 48 hours.”

            “It’s Starke, I’m sure of it.” Adrianna turned her back on Micah to face Sayyed.

            “Then we go there first.” Sayyed said, “If not, we move to Hampton. Not like it’s out of the way, huh?” Sayyed stared at Micah, challengingly.

            “Whatever, man.”

            “Mills.” You eyed her tiredly.

            She raised her hand, knowing, “I got it.” She quickly gathered Micah & walked him back to the rear of the car.

            “We make a decision yet?” Rafe hollered, his arm hanging out of the window of his truck. From where you stood, it was obvious he was shirtless. It was going to be a hot one that day & it wasn’t even noon.

            “Starke.” Sayyed yelled back.

            Adrianna huffed, stomping back towards the truck while Sayyed rolled up the map.

            “What if it’s not there?” You paused to ask while no one was near.

            “Like I said—”

            “No, I mean what if the base is there, but no one is.”

            He furrowed his brows, understanding what you were saying. “We’ll stay there for a while, it oughta be safer there than anywhere else right now, right?”

            You shrugged in response. “I just want us to be safe.”

            “We will be.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, “But the more answers we have the safer we’ll be.”

            Pressing your lips together, you nodded, “Okay.”

            “You okay?” He brought his other hand up, now holding your face gently in his hands.

            “No.” But you mustered a smile, “But if I’m with you, I’m okay as I’ll ever be.”

            The military base was in Starke like Adrianna recalled. She gave Micah a triumphant smile when everyone piled out of the car. There was no one manning the gate & as you clung to the chain-link fence, peering into the compound, you couldn’t make out any movement.

            “Looks real active, Anna.” Rafe commented sarcastically.

            Adrianna sneered at him. She hated being called Anna.

            “Only one way to find out.” Micah began climbing the fence.

            “Micah!” Millie called out, racing forward, “Don’t you move another fucking inch.”

            “Calm down, mom. If anyone was here I’d be dead by now.”

            A shot rang out & everyone scrambled. Micah fell from the fence, landing on his back. Sayyed gathered you & Nuha & pushed you two inside the wrangler. Millie tried to run back for Micah, but you grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

            From where you crouched in the backseat, Micah was breathing. Just not moving. There was no blood.

            “Don’t shoot!” Adrianna ran over to Micah, standing over him with her arms up. “Please, don’t shoot!”

            You peered around, looking for any sign of a gunman but you wouldn’t even know what to look for. But after a minute, from the far left, two men appeared in full tactical gear, their guns pointed at the ten of you hidden behind or inside the cars. One man approached the fence, his gun pointed directly at Adrianna.

            “You’re trespassing on government property. Turn back now or we shoot.”

            “No, wait, wait.” She crouched down, on her knees, “We just need some help.”

            “There’s no help here.” The other man spoke. You could see neither of their faces behind the headgear they wore.

            “But the radio—”

            “I don’t care what the radio says, I’m telling you, there’s nothing for you here!” The first man shouted.

            “Okay, okay, look.” Adrianna began, but before she could, you felt something rustle behind you. Before you could stop him, Sayyed stepped out from behind the wrangler, his hands up. Both men turned their guns onto him.

            “We’re not sick.”

            “We don’t care.”

            “He’s right! We’re not!” Adrianna backed him up as Sayyed stepped forward.

            “Move one more step, kid, & I’ll blow your brains out.” The threat made you cry out. Nuha clung to you, her teeth sinking into her lip.

            “Look. I’m gonna stop moving, okay? I’m not moving.” Sayyed copied Adrianna, positioning himself on his knees, “But I’m going to talk & you’re going to hear what we have to say & if you still decide you can’t help us then we’ll leave. No fighting back. Promise.”

            The men said nothing but kept their guns trained.

            “We,” Sayyed gestured to the whole group, “have been off grid since last week. We’ve been camping at Cloudland’s National Park in Georgia. When we left to go camping, we left the world we knew. But when we came back—which was yesterday—” Sayyed stopped to swallow, “We don’t know what’s going on. Alright, we’re scared, we’re confused, we don’t know what the fuck to do!” Sayyed raised his voice, his frustration coming out.

            “So, if you can’t help us like the radio said you could then at least point us in the direction where we can get some.” Sayyed huffed, catching his breath, “That’s all. We’re just looking for some answers. Trying to survive.”

            Silence dragged on, making your nerves skyrocket. Any second you expected more shots to ring out & for your boyfriend & two of your friends to be lying dead at the gate to what was supposed to be salvation. But no shots came.

            Then, finally, one of the men lowered his gun. He gestured to the other to do the same.

            “Are any of you showing symptoms?”

            “We don’t even know what the symptoms are.” Adrianna collapsed to her butt. You felt your muscles release but didn’t dare move from the wrangler.

            “Coughing, trouble breathing, watery eyes, bodily pain, fits of anger.”

            “I think we’re all pretty fucking angry.” Micah finally coughed out, “Knocked the fuckin’ wind out of me.” Adrianna helped him to a sitting position as he massaged his back.

            “Uncontrollable anger. Especially when you don’t have a reason to be angry.”

            “Think that’ll be hard to judge now.” You spun your head around to see Rafe. When had he snuck into the wrangler?

            “You alright?” He asked. You frowned but nodded, turning your attention back to the scene before you.

            “No, okay, no symptoms. Is there a test we can take?” Sayyed asked, “We’ll take it now.”

            “No test exists.” The second man responded, “The virus came too quick for anyone of importance to get one made.”

            It went without saying that hope for finding out what was causing this & why plummeted.

            “So, what do we do?” Sayyed shook his head, “Just wait to die?”

            “No.” The first soldier swung his gun back onto his back before crossing to the guard station just inside the gate. In mere seconds, a motorized drill sounded just before the gate began to jostle itself open.

            “You come with us.”

            A shower never felt so good. You could’ve stayed under the cool water for hours, basking in the relief you finally felt. Anything to avoid stepping back out into reality. But reality must be had whether you want to face it or not.

            All the girls were roomed together in one bunker, the boys in another. The two soldiers—Corporal Tobias & Staff Sergeant Severson—allowed the ten of you into the compound after a procedural check of symptoms. You, like most of your friends, were hesitant to go with them after they pointed their guns at you & threatened a violent death. More so, they had said there was no help there. But still, you all went with them.

            And you couldn’t deny that you were happy you had. The shower, having a hot meal, wearing a clean set of clothes with fresh underwear almost made you forget about the world outside.

            Once everyone was cleared, the soldiers had you all de-contaminate before leading you to your respective bunkers.

            After getting dressed, you & Millie walked to the mess hall that was at the center of the building. Everyone was already there, except for Kai & Luka. You didn’t need to ask why they weren’t present. No one told the soldiers about Luka’s family, & you weren’t sure that was a good idea—to lie—but didn’t say anything.

            Tobias & Severson weren’t much older than you all. Tobias in his late 20’s, Severson in his early 30’s. But they didn’t look it. They had bags under their eyes, their skin paler than their natural shades. It had only been a week since the world ended but they looked as if they had lived through the end of the world over a hundred times. But you could tell that they were reluctantly pleased to have others nearby.

            After pleasantries & small talk over lunch, someone finally asked one of the important questions.

            “So, how many people in a room is considered deadly?” Bear’s questioned silenced the table.

            You gripped Sayyed’s hand, scared of the answer.

            Severson, the higher ranking of the two, cleared his throat before answering, “As far as we know, it doesn’t exactly work like that?”

            “How do you mean?” Adrianna, who sat closest to them, clasped her hands together atop the table.

            “Like any virus, it travels from person to person, so logically speaking even two people in a room is deadly to either person.” Severson clicked his tongue, “But of course, that’s only if one is a carrier. This virus works similarly, obviously, but differently, too.”

            “What we know, at least the information we were fed at this base, is for the virus to be truly deadly, there must be multiple carriers in a room compared to those who are not. So, say one of us here is a carrier, has the symptoms, it isn’t guaranteed any one of us will catch it. Of course, nothing is 100% without the science to back it up. But this virus in particular is more deadly in numbers. The more carriers the more deadly. If half of us in this room are carriers, has the symptoms, then we’re already dead. You have to terminate the carrier, regardless. But if the carriers are gathered together, their viral contraction, the infection becomes impossible to beat.”

            You sat quietly, absorbing the information. It made clear sense why places of high population were deadly; why the virus spread rapidly. But what did that mean for places of low population.

            As if reading your mind, Rafe spoke next, “So why is Starke completely void of life?”

