#tree care company Delaware | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theresnosafeharbor4myships · 3 years ago

Text

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 4: The Rest of All Time (Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here)

A/N: Final chapter. I’d love to know what you think of this happy little fic! :D

Ichabod slowly came awake, his mind taking its time to acquaint itself with reality. He stretched languidly, feeling pleasantly rested for the first time in days. And then he remembered last night. His eyes flew open to find the space beside him empty, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. Had it all been a dream? An alcohol-induced fantasy? But no...the pillow beside him still held the faint dip of having been slept on and the bedroom door stood wide open. The deep scent of coffee and the tantalizing smell of bacon reached him, and he knew he hadn't imagined Abbie's return. With eager purpose, he hopped out of bed, making a pit stop before padding a tad anxiously down the hall to the kitchen. The Lieutenant stood at the island, flipping pancakes on the hot griddle in front of her. Her eyes darted up as he moved into the room. "G'morning, sleepyhead," she greeted with a smile. "Good morning, Lieutenant." He stood watching her, her ease in the kitchen (so unlike him), her small hands deftly pouring batter and flipping hot cakes. "I wanted to run to the bakery and get you some donut holes, surprise you, but I didn't want you to wake up while I was gone and think..." She fluttered the spatula in the air, glancing up at him. He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you," he murmured. "So instead," she moved on brightly, "I'm making some of my blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. And maybe a little candied bacon...?" "Ohh, you do know how to spoil me, Lieutenant," he stated eagerly. "I shall prepare our coffee." "Sounds good 'cause everything's just about done." Ichabod poured two cups of coffee, making them perfectly to their preferences, and set them at the breakfast bar. He retrieved plates and utensils, butter and syrup, as Abbie finished cooking. She set a plate piled high with pancakes and another full of candied bacon on the bar, and together they sat down to eat. "How'd you sleep, Lieutenant?" he asked after praising her for blessing him with such delectable sweets. "Well," she acknowledged with a nod. "You? You seem rested..." "Yes. My sleep was most peaceful." He filled his mouth with another bite of pancakes before he let it spill that she was the reason for his respite. Though he suspected she knew that after exhibiting how vulnerable he'd felt last night. They passed into comfortable silence, and Ichabod reveled in this simplest of pleasures, one he thought he'd never experience again. Abbie made his world, this world, come alive in a way he desperately feared losing. And while he'd never alter the way they fought monsters and demons and solved crimes and queries together, he'd take these moments—sitting in the early morning quiet, enjoying good food and better company, watching the morning sunlight play off her flawless skin, knowing he could just be when he was with her—over all the adventures in the world.

