#one way from atlanta to new Orleans | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gorgeousundertow · 5 months ago

Text

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

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

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

First Battalion

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

Charlie Company

Capt. Albert Hassenzahl.

From Cincinnati, Ohio. Worked in steel mill.

27 years old

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

Sufficient. 6/10

Sgt. Roy Speake Jr.

From Birmingham, Alabama. Foreman in cotton mill.

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

7/10

Sgt. Mariano Sanchez.

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

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

5/10

T/5 John Davis.

From Detroit, Michigan. Janitor.

20 years old, works hard but talks too much.

6/10

Cpl. Harvey White.

From a small town in rural Kansas, farmer.

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

4/10

Pfc. Paul Devoe.

From New Orleans, Louisiana. Line cook.

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

7/10

Schedule

0600 Reveille

0610 Formation

0630 Tidy barracks

0700 Calisthenics

0800 Wash up

0900 Barracks Inspection

0930 Currahee or obstacle course

1045 PT drills

1115 Outside lecture

1200 Lunch

1330 Mail Call

1345 Lecture/Classroom

1500 Parachute training

1700 Drill

1800 Supper

1900 Lecture/Classroom

2100 Return to barracks

2300 TAPS

Notes September 1942

Dislike Lt. Col. Turner intensely.

Training is more difficult than anticipated.

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

Notes October 1942

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

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

Notes November 1942

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

Capt. Herbert Sobel

From Chicago, Illinois. Attending University of Illinois.

30 years old

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

2/10

1/Lt. Richard Winters

From Lancaster, Pennsylvania

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

8/10

Sgt. Carwood Lipton

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

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

8/10

Cpl. Donald Hoobler

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

Age: 20. Young, but works hard.

6/10

Pfc. Joseph Liebgott

Born in Michigan, moved to San Francisco

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

7/10

Pvt. David Webster

From New York City. Harvard grad. Writer

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

5/10

Will continue to observe

Notes December 1942

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes January 1943

Continuing to observe Sgt. Lipton.

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

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

Notes February 1943

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

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

Notes March 1943

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

Notes June 1943

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

Notes August 1943

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

Notes September 1943

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

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

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

Notes November 1943

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

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

Notes December 1943

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

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

Notes May 1944

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

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

Notes June 1944

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

I was also injured. I will recover.

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

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

They know, now. I know, too.

Notes July 1944

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

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

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

Notes August 1944

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

Notes December 1944

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

Notes January 1945

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

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

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

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

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

Notes February 1945

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes February 1945

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

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

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

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

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

Notes February 1945

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

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

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It should never have happened,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The woman said it would cure you.”

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

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

Lipton shrugged, loose. “Some.”

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

“I guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes February 1945

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

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

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

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

Notes February 1945

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

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

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

“Yes, sir?” he said, expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#band of brothers #fanfic #hbowarsummer24 #speirton #ronald speirs #carwood lipton

38 notes · View notes

sigynpenniman · 5 months ago

Text

AIRPORT TIERLIST OF AIRPORTS I’VE BEEN THROUGH FROM SOMEONE WHO FUCKING LOVES AIRPORTS

S TIER:

- MCO Orlando. My love my queen. Platonic ideal of airports. All the other airports wanna be her.

- MSY New Orleans - I have only seen your beautiful face once but your vibes were just impeccable. I miss you beautiful

A TIER:

- LHR London Heathrow - you’re so chill and sweet to be such a major airport. Weirdly calming somehow. Sterile, but the big boy of London airports. When you’re here you’re in London. Smells like joy.

- CDG Charles DeGaulle Paris. Dripping in stunning retro futurism and has a Concorde on stands by the runway. We love her

- DCA Ronald Reagan Washington DC. So pretty. So clean. So easy to navigate. Prevented from S tier status by being one long skinny thing with no way to get quickly across it.

B TIER:

- DEN Denver Colorado. Architecture for the gods but somehow the vibes are off. I’d fly through you again happily but I don’t feel especially warm when I think of you.

- FLL Fort Lauderdale - Hollywood. You’re permanently attached to very warm memories for me because of the trip I took from you but you’re just kind of there. Vibes are off. Meh.

- ORD Chicago O’hare. Aesthetic perfection but weirdly stressful. While I had a great time on this trip I do not think warmly of the airport other than the rainbow lighting. Jules got yelled at here. -10 points.

- CLE Cleveland Ohio. Another airport that is home of warm memories due to loved ones but just really not the vibe as an airport.

C TIER:

- LGW London Gatwick. I don’t like you for no reason. Like a disappointment, you’re in London but not at Heathrow for some reason.

- PHL Philadelphia. Again, weird aimless dislike. I cannot justify.

- BNA Nashville. Meh. Fine, which may be the worst insult I can lob at an airport.

D TIER:

- LGA New York LaGaurdia. Fuck you and your tiny spirit terminal in the middle of nowhere and your hard to access rental cars and your poor road signage that sent me round and round on the New York interstate in my rented Corolla. The bigger terminals are pretty though, and anyway. New York City!

E TIER:

JAX Jacksonville. Ew.

F TIER:

BOS Boston Logan International Airport. I loathe you. Less busy numerically than ATL and yet somehow even more spread out. Signage is bad. Directions unclear. Nothing makes sense in this alternate reality. Labyrinthine building designed by the god Hades. Never again would be too soon.

UNTIERABLE:

ATL - Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta. The biggest and busiest airport in the world. When you buy a ticket on Delta a box pops up that says “by buying this ticket you agree to see the inside of Hartsfield Jackson Airport.” Not actually a real place, but a floating parallel dimensional space you enter when you walk through the doors. When you get off the Plane Train at terminal D a sign to the left points down a hallway and says “Walk to Terminal E. Time: 45 minutes.” Bigger than many cities and some European principalities. And sometimes you’ll be forced to run clear across it when your gate gets changed. Send every domestic flight that goes near it and many that don’t through it for a completely unnecessary 45 minute layover and sautée until golden brown to birth this unholy god of a space outside all time. They have CPR training machines. They have bathrooms too rarely. They have a whole other airport underneath for international transfers. Don’t die before you see it. Everyone should, at least once. 🎶Welcome Aboard the Plane Train!🎶 next stop: the 4th circle of hell. Walk to purgatory: 45 minutes. Moving sidewalk out of order.

29 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 8 months ago

Text

A quick round up of updates on the blog including new characters added to the ASK LIST and a list of fics that went out last week:

New characters were added to the ask list this week:

Brock Renyolds (SEAL Team)

Sonny Quinn (SEAL Team)

Trent Sawyer (SEAL Team)

Eric Blackburn (SEAL TEAM)

David Hale (SOA)

Aaron Thorsen (The Rookie)

New Fics:

Chicago Med:

Fraught - Companion piece to The Fight Before Christmas and Should Have - Sam makes a decision regarding your relationship.

Sapphires - You and Mitch share a moment the night before your wedding.

Chicago PD:

Crossing The Line - Companion piece to Ghosts - You and Antonio cross the line.

Criminal Minds:

Rough - Luke needs something special after a bad day.

FBI:

Marilyn - OA supports you in the aftermath of a UC mission.

FBI International:

Waiting - Scott hates waiting especially when it comes to something so important.

FBI Most Wanted:

Not About You - Companion piece to Interruptions (NSFW), Million Reasons, & Got You - There's only one way to get Remy out of his head.

Fire Country:

Space - You give Manny some space when his ex wife comes to town.

Haven:

Worse - An encounter with the Rev triggers you and your Trouble. (Dwight Hendrickson x Reader)

Law & Order:

Otto - Cyrus falls in love during the dog fighting case.

Come Back To Bed - Nick tries to coax you back to bed. (Nick Baxter x Reader)

The Musketeers:

A Cottage In Nice - Treville disappears after he is dismissed by the king.

Silk (NSFW) - You bring aerial silks into the bedroom with Porthos.

Narcos:

Marry Me - You can never give Horacio the answer he wants.

NCIS:

Where Evil Grew - Nick has to tell you the bad news about your sister.

Commander Ray - Alden won't admit he's jealous.

NCIS LA:

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Four: Cake - Nina helps Nik propose.

NCIS New Orleans:

Atlanta - Companion piece to Just Another Sunny Day In Georgia & Dance With Me - You show Dwayne what happened in Atlanta.

Sugar Boots - Chris has a special nickname for you.

The Rookie:

Every Rose Has It’s Thorsen: Aaron realises he needs to come clean about his past.

The Rookie Feds:

The Devil I Know - Companion piece to Estelle - You make a choice regarding your relationship with Brendon.

SEAL Team:

Three Months - The few days before deployment are always the worst. (Trent Sawyer X Reader)

Buried Socks: Ceberus has a unique way of showing how much he misses you. (Brock Reynolds x Reader)

Shitty Little Bar - People always get the wrong idea about Sonny.

Sugar & Spice - Sonny likes a bit of sugar and a bit of spice.

Soundtrack - Your entire relationship with Sonny has a soundtrack. (Sonny's Infinite Playlist)

Angel With A Shotgun - Sonny has a problem with the shotgun you keep under the bar. (Sonny's Infinite Playlist)

Something In Your Mouth (NSFW) - Sonny recalls the last time you went down on him. (Sonny's Infinite Playlist)

Freckles (NSFW) - Brian loves it when you kiss his freckles.

See It (NSFW) - Eric wants you to see exactly how he feels.

SOA:

Graffiti - It starts with a graffitied dick on the outside of Jax Teller's house. (David Hale x Reader)

Smoke - You and Chibs share a joint on the loading dock.