            “Panic.” Tobias responded this time, “Everyone rushed to get away from populated areas, even the smaller ones. Then everyone got caught on the highways, a viral playing ground for the disease. And one by one, they began to drop. The less people the better. But it’s important to note that like any virus in our world’s history, they progress, they adapt, new strains are born. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if one day just two people being in a room together will be deadly to both.”

            The thought discomforted you. A world where to survive you had to be entirely alone.

            “Well.” Rafe cut the silence, “That sounds depressing as hell so I’m breaking out the good shit.”

            Reaching into a backpack at his feet, Rafe produced two bottles of liquor.

            “We got scotch whiskey & tequila.” Rafe smirked proudly.

            At that, Severson grinned, laughing jovially. It was an odd yet welcoming sound considering the circumstances of the world.

            “I sure am glad I let you kids in.” He stood, clapping his hands together, “Tobias, get the glasses. We got a long night ahead of us!”

            Time was nonexistent inside the mess hall. Severson & Tobias were surprisingly excellent hosts as drinks got poured. It felt like it had been ages since you relaxed with the warmth of alcohol swimming through your bloodstream. Sayyed was smiling a wide smile you felt like you hadn’t seen in years. All your friends were in higher spirits thanks to Rafe’s alcoholic tendencies. It was a special night in a horrible world. And you wanted to bask in it for as long as you could. Especially since it was unknown when a night like this would come next.

            At some point during the evening, Adrianna had gotten so drunk she was beginning to get handsy with Tobias, who was welcoming of her advances. You had nearly stepped in, though you were heavily inebriated yourself, but Millie beat you to it.

            “Hey, let’s go lay down.” Millie moved to sit next to Adrianna. You watched with a swaying vision as Millie tried to coax Adrianna back to the girl’s bunk. It looked to be unsuccessful so far. But then a conversation between Sayyed & Severson caught your attention.

            “If you don’t mind me asking, realistically, how long could you guys live here for?” No one else at the table heard the question Sayyed asked, which meant no one saw the sudden change in mood from Severson as he lowered his drink & narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

            Immediately, you wanted to get between them, not that there was really any physical means to, but the look Severson was throwing at Sayyed made your protective instincts kick in.

            “I’m going to say this now & say this once while your friends are drunk in their own worlds, but you will not be staying here.” Severson finished the rest of what was in his glass, setting it down none-so-gently. “There is no government, no military, no safety net. It is every man for himself. Now, we’ve taken you in, we’re sharing what we know, we’re having a decent night, but don’t mistake our hospitality as a homestay. We’ll give you enough to get started out there, but after tomorrow night, you & your friends.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering, “You’re on your own.”

            Sayyed said nothing but you could feel the boiling resentment beneath his cool façade. You placed your hand on his thigh, attempting to distract him. Severson just promised to put you & your friends back out on the streets to fend for themselves, drinks are flowing, temperaments would skyrocket if they got wind of all that just then. You needed to stomp out the flames before they set everything ablaze.

            To your thanks, though, Severson dropped the steely, hard gaze & grinned widely. He slapped Sayyed on the shoulder, but you didn’t miss how his fingers dug into your boyfriend’s shoulder.

            “It’s been a wonderful night, kids.” He stood, addressing the group, “But I’m retiring for the evening. Thank you for the drinks. We’ll see you at oh eight-hundred.”

            “No, you won’t.” Rafe threw back, his face singed with red from the alcohol, but he was laughing as he did.

            Most cheered along with him, looking forward to a night of forgetting & a morning of sleeping away the nightmares of the day. Severson returned a tight smile but nodded, taking one glance at Tobias before leaving.

            Once Severson was far enough away, you leaned into Sayyed, “We’ll be okay.”

            He looked at you as if he was shocked you were there. He must’ve not expected anyone to be paying attention to what he & Severson spoke about.

            You took his hand in yours, holding them tightly, “We will be okay, Sayyed. We don’t need them. We’ll take what they give us & find somewhere else. The less people the better, remember?”

            “Just thinking about the future.” You understood but you wanted him for one night, before embarking into a new world, to be present.

            “I love you.” You kissed his jaw, just below his ear.

            He smiled, though it was small, “You.”

You felt like crying as someone shook you. You weren’t dreaming but wherever you were in your sleep was far better than anywhere else awake. But the shaking wouldn’t stop. Slowly, you felt yourself returning to the waking world.

“Five more minutes, please.” You grumbled, wrestling the sheet of the twin bed higher up & over your face.

“_____.” It was Sayyed’s voice, & more, it was full of concern, “Wake up. It’s important.”

You sat up immediately, your dream world long forgotten. You grasped his arms, “What’s wrong?”

Over his shoulder, you noticed Adrianna, Nuha, & Millie were all gone.

“Where are—”

“Come with me.” He spoke quietly, like he was sneaking around. Your nerves shot through the rough as you stumbled behind him, your motor function not yet fully awake. But you managed to cling to him as he sped-walk the two of you down the hall, into & across the mess hall & to the bunker where the boys stayed.

“It’s Luka.”

You were about to ask what about Luka when Sayyed slipped inside a cracked door halfway down the hall. You were stunned to see all your friends already there. You felt your lips part in confusion until you took in all their facial expressions. From Rafe’s empty but hardened stare at the concrete floor to Adrianna’s angry pacing at the edge of the room, you knew something bad happened.

As Sayyed led you through your friends, you felt yourself gasp as you finally saw the cause of everyone’s distress.

On a bed like your own on the other end of the compound, lied Luka. Shaking, graying skin, crusted eyes. His nails dug into the skin at his sides, as if he was trying to peel his skin off.

“He’s sick.” Kai’s voice shook, but he stared heart-brokenly down at his best friend who looked on the brink of death.

“He’s more than sick.” Adrianna whispered harshly from across the room. Her next words sent a spike of fear straight through your heart.

“He has it.”

sorry it took so long to get part two out. been a busy adulting bee.

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty: Sweet Addictions

Summary- 3.7k Curtis Everett x Plus Sized Reader. Curtis and Honey are spending time at Adler's residence in Florida. Jade takes Reader to a special little boutique where You manage to find some very special dresses that Curtis in particular takes an interest in.

Warnings- These two being their usual selves, can't keep their hands off one another. Some mention of dealing with shopping for Plus-Sized clothes.

A/N- Hey! Thank you so much for reading, sharing, commenting, and sending asks and messages. I so appreciate all of you who have taken an interest in these two. All the love! Edited by the wonderful @what-is-your-plan-today, as always all the love, thanks, and biscuits sent your way. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter Nineteen / Masterlist

You and Curtis had been there for a few days when Jade and Mary took you shopping, hitting up some boutiques that much to your surprise actually catered to all sizes of women. When you saw the plus-sized signs filling a good section of the stores, you felt relieved that your day of shopping was going to actually be just that, shopping. Not you simply admiring Jade trying items on and acting like the third wheel because nothing would pull over your hips or go around your bust. Or going to a store that praised having a plus-sized selection and it was just a rack with cast-off designs. You were tired of those trips. 

Instead, you browsed fitted tops that were meant to show off your curves, pants that were guaranteed to fit over your hips but didn't look like a stretch waistband nightmare, skirts, and dresses of all varying sizes which included fun sundresses that you fell in love with. Mary helped you sort through them, showing you fun patterns that she felt were cool and you had to agree with her comments. You went with three of Mary’s choices, a black one with white polka dots, a sunflower yellow, and a cream-colored one with a little honey bee pattern scattered all over it.

“Let’s go try them.” You mentioned to Mary as you whisked them off the racks and safely hung them over your arm. 

You were already prepared to go into tight-fitting rooms, with the stiff door that usually swung inwards that made you have to press up against the wall to get out of the way. But like the plentiful plus-sized sizes, the fitting rooms were accommodating for you as well. Nice wide rooms were closed off for privacy by dark curtains. Inside the mirrors didn’t dominate the entire room, but were placed along a couple walls, allowing you to look from different angles but wouldn't point out all your flaws in a menacing way. You changed, slipping on the dresses and stepping out to show Mary and Jade. 

“Okay, Mary, can you be my designer?” Jade whistled playfully, watching as you spun slowly to show them before stopping once more. “Cause that is adorable Y/N.” 

Mary looked with a cynical eye, but soon brightened up with a grin. “Told you it would be perfect.” 

You turned to look at yourself in the full-length mirror back in the dressing room. You started from the crown of your head and down, mentally looking at what you considered your problem areas. Jade saw the expression, turning hard at yourself in the mirror, your eyes flitting from place to place in the mirror. Your sister stepped into the room, letting her chin rest on your shoulder as she looked at you through the mirror. 

“I know what you're doing… don't.” Your eyes met hers and your face lightened. “You look so good, this dress was made for you.” 