Abbie pushed her plate away as he took his last bite, and they both sat nursing their coffee. "What time are we expecting Miss Jenny this morning?" he asked after a few more moments of bliss. "Mm, I had a text from her when I woke up. She'll be here in a few hours. Seems she got to bed late." She turned her head slightly to look at him. "And I suspect she wanted to give us some time to catch up." "Mmm," he hummed, his face resolute as he nodded in agreement. He saw her waiting for him to speak, but he didn't know where to begin. He'd spilled enough last evening to quell the overflowing tide of emotion he'd been drowning in for days, but so much more remained. Not to mention he longed, if apprehensively, to hear her thoughts on all he'd conveyed. His expression must've revealed his pensiveness because the Lieutenant leaned forward slightly to catch his eye. "Crane?" He looked at her and nodded to let her know his willingness to talk. "I shall just refill my cuppa. Would you like more as well?" She gave him a look that told him she believed he was stalling—and maybe he was—but she replied anyway. "Water for me, thanks." Abbie set their plates and silverware in the sink and put everything else away as he prepared their drinks, and when they were done, he followed her into the living room. She sat at one end of the couch, and he chose a spot near her, leaving a bit of space between them. He glanced at her, and their arrangement struck a memory from not long ago, after she'd revealed her connection to the then-unknown emblem of Thura by nearly letting him expire. As much as that had frightened him, it paled in comparison to losing her, to watching her vanish before his eyes. "Crane...tell me what happened after I... disappeared into the box." She asked gently, softly, and though it still made his heart ache—even as she sat next to him—he couldn't refuse her. He took a brave breath and spoke. "I was so sure we'd defeat them. I thought it was an inevitability; we've faced so many things before. But I looked up, and you were just...gone. I'd never felt as empty as I did in that moment." He paused, trying to think past the second she'd dissolved into that mythical box, but the visual played in his cursed eidetic mind once more. He felt Abbie grip his hand, and he squeezed hers once in gratitude for the tether to the present, even as he relived the past. "You are not an easy person to lose, Lieutenant." He swallowed hard. "With the Hidden One weakened, Miss Jenny shot him. And Pandora, endowed with her husband's power and longing to rule in his stead, betrayed us. She and her box disappeared. Miss Jenny and I devised a plan and, using the map, tracked her to the cemetery above the tunnels. I...called forth the headless horseman to fight against her." He paused to gauge her expression, but she still listened intently without judgement, eyes wide. "When his broadax stuck in a tree and she began pulling him into her box, I knew she would defeat him without assistance. So I retrieved his ax and threw it to him just as he reached her. He cut her down where she stood." Abbie nodded slowly, taking it in, and he could see she regretted not being there to help him finish their job. "She was defeated," he assured her. "They both were in the end. I demanded she release you before she expired, and it was then she confirmed your...demise. When she breathed her last, the box began to glow, so I grabbed it and ran for the tunnels. I secured it in the Masonic cell, and as I started to retreat, it blew up. The force pushed me through the tunnels, and it knocked me out. You came to me then. At least I thought it was you." He looked at her questioningly. "Did you come to me? From wherever you were?" She shook her head, sadness and empathy written on her face. He nodded, then turned back to stare straight ahead, into the recent past. "I dreamed of you then. Just like it happened the first time we met when I was imprisoned in that infernal cell and you came to me. This time you told me I had to say goodbye. Then, in the way that dreams do, we were suddenly in the Archives....you told me your job was done...your soul was free. You took me by the hand and...led me home. We sat on the porch and you...you consoled me while I...." "While you what, Crane?" Her whispered voice came to him, floated through him as he remembered his words to her. "What is there for me in a world without you?" he repeated the sentiment that’d haunted him since she’d disappeared into that box. His eyes met hers. "It's what I said to you. What I should've said." He shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily in frustration. "What I'm saying now. Because I should've said it before." He saw her expression soften, her expectant look filling him with hope. "These last few days, all I could think of was how I told you...the dream you...that I'd miss you. How I kissed your hand and bowed low and when I looked up, you were just...gone again. How I didn't tell you while you were here all the ways you've changed my life. I couldn't have found a better guide through this modern world if I'd stumbled upon the Pope himself. You mean everything to me, and everyone saw it but I didn't say anything." He balled his hand into a fist as he bit off the last few words. One of her hands covered his fist, the other coming up and cupping his jaw, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "You're saying it now. And I hear every word." Her thumb traced over his lips, and he closed his eyes, the frustration evaporating, his heart floating into his throat. He kissed her thumb, captivated by her closeness, her sweet acceptance of all that he'd said. And still...he longed to know her thoughts. He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips for another kiss, and this time when he opened his eyes she still sat before him. "There are some things I need you to hear, too," she admitted quietly, her expression tentative and vulnerable. "Things I haven't told you." He nodded once and took a deep breath, mind racing at what she might reveal, heart thundering with worry that she would reject him gently but definitively and he'd be destroyed all over again. "When we were in that boat crossing the Delaware and I told you how rare it is for someone to have the kind of unwavering faith that you do, I meant it. Your kind of devotion is nearly unheard of, but what makes it more...intense is that that faith is in me. And I've been...afraid for a long time." He didn't follow her logic just yet, and he knew confusion had crept onto his face, but he waited for her to speak her mind. "Afraid I'm some kind of curse, that the people I care about always leave or die because of me. My father, my mother, then Jenny. Corbin, Frank, and now Joe." She veiled her expression in that way she did when things hurt too much but she had to press on. Ichabod longed to comfort her but made himself stay frozen in place to hear the rest of what she'd say. "I hate what happened to all of them, fates that I couldn't prevent, and I never wanted you to be on that list. Despite that concern, you're my closest friend. My fellow Witness. And that makes the threats against you that much more dangerous and palpable." He saw her steel herself. "But that's not the only thing I've been afraid of." "What is it, Abbie?" he wondered with a whisper when she didn't continue, brows drawn in concentration. "I've been afraid..." She sucked in a deep breath. "That all the things I've been feeling for so long now were unrequited. There've been others in both of our lives that've made me... question, but regardless of who's come and gone, my feelings for you haven't changed. Have only continued to grow, no matter how hard I tried to deny them. I've been afraid of them because...I didn't want you to leave too. You did, and when you came back, I wasn't sure how you felt about me. Then we were in that boat, about to head straight into the catacombs, and with that same rare, unwavering faith, you told me that when it came to you and me, you had no greater certainty." He nodded, affirming his sentiment once again as he stared intently at her. His chest felt tight, as though someone had his cinched it in a vice, and he waited anxiously for her next words. "In that moment, I saw it in your eyes. Felt it in my soul, like a puzzle piece locking into place. And when I heard what Betsy said to you, I didn't want to pretend what I felt wasn't real anymore." "You heard what Betsy said?" he queried a bit shyly. She nodded. "I heard how you didn't deny it, and I knew I wanted to tell you too. I just didn't get the chance until now." Her eyes held his, soft and open, looking at him as if she could see right into his soul. "I've wanted to tell you since I came back from the catacombs, but everything felt so raw and abrasive when I returned. Now...now everything feels fresh and new." Her body turned to face him more fully. "And I need you to know now...I love you. Your friendship, our partnership, is and has been the most important thing in my life, and I couldn't have faced the evils of this world without you. I never want to. I always want to be with you." Ichabod felt a flush race over his skin, his mind reeling from her admission, his pulse racing. He cupped her face with one hand, staring blissfully into her eyes. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone as he marveled at this most perfect of dreams coming true. "Abbie," he murmured in wonder, half statement, half question. "Shhh," she whispered softly, staring at him dreamily, her gaze darting to his mouth and back to his eyes. "Enough talk for now. Let's just...be." He moved to kiss her then, soft, languid, lingering kisses that deliciously teased and tortured him with their sweetness, her perfect lips responding to his better than every fantasy he'd ever conjured. He trailed kisses to her cheek, her cheekbone, her eyelid, before finally easing away from her. Abbie's eyes slowly fluttered open, and a pleased smile teased her lips as he drew his arm around her and she settled into his side. They sat in silence for some time, his fingers trailing up and down her arm. He'd never thought it possible to find himself here: content, fulfilled, free to hold Abbie in his arms, to kiss her. To hear her readily admit she loved him. To unabashedly speak of his love for her. God's wounds, only yesterday she'd been forever lost to him. Someday, when the biblical prophecy came true and he and Abbie met their demise, he'd spend an eternity thanking God for his Lieutenant, his better half, and the rest of all time loving her all over again. But for now, he held her in his arms.

50 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 4 years ago

Text

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (waffles)

summary: (part 1) or (part 5) <- reader joins douxie on his quest to protect nari. he’ll need company wont he. (part 6) do you like waffles? also appalachia and nj trollmarket fun. next-> (part 7)

warnings: swearing, fem! reader, maybe an alcohol mention, proof reading is for squares yo

word count: 3875

a/n: i’m sorry to anyone from PA but wtf. i also have no idea why this turned out the way it did. bon apetit.

no gif im trying to test something

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n looked over at Douxie. The blue of his hair was starting to fade into a duller hue. While not as bright and bold as his personality, it was still very nice to look at. This muted blue was softer, almost comforting in a way. Y/n found herself running her fingers through it. It wasn’t just the color that was soft. Like feathers in her hand, she gently caressed the strands. The duller color made him look tired, older, and the permanent bags under his eyes didn’t help. She placed her hand on his face and ran her thumb over a said eye bag. He gave her a very subdued smile in return. His sunken eyes were so beautiful. Her favorite color. Or colors, one should say. They were like an earth toned opal. Y/n’s hand drifted down his face. She used her thumb to explore his cheekbones, tracing constellations in his freckles, and finally settled on his mouth, tracing his cupid’s bow. Douxie couldn’t help but break the stoic face he was trying to hold.

“As much as I hate to ask this, and I really do, but will you please cease what you’re doing, My Love. I’m trying to drive here.”

“Yes, I would also like to ask you to stop, miss L/n. Not wrecking the ship is worth you canning your pda for a while.” Archie added.

Y/n pulled her hand back and exaggeratedly pouted. She teasingly stuck her tongue out at Archie for good measure, but couldn’t help but dissolve into a snicker right after so it wasn’t very effective. But really, it wasn’t her fault that Douxie’s beautifully sculpted face was right there and demanding to be touched. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the scenery around them. North Pennsylvania was delightful, so it’d be a shame if she spent the whole time that they flew through it looking at nothing but Douxie. There was plenty of time for her to do that the rest of her life. It’s not like she didn’t have every freckle memorized already. Every single adorable little dot. Right, Pennsylvania. Appalachia. Y/n was a little disappointed they didn’t manage to go through West Virginia, being as north as they were. She really wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Country roads.