SWAT:

Chose You - Sachez makes a choice about your relationship.

Top Gun Maverick:

Messy - Companion piece to Broken Buttons - Beau discovers the truth about what happened that night.

The Only Man - Companion piece to Duty & Communication & Germany (NSFW) - Beau returns home from Germany.

Will Trent:

Trying!Series Part Three: Thirty Days - Your plans to start a family with Will are put on hold when he goes undercover as Bill Black.

18 notes · View notes

sunflowerrex · 2 months ago

Text

I need to talk about Helene.

I am struggling to come up with the words and the thoughts and I need to talk about this. I apologize for the length.

To preface, I am not a meterologist. I am merely a person who has taken several meterology class who is capable of reading those funky models that are put out by the NOAA. This being said, I follow severe weather to be able to update my friends and family on situations that could impact them. In this case, friends/family in Flordia, Atlanta, Tennesse and Carolina.

We all know of Hurricane Katrina, a catastrophe I simply do not have the words to describe the absolute clusterfuck of a situation and response that was given to the city of New Orleans. The floods that occured in Southern Appalachia carry the fullest of weight of the word to describe them, catastrophic. The states of Flordia, Georgia, South Carolina, Virginia, and Tennesse were all hit and also need support, however I am going to focus on North Carolina.

NCDOT has released a statement that "All roads in Western N.C are considered closed". Not just they are considered closed, they are gone. The roads are literally gone. Towns are destroyed, literally washed away. I won't get too personal with this post however I will say that I am still waiting for contact from several people within the impacted area. There is limited power, limited cellular service, basically extremel spotty and limited contact to the outside world.

I am keeping the descriptions of the damage minimal as it is simply hard to talk about.

I want to also say to please keep these areas in your thoughts. I know "thoughts and prayers do nothing", however holding these places and people in your hearts and having a mind open to supporting them however they need is so so so important. I know that some of these areas have people that have different beliefs and ideas than what you and myself do. I understand that entirely. I grew up on the border of appalachia and it is truly one of the most unique and wonderful places. The culture of this region is unlike anything I have ever experienced. There is a certain idea in most places of the country of who the people of appalachia are and how they are. There is a lot of history of this region that has had severe impacts on their views. Please try to look past any prejudices you may have towards this region when approaching their current situation.

Even if a person votes differently than you, they do not deserve this. Even if a person has different monetary assets than you, they do not deserve this. Even if a person has morals and values that are so drastically different than yours, they do not deserve this. I have been seeing this idea that "they chose to live there" and "they didn't evacuate". There is so much more to these choices than we can comprehend unless we have been in their shoes. All I ask is that you hold spaces in your heart for these people, these communities.

If you are able to and wanting to help, here are some ways to help.

From a source who works at FEMA, after about 2 weeks support tends to taper off for disasters such as these. When these disasters occur- CASH IS KING. Sending goods during the first two weeks is going to take people off of other jobs to sort out received items, create more cluster to be dealt with, ect. After the initial clean-up is done, that is when the time to donate supplies will become extremely beneficial. Organizations will let it be known when they are available and ready to receive actual items and goods.

In person volunteers in the begining stages of clean-up is another valuable resource that often becomes overbearing at the start. A bunch of people rush in, cant be organized and used effectively, and then leave. IF you are able to access an area that has been impacted, WAIT until the call for help comes out. Just like with supplies, the call for volunteers will come eventually and at that point it would be extremely beneficial to volunteer.

An important note to make about donations: ensure that the organization is a reputable one before donating. During these sorts of disasters scams run rampant. Please make sure that your hard earned money is going to the right place.

Appalachia Voices: https://appvoices.org/helene-relief/

a list of resources to support and provide to those impacted

The 19th: https://19thnews.org/2024/09/hurricane-helene-how-to-help-women-children-lgbtq-communities/

a list of LGBTQIA+ organizations, diaper banks, reproductive and womens health locations within the impacted states.

Charity Navigator: https://www.charitynavigator.org/discover-charities/where-to-give/hurricane-helene-2024/

This is a great resource when ensuring that a charity is actually going to use the funds for the right thing and not as a scam.

North Carolina: https://www.axios.com/local/charlotte/2024/09/29/helene-flooding-north-carolina-donations-help

A list of places to donate to assist the state of North Carolina

Georgia: https://www.ajc.com/news/georgia-news/hurricane-helene-how-you-can-help-with-storm-assistance-in-georgia/GV2OPU6GPVHNZGTFIQ6C4TX434/

A list of places to donate to assist the state of Georgia

Tennessee: https://www.knoxnews.com/story/news/local/2024/09/29/how-to-help-hurricane-helene-flood-victims-in-tennessee/75443858007/

A list of places to donate to assist the state of Tennessee

Some other great organizations that are currently helping out the areas: The United Cajun Navy, Team Rubicon, World Central Kitchen

I have not yet found a list of sources for the states of Flordia, South Carolina, and Virginia directly however I will update once someone/myself makes one.

"Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."

Please if you are able, be a helper.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, as someone who studies environmental disasters these sorts of issues weigh very heavy on my chest to begin with, then there is the added tons of the connection that the people I love and myself have to the region. I will get off of my soapbox now. Sending you all love.

#hurricane helene #Tags for those who blocked them so they dont see this #I understand that this can be triggering and I dont want to accidentally bombard someone with this #hurricane #hurricane season #severe weather

10 notes · View notes

rjzimmerman · 6 months ago

Text

Excerpt from this Op-Ed by Jeff Goodell published in the New York Times:

On a recent Thursday evening, a freakish windstorm called a derecho (Spanish for “straight ahead”) hit Houston, a city of more than two million people that also happens to be the epicenter of the fossil fuel industry in America.

In a matter of minutes, winds of up to 100 miles per hour blew out windows on office buildings, uprooted trees and toppled electric poles and transmission towers. Nearly a million households lost power. Which meant that not only was there no light, but there was no air-conditioning. The damage from the storm was so extensive that, five days later, more than 100,000 homes and businesses were still marooned in the heat and darkness.

Luckily, the day the derecho blew in, the temperature in Houston, a city infamous for its swampy summers, was in the low to mid-80s. Hot, to be sure, but for most healthy people, not life-threatening. Of the at least eight deaths reported as a result of the storm, none were from heat exposure.

But if this storm had arrived several days later, perhaps over the Memorial Day weekend, when the temperature in Houston hit 96 degrees, with a heat index as high as 115, it might have been a very different story. “The Hurricane Katrina of extreme heat,” is how Mikhail Chester, director of the Metis Center for Infrastructure and Sustainable Engineering at Arizona State University, once put it to me, echoing the memory of the catastrophic 2005 hurricane that struck Louisiana, devastated New Orleans and killed more than 1,300 people.

What if, instead, the electricity goes out for several days during a blistering summer heat wave in a city that depends on air-conditioning in those months?

Sign up for the Opinion Today newsletter Get expert analysis of the news and a guide to the big ideas shaping the world every weekday morning. Get it sent to your inbox.

In Dr. Chester’s scenario, a compounding crisis of extreme heat and a power failure in a major city like Houston could lead to a series of cascading failures, exposing vulnerabilities in the region’s infrastructure that are difficult to foresee and could result in thousands, or even tens of thousands, of deaths from heat exposure in a matter of days. The risk to people in cities would be higher because all the concrete and asphalt amplifies the heat, pushing temperatures as much as 15 degrees to 20 degrees in the midafternoon above surrounding vegetated areas.

The derecho that hit Houston was a warning of just how quickly risks are multiplying in our rapidly warming world. As if to prove this point, some 10 days after the Houston blackout, another windstorm knocked out power to hundreds of thousands of homes and businesses in and around Dallas.

One of the most dangerous illusions of the climate crisis is that the technology of modern life makes us invincible. Humans are smart. We have tools. Yeah, it will cost money. But we can adapt to whatever comes our way. As for the coral reefs that bleach in the hot oceans and the howler monkeys that fell dead out of trees during a recent heat wave in Mexico, well, that’s sad but life goes on.

Last year, researchers at Georgia Institute of Technology, Arizona State University and the University of Michigan published a study looking at the consequences of a major blackout during an extreme heat wave in three cities: Phoenix, Detroit and Atlanta. In the study, the cause of the blackout was unspecified.

“It doesn’t really matter if the blackout is the result of a cyberattack or a hurricane,” Brian Stone, the director of the Urban Climate Lab at Georgia Tech and the lead author on the study, told me. “For the purposes of our research, the effect is the same.” Whatever the cause, the study noted that the number of major blackouts in U.S. more than doubled between 2015-16 and 2020-21.

Dr. Stone and his colleagues focused on those three American cities because they have different demographics, climates and dependence on air-conditioning. In Detroit, 53 percent of buildings have central air-conditioning; in Atlanta, 94 percent; in Phoenix, 99 percent. The researchers modeled the health consequences for residents in a two-day, citywide blackout during a heat wave, with electricity gradually restored over the next three days.

The results were shocking: in Phoenix, about 800,000 people — roughly half the population — would need emergency medical treatment for heat stroke and other illnesses. The flood of people seeking care would overwhelm the city’s hospitals. More than 13,000 people would die.

Under the same scenario in Atlanta, researchers found there would be 12,540 visits to emergency rooms. Six people would die. In Detroit, which has a higher percentage of older residents and a higher poverty rate than those other cities, 221 people would die.

#heat waves #climate change #public health

10 notes · View notes

ao-anonymousobsesser · 10 months ago

Text

How Many Times?