“Yeah?” you asked and she nodded. 

“Of course, Mary, our fashion expert did pick it out.” Jade pointed out and Mary, now sporting a large white beach hat, poked her head in with an enthusiastic nod. “Plus wait till Curtis see’s you in this.” Jade smirked and you broke into a bigger grin.

“Alright, get out. You convinced me.” You pushed Jade out and closed the curtain, taking a softer look at yourself, instead of picking yourself apart, you admired the way your body looked in the dress. From somewhere off in the store, you could hear Jade and Mary laughing. It made your heart swell at the sheer joy you felt being here with them. Your gaze roamed up and down the dress now, lingering on the soft material dipping low for a peek at your cleavage and the material swaying slightly with your movements. It didn’t cling around your belly in that way most dresses did. Instead it flared at the bottom, giving your legs plenty of movement when you walked. Your thoughts turned towards your ex briefly, knowing he would hate this, it wasn’t sexy enough. But you were quick to force those thoughts from your mind, his opinions no longer meant anything to you. 

You loved this dress, and you could already picture Curtis telling you that if you felt good, get it. It only mattered how you felt in it. But you were also hoping Curtis would like it too.  

Curtis spent his day with Frank at the marina, getting a crash course on fixing boat engines. He found it fascinating, soaking in the differences between what he typically worked on. Frank, finally satisfied at the end of the day, said it was about time to go, the girls were probably home. 

“So what do you think? You ever want to leave that winter wonderland, you can come down here and do this.” Frank patted affectionately against the hull of what looked to be a yacht made for celebrities. 

“Well I would need some more training, but it's similar enough that I could pick up on it.” Curtis tilted his head back to look up at the massive boat, whistling softly. “She is a beaut, huh?” 

“Yeah, overpriced though. They run these things hard and are willing to pay whatever to get it fixed before next weekend.” 

“Sounds like a story I have heard before.” Curtis chuckled softly, recalling all the times Gilliam needed some engine fixed right that minute so they could push it out of the lot and free up the track for another delivery. “Sounds like you have a good thing going.” 

“It isn't bad, but I would like to go all proper one day, you know? Get a crew and be able to pick and choose what projects I take.” Frank paused at the truck, taking a glance at Curtis. “One day, right now it keeps us comfortable and with Jade’s help, we were able to buy our house. So no complaints. I am a lucky man.” 

Curtis nodded in agreement, unable to disagree with Frank’s statement. 

Pulling up to the house was a welcome sight. The change from deep winter in Duluth left him unprepared for the sunny winters Florida offered. He just wanted to shower away the sweat and grime and change his clothes. 

But all those thoughts changed as they parked in the garage and you popped the door open leading into the house, stepping out with two beers and a sundress that hugged around your waist and torso while it turned wispy around your hips. The sleeves hung off your arms, leaving you bare shouldered where Curtis just knew that if he pressed his lips there you would make that soft throaty whine telling him that you wanted more. You were glowing happiness right now, reaching them as they approached, you passed the beers off to them.

“Jade is inside, she wanted to know if you wanted to go out tonight.” 

“I’m all for it if you are?” Frank questioned and Curtis said it was fine with him. He would have agreed to just about anything to get five minutes alone with you. “Cool, I will go tell Jade. Jump in the shower whenever you’re ready Curtis.” Frank held up the beer, thanking you as he went inside. You tilted your head, listening to Mary give her uncle an enthusiastic greeting and asking him if he liked her new outfit. It made you grin. 

“That kid loves her uncle so much.” You observed and reached Curtis who was looking you up and down. “Do you like it? Jade took me to this cute boutique today.” 

Curtis rumbled in appreciation, ghosting his hands along your sides till they could settle on the fullness of your hips. The fabric was light feeling, allowing him to feel you under his hands.

“Honey, do I like it? It is a hell of a lot more than that.” He promised, blue eyes heated. You bit your lip at his suggestive nature, looking back up at him with a hint of pride and excitement raising such a compliment out of him. 

“How much more Curtis?” You let your hands rise up to his bearded cheeks, scratching lightly through the bristles to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers toyed with the chain resting there. You seemed to grin coyly, wanting to play with his heightened feelings. “What do you wanna do?” 

Curtis arched a brow in challenge, ready to match what you were asking. “I wanna ruck your dress around your waist and bend you over the hood of this truck.” You seem to be suddenly aware that Curtis had you backed up against the door of Frank's vehicle, your eyes widening when Curtis stepped in closer, not pressing into you as much as he wanted to since he was filthy after helping Frank all day, but close enough to keep you pinned in place. 

He didn't want to dirty you even though you made him ache. 

Your voice went wispy, almost a whisper as you let your fingers hooked in his chain glide to the front, fisting part of the chain and pendant in your hand. “Fuck Curtis, I thought you were just gonna tell me you wanted to kiss me.” 

A salacious grin popped on Curtis’s mouth while he gripped your chin lightly between his forefinger and thumb, stroking his thumb against your bottom lip. “Now Honey, you should know me well enough to know I will settle for a sweet kiss from you for now.” He tipped to place one on your open mouth. “But I will always want it all with you.” 

You shuddered under his hand, still pressed to your hip, that heated touch grew heavier on you  while he pressed his hold tighter against you, a silent promise that he would do just what he mentioned. But now he settled for those kisses. Allowing you to pull him closer, you pressed your lips to his and sought out his touch and taste to fill you. Your mouth pressed to his, moaning softly into it while you grabbed at his dirty sweaty tee shirt to center yourself while kissing Curtis hungrily.

“Careful Pretty Girl, I don’t want to dirty your new dress.” He was gentle to push himself back, making you both pant at the moment before he ran a finger along the dip in the front of your dress. “But I promise too later. How many of these did you get?” 

“T-three.” You stuttered still in surprise. 

“Ah, well Jade should take you back with my card and get you a few more.” 

You should have been ready for Curtis, he was always so upfront with you about what he wanted. But it did take your breath away at the moment, leaving your heart racing as you two went back into the house so Curtis could go take a shower and change for going out to dinner. He gave you an affectionate kiss on your cheek after greeting Jade and Mary in the kitchen before he split away to go get ready. 

Jade sidled up to your side while you busied yourself checking your wallet for cash and cards. “So, what did Curtis think?” 

You could feel your heart taking a thump at the very fresh memory. Curtis’s blue eyes were taking in every inch of you he could and his touch on your hip was almost possessive through your dress. His promise to explore made you feel good in your new dress. You were glad now you had bought all three.

“He really liked them, a lot.” You emphasized that last work and Jade grinned in victory, tugging your wallet from you.

“Told you so, and stop pretending to count your cash. I got this tonight.” She handed you a set of car keys. “You and Curtis can follow us in my car. Maybe you guys can… take a drive along the coast. Watch the sunset.” She hummed as she walked away from you. “Repeat what you two did last night.” 

You sputtered out. “You heard us?” 

Jade didn’t answer, just headed to her room to finish getting ready for the evening. 

Dinner was superb. Frank and Jade took you all to a seafood joint called Coconuts, which was located on the water with an incredible view. You all ordered seafood of different varieties, with the exception of Mary. Mary insisted on chicken tenders with a hefty helping of barbecue sauce. All of you tried bribing Mary to just take a bite, but she held out while dunking her chicken tenders in the sauce and sinking her teeth into the chicken. You had to admit, the chicken looked just as good as the rest of the food. 

Jade also talked you into partaking in a margarita, the brightly colored drink making you feel less inhibited. Your hand frequently rested against Curtis’s thigh under the table, stroking knowingly along his inner thigh, your hand accidentally bumping against the crotch of his pants while you were engaged in conversation with the rest of the group. 

A few times you felt Curtis grasp your wrist, pressing your palm right against him and you would give a promising light squeeze. The only tell tale sign you noticed in his features was the red burning up the back of his neck and the tip of his ears. Brighter than the bit of color the sun was starting to give him. Other than that, Curtis never let it be known you were teasing him under the table. 

Although he did whisper in your ear at least once that you were driving him fucking crazy while placing a rather affectionate kiss on your neck, making you feel like you were on top of the world in that moment. 

As the group left, Jade waved goodbye to you two. Curtis arched a brow in confusion while you wrapped your arm around his. “Jade said we should go for a ride. Enjoy the beach sunset.” 

Curtis opened the door for you to get in. “Well, I appreciate that. Remind me to thank her.” 

The drive led you two away from Fort Lauderdale, the GPS taking you to a little out of the way beach that was closed. Pulling into the parking lot, it was completely emptied of visitors, the sun inching its way down behind them made the ocean sparkle in its aquatic blue tingles, the waves picking up to crash on the shore. Curtis let the car idle for a moment before turning it off, opening the windows to let the ocean breeze cool you two off. 