The mountains were hard to transverse through, so Douxie took the boat up high in the clouds. A little too high. The oxygen was thin. While this didn’t affect Archie the dragon or Nari the plant goddess, Douxie and Y/n were getting a bit woozy. Neither would get altitude sickness to the point of dying, thanks to that good ol’ curse of immortality, but their minds weren’t exactly operating at high speeds here. They passed through a low hanging cloud in a puff of fog.

Though they were over it, just being in the range of Appalachia felt odd. There was a presence that clung to the mountains. Even flying high up in the air, one felt as though they were being watched. Like the thousand eyes of the forest were upon them. Looking down below, hanging over the edge like Douxie hated her to do, Y/n saw a herd of deer that might as well be ants. Watching over the herd was a bigger, or maybe closer, stag on a peak of some sort. His antlers were covered in crimson. Y/n hoped he was just shedding.

There were pathways cutting through the trees below, some roads, some manmade trails, some rivers, some troll trails, and some deer trails. Some that wound around in endless curves, some that seemed to start from nowhere and stop at nothing, some that went round and round in a circle, and some that crossed over each other, effectively creating a maze of sorts. Y/n didn’t know why, but she was glad she was above the trees and not in them. Something within her gut told her that as beautiful as the scenery was, she did not wish to experience it first-hand. The deer below were beautiful, but there was something not quite right about them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to turn down a game of ninepins either, and she could really go for a drink.

Douxie’s brain may have been foggy, but he could certainly see Y/n hanging over the edge again, tantalizing him. He couldn’t help but imagine 174 ways for it to end badly. He’d been pretty passive about this before but now that they were so high up, he had no choice but to be up front now.

“Y/n, My Love,” Y/n turned her attention to him, which also pulled her weight more towards the boat than the sky. Good. “do you mind being back near the center of the ship? I really don’t like you draping yourself over the railing like that.”

Y/n was getting sick and tired of people always trying to keep her away from edges, advising her not to climb the mountain, telling her to stay inside when there was only a light rainstorm. She could handle it. She wasn’t a fucking porcelain doll. She was not wearing a fancy gown that suffocated her, she could speak, her lips were not perfectly painted on. And she wouldn’t shatter. “Relax, Dewdrop. I’m fine. I’m not just gonna go skydiving for kicks. If anyone has had a penchant for falling through the sky recently, it’s been you, Hisirdoux. I can catch myself with anti-gravity spells, like you taught me. Besides, we walk across tall, crumbly, ancient non-osha compliant walkways all the time. You never had a problem then.”

“Well,” He huffed, “it would be one thing if I was there next to you, but I’m not, so could you please just try to stay safe when I can’t reach you?” Y/n was taken about at how quick his tone went from annoyed to desperate. She furrowed her brows. Doux sighed, “Look, it frightens me, okay. I know that nothing will happen, but what if it does? I can’t- I can’t lose you.” His tone got even feebler in his pleading. “And there’s so many ways to lose you. Especially with the Order on our tails. Please, just give me this peace of mind for at least one thing.”

Y/n stepped away from the railing, crossing over to Douxie. He opened his arm and she nestled into his side. Pressing her head against his chest, she mumbled, “Absolutely. I’ll just—I’ll just stay here then. Next to you. I’m sorry I worried you. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, My Darling.”

~ ~ ~

The dipped down south to go through the top of Maryland and completely through Delaware to get to the south of New Jersey, in place of just going through Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love was not on the itinerary. Philly, and the top of New Jersey, were just too densely populated to take a magic boat through. The airspace was filled with airplanes and skyscrapers. It was easier to go the roundabout way.

As they passed between Philly and Lancaster, they went by fantastically named towns such as Paradise the city, where the girls are pretty, Bird In Hand, Blue Ball, and Intercourse. Stellar. Y/n was starting to really like Pennsylvania. It was cursed ground. She made sure to get photographic evidence of every road sign. Douxie was happy to pose with them.

They took a pit stop in a town called Peach Bottom before leaving Pennsylvania. Y/n wanted to go through New Texas, since she was curious how somewhere in the original colonies could be a new Texas, but Nari could sense a river nearby, and wanted to seek it out. Peach Bottom. It was a cozy little town with a power plant that was dumping it’s waste into the riverside it was built on. Toxic river. Fun. Y/n made Douxie explain to Nari why she couldn’t get near the river or touch any of the water. Y/n wouldn’t have been able to stay as calm as Douxie could. There was nothing happening in the rural Pennsylvanian town. Nothing special about it unless you counted their countless nuclear admissions. The locals didn’t care for strangers, and that was alright with them cause they didn’t want to be here for any more than necessary for a restroom break. Dinner could wait.

The top of Maryland was great. Lots of rivers to make it up to Nari. There was just, an incredibly large walmart near the line. Just absolutely humongous whopper walmart. A leach whose name doesn’t even deserve to be capitalized, thank you very much autocorrect.

It took less than half an hour to fly right through the top of Delaware. Hi Delaware, bye Delaware.

Soon they were on the coast of south New Jersey, headed for a sleepy town called Monty. Monty was a town along the Cohansey, split across it with quite an impressive bridge between the two sides. As soon as the bridge became visible on the skyline, Y/n grabbed Douxie’s sleeve and tugged excitedly. She looked up at him with a big smile. Rest. At last, they were going to get to rest. Y/n made herself busy calling Jim to let him know that they were there so he could call someone else to let them know that they were there and to wait by the entrance for them. Neither Douxie nor Y/n had a horngazzle on them at the moment. Y/n had had one in her possession back in Arcadia, being book club buddies with Blinky, but alas that was destroyed along with their bookstore.

They hid that damn magic boat in the forest. While they did plan on staying with the trolls for a few weeks, Douxie didn’t put it back in its glass bottle quite yet, cause they were in fact taking it into New York not tomorrow but the next day. He covered the ground around it with a few more wards than necessary. Y/n threw up an illusion spell around it, as she had been all the other times they’d just left it in the woods, and thought the wards were overkill but didn’t say anything. They started on the trek to the base of the bridge.

The troll at the entrance greeted them cordially. He was a dark green color, with two massive horns resembling those of a longhorn cow, chiseled stone tattoos, and no clothes other than a tiny loincloth which made everyone but Nari uncomfortable. He let them in with flourish, as if he’d always wanted to do this and practiced it.