AO3: How Many Times? - AnonymousObsesser - The Vampire Diaries (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: Elena dies. And dies. And dies.

A/N: I swear I'm working on other stuff. Found this in my drafts and fixed it up a little. Hope yall enjoy this while you wait. All my love. --AO

Let me know what you think. Should I continue or leave it?

Tags: Elena/Eljah, Elena Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Be Careful What You Wish For, Elena Gilbert-centric, How Do I Tag, Temporary Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD, Mental Breakdown, Brainwashing, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, basically a manwha regression thing, Elena will suffer, i love her but i had to do it, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, dying and regressing, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, okay actually she kills him but time travel so it doesnt last, what i mean is they are healthier than everything else

How Many Times?

She dies from old age. Married to her high school sweetheart turned Mayor Matt Donovan, white picket fence, four children, seven grandchildren, one great-grandchild. She never knew anything outside of Mystic Falls, never left Virginia--college at Whitmore in McKinley, Medical School and internship in Charlottesville, Residency and Fellowship in Norfolk, Attending at her father's practice back home. Born, raised, married, died.

Wakes up, sixteen again. Doesn't understand, goes along with Caroline and Bonnie to the end-of-semester bonfire. Has an epiphany halfway through that this is real, she came back, she can be free. Fights with Matt, leaves early, her parents die, she lives.

She dies of old age. Married to horror movie villain vampire turned hometown hero human Damon Salvatore. Two kids, one grandchild (three grandkittens). Rebuilt her father's practice, made it her own. Traveled to a few big cities along the way--Atlanta, Chicago, New York, New Orleans--but always goes home. She has blood on her hands, but believes she's a good person; knows Damon does, too, but believes that he is good in his heart. Watches her almost-stepsisters' grandchildren on the weekends, visits her almost-stepfather's grave alongside her brother-in-law's, her husband and ageless sister-in-law right by her side. Reborn, lives, dies, loves, dies, kills, lives, loves, dies, lives, sleeps, wakes, marries, dies.

Wakes up, sixteen again. Dies two weeks later by bluntforce trauma to the head from being thrown against a wall. Hears her mother's scream cut off with a gurgle.

Again. And again.

Wakes up. Dies the next night, her family's car a torched mess wrapped around a tree.

Wakes up. Dies by drowning.

Again again again.

Wakes up. Dies by strangulation after giving her secrets away to her former husband.

Wakes up. Dies by blood loss after giving her secrets away to her once epic love and tripping over a fallen branch, a twig going through her palm--he's on her before she can even scream.

Wakes up. Dies by broken neck when her former husband finds her with said epic love and loses his temper.

Again. Again. Again again again again again again again again again...

Wakes up. Convinces her parents to let her drive when they pick her up. They pass Damon--her father leaves for a so-called business trip four days later and never returns alive, his body returned in a casket with a gaping hole sewn shut. She knows why his body looks so wrong, veins in stark contrast to grey skin, suspects her mother knows, too, confirmed when she disappears and returns just as dead, the brand of Augustine linking them beneath the earth. Her brother lashes out too much, too drunk-high-faded to control himself, doesn't know his own strength, and she's too upset, too off-balance, her vision to blurry and reflexes too slow to catch herself on the railing. Swears she remembers hearing her neck snap this time, her head cracking open, blood splattered over the wall.

Again.

Wakes up. Asks her parents about vampires, werewolves, Doppelgängers. Gets shocked and confused looks followed by a crash course on the family history, on hate and mistrust and bigotry, and wonders aloud why it has to be this way. They get frustrated when she doesn't understand, doesn't accept their views as her own. Take her to the Society, show her their pet vampire, make him compel her to leave the supernatural alone and trust them to know best. She takes a tour around college and dies at the hand of a vampire obsessed with her face--with the last woman who wore it.

Wakes up. Packs a bag. Clothes, shoes for running, both her and her brother's money socks (bakesales of two different kinds, plus holiday and birthday money, adds up to more than a thousand each, sorry sorry), no jewelry or electronics, no keepsakes, steals from her parents' vervain stash just in case. Escapes in the middle of the day, drives to the next town and ditches her aunt's car, boosting another, repeats until she gets to the state line--hitchhikes for two states, then rents a car and makes it to Georgia.

Almost has a heartattack when she runs into her ex-but-not-anymore, but it's just a Doppelgänger, not him. He's normal and sweet, and he offers to take her to the hospital when she appears to be having a psychotic break, then listens to her sob story about losing her parents and her husband and her children and takes her to a bar instead. This is where she meets a witch for the first time again. Asks about her Doppelgänger, magic, vampires, werewolves, curses; asks to be taught, trained, a request that is granted.

Her old friend slash first hybrid-but-not-anymore-not-yet finds her in Chicago five years later, not looking, surprised to see her. She wonders if it's really coincidence, if they have a connection that transcends timelines, if his other creator can find her, too. Thoughts are silenced when he delivers the news: her parents are dead, made a mistake with a vampire in their desperation to find her (the not-hybrid doesn't know anything, isn't even a wolf yet, but she reads between the lines of "animal attack when they were out of town following a lead"), her aunt left town and never looked back, teaches at Whitmore with her fiance, Jeremy overdosed the second he was left alone after the funeral, lays in a coma with his medical bills paid for by the town.

She dies from her own kind of overdose, one of magic. Her powers fry her, emotions too raw and uncontrolled, sucking the life out of everything around her until her skin turns pale, then red, then charcoal-grey. Her friend-not-friend-son-not-son screams in shock as she explodes.

Repeat, this time with a note left behind, don't look. Same witch, same training, same new acquaintances and more training. More magic flows through her veins than ever, but she's greeted with the same death when her parents find her and explain that her brother committed suicide by overdose, angry she left him behind. She's sad and guilty and angry they came for her, and she barely registers the wave of power in her ears until it's too late. They die together.

She wakes up. Breaks down. Crying and screaming, lashing out. Can't take the pressure--tells her brother everything, as if he can help. He doesn't, can't. Won't believe her, thinks she's messing with him or losing her mind or got into his stash or something. Their parents overheard it all, understand that it's the truth, but they can't accept it. She tries to explain, but it makes it worse--they don't try to compel her this time, apparently that's not enough. They take her away, lock her up in a cell.

She knows this place, remembers it; looks to the left, isn't surprised to see him. Her best friend's lover, and her lover's best friend. She cries and cries until she falls asleep. Wakes up to someone petting her hair through the bars of her cell, fingers combing out the tangles, braiding the edges from her face. Looks up, cries again, spills everything once more, this time to someone she's pretty sure won't say she's crazy. And he doesn't--he believes her. She cries and cries until she falls asleep, wakes up to find him dead, staked through the heart; it looks like he tried to protect her, and that makes it worse, because she knows they won't hurt her, won't kill her like that.

No, they hurt her in other ways. Her parents--not her parents--they torture her for days, months, years, she loses count. Try to brainwash her into working with them, for them, using her knowledge and their skills to wipe out the creatures they abhor. They bring her husband's head, the heart of her once epic love, the teeth of her not-son. Magic can stay, but killers cannot--they bring witches to warp her memories, her best friend with cold eyes, and she knows her former sister-in-law is dead for good, probably turned after she went missing and staked after that. The shock of knowledge is enough to break her mind, let the magic and the science inside to do what they please, and she becomes their weapon.

She dies by her hybrid killer's hands, his teeth in her neck yet again, but she knows a witch is behind him, waiting for the weakness to take over his body. She feels the explosion as she drifts on an ocean, dizzy, fading into black.

Wakes up. Brainwashing is still in effect, and now she has all the memories she needs to finish the mission. She does, with a precision and finesse that would make her ancestors proud, that would horrify beings millenia her senior. The eldest first, buried in a tomb, and his lover shipped across the world--then the young ones, the ones with simpler weaknesses, first the wolf, then the coffins, then him. He almost gets her, almost breaks through, with those dark eyes gazing at her like he knows.

But when she asks, Do you know who I am? all he can say is, I knew that you were coming, and I knew that you would save me for last, and I know that you are not Katerina, but no, I cannot say that I know who you are.

Even that is almost enough to bring her back, remembering him from lifetimes ago--could she be even older than him now, with all the regression? no. no, that was impossible, but she might be older than them, or even her--but he tries to strike when she's conflicted, and her reflexes are faster than her emotions. The stake goes in at the same moment he reaches for her face, clutching her with both hands. She watches as he grits his teeth, his flesh burning like embers rather than flames, and she can almost see her own memories in his head, watches the horror dawn alongside pain and pity and intrigue.

He laughs when his knees give out, blood spraying past his lips to splatter her, and she jumps; she wishes she could say it was the blood, the disgusting sight of his flesh flaking away, but it's not. She jumps because he laughs, and she's never heard that before--it's marred by the grotesque scene, muffled from the blood in his teeth, but it's still... something. Not pretty or beautiful or soothing. But something.

His grin is sharp but almost sad as he looks up at her, and as his body turns fully to ash, he tells her, Come find me next time. Tell me the truth, and I'll help you. Then he's gone.

And the world burns with him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd always wondered if this might happen. If magic, especially Earth Magic, Nature Magic, might be more like science than witches could comprehend. Vampires had been part of the ecosystem, the biosphere, for centuries--they were around when life-expectancy and population were both low. A thousand years of adaptation from five to dozens to hundreds to thousands of them, only to be wiped out in a matter of days; it was an ecosystem's worst nightmare. Nature had adapted, people had not, and this destroys them both.