“This is nice, I can see why Jade moved down here.” You said, Curtis tilted his head considering. 

“It is nice, Frank has a great setup at the marina. Just on the verge of becoming a widely known business with the clients he has lined up. He wants to make it all legit, get a crew on hand, start delegating it out instead of doing it all himself.” 

“Jade mentioned he was considering giving himself a business name, just wasn't sure yet of what to use.” You fiddled with your dress, smoothing it just below your knees. Curtis watched you a moment before saying your name, making you turn to look at him. 

“Honey, you look so beautiful in your new dress.” He said sincerely and that rush came back, your heart excitedly making you feel flutters everywhere. 

“Did you mean what you said?” You asked shyly, glancing around the beach momentarily. 

“About me wanting you while you are wearing that dress? Every word.” He reached down to let the seat fall back a bit to give room on his lap, patting his thigh. “Come’re Pretty Girl.” 

You undid your seat belt and carefully shifted over to straddle him. You were still hesitant to sit all the way down, but Curtis pulled you into his lap, letting his hands run up the sides of your thighs under your flowy sundress. “Jade heard us the other night.” 

Curtis hummed while rubbing at your hips and easing you to get comfy in his lap. “Well we were as quiet as possible.” Curtis chuckled as you leaned into him while running your hands against his chest. You started rocking your hips slightly and his hold eased you into a rhythm that felt good to you. Already he was straining at his jeans, sure you didn't help matters any for him in the restaurant with your touches under the table.  

“I think I’m glad they heard us.” You admitted, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for leverage. “It turns me on.” You started to grind yourself against Curtis, feeling him getting hard under you. 

“You Pretty Girl have yourself a bit of an exhibitionist kink.” He groaned out with a flash of a grin as you rocked your hips to feel him again. “Good thing because I love fucking you everywhere.”  He let his head fall back against the seat, his neck flushed with tense tendons while he helped you move on his lap. 

You felt the subtle change in him with every movement he was making to help you move, his strength making you crave more. “A first for me, always too shy to ever do anything where we could be caught.” You confessed, your pussy aching now, needing something other than what you were giving yourself. “Curtis, touch me.” You took one of his hands to move onto your breast. 

Curtis pressed his palm against you, putting pressure to squeeze and rub against your breast, tilting you to meet his mouth, kissing the tops of your swells and working the top of your dress off enough to be able to suck on your heated flesh, flicking his tongue against you till you were arching your back to get more of his kisses across your chest. Your hand grasped the back of his head to keep him close.

“You taste good Honey.” His tongue dragged over salty warm skin, bracing his hand against your back to keep you moving. “Salty and sweet might be my new combination” The tip of his tongue chased building sweat beads flicking across your skin in the heated car. The ocean breeze and the touch of his tongue on you making you shiver excitedly in his hold.

You were tempted to unbutton his blue dress shirt, let you have access to his broad chest and softer abs to touch while you continued teasing yourself in his lap. But you needed him in other ways right now and you weren’t willing to deny yourself.

Your hands fell to his pants, opening them up to stroke his cock. He hissed against your cleavage, thrusting into your hand, now matching your needs. He hooked a finger in your panties and let them pull aside so you could sink on him. You pushed up on your knees, your hand grasping his cock to press against your weeping opening. Your dress flared out around his lap, hiding away the view although you felt every hard inch of him fuck into you. 

Your pussy clenched around his cock as you eased down his length, trying to muffle your moans till he tapped his hand against your ass under your dress.

“Let me hear you Honey, it is just us on this beach. “ You trusted that he checked, had to because your eyes couldn’t pry open while all those horny sensations bled into you feeling really fucking good. 

“Curtis, oh god.” You panted out, feeling every inch of him filling you, even now it was almost too much till you started working yourself up and down on his lap, rocking your hips. You tried concentrating, “hitting me just right Curtis-” 

He was still focused on your breasts, sucking your nipples while kissing the tender spots. The sun was rapidly going down, throwing you two in the shadows gathering in the car. Curtis’s hips rose to meet you, making you cry out for more. You dug your nails into his shoulders, holding on as you rode him.

“You just keep doing this Pretty Girl, gonna make me fill you up.” 

You nodded, pushing back from him enough to buck your hips. Curtis leaned back to watch you, your hand that was planted on his shoulders was now braced against the car's roof, your head fell back to push your tits out and your hips bucking, chasing to come on his cock.

You just needed that last bit of help. You grabbed at Curtis’s hands rubbing up and down your body, shifting them to grab on your ass cheeks. “Pound me.” 

“Fuck.” Curtis sputtered hearing you demand him to go harder. He dug his fingers into your bouncing ass and took over. Feet planted and hips thrusting, you bounced on him fast and hard,  making you feel every pounding thrust he forced into you, hitting his thick tip right where it had you seeing stars and explosions in your gaze. You squeezed, sucking him into you with an obscene squelch, Curtis let go with one hand, pushing your dress up around your waist to see his cock disappear into your dripping puffy core. He gave a lewd lick to his fingertips and tapped against your clit, making you yelp at the sting but you came, gushing around his cock before sagging back into the wheel behind you. Curtis pushed you back up, leaning you forward into his chest while his thrusts turned frantic, clutching you against him like he couldn’t lose you while he finished.

“Fuck Honey, I gotta come.” 

You nuzzled against his ear, whispering for him to fill you. Your pussy clenched him every time you begged him to come in you and a whole other satisfaction filled you when Curtis shuddered in his release.

You shifted against him while he clung you to him, letting your face rub in his sweaty neck as he gasped to catch his breath, committing the taste of him to your senses. You suddenly felt yourself wanting to stay just like this, heated bodies sweat-slick from fucking while being cooled by the salty tang coming in a breeze off the ocean. Curtis was now softer under you, his hands loosened to smooth your dress over your ass, rubbing up and down the small of your back. 

“You know how you are a fan of the gray sweatpants?” 

You giggled, nipping at his neck in a kiss before answering. “The pants that make me want to go down on you every day? Yes, I’m a big fan of them.” 

“I think that’s how I feel about you in these sundresses.”

[dominickeating-source]

‘Star Trek: Enterprise’ Actors Say Season 5 Would Have “Crushed It,” Defend “Naff” Theme Song

In addition to all the new Star Trek Universe show panels from Mission Chicago we have covered, there was a fun panel for Star Trek: Enterprise, which celebrated its 20th-anniversary last year. On hand were show stars Connor Trinneer (Charles “Trip” Tucker), Dominic Keating (Malcolm Reed), and Anthony Montgomery (Travis Mayweather). The trio shared stories of their time on the NX-01 Enterprise, including some frank discussion about the series which ended in cancellation after four seasons. TrekMovie was there to report on the highlights.

7 years and movie?… that ship has sailed

When the moderator asked the group what it was like walking in for the first episode, the actors talked about how they were given high hopes for their future:

Connor Trinneer: We weren’t walking into a pilot, we were walking into a series. We had that luxury. So that was a little intimidating. We knew we were in it together. And we knew we were going to be together for well… Anthony Montgomery: It was supposed to be seven years. We signed for seven years. They told us we were doing movies, because they didn’t do movies with DS9. They didn’t do movies with Voyager. So they told me that the fans love Star Trek and you guys are going be here for at least seven years, and you’re going to be doing movies and everything. And you guys know how that all turns out.

Regarding if they thought the show were more anticipating the show being big or worried it would fail, again they talked about the initial excitement, which soon turned to concern:

Anthony Montgomery: Really big, initially. Connor Trinneer: But then, we wondered for a long time if we were going to be coming back to work. Anthony Montgomery: That started in season one.

As for what was planned for the show beyond a fourth season, speaking for the group, Montgomery made it clear they were on a roll once they got to season four and it would only have got better:

Anthony Montgomery: They’d never told me where we were going, but I can tell you it would have been fucking great. What? Come on! Did y’all see season four? We have really stepped into our own by season four. So if we’d gone five, six and seven, man, I don’t know what it would have been, but we would have crushed it!  I love that guy [points to fan] saying “you guys could still do it.” No, no, that that spaceship has sailed.