“Welcome to NEW JERSEY TROLLMARKET.”

Y/n was surprised at how well the town had come along within the two months the trolls had occupied the cavern. It wasn’t the Trollmarket she had known, there was no Blinky and no library, but still marvelous. The new hearthstone glowed warmly, very much alive and not making zombies. While looking pretty similar to the old Trollmarket, with a multitude of shops and homes carved into the mineral covered walls and formations, there was a sort of human touch to it now. Claire definitely had a hand in the planning and maybe the decorative features too. Or perhaps Jim. Y/n wouldn’t put it past the boy to be the one who designed the very elaborate crystal art flower bed she was looking at. Or that weirdly steampunk bridge. Funny thing, a bridge under a bridge.

Dictatious met them soon after they came in to show them around and to where they would be staying. The tour he gave them basically just included him walking them through the main street, waving his arms to various places and vaguely saying that they were shops but not what they sold, pointing out the pub, and then took them straight to their accommodations. Since the home that had been occupied by Blinky, Jim, and Claire was now empty, they’d be staying there, with the place practically to themselves. Dictatious also lived in said home, but rarely stuck around it for long now that his brother was gone.

“Alright, here’s your nest.”

Since Dictatious still slept in the nest that he shared with Blinky, he had given them Jim and Claire’s. The nests were just rocky bowls carved into the floor of the room, with a few comfort items. Thankfully, Jim and Claire had left theirs full of pillows and a couple thick cushions they must have taken from a couch. Unconventional, but better than sleeping on literal solid rock. Speaking of couches, there were way too many couches spread across the apartment. This entire place only had two rooms, a large living area and a nestroom, and yet there were five couches. Not to mention the extra-large easy chair Dic was currently lounging in. Okay, so one of said couches was technically a love seat, but still. There was no kitchen, which was surprising due to this being Jim Lake Jr’s home, and no table besides the one that three of the sofas were gathered around and a paper-covered work desk against a corner. There were glowing crystal lamps all throughout, lighting the house. All in all, interesting interior design decisions. The kids had definitely been trying to make it a more homey human dwelling but had limited options.

Nari nestled into the nest, happy that there were no blankets to smother her. Not even a minute passed and she was out like a light. Douxie and Y/n sat on one of the couches in the nestroom, watching the veggie lady snooze. Archie made himself comfy in Douxie’s lap, who absent mindedly stroked his familiar’s fur. They were underground now. Surrounded by inorganic matter. Some of that inorganic matter could fight, would be willing to fight, would probably be disappointed if there wasn’t a fight. The little devil on Douxie’s shoulder wasn’t really having to work hard. His stomach growled. They had opted to just not stop for dinner in favor of plowing right through their trip route. It was late, and dark, and Douxie really just wanted them to have a roof over their head before midnight. And now they did.

He looked over at Y/n. They had been a couple for an entire day now and he had yet to take her on a proper date. What a bad boyfriend he was. It’s not like Archie would want to come with them or anything either, since he filled himself with birds that didn’t know what hit them while they traveled. The dragon had even caught a hawk at one point, which wasn’t as impressive as it sounds, since Archie was a much faster flyer. He would be happy to watch Nari for them, surely. And Dic had given them a horngazzle so they could come and go as they pleased. It was settled then.

“Arch, watch Nari for us, please, we’ll be back in a pinch,” He grabbed Y/n’s hand to pull her off the couch, “C’mon, My Love, we’re going on a date.”

~ ~ ~

Turns out the only thing open past midnight in small town New Jersey was a waffle house. The perfect date. Y/n had thought it funny to watch Douxie try and deactivate all the fresh wards he had put around the boat. He had to be careful where he put his feet, and it was like he was doing a silly little dance. Ward trap ballet of his own barely thought-out design. At one point he stepped backwards to admire his work, triggering the ward behind him, and Y/n had to free him from the net. Lucky it was just a net one.

Entering the waffle house, they slid into the nearest booth, the one near the jukebox. They ordered what else but waffles. The food of kings and hungover college kids. Not just plain waffles, though. Douxie got chocolate chip and Y/ got strawberry, and they were going to combine them to make chocolate covered strawberry waffles. Everyone knows chocolate covered strawberries were the most romantic food, why else would they push them so hard around Valentine’s.

Douxie leaned in with his head in his hand. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Y/n laughed, decided to play into this bit. “Oh, I’m just a California lass, on her way to New York. Things have been crazy lately. Went to a very convincing renaissance faire, I’m harboring a fugitive, my roommate keeps hitting on me. Very stressful. Sure am lucky I came across you, Mr. Handsome.”

“Lucky indeed.” Doux snickered.

Y/n pointed to the jukebox behind Doux, which he twisted around to see. “Have you ever heard ‘Last Night I Saw Elvis At Waffle House’?”

“No?”

“Oh, it’s a banger.” She got out of the booth and put a coin in the juke, making her selection. She slid back in with a Cheshire cat grin and Doux was kind of scared now, actually. As the current song ended and the song that they were waiting for began. Well, it was a song. About seeing Elvis in a waffle house. With a country tune he supposed someone thought was catchy in order for them to have recorded this. Douxie didn’t know what he had expected.

“Uh, wow.”

“Yeah, Ain’t it something. I loved this song when I was knee high to a grasshopper. All the waffle house jams really.”

“Your aunt let someone bring you to a waffle house? That’s not very proper.” Douxie chuckled.

“Oh, no, actually. Um, this was before my dad passed and my mother, ah, slipped.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, no. I’m fine Dewdrop. I can talk about it, really. And, like you said the other day, I’ve been focusing on the Now Love.” The silly waffle house themed song was still playing despite the air of seriousness that had fallen over the duo. It helped keep Y/n from getting too sad and dwelling on the memories she had just brought up. It was comical, really. A waffle house song keeping her grounded. She rubbed the palm of Douxie’s hand. “I still mourn my family, but it’s been so long that the pain’s but a dull ache now. As long as I don’t think too hard about it. If anyone knows about mourning it’d be you, Doux. I can’t imagine meeting hundreds of friends over my lifetime just to watch them all grow old and die while you just have to go on living.” She paused, eyes drifting downwards, “But I suppose that’ll be my fate anyways.”

Douxie reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s actually not that bad, once you get used to it. You just have to enjoy every bit of time you get. That’s what makes other magic friends so valuable, there are some permanent players on your team.” He let his hand linger under her jaw, pulling her face closer to his, “You have me. We have each other. We’re family. We always have been.”