It starts with confusion--where did all the dead bodies come from? What disease is this? But they don't know, can't see vampirism in permanently-dead tissue, and witches refuse to come clean with humans. The death toll is larger than she expected, somewhere in the millions, and a chill runs down her spine as the witches cheer.

In just one year, overpopulation runs rampant, and whole nations begin starving. No space for new homes, so forests are leveled; the rich live underground, mansions sprawling beneath mountains.

Two years, three years, and water becomes scarce; rivers dry up, reservoirs disrupted. Humans begin getting sick, too sick to move, let alone work. Birthrates drop in big cities, then small towns, then all over. Businesses go under, followed by whole governments. More death, more desperation, more destruction.

Five years, and half of all animal species are extinct. Another decade, barely a quarter remains.

Nature rebels. Plants wither, whatever is left burns. Deserts where there were once lakes and forests, ocean levels drop, volcanos erupt. The world does not end slowly, over centuries or millenia--as it turns out, it doesn't take that long to starve to death when you're too weak to move. A vicious cycle of fatigue and starvation leading to more fatigue and starvation. Three decades after she finished her mission, she's one of only a handful of humans left scraping by.

She dies in fire, with no one to see it.

Wakes up. Fights the itch, the urge to start again, finish the mission. Finds her parents, tells them she'll be back; won't accept their love, their physical affection, can't if she wants to stay sane. She catches her brother's eye, sees his suspicion, grits her teeth and leaves; makes it to a hotel five towns over before she breaks down. It hurts to resist, hurts more than anything ever has, but she has to keep going. There's only one person who can help her now and she almost laughs as she thinks of their last meeting.

Come find me next time.

Can't use her phone, her family might track her before the job is done, asks a concierge instead. Ten minutes is all she needs--gives the guy fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut when he gives her a look that screams, Should I call the cops?

She calls. No answer. Leaves a message, hangs up. The concierge clears his throat, but she holds up a finger, staring at the phone in her hand. Exactly one minute later, it rings loudly--she grins, victorious and a little pained, and answers immediately. Two questions, three answers, and a click. She hands the phone back and goes to her room.

It hurts. She drinks. Her mind drifts to the mission--she breaks the little bottle and cuts her leg. The fog fades while the pain burns, and she's glad he's not here yet; she doubts he'd hurt her, or pay any mind at all, and he probably wouldn't ask outright, but he would wonder. Wonder what she was doing, and why. He'd help her wrap it up--wouldn't heal her, not if she didn't ask--and that touch would break her. Soft, gentle, professional. It would shatter her like the glass she still held, and she would spill everything, and that wasn't how she wanted to start the conversation. Not this time.

Next time, maybe. But not now.

He comes the next morning. Suit immaculate, hair not quite. His knock is concise--tap tap, that's it. She opens the door a second later, already at the door since six a.m., and it's now eight. He's not surprised by her face--one of her answers last night had told him as much--but his gaze drops to the makeshift sheet-bandage wrapped around her calf, and he's confused, but only for a moment, because then she speaks, and he has something else to wonder about.

I need you to help me fix my brain, she grits out. In return, you can see my memories. I'd also appreciate it if you would kill me when we're done.

Must I?

If you don't agree, I'll do it right now and go find someone else. But I think you'll agree to my terms.

How can you be so sure?

She grins, a little insane. Because my words don't make any sense, and you can't resist the desire to find out what they mean.

She watches him, knows he wants to ask, ask how she knows him like this--she doesn't, not really, she knows him better than most, yes, but that doesn't take much when he doesn't let people in as a general rule--but he leans in at exactly the wrong moment, and she feels the urge tugging at her gut again. Her feet move back, and she holds up a hand to ward him off when he follows.

Give me your word. She leans against the opposite wall with crossed arms, her nails digging into her arms with the effort of keeping still.

He passes through the door, shuts it, leans against it with a posture to mirror hers. His dark eyes observe her from head to toe, then meet hers with a sharpness she recognizes even before she feels the nudge--his mouth ticks up at the corner. You can't be compelled.

I can resist compulsion, she corrects with an irritated sigh. I am the one that decides who gets into my head. Do we have a deal?

He ponders it for a long moment. I have a condition, he says, which is as good as a yes when it comes to him, or them, because she doesn't care what the condition is.

She asks anyway. What is it?

Before I kill you, he says slowly--she sighs in relief--as he steps closer, I want the right to ask any questions I so desire to ask... A pause, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. And after that, I want a favor.

A favor, she says slowly. But I'll be dead.

Well, he drawls. Then I suppose it will be a quick favor. His smile is miniscule but sharp. If you can agree to these terms, we have a deal.

She tilts her face away from his hand, eliminating contact but keeping her eyes on his. Then I guess we should get started, she says with a nod. Her eyes close, and her shoulders relax with the sigh she releases. We have a deal.

She sits down at the little table provided by the hotel, and he pulls the extra chair around to sit directly in front of her, their thighs interlocked with each other. Every minute shift in their seats presses their legs together, and she has to grit her teeth to keep the magic under her skin from surfacing. He asks her several questions in a perfunctory tone, very professional--what exactly does she want removed, why is it there, who put it there, can he touch her skin to keep their connection steady. She lets him touch her hand; her face would be better, but it's too intimate and leaves her hands free to do what they really want to do, which is kill him--it's not her that wants him dead, but her mind and body. Something in the way she twitches must alert him to this fact, because he grabs her hands between his and looks into her eyes with no hesitation.

By the end of it, she feels relaxed for the first time since her husband's best friend died for her; there's no more pain, no more itch. She feels calm.

He isn't, though. Calm, that is. He's still--eerily so, not even blinking or breathing, as far as she can see. His gaze is the only sense of life on him, filled not with void but with pain and horror. It's clear he's disgusted, but when she tries to pull her hands away, to run from him in shame, he pulls her close, gripping her shoulders.

What happened to you?

Unbidden, her eyes fill with tears. I died, is what she says.

She moves his hands to her face and pushes, forcing the memories to float between them--watches as they're sucked into the black chasm of his gaze, as said gaze gets wider and wider with horror as he watches it all play out before him. Hundreds of lives, some short and some long; some including his brother, others her many lovers, only two before this with he himself in any capacity.

He says, Did you ever trust me? But he knows the answer.

I trusted you from the very first deal, she whispers. But everyone that I told either didn't believe me or just killed me. I didn't want... I don't think I could have survived if you did, too.

He's seen it in her mind--she loved him, at least in some capacity, in the first life they met. She might still, even, but she's broken in ways that can't be fully healed, not by him or anyone. And she feels guilty for all of it: for loving two, three, four people at once, for killing people, for killing him and his family, for hating the people that raised her, for not saving the people she loves that love her, for being selfish at the end of her first life and wishing for something she'd never had.

Five centuries, give or take. Five hundred years of guilt, and it reminds him of his family, of himself.

He asks her a hundred questions, pushes her for exactness, digs through her memories for every emotion, every thought, every compulsion placed on her; he asks and asks and tears at her psyche until she breaks down and repeats it all, shows him every piece of her, and then he asks for a favor. The same favor, and she knows he says it this way on purpose because he's seen her memory of the past.

Come find me next time. He tilts her chin with both hands, his gaze pleading. When you wake up, find me. Don't go to anyone else, don't ask questions, don't run away from it all. Just come to me. I will save you, if it's the last thing I do.

More tears trickle down her cheeks. I'll have to go through this again, then. She doesn't care, not exactly, but it hurts too much to be fully okay with it.

No, he insists. Don't tell me everything, but tell me the truth. Give me a glimpse, but don't hurt yourself. Can you do that?

Yes, she manages to whisper. But why do you care? Why do you want... to save me?

For the first time in her many lives, he hesitates to speak the truth. Because... I think I loved you. And I'm incapable of abandoning those that I love when they are in such immense pain.

But you want to kill your brother.

Only because I believed he destroyed the family we shared. Family is his only redemption, and as I thought he had buried them at sea... Well. If he could so easily abandon them, then the last of his morality is already gone. I believed him a true monster.

She sighed softly. But anyone who is capable of love is capable of being saved. Her eyes filled with tears again. She used to say that all the time. It's how she forgave my husband. She sniffled. But I can't. I'll never forgive him--them. The brothers... how many times have I died by them? By their sire. And my sister, she died, too. On the inside, and then temporarily, and then permanently. Over and over and over.

There was even a time she herself had killed the blonde, if only to put her out of her misery. She'd forgotten about that particular life, or perhaps buried it purposefully; the one time she managed to avoid her husband by seeking out her twin along with her sweet sisters. The blonde had turned alongside her, only to be bitten by her once-upon-a-time-wolf-boyfriend by accident. She'd held the blonde's heart in her hand, crushing it as tears ran down her face and the blonde begged for her mother to read her a fairytale.

Her life had ended shortly after, the witch unable to control her grief and she unable to run from it under the weight of her guilt. It was the only time she actively killed either of her sisters.

Another sob ripped through her chest. I can't even forgive myself. I destroyed the world. And I might do it again.

He shook his head. You won't. His hand curled in her hair. As you destroyed, so you will save. I will help you, if you allow it. But you have the power to do anything you wish. Forgive, forget, destroy, save. It is up to you.

What did I do to deserve this? she cried. I never would have made a wish if I knew it would never end.

You know what they say about wishing, he mused gently.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat and past her lips. Yeah. She gazed up at him, wiping her face with a sleeve. Is... Is that your favor? Telling you again?

She watches him swallow, looking at her with that analyzing, calculating, contemplating gaze. No, he says finally. I don't want to force you. Tell me if you want, or keep it to yourself. It's your trauma, and yours alone.