Dominic Keating, Connor Trinneer, and Anthony Montgomery entertained the crowd at Mission Chicago (Photo: TrekMovie.com)

About that theme song…

One of the more controversial elements of Enterprise was the theme song: Russell Watson’s “Where My Heart Will Take Me.” As a group they defended the theme and talked about how producers were very optimistic about it, although Keating noted he wasn’t a fan of the new version of the song used for the final two seasons:

Connor Trinneer: They were very psyched about it. They were really excited about it. Dominic Keating: I got to say when they suddenly introduced a tambourine and the upbeat version of that song for season three, I got to say, that is some goofy shit. I am watching the show now and I am on season three and I can’t even listen to it. It is naff, really naff. The original song? I didn’t mind at all. I thought it was rather beautiful. Anthony Montgomery: I thought it was fantastic. And it fits our series. It does. For what our show is and what it represents in the franchise, I thought it was a perfect song. Connor Trinneer: I think I heard it for the first time and went, “That’s a song, that right there is a song.” Dominic Keating: I thought it was rather fitting with the graphics and absolutely the human endeavor and flight and I thought it was pretty cool.

Representing Florida and Britain

The actors also talked a bit about how they developed the cultural identities of their characters. Connor Trinner described how he was taken by surprise when the writers identified Trip coming from Florida about halfway through the series:

Connor Trinneer: I’ve had done a play in New York for about a year playing this guy from Oklahoma and all this said was [Trip is] a good old southern boy. I know Oklahoma is a tip of the South or south Midwest. Anyway, I went in with that accent and worked on that and knew it really well … and then they wrote that I was from Florida and I went to the producers and said I’m not doing Florida and they’re like, “They’ll never know.” And I was like, “People in Florida will know!” And sure enough there was a family that came on the Make A Wish Foundation to our set and they were from the town Trip is supposed to be from and they were just like, “I just want to thank you so much for nailing our accent.”

And Leicester-born Keating talked about how he was proud to represent Britain, and he was given some leeway in portraying a British character:

Dominic Keating: It was it was an honor. And if anything, I got slightly a wider berth how they were particular about what they’ve written. Connor, if you wanted to change anything, you have to bring up the writers’ room, didn’t you? It had to go through a whole order of command to change an “and” to an “or” or a “but.” I could just go, “A British guy wouldn’t say that.”

Dominic Keating, Connor Trinneer, and Anthony Montgomery entertained the crowd at Mission Chicago (Photo: TrekMovie.com)

Source: TrekMovie.com - April 26, 2022, article by ANTHONY PASCALE

[thoughtlessarse]

Florida prosecutors heard graphic testimony about how the late millionaire and financier Jeffrey Epstein sexually assaulted teenage girls two years before they agreed a plea deal, according to transcripts released on Monday of the 2006 grand jury investigation. The transcripts were at the centre of a court battle for about a decade after media investigations into how Epstein’s ties to the rich and the powerful seem to have allowed him to continue to rape and sex traffic underage girls without serving a serious jail term. The judge’s release of the approximately 150 pages came as a surprise as he had scheduled a hearing for next week on when and how to release them. Governor Ron DeSantis had signed a Bill in February allowing the release on Monday or any time thereafter that circuit judge Luis Delgado ordered.

continue reading

[qualitysigns]

Sarasota, Florida, USA

[justinspoliticalcorner]

WaPo's Philip Bump: State-endorsed violence is triumphing over left-aligned protests

Philip Bump at Washington Post:

I was in Florida in May 2021 when I saw a white Mini Cooper with two seemingly incongruous bumper stickers. One said, “I WILL NOT COMPLY” — a then-vogue sentiment as governments sought to mandate vaccines to fight the coronavirus pandemic. In a rear window, though, the car displayed a monochromatic American flag with one of the stripes rendered in blue. This, of course, is the graphical representation of the “Blue Lives Matter” mantra, an expression of support for the police that emerged as law enforcement began facing new criticism about the killing of Black civilians a decade ago. I will not comply … but I support our men and women in law enforcement.

It’s easy to carve out a realm where these sentiments are not at odds. The driver won’t comply with vaccine mandates but stands with the police as they do the hard work of subduing the real criminals. Or, to define the space where the sentiments are not at odds more simply: The driver adheres to a right-wing worldview in which state power is properly deployed against the left. For the driver, the law protects but doesn’t bind, as the saying has it. That was three years ago. In the period since, state power has gained a lot of ground against its long-standing adversaries’ criticism and protest. Last week, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R) took the unusual-for-him step of pardoning a man who was convicted of murder in a shooting death in Austin. The shooter, Daniel Perry, was driving in the city in July 2020 when he came across a protest criticizing the death of George Floyd at the hands of police in Minneapolis. Garrett Foster was part of the crowd and was carrying a rifle, which is legal in the state. Perry claimed that Foster aimed the weapon at him and that he fired in self-defense.

Others in the crowd denied that Foster raised his weapon. A jury determined that the killing was not justified and sentenced Perry to prison. They did so without even seeing some of the most striking evidence: text messages from Perry in which he expressed racist views and talked about shooting people who engaged in looting in the wake of the Floyd protests. (Foster, like Perry, was White.) But Abbott decided a pardon was in order, arguing that the state’s stand-your-ground law “cannot be nullified by a jury or a progressive district attorney.” Foster’s killing was rebuked by Texans but sanctioned by the state. In the wake of the protests in 2020 — an underrecognized challenge to state power from the left — other states attempted to build laws specifically to increase the costs of those protests. In Florida and Oklahoma, for example, the state legislatures passed and governors signed laws absolving drivers of some penalties if they struck protesters blocking roads.

[...] One of the widest partisan divides, meanwhile, was on “disrupting public events.” That divide was about as wide as the one on “establishing encampments.” Since the protests that unfolded in the summer of 2020, the largest widespread protest movement seen in the United States has been centered on the establishment of encampments on college campuses to protest Israel’s military incursion in Gaza. Most Americans expressed skepticism of those protests in polling released this month. In recent Fox News polling, though, a majority of Democrats expressed support for the protests while Republicans opposed them by more than a 5-1 margin. [...]

At many colleges, including New York's Columbia University, administrators agreed with the Republicans. Law enforcement was brought in to disrupt and remove encampments. That was true at Columbia, where the New York Police Department swept the campus more than once. The second and final sweep resulted in several students being hospitalized. Over the weekend, the NYPD again violently disrupted a protest. Officers were seen striking protesters participating in a pro-Palestinian event in Brooklyn, with police arguing that the response was needed because protesters were blocking the streets. The neighborhood’s City Council member told the New York Times that “from my vantage point, the response appeared preemptive, retaliatory and cumulatively aggressive.” [...]

The violent crackdown on the protests were sanctioned by the state. It is possible that the bumper sticker on that car I saw in Florida in 2021 was harrumphing not about an unwillingness to comply with the coronavirus vaccine but, instead, with the advent of a Democratic president. After all, the weeks after the 2020 election were awash in right-wing refusal to comply with the state power manifested in recognizing Joe Biden’s electoral victory. On Jan. 6, 2021, rioters supporting Donald Trump overwhelmed law enforcement and overtook the Capitol in a failed effort to redirect power back to the sitting president.

The response from Trump’s allies and the broader right has been illuminating. There was an immediate effort to rationalize the violence by comparing it to the protests that unfolded the previous summer, like the one at which Garrett Foster was killed. Or like the one after which teenager Kyle Rittenhouse shot and killed two men. (“Those who help, protect, and defend are the good guys,” Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) wrote on social media once Rittenhouse was acquitted of murder. “Kyle is one of good ones.”) Over the longer term, though, the right’s Capitol riot narrative — led by people like Greene — focused more heavily on the purported injustices those rioters had faced. Those who are incarcerated have been presented as “political prisoners,” rather than as violent criminals and, often people who’ve pleaded guilty to their offenses. In the vernacular of that Mini Cooper, these were honorable people refusing to comply, not criminals engaged in an unacceptable denial of how much blue lives matter.

Washington Post’s Philp Bump wrote a solid article on why left-leaning protests (pro-Palestine, pro-Black Lives Matter, etc.) are more likely to face state-sanctioned violent crackdown responses than right-leaning protests (anti-COVID mitigation measures, etc.)

[transfloridaresources]

[Photo ID: Red graphic with text reading 'No xmas as unusual in a genocide. Dec 23 (2023), Sawgrass Mills, 2598 White Seahorse Way, Sunrise, FL, 33323. 2-5PM. Shut it down! for Palestine.' Students for Justice in Palestine, Al-Awda The Palestine Right to Return Coalition, JVP South Florida. /End ID]

Dec 23, 2023 Sunrise, FL. 2-5PM

🎄NO CHRISTMAS AS USUAL DURING A GENOCIDE🎄 🚨🚨Join us this Saturday, December 23, outside Sawgrass Mills Mall from 2pm-5pm in our Shut It Down for Palestine protest. 🚨🚨 Congregations in Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus Christ, are asking people to halt Christmas festivities which includes shopping. American tax dollars are being used to murder innocent Gazans and flatten the entire Gaza Strip. Two Christian buildings (including a church) have been bombed, and more recently two catholic Palestinians were shot by Israeli snipers. We will not celebrate Christmas as usual with these circumstances. We will gather to educate consumers and ask them to join us in calling for an immediate permanent ceasefire. So mask up 😷 (it’s Flu season!), bring your signs 🪧, your flags 🇵🇸, and your loud voices! 🗣️🗣️ Source

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Karts & Hearts - Pt. II

A Lestappen Fic loosely based on this prompt

Series Main List

Pt. II Summary: In which the first half of 2022 brings Charles more highs and lows and revelations than he bargains for.