“So I hate to interrupt, but, waffles.” The server put the plates she had been holding down onto the table. Douxie and Y/n pulled away from each other quick as lightning, sitting up straight in their seats. “Again, sorry guys.”

“Thank you.” The two chorused to their fleeting form in embarrassment. Their faces were fire engine red. Archie was right, they did get a little carried away with the pda. It may have been 12:28am in a waffle house but they were still in public. Grabby hands needed to be kept to themselves.

After dinner, neither Doux nor Y/n could bring themselves to go home quite yet, despite the nagging feeling to return to Nari. They loitered around woods, unsure of what to do. Leaning against the parked boat, Douxie got an idea. He put on the music on his phone, turning the volume all the way up and positioning it so it’d put out a better sound the best he could. The playlist he selected was actually the one he had of songs that reminded him of his beloved. Copying what Y/n had done last night, he held out his hand.

“Come on, dance with me, My Darling.”

Douxie twirled Y/n around in the night breeze that blew through the trees. This song was much faster than the one they danced to last time, and there was more energy between them. Y/n’s laugh echoed through the forest. This was a lot of fun, she could do it all night. Honestly, she could do anything all night if it was with Douxie. He lifted her up, like she weighed nothing. Seriously, how strong was this noodle armed wizard. She threw her arms around his neck, looking down to meet his eyes, a rare thing. Y/n kissed his nose, eliciting a happy giggle from his mouth.

He should have put her back down by now. Instead, he still held her up, transfixed by her face ringed in moonlight, like a halo. She noticed the awestruck look on his face, kissing him properly, yet it did nothing to pull him out of his stupor. He had one thought running over and over in his mind. Marry me. But, he couldn’t say that. A proposal had to be special, not after a waffle house date. Their first date, mind you. He couldn’t possibly jus-

“Marry me, Dewdrop?”

Well apparently he couldn’t but she absolutely could.

It took him a moment to take in her words, shocked out of his overthinking. The biggest grin spread across his face as he giddily spun her around in his arms. He finally put her feet back on the ground, crashing his lips into hers. Y/n brought a hand up to drag through his hair and left the other to slide down his back. No battle for dominance, Douxie’s tongue was definitely the one leading here. He just couldn’t believe it. It was if she had read his mind. It was still hard for him to believe she wanted him in the first place, but this much? If this was the afterlife he must surely be in heaven. One makeout session later, Y/n rasped “So I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“Let’s sign the papers tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

Despite the uneasy feeling they had both had about leaving Nari alone for so long, she was perfectly fine. In fact she hadn’t even moved an inch form the spot they left her in. Like they never left at all. Archie was asleep on that couch, as peaceful as ever. They’d tell him the news in the morning.

Y/n climbed into the nest and dragged Douxie down with her. After getting comfy on the array of cushions, he opened his arms and she nestled into his chest. She could feel his hands rest on her back. Perfect. It was calming, listening to his heartbeat, being lulled to sleep with the rhythm that gave proof that her beloved was alive. A steady beat that reassured her he was there, he was there. He wouldn’t leave her again.

*** check notes for chapter illustrations lmao

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie imagine #douxie casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #douxie #toa douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #douxie casperan #my writing

90 notes · View notes

mythiccheroacademia · 5 years ago

Text

Boyfriend Headcanons

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugo, and Todoroki

Warnings: N/A

SFW

A/N: My first post! I hope you all enjoy a healthy dose of sweetness and fluff!

Izuku Midoryia:

it took him three months to build up the courage to be your friend

took him another month to ask you out

the sweetest boi-friend

to this day, he doesn’t understand why you said yes to going on a date with him, but he doesn’t question it

why put a question mark where God put a period lmao

he’s a shy bean but will always hold your hand if you’re okay with the PDA

if not, he’ll be just as satisfied being next to you

calls you by your name most of the time but absolutely melts when you call him a pet name

honey is his favorite

likes, it’s such a simple name but he goes crazy over it

“hey, honey, will you get my bag over there?”

error.exe “uhh, of course, y-y/n!”

doesn’t get jealous, but gets worried you’ll leave him for someone better

but you always reassure him in the best way you can and he’ll apologize for doubting your relationship

kisses are sweet

will kiss your cheek a lot

when you’re alone and he’s just looking into your eyes that are so dark and lovely, they make him feel like he’s falling into an endless abyss, and he just has to kiss you

like, omg, he kisses you breathless and then has the nerve to act embarrassed like he didn’t just kiss you like the world depended on it

dates are always fun

he takes you to his favorite arcade, or to festivals if he can

loves it when you watch him train and cheer him on

it makes him feel like he can do anything!

has sent pictures of you and him to his mom and All Might

they both cry tears of joy because you two are just so cute together and their hearts can’t take it

he knows it’s tough in Japan for you

Japan is homogenous and you look like quite the foreigner

hates when you start to feel insecure bc you’re skin is just so beautiful like omg you’re like freaking gold

Delaware Smashes anyone who looks at you the wrong way (behind your back tho because fighting civilians with your quirk is illegal Izuku, remember!?) and then takes you for ice cream

sends good morning texts without fail

Bakugo Katsuki:

mans had to work hard to get you

you weren’t with all that asshole shit he likes to throw out

but, by some miracle, you said yes when he asked you out

“i wanna be your friend but with feelings and shit!”

someone help this emotionally stunted boi

let’s get one thing straight tho

he’s not a shitty boyfriend

how can he be the number one hero if he can’t even be a good boyfriend?

bakugo is a closet romantic and you can’t convince me otherwise

he’ll tell you that chick flicks are dumb but the Notebook is in his favorites on Netflix

what a loser

okay but seriously, he’ll treat you like a queen and he doesn’t care what anybody thinks

kisses your hands a lot

is too confident in your relationship to get jealous but isn’t afraid to show whoever is hitting on you who you’re with

cooked a four-course meal for your six month anniversary with candles, rose petals, and everything of the sort (his mom helped with the flowers but that doesn't matter)

you served dessert ;)

MOVING ON--

calls you princess

was ignorant when it came to racism and discrimination towards black and brown people (bc that shit is global don’t @ me)

his parents have models from all over the world and Japan has a foreigner population, so it’s not like he hasn't seen people with your shade before

but seeing black/brown people doesn’t mean you know about them

he learns that the hard way

when you breakdown, he kissed your tears away and swore to you he would be better and more educated

google became his best friend

will actually kill anyone who even thinks about making an unwanted comment

“katsuki, homicide is illegal”

“so is making you cry!”