She blinks in confusion. Then... what do you want?

He smiles. Please save me.

Another blink. From what?

A deep sadness crosses his face, flickers in his eyes, before it disappears as he leans closer. His lips press against her forehead in a featherlight touch, palms a gentle collar around her neck.

From myself.

There is no pain, and she does not hear it as her spine snaps in his hands. She dies in the beat from one second to the next.

And she wakes.

#elijah mikaelson #elejah #elena gilbert #elijah x elena #fanfic #my writing #will i continue? should i?

17 notes · View notes

tomorrowusa · 1 year ago

Text

News you won't find on Fox News or other far right outlets.

Official crime statistics are only released after a substantial delay, so for nearly a decade I’ve collected and compiled big-city crime data as a way to assemble a more real-time picture of national murder trends. And this spring, I’ve found something that I’ve never seen before and that probably has not happened in decades: strong evidence of a sharp and broad decline in the nation’s murder rate. The United States may be experiencing one of the largest annual percent changes in murder ever recorded, according to my preliminary data. It is still early in the year and the trend could change over the second half of the year, but data from a sufficiently large sample of big cities have typically been a good predictor of the year-end national change in murder, even after only five months.

It's in the interests of extremist Republicans to get white people in particular to think that out of control minorities are out to murder them. So when crime goes down, the GOP ramps up other things like culture war issues.

Murder is down about 12 percent year-to-date in more than 90 cities that have released data for 2023, compared with data as of the same date in 2022. Big cities tend to slightly amplify the national trend—a 5 percent decline in murder rates in big cities would likely translate to a smaller decline nationally. But even so, the drop shown in the preliminary data is astonishing.

True, there is still the sensational murder here or there which will get a disproportionate amount of coverage. But murder rates across the board are down notably.

[T]he good news is, well, good. Murder is down 13 percent in New York City, and shootings are down 25 percent, relative to last year as of late May. Murder is down more than 20 percent in Los Angeles, Houston, and Philadelphia. And, most significantly, murder is down 30 percent—30 percent!—or more in Jackson, Mississippi; Atlanta, Georgia; Little Rock, Arkansas; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Milwaukee, Wisconsin; and others.

The last significant drop in crime took place in the 1990s during the Clinton administration.

The cause of the Great Crime Decline of the 1990s, when murder fell 37 percent over six years, is still not fully understood, so any explanations of the current trend must remain in the hypothesis phase for now.

I hate to rub it in, but there seems to be at least a modest correlation. In the 1970s and 1980s when 16 of those 20 years were under Republican administrations, the crime rate in the US soared. The crime decline of the 1990s and the current murder nosedive are under Democratic administrations.

The current dip is despite the number of police officers being the same or just slightly down.

Murder is down in Chicago, New Orleans, and New York, for example, but Chicago’s number of police officers is virtually unchanged from last summer, while New Orleans’s is down more than 8 percent and New York has roughly 2 percent fewer officers. The end of the emergency phase of the coronavirus pandemic may also be contributing to the decline in murder.

The murder rate went up during the COVID-19 emergency. Perhaps that's another result of Donald Trump's botched handling of the pandemic.

It's been finally dawning on people that Republicans aren't great for the economy. Eventually it may also become conventional wisdom that the GOP is bad for public safety.

When the de facto leader of the Republican Party is an indicted lying crook with the mindset of a petty mobster, that sends a message to American society that such behavior is acceptable. No wonder criminal behavior is down since Trump's departure from office.

No honest person can call the GOP the party of "law and order" any more.

#public safety #crime #murder rate in the us #2023 murder stats #decrease in murder rate #crime is rampant under republicans #clinton administration #biden administration #donald trump #trump's botched handling of covid-19 emergency

29 notes · View notes

elmermothsmithy · 4 months ago

Text

A tumblr post I read just inficted upon me a mortal wound, by mentioning one of my favorite snacks as a kid, and reminding me it's a food of the impoverished. the food was peanut butter and syrup sandwiches. in my child hood growing up between the forested mountians of the north east, the swamp, and marshes of the south east and the getto parts of Atlanta, Erie and New Orleans. I've had several variations on that sandwich. acorn butter and syrup, sunflower butter and honey, peanut butter and cherry gum. all of them delicious. all of them can be made from scratch, with differing breads, butters and spreadable sweets. my personal favorite was alway jack cakes (cornbread pancakes) with bulltail grass and acorn butter, and clover honey. incase your wondering bulltail grass seed is very oily even when dried, making it an easy way to thin up an acorn butter to a peanut butter texture.

#comfort hammer #the internet ate my cookies #mmmm cookies

2 notes · View notes

coochiequeens · 2 years ago

Text

Ladies please share this with any women you know starting their own business or non-profit

Business grants for women can help you grow your business for free, as opposed to small-business loans or other types of debt-based funding that you must pay back. But competition for small-business grants is fierce, and it takes considerable time and effort to win them.

If you’re up for the challenge, though, grants can be a great way to fund your new or existing business. Here are 18 places women entrepreneurs can look for small-business grants and other free financial resources.

Private small-business grants for women

Some private corporations and organizations offer business grants for women. Here are six to consider:

1. Amber Grant

Every month, WomensNet awards a $10,000 Amber Grant to a woman-owned business in a specific, rotating category. The categories for 2023 are as follows:

January: Skilled trades

February: Health & fitness

March: Food & beverage

April: Sustainability

May: Mental & emotional support

June: Business support service

July: Animal services

August: Hair care & skincare

September: Education & child care

October: Creative arts

November: Technology

December: Fashion & interior designers

On top of that, the organization awards a second $10,000 monthly grant to a woman-owned business and a quarterly $10,000 grant to one startup and one nonprofit.

At the end of each year, two of the 12 general grant winners and one of the industry-specific grant winners are awarded an additional $25,000.

The application is relatively simple: Explain your business, describe what you’d do with the grant money and pay a $15 application fee. The foundation’s advisory board chooses the winners, looking for women with passion and a good story. Businesses operating in the U.S. and Canada are eligible.

Because there’s no time in business requirement, companies seeking startup business grants for women may want to prioritize the Amber Grant.

2. IFundWomen Universal Grant Application Database

IFundWomen is a grant marketplace that specializes in funding and coaching for women-owned businesses. You can submit one application and when IFundWomen adds a grant from an enterprise partner, it will match the partner’s grant criteria to applications within the database.

If your business is a match, you’ll receive a notification and invitation to apply. Previous grant partners have included companies like Visa, Neutrogena and American Express.

3. SoGal Black Founder Startup Grant

The SoGal Foundation — along with company sponsors like Bluemercury, Twilio and others — offer startup grants to businesses owned by Black women or Black nonbinary entrepreneurs. Grants are available in amounts of either $5,000 or $10,000.

Awardees also receive fundraising advice, with a focus on investor financing, and lifetime access to the SoGal Foundation team. Applications are accepted on a rolling basis, so you can apply on the SoGal website at any time.

4. Fearless Strivers Grant Contest

The Fearless Fund, in collaboration with Mastercard, offers $20,000 grants to businesses owned by Black women through the Fearless Strivers Grant Contest. The winners also receive digital tools to help them get and sustain their businesses online and one-on-one mentorship with a Mastercard small-business mentor.

The Fearless Fund runs a national grant program, as well as city-specific grant contests in Atlanta; Birmingham, Alabama; Dayton, Ohio; Los Angeles; New Orleans; New York City; and St. Louis. To qualify for this small-business grant, you must have a U.S.-based business, 50 or fewer employees and have made $3 million or less in annual revenue in the past year.

» MORE: Best business grants for Black women entrepreneurs

5. Cartier Women's Initiative Awards

Every year, Cartier awards three grants to women-owned businesses in nine different regions around the world. The Cartier Women’s Initiative Awards program is designed to support early-stage businesses that are focused on a range of social, economic and environmental development issues.

The first-place business is awarded a $100,000 grant, second place receives $60,000 and third place gets $30,000. Winners also receive executive coaching and the opportunity to participate in a variety of training workshops.

6. Comcast RISE

Comcast awards $10,000 grants to businesses owned by women and people of color several times per year. Each Comcast RISE Investment Fund application cycle is open to entrepreneurs in specific target cities. You can also apply for “marketing services and tech makeovers,” which don’t include cash prizes but can still help your business grow.

7. High Five Grant for Moms

The Mama Ladder organization — along with co-hosts Proof, Belly Bandit and Caden Concepts — offer an annual small-business grant specifically for moms. This grant, called the High Five Grant, is designed to support women caregivers with child(ren) of all ages, including first-time expecting moms, stepmoms and foster moms.

Entrepreneurs can submit an application online and share the story behind their business on social media. Finalists will be chosen by a panel of judges and then a public vote will determine the top three winners. The top business will receive a $25,000 grant, the runner up will receive a $10,000 grant and the third place finalist will receive $5,000.

Additional private business grant options

Although these options aren’t specifically for women, they’re good small-business grants to consider for any entrepreneur.

8. FedEx Small Business Grant

FedEx awards up to $30,000 apiece to 10 small businesses annually. One veteran-owned business from among those 10 winners can receive an additional $20,000 from USAA Small Business Insurance. Winners also receive money to use toward FedEx Office print and business services.

The application requires an explanation of your business, how you’d use the money, photos of your business and — this part is optional — a short video explaining your business. To be eligible, you must operate a for-profit business with fewer than 99 employees and at least six months of operating history.