Warnings: Explicit language; non-graphic sexual references; idiot in love; breakups with OC boyfriend and associated drama/angst

Word Count: 3.6k

Also posted on AO3!

A/N: Shoutout to @sharlleglerg for posting such lovely content and being gracious enough to allow me to use a screenshot of their post!

The years race by. 

No pun intended. 

Indeed, if Charles was pressed, he couldn’t say where the years have gone. Or how he’s now suddenly staring down the 2022 season and his 25th birthday in October.

With the constant hum of activity during the season and taking time to catch his breath during the off-season, he doesn’t really think about that drunken balcony conversation too much. He’s had a couple of discrete relationships in the intervening years, but nothing quite as serious as Pasquale. A banking executive who isn’t just with Charles for his fame or fortune. They laugh freely, spend countless days on the water (whenever Charles’ schedule allows), and indulge in enough margarita pizzas to make Charles’ dietician groan.

Honestly, he doesn’t have time to think about Max much. Especially not when he’s riding high on winning P1 twice in the opening three races of the season. Especially not when Max wins the alternating races and the Dutchman’s smile grows as Red Bull refines their design. It shouldn’t matter that Max is the defending world champion. It shouldn’t matter how broad and strong his shoulders have become. It shouldn’t matter how the signs of maturity show in his racecraft and his media duties. 

None of it should itch beneath Charles’ skin. But maybe that’s the Florida heat. As far as he’s concerned, Miami rivals Singapore for its oppressive race conditions. Qualifying proves brutal but satisfying as he secures pole position with Carlos in P2 right behind him. He steadfastly doesn’t think about Max breathing down his neck as he lurks in P3, poised to strike. When the lights go out, Charles learns that Max makes easy work of Carlos on the first fucking turn, and nine laps later, he’s staring at the back of an obnoxious ‘ORACLE’ brand. 

It’s only after the race - after his hunt to chase Max down - and still only managing to secure P2, that he lets himself slow down. Tucked back away in the privacy of Monaco, he indulges in a quiet moment with Pasquale. A gentle sea breeze blows through the open window of his apartment as he lazily plays his piano and Pasquale listens, lazing on the couch. 

“You know,” Pasquale suddenly says over the gentle trickle of piano notes. “They’re comparing your Miami second place to your Austrian second place three years ago.” 

Charles falters a note as his fingers slip. “They are not.” 

Pasquale merely chuckles. “Your fans never forget, it seems - especially when in both races you finish second to Max.” 

Charles’ brow pinches as he turns around, glaring playfully at his boyfriend. His delectable boyfriend with dark hair and lovely crystal blue eyes who lounges like a lazy housecat against the couch’s plush cushions. He paints an utterly irresistible image and Charles’ helpless not to stand up and fold himself into the open space next to Pasquale’s side. He snuggles close, angling for a glimpse of Pasquale’s phone. “Show me.” He dares to say. 

Pasquale huffs a breathy laugh. “Are you sure? Looking into your own fandom can be a scary, slippery slope.” 

“Yes, but I have you to protect me. Let me see, please.” He brushes a kiss against his boyfriend’s neck as the other man turns his phone around.

The sting of 2019 returns all over again but it’s immediately squashed as Charles’ gaze hones in on the fine taper of Max’s waist. He’s no slouch with own physique in the sport, but Max is... Max is something else. 

“That’s so not even the same comparison.” Charles declares, forcing a hard swallow to clear his thoughts. “The 2019 race should rightfully have been mine. But today… today, that was just hard racing. He... he didn’t flinch, no matter how much I tried to make him.” 

“Careful, caro mio,” Pasquale teases, “you sound almost fond of him.” 

Heat flares in Charles’ cheeks as his traitorous heart jumps against his ribcage. “I respect him, caro mio. But that doesn’t mean I like him.” 

Pasquale hums dubiously. “Doesn’t mean you hate him either.” His fingers swipe over his phone to pull up another photo. 

Pasquale gives a slow shake of his head. “You two look downright friendly here. Maybe a little more so… if one were a jealous type.” 

The photo is certainly… striking. In their post-adrenaline highs, they only have eyes for each other. Charles can’t remember the topic of conversation, but the hint of a smile on his face and Max’s rapt attention makes him wish he could remember. If he did, then maybe he could find a way to always be the center of Max’s attention. 

The thought strikes him out of nowhere - but even that’s not quite true. If he’s perfectly honest with himself, random thoughts like this have plagued him since that alcohol soaked night where they made their promise.

Well, maybe not a promise… a pact, perhaps, or maybe it was just… an agreement. 

Charles wets his lip, glancing towards Pasquale. “You have nothing to be jealous about, you know.” He presses another kiss to the smooth skin of Pasquale’s neck that smells of musky citrus. “Max is just… just a friend from work.” 

Pasquale gives another noncommittal hum as Charles drifts another kiss across his neck. The teasing curl to the corner of Pasquale’s mouth gives him away, and Charles spends the rest of the afternoon proving his words to his boyfriend. 

If - sometimes - he imagines a head of sandy blonde hair above such stunning blue eyes, he keeps it to himself. 

When Charles returns from Azerbaijan, Pasquale envelopes Charles in the biggest hug. Tears glisten in his blue eyes as he holds Charles like maybe… maybe he thought he might never again. It tugs at something raw and almost guilty in Charles’ chest as he embraces his boyfriend in return. 

But maybe that’s the sting of the race talking. With his teammate out of the race, all of the team’s hopes rested on Charles’ shoulders. He had firm command of the lead with a 13-second advantage and then… the streaming trail of fucking smoke from his fucking car. For the second time in three fucking races. Handing Max his second first place finish in three fucking races. 

Fucking engine. Fucking car. Fucking race. 

“I was so worried about you.” Pasquale whispers against his neck, still crushing Charles close. “I saw your car and all the smoke, and… my heart just stopped. I know that you made it into the pits, but every time… I just-” 

Charles shushes him gently, rocking him in his arms. “It’s alright, caro mio. I’m alright - everything’s just fine.” He leans his head against Pasquale’s, exhaling deep in an attempt to release his frustration. “The cars are built so safe now. You don’t need to worry - no matter how much smoke you see.” 

“Can’t help it.” Pasquale mumbles sheepishly as he draws back to meet Charles’ gaze. “I know that what you do is dangerous but…” he trails off as he blows a trembling sigh. “It’s not easy watching you go up in a puff of smoke or shunt into a wall. Any of you, really - but especially you.” 

A thin smile lifts Charles’ lips. “It’s touching to know that you care so much.” 

Pasquale sniffles, attempting a small smile of his own. “Maybe too much.” He leans in, brushing Charles’ lips with his own, and there is something reassuring in the intimate touch. “I don’t know how many more I can witness.” 

Charles’ stomach drops to his feet as his eyes widen. “What… what does that mean?” 

With another sniffle, Pasquale gives a dismissive shake of his head. “I don’t know… I’m not making sense, am I? I’m just… I love you so much and I can’t… don’t want….” He raises a hand to swipe at his eyes. "It makes me sad that I can't be there for you." 

"And I'm okay with that, you know. You have explained yourself and I don't think you're wrong."

"But it could be different. I could be different." He sniffles with a derisive shake of his head. "At least you have your emotional support rival." 

"My what...?" 

"That's all they could talk about - both before and after the race. 'Charles and Max locked in the championship battle - is this the weekend they will finally snap?' Just all of the predictions, all the speculation -”

“It's all behind us now.” Charles cuts him off, not willing to let Pasquale spiral down that blackhole. “The results are final, and Max came out on top this time. But I will go after him next weekend in Hungary.” He watches Pasquale’s face fall with dread as he continues. “And then we will settle in for two media-free, Max-free weeks during summer break.” 

Though, no day of Charles’ is completely Max-free. The Dutchman always lurks somewhere - either in his memory or his unbidden fantasies. The thoughts have no right to intrude on his time with Pasquale… and he doesn’t know what to do about the stab of guilt that shoots through him.  