heart eyes

will lie on your chest just to hear your heartbeat

falls asleep there

you cry every time because omg he’s just so soft and pretty when he’s not threatening someone’s life

Todoroki Shouto:

you weren’t aware in the slightest that he liked you like that

“y/n, i hope i’m not bothering you when i ask if you’ll go eat with me”

“what?”

was a bit awkward in the beginning

you always thought he was kind of stuck up

he was kinda intimidated by you

but then you made a joke about endeavor’s disconnecting beard and he fell in love

the man actually has a lot to say

you always thought he was so quiet, but he’s just one of those people that needs to feel comfortable

is so entranced by your looks

is even more entranced by your heart how are you beautiful, talented, AND amazing like???? are you real???

enjoys your company way more than he realized

so touch starved and wants you to hold him all the time, but he’ll never initiate it in case you get annoyed

but you always hold him because he’s cute and he just dies

kisses are always meaningful

sometimes he’ll just kiss you so slowly and so passionately that you have to remind him that y’all need to breathe

will buy you anything and everything like money grows on trees (because it kinda does when endeavor is your father)

“I got you that necklace you wanted”

“baby, i only glanced at it. it was $300″

“do you want me to get another one?”

you have to put a price limit on the gifts

he’ll call you these cringy but endearing names like “love of my life” “beloved” “my darling” “my heart” “sweetness” and you don’t have the heart to tell him they embarrass you sometimes

will error.exe when you call him babe or baby

will crash when you compliment his eyes

you’re the only contact in his phone with a picture (he took it when you weren’t looking shhh)

out of the three, he gets the most jealous surprisingly

it’s because he’s a bit insecure about himself as a partner and probably thinks there’s someone better who doesn’t have all this baggage but then he sees someone flirt with you and he can’t help but think they’re not even worth the ground you walk on

will stare knives into the person’s head

they feel the heat of his stare and scurry off before he acts on his temper and before you can understand what’s going on

the most knowledgable about your battles with hate crimes, microaggressions, etc.

you tend to read a lot when you’re forced to live in isolation for 3/4ths of your life

is your ally and won’t ever let you forget that

speaks on issues so you don’t always have to, he knows it can be tiresome

the most intimate act is sharing cold soba

when you slurp it down, he knows he’s found the one

1K notes · View notes

scribbling-stiks · 4 years ago

Text

Retrievers - II - Broken Glass

Russia sits at America's side, smiling softly. They sit side by side at the largest table beside the bookshelf, and Russia finds himself glancing back toward the book. The colored paper catching his attention.

Russia returns his gaze to his bowl when America suddenly elbows him. Russia looks up, a little startled, and America looks back with a mischievous smile. Russia scowls playfully and pecks America on the cheek, causing America's face to turn bright red.

America looks back down at his bowl, his face contorts into a pout. Russia smirks and goes back to eating, contently watching the activities around them. Kids talk and the countries were invited into groups of states and provinces. Russia sits back and enjoys the company.

Russia finishes, clears his space, and sits beside America, watching him laugh. Russia finds himself staring with what he's sure is a dopey smile. America turns and meets his eye, and Russia looks away, feeling embarrassed, one hand covering his mouth and cheeks.

America leaves to clear his space and Russia gets up to follow.

America settles on the couch and Russia sits next to him, but not for long.

America pulls Russia down, and Russia lays back, his head and shoulders in America's lap. Russia stiffens a little. America gently rubs Russia's chest before his hand trail up to Russia's hair. Russia relaxes at the tender fingers brushing through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans back, more than happy to receive the affection.

America's hands gently slide over Russia's ears, and Russia breaths deep. Russia feels calloused fingers brush his cheeks, and he smiles.

A warm, static-y feeling fills his head, and Russia forces himself to relax in America's arms.

Russia lets his mind wander.

Then something catches his attention and pulls him from his warm bubble of safety.

Sound.

Russia keeps his eyes closed, and he listens as the sounds around him start to get louder and clearer. It's still muffled by America's hands, he could hear. The tinnitus was still there, but the sounds around him return.

Russia hears America laugh.

'I can hear you.'

Russia feels tears leak from his eyes. His smile grows and his bottom lip quivers. America moves his hands. America brushes away the tears without question. America shifts and places a feathery kiss on Russia's forehead.

"It's okay," America says, and his voice rising above the ringing.

More tears fall and relief shakes Russia to his core.

'I'm okay.'

America pulls Russia up onto his chest, and Russia opens his eyes, looking through tears at the ceiling. Laughter spills from his mouth and tears trace his cheeks. America kisses Russia's temple and hugs him securely.

Russia sits up, and America lets him. Russia turns around and smiles brightly, ignoring the tears that trail down his face.

"America..." Russia says, "you..."

"Russia?" America asks, his eyes wide.

Russia grasps America's face and leans in, pressing his forehead on America's. He looks into America's eyes.

"I can hear you," Russia mutters.

It strange, not hearing his own voice, but it didn't matter. He knew the words he said, and America's expression made it worth it.

America's eyes shine. America tilts Russia's head up and kisses him before latching onto him, giggling in Russia's ear. Russia laughs and hugs him back. America pulls back and begins bouncing in place, flapping his arms and laughing, a huge grin spreading across his face.

Russia beams. America begins to ramble to him, his hands flying around with excitement.

"I can't believe that worked!" America rattles off, "You-! And now we can talk again and..."

Russia sits back, listening to every word. He pulls his legs up onto the couch crosses his legs, watching with a smile.

Then America hops up and grabs Russia's hand. America pulls him up and Russia stumbles to his feet. America drags him upstairs to their room, and Russia runs after him, holding his hat and laughing.

America shuts the door and hops onto the bed, bouncing up in the air, his mouth running a mile a minute, telling stories and running off on tangents.

Russia sits beside him and laughs when he's bounced up by America's dancing around.

But soon, Russia finds himself glancing out the window, the ominous calling of the darkened path stealing his attention.

"Russ?"

Russia's head jerks a little and he spins around to meet America's gaze.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just wondering what you're lookin' at," America says, poking his head around Russia's shoulder.

"The path outside," Russia admits, and America glances at him curiously.

"What about it? You wanna go down there?"

"Something isn't right about it."

America hums and takes furtive looks at the trees as they sway in the wind.

"I gotta say -as much as I don't really want to- you're right," America says, brushing his hair back with his hands, "I've been getting weird vibes from it too if that means anything."

Russia nods and stares out at the worn dirt walkway. Then America throws a jacket at him.

"I know you're 'Mr. Winter', but it's better to be safe than sorry," America says, pulling a jacket of his own.

Russia gives him a questioning look.