9. National Association for the Self-Employed Growth Grant

Every quarter, the NASE awards up to $4,000 to up to four small businesses via its growth grants. These funds can be used for a variety of business needs, including marketing, advertising and hiring employees.

To apply for this grant, you must be a NASE member in good standing for at least three months. Annual members can apply at any time.

10. Halstead Grant

The Halstead Grant is an annual award for entrepreneurs looking to break into the silver jewelry industry. The winner receives a $7,500 startup grant, as well as $1,000 in jewelry merchandise. Five finalists and semi-finalists also receive $250 or $500 and help with promoting their businesses.

Both men and women-owned businesses are eligible for this small-business grant. To apply, you must answer 15 business-related questions and submit a design portfolio. Applications are due August 1 each year.

11. Fast Break for Small Businesses

These $10,000 grants — funded by LegalZoom, the NBA, WNBA and NBA G League and managed by the Accion Opportunity Fund — are available twice a year. Winners also receive LegalZoom services worth up to $500. You can sign up on LegalZoom’s website to be notified when applications open.

Federal small-business grants for women

Some federal government grants for small-business owners are designated for specific purposes, such as research and development projects, or for businesses in rural areas. Government grants typically can’t be used for startup costs or day-to-day expenses.

12. Grants.gov

Grants.gov is a database of federally sponsored grants, including grants for small businesses. Although these grants are not exclusive to women-owned businesses, this database is a great place to start if you’re looking for free financing.

To apply, you must obtain a Unique Entity ID for your business (a 12-character alphanumeric identification number), register to do business with the U.S. government through its System for Award Management website and create an account at Grants.gov.

To view grants specifically for small businesses, filter the results on the left side of the page under “eligibility.”

13. Small Business Innovation Research and Small Business Technology Transfer programs

The SBA facilitates these two competitive programs, which provide grants to small businesses that contribute to federal research and development. Eleven federal agencies — including the departments of Agriculture, Defense, and Health and Human Services — post business grant opportunities on their websites. You can search current grant opportunities on the SBIR website.

To qualify, you must operate a for-profit business with no more than 500 employees and meet other eligibility requirements.

14. Program for Investors in Microentrepreneurs (PRIME)

Although the SBA coordinates some grant programs, the agency doesn’t typically offer grant funding directly to small businesses. With the PRIME program, however, the SBA provides federal grants to microenterprise development organizations so that they can offer training, technical assistance and coaching to disadvantaged small-business owners.

These grants are available to nonprofit, private, state, local or tribal-run organizations, including those that focus on working with women-owned small businesses. The Wisconsin Women’s Business Initiative Corporation, for example, was awarded a $200,000 grant in 2022.

» MORE: Business grants are ‘just not that easy.’ Here are some tips to help

State and local small-business grants for women

Because federal small-business grants are limited in number and often very competitive, you may have better luck seeking out grants for women at the state and municipal levels. You’ll have to do your own research to pinpoint specific grant programs in your area, but here are some places to help you get started:

15. Women’s Business Centers

The SBA sponsors more than 100 Women’s Business Centers nationwide, designed to help women entrepreneurs with business development and access to capital. Some, such as the California Capital Financial Development Corp., lend money directly while others help you find small-business grants and loans that you may qualify for.

16. Economic Development Administration

Every state and many cities have economic development resources focused on promoting strong local economies. For example, New York has several economic development districts, such as the Lake Champlain - Lake George Regional Planning Board, which helps local businesses access state and federal funding.

17. Small Business Development Centers

There are hundreds of SBA-sponsored Small Business Development Centers around the country, typically housed at colleges and universities. SBDCs offer free, one-on-one business consulting, such as help with developing a business plan, researching markets and finding financing — including grants, business loans and crowdfunding.

Some SBDCs offer training on certification programs like the SBA 8(a) Business Development Program and Minority and Women Business Enterprise Certifications. These programs can help businesses level the playing field when competing in the public and private sector.

18. Minority Business Development Agency Centers

The MBDA operates a network of business centers across the country that are designed to help minority business owners access capital, secure contracts and develop financial strategies. Your local MBDA business center can work with you to identify the right financing options for your business, including federal, state and private small-business grants.

The MBDA also runs the Enterprising Women of Color Initiative, or EWOC, to support minority women in their business endeavors. The EWOC provides access to resources, events and other opportunities for women minority-owned businesses.

» MORE: Find small-business grants for minorities

Alternatives to small-business grants

Finding and applying for business grants can be difficult, as well as time-consuming. If you don’t qualify for certain grants — or simply want to explore other ways to fund your women-owned business — here are some avenues to explore:

Best small-business loans for women: Compare SBA loans, online term loans, lines of credit, microloans and learn about other available resources for your business.

Crowdfunding for business: Tap into the power of the internet to raise money for your business and promote your company’s product or service.

Small-business credit cards: Compare dozens of cards and find the best choice for financing your everyday business purchases — and earn rewards in the process.

SBA microloans: Work with a nonprofit financial institution to apply for these government-backed loans, which can be a good choice for new or very small businesses.

#Resources for women #Grants for women #Women owned businesses #Women and Money Monday

33 notes · View notes

bloodboundsiege · 11 months ago

Note

I don't think you ever gave us Carmen lore

you're so right, and it's crazy you're the first one to ask bc i love her.

carmen does not like new york. like, circumstantially, she's fine with living there, but it is nowhere near even her tenth choice of places to live.

ideally, she'd want to go back to atlanta (in part because it's where she was born and raised, but at this point, she doesn't feel like she can go back because she doesn't want to endanger her family) or new orleans (which, alas, is now way too expensive, and it's nearly impossible to just sneak in unnoticed there).

although she definitely likes the stability of the shadow den, she really doesn't feel like she fits in there. this is in part because she spent most of her life living in different parts of Georgia, and New York vampires, regardless of Clan affiliation, still are a bit too weird for her.

this is the person you want with you in a zombie apocalypse--she was in nursing school at Emory when she was turned, and had to spend a lot of her early years as a vampire living off the grid.

growing up, carmen always had an interest in weird, spooky things (she could talk for hours about all of the supposed hauntings/supernatural phenomena of the southeastern united states if you let her) but never really got on the vampire hype train.

part of why she wanted to become a nurse is because she's never been that squeamish, thought going to med school would be way too stressful, and figured it was a more socially acceptable career path to go down than the mortuary industry.

her paternal grandparents immigrated to the united states from Colombia in the late 1940s, ultimately settling in florida.

some *~*additional*~* character creation lore is that she was probably the hardest sprite to nail down, and took me the longest to create. there's an alternate universe where she'd have a modified version of gigi from loa as her sprite, but gigi looks so young compared to the other sprites I was using for the LIs, that it just looked really weird to me, and then I had an a-ha moment about 14 chapters in CoP about reworking Ruby's sprite for this character.

#carmen sánchez #bloodbound #bloodbound: the siege

6 notes · View notes

penn-central-official · 1 year ago

Text

You all seem to like the map dunkings so here's another one

This map is also very dumb. Possibly dumber. It is also geographically unaware, but introduces a bafflingly arbitrary exclusion or inclusion of different lines. Virginia Beach and Norfolk? Sure, let's go there but Birmingham? New Orleans? Not a chance. These (majority black) cities don't need transportation.

What I think has gone wrong here is the creator of this map is looking at city populations not metro area population. Metro area population in my opinion should be considered. They come across as a European who doesn't know American railroads.

Okay now for the senseless dunking.

-thats not where Atlanta is.

-a branch to San Jose makes no sense, just go through San Jose. (Also that's not where San Jose is)

-the Western section mirrors California HSR's map but doesn't follow it, this is silly as CHSR already had a decent map.

-Philadelphia to Pittsburgh may not be pheasable to construct direct because of the existence of mountains. What would be done about them is unclear because this map was made with a straight edge.

-the South East was baffling not made with a straight edge only in sections that doing so would feel more justified. The section running from "Atlanta" (Cartersville) to Chattanooga and Nashville wouldn't be that straight.

-the creator seems to acknowledge that people might want to travel from Portland to Vancouver. Including this in this way is a compromise that pleases nobody and annoys everyone.

-dont call yourself a Guru, it's cringe.

-I don't take advice from Pregar U approved sources.

-thats not where Toronto is. There is a lake in the way.

-Map seems to go out of its way to serve Kingston Ontario. This makes no sense as every other similar instance it seems to avoid as many people as possible.

Do not go bully this person. Seriously. It's not like they are threatening anyone. I didn't make this disclaimer for the last map because it's hard to attribute it to one person. This one can be. And I blocked their name. Because you should not bother this person.

13 notes · View notes

idkfnok · 1 year ago

Text

11:11: Let Me Show You (p2)

Main Characters: Jehraye "Jay" Guidry; Alani "Lan" Sanders

A real slow-burn

PT 1

I get back home to Georgia after 11p.m. I lowkey wanted to call Jehraye, but I figured he would’ve been asleep. I get in my car and drive, I loved going back to N.O. but, I did miss downtown Augusta. It’s similar to a lot of places but, still aint nothing like it. I get home, take my bags up to my apartment, take a shower, reheat that white chicken chili I had left, I ate and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning around 10, with A missed call from My mama. I know she’s calling to ask about New Orleans. I made a mental note to call her later. I brush my teeth and get dressed before heading over to the Tattoo shop that Nya owns and doing a little voluntary receptionist work for awhile. I love coming to her shop. Because not only did I get free reign to the little snack bar she had. I got to interact with some cool ass people too. Nya’s a traditional tattoo artist. The people in her shop though, were cartoonist and realist, shit, she even had a traditional stick -and - poke artist too. Dymo, the Realist, actually did the portrait of my great grandma I got three years ago after she passed. All of their work was top-notch. Nya wouldn’t stand for anything else. Which showed, not only in her work, but that of the one’s she hired too.