“Hungary….” Pasquale says at length before exhaling another deep sigh. “You’re going to get back in that car….” 

Charles offers his best gently reassuring smile. “It’s my job.” 

“And it’s what you want to do, I know…” He sounds so sad that Charles draws him back in for another hug. “I know….” 

Then comes Austria. And it’s absolutely fucking perfect. Charles tastes victory for the first time since Australia - that somehow feels like a lifetime ago. Max follows him across the finish line to take P2, and Charles’ feet don’t touch the ground. His heart sings as the Monegasque anthem sounds around him, and he nearly drowns in the deluge of champagne. But it’s so beyond worth it to see Max’s wide smile, hear his easy laughter, and watch his mischievous, playful side take hold. 

Charles knows his own smile beams bright enough to rival the sun, and it doesn’t leave his face until he returns back to Monaco. And returns back to Pasquale. 

The dark-haired man shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Charles, I can’t… do this anymore.” 

Charles’ face falls. “You… you can’t?” His mouth goes dry at the implication as his heart cracks. 

Pasquale offers a tearful shake of his head. “No, Charles. I can’t.” He draws a sharp inhale, his posture straightening. “I can’t watch you get in that car week after week, never knowing for sure that you’re going to walk away from it.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “And I can’t -” His voice catches as he draws a shaking breath. “And I can’t watch you with another man when I can’t be there for you… and I-I know that it’s all my fault. I want you - I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you… but I don’t want your spotlight. I… guess I don’t… want your world.” 

“Pasquale… please,” Charles pauses to draw a breath, not sure what else to say. “I know this season has been… unique. But that doesn’t mean that we should just give up on us like that.” 

“It’s not giving up.” Pasquale says resolutely. “We just… we want different things. And you’ve been very gracious to allow me my wishes.” 

Charles’ brows climb incredulously. “Do you really think that I want Netflix crawling all over our relationship and our life together? That’s the last thing I want for anyone…” He doesn’t admit that he also includes himself, but maybe Pasquale already knows. 

“I know you do, Charles - but you have a contract. And that means that they own part of your life.” Another tear breaks free as Pasquale again shakes his head. “The part of your life that I want nothing to do with. The part that gives me sleepless nights, sick with worry. The part that breaks my heart over and over when I have to read and see -” 

“Then, don’t read or see.” Charles implores, grasping a memory. “Remember what you told me? That looking into my own fandom was a scary, slippery slope? Don’t you think that the same applies to you?” Charles holds Pasquale’s gaze, feeling his own eyes tear up. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read, caro mio.” 

“Please, Charles. Don’t call me that.” Pasquale’s voice wavers as he reaches for his phone and unlocks the screen. “And I don’t have to read - I can see it for myself. Everyone can see it for themselves.” 

He holds up his phone and Charles freezes. 

The blinding smiles, the affectionate playfulness, the wrinkle of Max’s eyes as he gazes at Charles and Charles basks in his attention. Goodness, if their helmets had been any closer, they might as well have kissed. God knows that Charles wanted to. High on euphoria and adrenaline, he wanted nothing more than to draw Max close by that lean waist of his and taste the sweet champagne on his tongue. 

He can see it so clearly in his mind’s eye. Both dripping with sweat and champagne, Pirelli caps knocked askew as the world melts around them and they bask in their shared podium. And then… then, he would finally be free. He wouldn’t have to hide. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding someone who would shun the spotlight. He would just… finally be able to love Max Verstappen as he had…. 

The realization hits him like a ton of bricks. 

When he dares to look away from Pasquale’s phone and meets those heartbroken blue eyes, Charles knows the truth is written all over his face. 

Belgian Grand Prix 2019 

Holding the first-place trophy feels surreal. Standing atop the podium for the first time, hearing the Monegasque anthem swirl around him, had been an absolute dream come true. As the champagne spray drowned him, he vowed it would be the first of many.

He’d never known a euphoria like it and champagne aside, the taste of an F1 victory was akin to flying without wings.

Even now, he feels as though he’s floating as he leaves the Ferrari facilities behind and steps out into the late evening sun. The paddock is mostly quiet around him, with most of the other teams having packed it in, and he has a flight to catch in a couple of hours. It’s hardly a fitting celebration for his first-ever victory in F1, but it’s only a matter of days until the next race and he can’t afford to get too carried away.

Perhaps it’s better to wait. The adrenaline high continues to seep from his system and champagne bubbles fizz in his brain, and maybe… maybe he’ll just sleep the short flight back to Monaco.

A dark shape of movement catches in his peripheral, and he turns just in time to spot the navy-blue clad form of Max stepping through the track fence. Of course, he could just as easily walk out through the Red Bull garage to the full expanse of empty track, but he resembles a child sneaking his way onto private property.

It intrigues Charles to the point that he’s helpless not to follow. As he works the gate latch closed behind him, a forbidden thrill races through him. Even though he knows that he has every authorized credential to be on the track, there’s something about the quiet stillness that makes him feel like he’s breaking a rule.

Max stands not too much further down the track, hands in his pockets as he walks with his head down. The set of his broad shoulders radiates tension and perhaps – like Charles – he’s just looking for a moment of peace. It’s never easy to crash out during a race, especially not in the third turn of the first lap.  

“But I guess Kimi didn’t expect me to be there anymore, so he did his normal line and we just touched. The track rod was broken after that so that’s why I went straight on at Eau Rouge. That’s racing, these things can happen. I don’t think you can blame anyone.”

The replay of Max’s post-interview in Charles’ mind strikes him as odd. It’s not the Max that he remembers. It’s certainly not the same kid from the karting track in 2012 who was out for Charles’ blood.

He doesn’t know exactly what compels him to stroll up to Max’s side, standing side-by-side on the asphalt. Max doesn’t acknowledge his presence with a glance, but Charles does catch the clenching muscles of his defined jawline. 

Charles draws a deep inhale. “I’m glad that you’re okay.”

Max shrugs dismissively. “It wasn’t a hard hit.”

“Still – deploying the safety car means it was hard enough.”

A moment of silence falls as the Dutchman glares over at Charles but there’s more confusion in his gaze than venom. “What are you doing here, Charles?”

“You’re not as sneaky as you thought.” The corner of Charles’ mouth lifts. “I saw you slipping through the gate.”

“And what? Your curiosity got the better of you?”

Charles has no immediate answer even as he feels a blush rise in his cheeks. Was it really so obvious? Was he really so obvious? He breaks away from Max’s gaze, glancing around the track instead of answering. Fading twilight paints the grandstands and surrounding trees in swaths of brilliant colors and it’s an odd sensation to feel so alone in such a typically busy place. Except… that he’s not alone.

With a tentative smile, he turns back to Max. “You know, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen this place so quiet.”

Max looks away for his own assessment of their surroundings, and a thin smile cracks his face. “Yeah, this track is nice when it’s quiet.”

Charles takes an uncertain step forward, relieved when Max matches it. “You talk like you’ve been here before. When it’s quiet.”

Max nods gently. “Several times - this isn’t the first time I’ve snuck onto this track for a walk. After all, this is basically my home race.”

“I had forgotten that.” Charles’ brow pinches with embarrassed confusion. “Or maybe… I just never thought about it like that before.”

“Most people forget that I’m half-Belgian.”

Charles nods as they continue to walk in the waning light. “I feel like I should have known that… I’ve certainly known you for so long.”

“We’ve been around each other for so long,” Max corrects. “That’s not the same as knowing each other.”

His brow pinches in mock-hurt as he glances down at the track, scuffing the asphalt with the toe of his shoe as he keeps the lazy pace with Max. “Well, I know you well enough to know that your interview after the race was surprising.” 

Max glances over at him with the nonverbal question written on his face. It stirs a sense of satisfaction in Charles’ chest as he continues. “‘I don’t think you can blame anyone’. Are you serious, mate?” He chuckles gently. “You wanted my head on a plate for our incident in 2012 and now you’re saying no one’s at fault?” 

“Jesus, Charles,” Max sighs, turning away. “I’m not 15 anymore.” 

“That’s still quite a swing in less than 10 years…” he teases with a playful smile. “You’re growing up so fast!” 

Max doesn’t take the bait but Charles is rewarded as the line of tension in his shoulders visibly relaxes and the corner of his mouth lifts. A bird sings overhead in some distant tree, and Charles turns his gaze away to seek it out. 

“It’s just been a shitty day, you know.” Max says suddenly, drawing Charles’ attention back. “You say what you have to.” 