"What? We're gonna go check it out, see what's going on," America says, "Come on."

Russia sighs.

'Is this a good idea?'

America waits in the doorway with an expectant look.

'I should probably go in case something happens.'

Russia stands up and pulls the jacket on. America cheers and runs out of the room. Russia runs after him, a small smile on his face.

"Don't leave without me!" Russia shouts from the second flight of stairs.

"I will if you don't hurry up!" America shouts back in a playful tone.

Russia tries to scowl, but a smile forces its way onto his face. He bounds down the stairs and slides to a stop in the kitchen where America is connecting a handheld radio to the larger receiver set up on the counter.

"Hey, are you two going somewhere?" Delaware asks, leaning against a bar stool.

"Yup," America says with a nod, clipping the radio to his hip, "we're gonna go out and check out the back path. We shouldn't be gone too long: half an hour, an hour at most."

Delaware nods before directing his gaze to Russia.

"So I hear that your ears are working again. Can you hear me?"

Russia nods with a smile.

A smile breaks out across Delaware's stoic face.

"Congrats man!" Delaware says before looking to America, "But Dad, seriously, watch the time. We will come looking if you're not back by 7:00."

America sighs with an exasperated look, which Delaware returns.

"I can handle myself," America says.

"I know Dad, I know. But please, just... be careful. We already lost you once with this whole thing," Delaware says, his expression turning sad.

America sighs and walks around the bar. He grabs Delaware into a side hug and ruffles his hair.

"Daaaaaad!" Delaware exclaims, pushing America away.

"I looooove you too, Del-bear," America teases before letting go, "but for real kiddo, I'll be fine. We aren't going too far and I'll have Russia with me if anything happens. 'Sides, I also have a radio if all h**l breaks loose."

Delaware scoffs, "Okay, okay, but you didn't have to mess up my hair!"

"You say that like you style it at all," America teases with a chuckle before turning around, "Come on, let's go."

Russia follows America outside but feels weird being empty-handed. He spots the recycling bins by the side of the house and gets an idea. He turns and starts walking toward them.

"Hey Russ, whatcha doing?"

"I'm going to get something."

"Oh. Okay."

America follows behind him and Russia digs through the glassware until he spots what he's looking for. He smiles and picks up the empty liquor bottle.

"Stand back," Russia warns, swinging the bottle back by its neck.

Once America backs up, Russia smashes the bottom of the bottle. It scatters glass shards into the bin and grass. Russia picks up the pieces he can see and tosses them into the bin.

"Hey! Who all is back there?" Georgia yells, sounding annoyed.

"It's just Russia and I, sweetie," America calls back as Georgia pokes her head around the corner.

Georgia sighs and the annoyed look vanishes. She then disappears back around the corner and Russia hears the back door close. Russia spins the bottle around in his hand a few times.

"This will work," Russia says, examining his work.

"Cool. Now let's go," America says, taking Russia's hand.

Russia rolls his eyes a little at America's excitement, but he smiles none-the-less.

'He's cute.'

But as they approach the opening, his smile drops. The unwelcoming feeling radiating from the tree line gets more intense. Russia readies the bottle and tightens his grip on America's hand.

"Are you ready?" America asks.

Russia nods, and they walk into the shadowy depths.

"How far does this go?" Russia asks, scanning the growing shadows for threats.

"I'm not too sure," America admits, sounding on edge, "it's not too long, but you'll have to ask Dix if you wanna know the specifics."

Russia nods.

Russia's hair stands up, and he stares around. Their walk slows to a crawl, and America summons his scythe. Russia searches for anything out of the ordinary when a spot of red catches his attention.

It's high in the trees and surrounded by shadows. Then it blinks and disappears, and the branches that were behind it suddenly became visible.

Russia tenses and pulls America behind him, releasing America's hand. They stand back to back without a word. The sunset casts a dull light around them, and America's magic glows.

Then the ground under his feet begins to shake. Russia stairs around when his eyes catch movement. Then a deafening noise rings out.

'A siren. But why-?'

America grabs his hand and begins pulling him back toward the house.