She was always playing music too. It jumped all over the place. She went from indie artists like music by this dude named Money from Atlanta, Russ to Rodwave, Kodak black, Jacob banks, King von, Kirk franklin to Gallant and Marco Mckinnis ; all the way to Panic at the Disco and all things in between.Crazy enough, the dude “Money” is one of her best friends. Her only preference in most aspects of her life was “I like it.” Music was no different. Mari Walked in at about 11:30. I knew then, my voluntary duties were done. I got up from the desk, hugged Mari, yelled that I was leaving and made my way out of the shop and to the Mall so I can go stare at the back of Spencer’s and ponder not buying shit before I made my way to Victoria’s secret and sniffed around for perfume to buy at their semi annual sale. I picked up the Rainbow Shower, Desert Sky and Cactus Water.

What does the schedule look like for the rest of the day?

“Consultation at 11: 45, Surgery at 12:30 , then lunch ; You’re tightening Miah’s braces, check the schedule for tomorrow and we should both be outta here by 4.

Cool.”

“ So how was your wednesday?”

It was good, why you ask?

“Jaelai told me you went on a date or something yesterday morning.”

Tell yo wife to mind her business.

“My wife, yo sister.”

I bet she the one who sent Toni ass to my table.

“Nooooo. What she say?”

She was chill until I give her the tip, then she talmbout “Make sure you get yo child”

“No she didn’t”

The hell if she didn’t! had my date looking at me funny

“😂”

That shit ain’t funny. Im tryna support her and she throwing salt in the game 😂

“Toni was always fucking with you. She’s been doing it as long as she’s been with Kieran

I know. But, damn if she don’t do it at the worst times.

“Well you got the crybaby today so, be prepared.”

She never cried with me.I don’t know what you be doing to my niece but she don’t like it

“I’m her daddie.”

Maybe it’s because you white.

“I have been white her whole life.”

Ion know maybe she just like me better.

“ Yeah because you always give her what she want.”

She ten , why not?

“I feel sorry for any man who dates any of your daughters.”

Why you say that?

“Cause her like whoever her mama gonna be, is gonna be spoiled to hell. Cause you brother, are a Hopeless Romantic with a damn good job and a real love of women.”

Always. Speaking of romance, you just reminded me that I gotta call Lan once I get off.

The rest of the day went by smooth. The consultation led to another appointment next month for braces, I tightened my nieces braces and The surgery; started and finished quicker than I expected. I was outta the office by 4: 15 . I got in my car and called Alani.

“Hello.”

Hey gorgeous, how you doing?

“I’m doing aight”

That’s good. , how has your day been? Give me details please

“It was pretty good. I woke up, ate, brushed my teeth, got dressed and I went to Nya’s shop.”

Which one of your friends was Nya again?

“The one who had on the red bodycon dress.”

Okay

“ Yeah she’s a tattoo artist. I go to her shop sometimes to help and steal snacks.”

Uh huh

“ Talked to some customers and chilled until Mari got there.”

That’s the one with the red hair?

“Yep.”

Before you continue. Speaking of jobs, what do you do?

“I’m a doula.

Oh Okay, I’m a Orthodontist.

“ At 28?!”

Yes, I have been for like a year, almost two. Anyway, continue on.

“I left the shop, went to the mall and called my mama back after I left Victoria’s Secret, and i’ve been home for a few hours.

Foreal? Cool, i'm bout to Facetime you.

I press the camera icon and wait for her to answer. When she does, the first thing I notice is how shiny her lips are. She has this 90’s lip combo. You know the one with the 5% tint around the edges and it looks amazing on her. I compliment her and our conversation continues. She tells me that she is a birth doula and some of what that entails. I ain’t ever see anybody give birth but, the way she describes it makes it sound like one of the scariest and most beautiful things ever. Most of her clients are Black women, second time moms who have had terrible experiences in the hospital. From women almost dying because nurses and doctors try to write their pain off as “normal” shit.

If the person dealing with this is telling you that they can’t breathe, they have a splitting headache or can’t feel their legs long after the epidural should’ve worn off, you should listen. Hearing her recount some of these stories pissed me off. You shouldn’t fear for your or child’s life coming into the hospital. I learned some things like water births are really popular and are often more relaxing for the mother. That tidbit of information I tucked into my back pocket.

We talked about the time my tooth went through the bottom of my lip and left a scar when I was a kid, my first sexual experience at 14 that involved licking whipped cream off of some pussy once or twice. She told me about the time she ran head first into a brick wall when she was 8 and how she snorted salt up her nose when she was 13 because she “wanted to see what it felt like if she ever snorted powder.” on some wild shit. I was really enjoying the conversation. So much so, that I hadn’t realized I was home, sitting in my car for the past five hours. I looked at the time on my phone and it was 9:40 and I needed to get in the house so that I could shower, eat and go to bed.

Things continued that way for a few more days. Us updating one another throughout the day, nightly phone calls, early morning voice messages. Sending badly angled and funny looking pictures of each other from facetime calls. I've watched her get dressed and she’s watched me get undressed. We’ve fallen asleep on the phone only to wake up and one of us has hung up. And it’s usually her. We’ve given one another recipes. Her recipe for brown butter chocolate chip pecan cookies is top tier and she gave me a lot of praise on my five cheese macaroni. Before I knew it, the Thursday of our date had shown up. I woke up that morning to the reminder and was hella excited. I had been thinking about what to cook for two days now and I decided on Smothered Okra with shrimp and tomatoes over rice. I called her, told her what I had in mind; she said it sounded good and she was going to cook the same; but add chicken to it.

We Facetimed each other while shopping for food. I helped her pick out the proper seasonings and ingredients needed for the dish and advised her to pick up a bag of Basmati rice instead of “regular” rice. I picked up cut okra while she wanted the whole Okra.I grabbed a bottle of wine and she passed on that. We went back to our houses and started preparing the meal. I ain't feel like chopping onions, so I bought the pre-cut ones. She was all about the full process. She chopped her onions, peppers and all while I watched as she struggled to cut some of ‘em because she don’t know how to properly handle a knife. She more than proved my point when she sliced her damned finger, dropped the knife and probably almost cut her foot too.

Baby, be careful, please!

“I’m fine Jehraye, it’s just a little cut. The knife ain’t that sharp”

And that’s probably the problem Lan. Get you some better knives Bae.

“My knives work just fine.”

No they do not, clearly. You were struggling to cut the bell pepper.

“That’s because I don’t know how to cut shit.”

Aight, so you got one option, start buying pre-cut vegetables.

“I will not.”

Then I suggest you get on youtube and learn how to use knives because I'mma order you some new ones.

“Jay-”

No, bae you don’t wanna use pre- cut stuff, I'm getting you new knives. So go ‘head and give me A FedEx drop off, P.O. box, your address or something.

“How about this-”

If ain’t no solution in this baby, don’t even say nothing.

“How about when you come visit me, we can look at knives together.”

Aight that sounds- wait! You gonna let me come see you?!

“Yes sir. Just not until the end of the month.”

Baaaaaabbbbbbyyyy, that’s like 3 weeks away.

“You’ll be fine.”

Nuh uh…. My doctor said if I don’t see you in two weeks imma die.

“Ohhh you so dramatic 😂 yo ass is not gonna die.”

When I am touch deprived for a long time, I start to waste away into a pile of dirt.

“I can’t with you. Jehraye Guidry, you are something else.”

We talk while finishing up the food and once she turns her smothered Okra and shrimp down she announces that she’s about to get in the shower so she can get dressed and the rest of our date can continue. We hang up and about 35 minutes later she’s calling me while she finishes up the rest of her routine. I don't mind because I am also on the tail end of finishing up my hair. I choose to go with a braid out because I know she’s wanted to see my hair. She calls back when I am almost done taking out my last braid. She’s putting on lipgloss and perfume. When she looks at the camera, she gasps and says “Your hair!”

Yeah. you said you wanted to see it out so, I decided to wear it out.

“You look so cute. Now I really wanna play in it.”

Well, when I come to see you; you can play in it for a few minutes

“Why only a few minutes?”

You think Imma come to Augusta and just sit around? We gotta order knives and I wanna go to the mellow mushroom. You said it was a cool bar and I wanna see a lil bit of your city.

“But what if I wanna just lay up with you and play in your hair?”

We can do that. But, you already told me that you like rubbing on folks and I like being rubbed on. That goes on for too long, We might end up in a few more positions than you intended , and you gon be doing a hell of a lot more than playing in my hair.

“ I’m down for wherever that leads us.”

Alani

“Jehraye”

Let me be clear, you rubbing on me…we fucking.

“I understand what you’re saying.”

Yeah, but are you okay with that happening?

“Yes, I want it to.”

Aight. Listen, I've been waiting for this.

“What do you mean?”

I purposefully ain’t been jacking off for about a week.”

“Okay.”

And imma hold off until I get to you.

“Oohhhhh”

Yeah so, you better be prepared.

“I hear you.”

We sit down at our tables and begin eating. I wait to see her take her first bite. I wanted her to like it because the recipe I gave her is truly my own and I wanted to know if she fucked with it. The way my eyes lit up when I saw hers damn near bulge out of her head; the only way I coulda been any happier in that moment was if she and I were sitting in front of each other. I spooned some of the food into my mouth as she moaned satisfactorily at the first taste of my food, she had no idea she was eating. After telling her that I couldn't wait to see her, our conversation took a very sexual turn as we discussed some of the things we were and weren’t willing to do.