The thought slices through Charles’ post-race high and he understands all too well. He doesn’t consider himself an adrenaline junkie, but the unparalleled extreme highs of the sport are only matched by its equally devastating lows. It’s the reality of both their lives when they signed the contract for their racing seats. He forces a swallow, nodding carefully. “You know how it is, though,” he says softly. “One week is not guaranteed for the next.” 

“I understand completely.” Max says quickly. “It’s not surprising or unknown to me.” Again, he shrugs as his mouth upturns dismissively. “Doesn’t make it any less shitty.” 

“No.” Charles easily agrees. “No, it doesn’t.” An idea dawns on him and he glances over. “Is that why you’re here? Though, if you’re trying to forget, then this may not be the best place….” 

“I enjoy the quiet sometimes.” Max casts him a sideways glance, enough for Charles to know that his statement isn’t a rebuke of Charles’ presence. “And Spa has always been one of my favorites.” 

Charles hums thoughtfully for a minute. “You say that like - do you come here often?” All too late he realizes what he said, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Okay, I didn’t mean it like that, but… well, is this place close to where you grew up?”

“Bree isn’t exactly close, but this track… I don’t know, I’ve just always liked it.” 

“It is surprisingly peaceful - a good place to have a think,” Charles agrees. “Well you know, without engine whine or screaming fans.” 

“They screamed plenty loud for you today.” Max says, glancing over at Charles with a nod. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Charles feels his smile widen with satisfaction. “Thank you. I’m just… overwhelmed by it.”

Max hums in agreement. “There’s not another feeling in the world like it.”

“No… and it seems impossible to ever recreate.”

“Then, you should be off enjoying it.” Max nods over his shoulder. “Don’t waste it here.”

A stab of indignation hits Charles in the chest, but instead, he takes a deep breath of the fresh air and lets himself indulge in the casual walk. “My flight isn’t for another several hours and that’s not near enough time to celebrate properly. So, you tell me,” he challenges with a teasing smile. “If walking around Spa is good enough for you, then why isn’t it good enough for me?”

Series Main List

[randomvarious]

Dogs on Ice - "On a String" Hardcore Breakout USA, Volume 2 Song released in 1993. Compilation released in 1995. Punk Rock / Pop-Punk

Plays: 6.3K+ on Spotify // 800+ on YouTube

Got a nice, little, early 90s pop-punky gem for you all today from a somewhat forgotten band out of Tampa, Florida called Dogs on Ice. As a staple of their own local scene for sometime around half a decade, Dogs on Ice managed to get signed to San Francisco label Allied Recordings, which was run by a guy who did graphic design work for Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra's Alternative Tentacles label. DoI would end up releasing a 7-inch EP and an album through Alliance before breaking up, which would then lead their frontman, Joe Popp, to pursue his own renaissance man career of sorts as…

a leader of other bands, including one with ex-members of Smash Mouth

a rock musical extraordinaire who'd get one of his own creations directed by the guy who did Rent

an owner of his own music gear shop, for which he would make gear himself

a co-star in a 1996 commercial for MLB on Fox with ex-New York Met, ex-Philadelphia Phillie, and current 100% certified douchenozzle, Lenny Dykstra, who sings one of the single-worst renditions of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" that you've ever heard in your life

a winner of multiple awards for a web docuseries he did that saw him go on a fully-fledged cross-country tour to play music in 48 different states with his sole mode of transportation being nothing but a motorcycle

Whew! 🫨

So, anyway, for the time that they were around, it seems like Dogs on Ice were a pretty big deal in the Tampa area, which is probably why, of all bands that could've been chosen, they were given the big opportunity to open for Green Day back in 1993, right when Billie, Mike, and Tré were on the cusp of breaking out and re-defining pop-punk as we knew it themselves with Dookie. The venue for the show was a small bar and is said to have attracted about 40 people on average for a gig, but for that Green Day / Dogs on Ice billing, it's estimated that they drew ten times the normal amount of folks, and definitely broke occupancy laws, with it being so packed that people were forced to stand on the pool tables 😂.

And the year of that performance is when Dogs on Ice released their debut record too, a four-song EP called Housefly, which featured a track on it called "On a String."

Now, although some profiles list this group as being hardcore punk, and this very track itself kicks off a great comp called Hardcore Breakout USA Volume 2, "On a String" is really not a hardcore song in any way. It's just a pretty sweet and catchy bit of early 90s guitar-bass-and-drum trio pop-punk. Joe Popp—who I should note, literally has the word 'pop' in his own name!—leads the way on both guitar and vocals, with a lightly scratchy and sometimes gravelly street rasp that contrasts nicely with his much smoother and delightful floods of 80s-indie-jangly chords, which themselves get broken up by some sudden, punk-standard chops at times too.

So while doing research on this band and Joe Popp, specifically, I found a forum post of his where he said that he "was pop punk before they called it pop punk," and while I don't think that that's actually true at all, it still seems that he was pretty damn good at making it, because this song in particular really is a pretty top-notch bop when it comes to early 90s stuff.

Wasn't expecting to go down such an extensive rabbit hole today, but as it turns out, Joe Popp's led quite an interesting life for himself. And now you know a whole lot more about this hero of local 90s Tampa punk and one of his first bands too.

[hmasfatty]

NHL to air alternate Stanley Cup Final broadcast for Deaf community

By William Douglas

The NHL and P-X-P will produce the first-of-its kind alternate broadcast of the Stanley Cup Final in American Sign Language for the Deaf community.

“NHL in ASL” will be available on the digital platforms of ESPN+ and Canada’s Sportsnet+ and feature Deaf broadcasters providing real-time play-by-play coverage and color commentary during each game of the best-of-7 Final between the Florida Panthers and Edmonton Oilers. Game 1 is Saturday at 8 p.m. ET.

It’s the latest collaboration between the NHL and P-X-P, which has provided ASL interpretation for signature events like the Winter Classic, Heritage Classic, NHL All-Star Weekend and Stadium Series, and Commissioner Gary Bettman’s State of the League address.

“Our continued partnership with P-X-P allows the NHL to do something no other professional sports league has done before: provide a fully immersive, unique, and accessible viewing experience that specifically meet the needs of the Deaf community,” said Kim Davis, NHL Senior Executive Vice President of Social Impact, Growth Initiatives and Legislative Affairs. “This NHL-led production further exemplifies the League’s commitment to producing accessible and interactive content for all of our fans -- including underserved communities. Fans of all abilities are encouraged to tune in to experience this first-of-a-kind broadcast as a way to understand and share the experience with someone who is Deaf.”

Steve Mayer, NHL Senior Executive Vice President and Chief Content Officer, said the broadcast won’t be the traditional play-by-play and color commentary, “but rather something more conversational and relaxed in nature providing a deeper layer of additional storytelling.”

“The first-of-its kind production is something we hope and plan to expand on beyond the Stanley Cup Final and into the 2024-25 season,” Mayer said.

“NHL in ASL” will feature Jason Altmann, P-X-P’s chief operating officer who is third-generation Deaf, and Noah Blankenship, who currently works in the Office of Deaf and Hard of Hearing Services in the Agency for Human Rights and Community Partnerships under the city and county of Denver.

Altmann and Blankenship will provide ASL descriptions of major plays, like goals and hits, as well as referee calls and rule explanations to clarify decisions made on the ice.

Graphic visualizations will include a large, metered, real-time bar that demonstrates crowd noise levels to viewers, specifically around certain events like goals and penalties. Also included will be custom visual emotes to depict goals, penalties, the intensity of hits, and whether the puck hits the post/crossbar.

“The opportunity to do a Deaf-centric broadcast of a premier sporting event in ASL is a positive, seismic change for the Deaf community,” Altmann said. “As a sports fan growing up, I couldn’t relate with the broadcasters because some elements were not well captured with closed captioning. Now, we are creating an opportunity for Deaf sports fans and viewers to watch Deaf broadcasters and fell engaged through ASL.”

Brice Christianson, P-X-P’s founder and CEO, said “NHL in ASL” is a dream come true for the Deaf community who watch sports.

About 30 million Americans over age 12 have hearing loss in both ears and about two to three out of every 1,000 children in the U.S. are born with a detectable level of hearing loss in one or both ears, according to the National Institutes on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders. There’s an estimated 357,000 people in Canada who are culturally Deaf and 3.21 million who are hard of hearing, according to the Canadian Association for the Deaf.

“It gives the Deaf community the belief that accessibility and inclusion and representation is possible in professional sports,” Christianson said of the broadcast. “Accessibility, inclusion and representation is something that the Deaf and hard of hearing community don’t get consistently, and what we’ve been doing with the NHL over time is building it.

“Now we’re excited to kick the door open and build off it.”