“How do you feel about aftercare?”

I rarely ever do it, but the times I have; i’ve enjoyed it.

“Why don’t you do it more?”

My goal is to satisfy the woman and myself, if that puts her to sleep; so be it.

“So aint nobody ever put you to sleep?”

Some have.

“Well, I expect aftercare.”

And you gon get it, if you aint sleep.

So what’s your views on sucking dick?

“I like it. I only do it like a spur of the moment thing. I don’t plan it.”

Okay. I like kissing.That’s before, definitely during and after sex.

“Me too.”’

Aight so, how would you feel if I wanted to eat yo ass?

“That’s a “no”.”

How come?

“I like to kiss, eating ass and kissing don’t usually go hand-in-hand.”

Gotcha

You can bite and choke me though

“For real?”

Yes, Guidry. I’m cool with that; spanking, and to some degree, restraint.

“Oh baby, you gonna have the time of your life.”

And another thing.

“Yes?”

I am loud, and it ain’t always cute, especially if i’m enjoying it.

“Bae, I’m trying to put you in a position where you NEED aftercare. I don’t expect it to be cute.”

Speaking of, what is a typical aftercare routine for you?

“ simple shit.Take you to the toilet, sit with you while you pee. Run you a shower, help clean you up. I’ll carry you if I have to. I’m a cuddler so, after I feel like you’re situated, I’ll clean up and cuddle you for a while. I might fall asleep, if I don’t within the hour; you can expect waffles to be made. But that is the least I would do.”

I want somewhere closer to the most you can do.

“Then you can’t fall asleep or I can do some of it during or before we fuck.”

Okay , I'm cool with that.

I’ll be honest, having this conversation with him right now, was definitely making me horny and in times like this, I am very grateful that I was born a woman. I have no doubt in my mind that if we were next to each other right now, he would be able to smell how badly I wanted to fuck him. Just thinking about it, my thighs clenched together and I felt that familiar tingle in my stomach. He didn’t help any with his hair falling into his face, licking his lips and kissing at me. The rest of that date, I was going back and forth with mindfulness and imagining what he would feel like inside of me. What his tongue and fingers felt like. What he sounds like when he moans, is he a hard or soft dom. What does he say, if anything while he’s having sex. Just then, I decided to ask.

Jehraye.

“Yes, ma’am”

Do you talk during sex?

“Yes, I do. I talk, moan, cuss, I might say something in french.

You speak French?

A little,

“Oh okay. I might make it my goal to hear some of that from you.

“ You get some French outta me, we locked in. the last person I did that with, we was together for 3 years.”

That ain’t THAT long .

“When you 17, yes it is.”

Fair point.

I don’t know why I decided to ask him that knowing it would lead me directly out of mindfulness and into fantasy land. I was still eating and talking but I wasn’t at this date. I was in my bed with this guy I just met three weeks ago, with my face buried into a pillow while he fucked me as I screamed his name in pure ecstasy. Jay must have noticed because when he finally got my attention back he said “ I’m thinking about it too and I’m bricked the fuck up, baby.” “Jaaayyy” his name comes out way more lust-filled than I intended.“ When I get ahold of you, you’ll know I meant what I said on our first date at Nana’s.” He says. “ All I ask is that you don’t run from me. If you need me to slow down or stop, that’s fine. But DO NOT RUN.” “Why not?” I ask. “ It aggravates me and I'm gonna want to punish you for it.” “How come?” “ cause if we fucking, you wanted this dick. So, unless you say “stop” or I feel like I'm hurting you, you taking EVERY inch I got.” “Damn, It’s like that Jay 🙃?” I say. He comes back with “Ion get in no pussy I don’t wanna be in.”

At that moment, I wanted this man more than I have the past few weeks. We talked some more about our personal “Do’s and Don'ts” of sex, and by the time this date was over, Jay had put his hair back up, I was wishing that I wore underwear. Maybe it was best that I didn’t. I’m not a fan of that cold shit hitting my pussy when I pull my underwear back up. Our date continues on and we finish our food. We stay on facetime for the rest of the night, of course we fell asleep on the phone. This time though I didn’t hang up and awoke to see Jay getting dressed. I watched him for a few minutes before saying “Good morning.” He looked at the camera and said “good morning bae.”

Uh uh, where you going?

“ 🙂I’m taking my nieces out for a lil bit of fun today.”

awwwww , what are ya’ll gonna do?

“They wanna go to the trampoline park and the movies.”

Okay, what are ya’ll gonna watch?

“They wanna see Tiana's Place”

Oh okay, I saw a few commercials for that.

“yeah”

Why y'all leaving so early though?

“So I can catch the matinee, These girls are pricey.”

You shouldn’t be worried about that.

“What you mean?”

The way you did and were willing to spend on me in Nola…

“Yea, now Imagine that on a slightly smaller scale, times three.”

Yep. Baby catch that matinee

Exactly 😂that, on top of gas and feeding them whatever they wanna eat when one of em, wants crumbl cookie and subway; the other one gonna want wendy’s but, a blizzard from sonic and the baby, she aint eating nothing that ain’t a 6pce nugget happy meal with apple slices and a mcflurry wit extra oreos.

Ohhh with the way you spend money, you must be a damn popular Dentist.

“I make good money but I also have a roommate so I can save a bit more.”

Oh okay. Good Well, Imma let you go so you can enjoy your day with your nieces.

“Aht aht.”

What?

“When did we start hanging up without kisses?”

I blow a kiss at the phone and Jay says “Thank you” and hangs up.

My Friday was pretty laid back. Until it wasn’t. My client went into an early labor, so I turned off Law & Order and made my way to North Augusta. When I got there I was the only part of her birthing team present. Because she hadn’t called anyone else yet. She’s one of the patients I offer free advice and to some degree birthing services to, as part of my program where I help young single mothers cope with, prepare for and assist during birth. Despite this being her second time giving birth, she was terrified. I could see it in her eyes. She feared the pain, the uncertainty and a second breech birth. About five minutes after I got there we made calls to the rest of her birthing team, and set up the pool.

We sat her in it and talked through the contractions and tried to keep her calm until it was time for her to push. I held her hand, and fed her some strawberries and ice chips while she focused on breathing and pushing. About 3 hours later Her son had started to crown. When we told her, she started crying. This baby wasn’t breech and maybe this labor would be easier. Forty-five minutes after that baby Eanion Ahzi Rivers was born. He was so adorable. We got him cleaned up and I stayed for a few hours after and took care of the baby while she rested. I Picked my phone up and saw I had 2 missed calls from Jay. Eanion’s mama was a wake so I stepped out to return bae’s calls.

“You musta been sleep.”

No. I just helped deliver a baby a few hours ago.

“For real! How’d it go? Are mama and the baby okay?”

Yes, She had a little boy.

“Awwww. How are you doing though?”

I’m fine, we were prepared for a breech birth but he came out head first and he is the chubbiest lil thing you ever did see. How was the day with ya nieces?

“ listen, next time, they can’t get the Aux.”

Why?

“I fuck with Gracie’s corner but, I wanna hear some Akeem ali, Russ, D4L, Ludacris or something while i’m driving .”

Jay, you don’t wanna know what sound the letter makes 😂?

“Hell no, I’m outta school shit 😂”

Well, It seems like you had just as good of a day as I did.

“I did. I love spending time with my nieces and nephews. I’m their favorite uncle.”

I bet you are. You’re definitely one of my favorite people.

“Awwwww, you mean that?”

Yeah.

“Aight, then sit on my face when I get to Augusta.”

JEHRAYE

“ALANI”

GUIDRY

“Quit calling me by my government like that.”

Well what do you want me to call you ?

“Jumbo dick Jay”

OMG you-

“I’m bullshiting. It ain’t that big. It’s just right for the body it's attached to.”

I bet. When are you gonna book your flight?

“Next week.”

Good, that way I can set my schedule up right. How long do you plan on staying?

“Two days.”

Okay.

“Yeah, clear that schedule.”

I will.

After that she had to go back and attend to her client. I went to hang out with Kieran and Asa. Asa, my best friend since middle school and the one who leaves me stranded on these road trips is a High School AP Calculus teacher. Kieran, my best friend since junior year of college and now roommate, is an HR consultant. Asa has always wanted to be a teacher. Despite the pay and us trying to convince him to at least go into the college sector, loves what he does. He had a hard time with math when we were little and it frustrated him so, he decided he was gonna do what he had to. He wanted math to come almost as easy to him as English and history did, and he made it happen. This nigga is one of the smartest people I know and he deserves every praise he gets. He’s worked hard for it. Kieran on the other hand, Is married; well was married to Toni and they have a 4 year old son together. My Godson Kieran Jamez “KJ” Landry Jr. He always had a thing for Toni so, when they started dating, she became his girlfriend and I became both of their friends and the third wheel. And despite going through a divorce; which I think is stupid because they clearly still love and want each other; these motherfuckas are hard headed and are hurting because they tryna teach eachother lessons. But I can’t force them together. Me and the guys hang out for a few hours and then we head to our respective homes. I get in, Call Alani, we talk for awhile and I go to sleep.

PT 1

#love #romance #fluff #smut #black woman #black couple #black man #black women #black men #black tumblr #black beauty #black ff #black woman appreciation #black writers #plus size reader #x chubby reader

11 notes · View notes