~ Next

Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

7 notes · View notes

thecenturionjournal · 4 years ago

Text

William Wright, Abolitionist

WILLIAM WRIGHT See p. 691. MEMORIAL. William Wright, a distinguished abolitionist of Adams county, Pennsylvania, was born on the 21st of December, 1788. Various circumstances conspired to make this unassuming Quaker an earnest Abolitionist and champion of the oppressed in every land and of every nationality and color. His uncle, Benjamin Wright, and cousin, Samuel B. Wright, were active members of the old Pennsylvania Abolition Society, and at the time of the emancipation of the slaves in this state were often engaged in lawsuits with slave-holders to compel them to release their bondmen, according to the requirements of the law. William Wright grew up under the influence of the teachings of these relatives. Joined to this, his location caused him to take an extraordinary interest in Underground Rail Road affairs. He lived near the foot of the southern slope of the South Mountain, a spur of the Alleghenies which extends, under various names, to Chattanooga, Tennessee. This mountain was followed in its course by hundreds of fugitives until they got into Pennsylvania, and were directed to William Wright's house. In November, 1817, William Wright married Phebe Wierman, (born on the 8th of February, 1790,) daughter of a neighboring farmer, and sister of Hannah W. Gibbons, wife of Daniel Gibbons, a notice of whom appears elsewhere in this work. Phebe Wright was the assistant of her husband in every good work, and their married life of forty-eight years was a long period of united and efficient labor in the cause of humanity. She still (1871) survives him. William and Phebe Wright began their Underground Rail Road labors about the year 1819. Hamilton Moore, who ran away from Baltimore county, Maryland, was the first slave aided by them. His master came for him, but William Wright and Joel Wierman, Phebe Wright's brother, who lived in the neighborhood, rescued him and sent him to Canada. In the autumn of 1828, as Phebe Wright, surrounded by her little children, came out upon her back porch in the performance of some household duty, she saw standing before her in the shade of the early November morning, a colored man without hat, shoes, or coat. He asked if Mr. Wright lived there, and upon receiving an affirmative reply, said that he wanted work. The good woman, comprehending the situation at a glance, told him to come into the house, get warm, and wait till her husband came home. He was shivering with cold and fright. When William Wright came home the fugitive told his story. He came from Hagerstown, Maryland, having been taught the blacksmith's trade there. In this business it was his duty to keep an account of all the work done by him, which record he showed to his master at the end of the week. Knowing no written character but the figure 5 he kept this account by means of a curious system of hieroglyphics in which straight marks meant horse shoes put on, circles, cart-wheels fixed, etc. One day in happening to see his master's book he noticed that wherever five and one were added the figure 6 was used. Having practiced this till he could make it he ever after used it in his accounts. As his master was looking over these one day, he noticed the new figure and compelled the slave to tell how he had learned it. He flew into a rage, and said, "I'll teach you how to be learning new figures," and picking up a horse-shoe threw it at him, but fortunately for the audacious chattel, missed his aim. Notwithstanding his ardent desire for liberty, the slave considered it his duty to remain in bondage until he was twenty-one years old in order to repay by his labor the trouble and expense which his master had had in rearing him. On the evening of his twenty-first anniversary he turned his face toward the North star, and started for a land of freedom. Arriving at Reisterstown, a village on the Westminster turnpike about twenty-five miles from Baltimore and thirty-five miles from Mr. Wright's house, he was arrested and placed in the bar-room of the country tavern in care of the landlady to wait until his captors, having finished some work in which they were engaged, could take him back to his master. The landlady, being engaged in getting supper, set him to watch the cakes that were baking. As she was passing back and forth he ostentatiously removed his hat, coat, and shoes, and placed them in the bar-room. Having done this, he said to her, "I will step out a moment." This he did, she sending a boy to watch him. When the boy came out he appeared to be very sick and called hastily for water. The boy ran in to get it. Now was his golden opportunity. Jumping the fence he ran to a clump of trees which occupied low ground behind the house and concealing himself in it for a moment, ran and continued to run, he knew not whither, until he found himself at the toll gate near Petersburg, in Adams county. Before this he had kept in the fields and forests, but now found himself compelled to come out upon the road. The toll-gate keeper, seeing at once that he was a fugitive, said to him, "I guess you don't know the road." "I guess I can find it myself," was the reply. "Let me show you," said the man. "You may if you please," replied the fugitive. Taking him out behind his dwelling, he pointed across the fields to a new brick farm-house, and said, "Go there and inquire for Mr. Wright." The slave thanked him and did as he was directed. He remained with William Wright until April, 1829. During this short time he learned to read, write, and cipher as far as the single rule of three, as it was then called, or simple proportion. During his residence with William Wright, nothing could exceed his kindness or gratitude to the whole family. He learned to graft trees, and thus rendered great assistance to William Wright in his necessary business. When working in the kitchen during the winter he would never allow Phebe Wright to perform any hard labor, always scrubbing the floor and lifting heavy burdens for her. Before he went away in the spring he assumed a name which his talents, perseverance, and genius have rendered famous in both hemispheres, that of James W.C. Pennington. The initial W. was for his benefactor's family, and C. for the family of his former master. From William Wright's he went to Daniel Gibbons', thence to Delaware county, Pennsylvania, and from there to New Haven, Conn., where, while performing the duties of janitor at Yale College, he completed the studies of the college course. After a few years, he went to Heidelberg, where the degree of D.D. was conferred upon him. He never forgot William Wright and his family, and on his return from Europe brought them each a present. The story of his escape and wonderful abilities was spread over England. An American acquaintance of the Wright family was astonished, on visiting an Anti-slavery fair in London many years ago, to see among the pictures for sale there, one entitled, "William and Phebe Wright receiving James W.C. Pennington." The Dr. died in Florida, in 1870, where he had gone to preach and assist in opening schools amongst the Freemen. In 1842 a party of sixteen slaves came to York, Pa., from Baltimore county, Md. Here they were taken in charge by William Wright, Joel Fisher, Dr. Lewis, and William Yocum. The last named was a constable, and used to assist the Underground Rail Road managers by pretending to hunt fugitives with the kidnappers. Knowing where the fugitives were he was enabled to hunt them in the opposite direction from that in which they had gone, and thus give them time to escape. This constable and a colored man of York took this party one by one out into Samuel Willis' corn-field, near York, and hid them under the shocks. The following night Dr. Lewis piloted them to near his house, at Lewisburg, York county, on the banks of the Conewago. Here they were concealed several days, Dr. Lewis carrying provisions to them in his saddle-bags. When the search for them had been given up in William Wright's neighborhood, he went down to Lewisburg and in company with Dr. Lewis took the whole sixteen across the Conewago, they fording the river and carrying the fugitives across on their horses. It was a gloomy night in November. Every few moments clouds floated across the moon, alternately lighting up and shading the river, which, swelled by autumn rains, ran a flood. William Wright and Dr. Lewis mounted men or women behind and took children in their arms. When the last one got over, the doctor, who professed to be an atheist, exclaimed, "Great God! is this a Christian land, and are Christians thus forced to flee for their liberty?" William Wright guided this party to his house that night and concealed them in a neighboring forest until it was safe for them to proceed on their way to Canada. Just in the beginning of harvest of the year 1851, four men came off from Washington county, Maryland. They were almost naked and seemed to have come through great difficulties, their clothing being almost entirely torn off. As soon as they came, William Wright went to the store and got four pair of shoes. It was soon heard that their masters and the officers had gone to Harrisburg to hunt them. Two of them, Fenton and Tom, were concealed at William Wright's, and the other two, Sam and one whose name has been forgotten, at Joel Wierman's. In a day or two, as William Wright, a number of carpenters, and other workmen, among whom were Fenton and Tom, were at work in the barn, a party of men rode up and recognized the colored men as slaves of one of their number. The colored men said they had left their coats at the house. William Wright looked earnestly at them and told them to go to the house and get their coats. They went off, and one of them was observed by one of the family to take his coat hastily down from where it hung in one of the outhouses, a few moments afterward. After conversing a few moments at the barn, William Wright brought the slave-holders down to the house, where he, his wife and daughters engaged them in a controversy on the subject of slavery which lasted about an hour. One of them seemed very much impressed, and labored hard to convince his host that he was a good master and would treat his men well. Finally one of the party asked William Wright to produce the men. He replied that he would not do that, that they might search his premises if they wished to, but they could not compel him to bring forth the fugitives. Seeing that they had been duped, they became very angry and proceeded forthwith to search the house and all the outhouses immediately around it, without, however, finding those whom they sought. As they left the house and went toward the barn, William Wright, waving his hand toward the former, said, "You see they are not anywhere there." They then went to the barn and gave it a thorough search. Between it and the house, a little away from the path, but in plain sight, stood the carriage-house, which they passed by without seeming to notice. After they had gone, poor Tom was found in this very house, curled up under the seats of the old-fashioned family carriage. He had never come to the house at all, but had heard the voices of his hunters from his hiding-place, during their whole search. About two o'clock in the morning, Fenton was found by William Wright out in the field. He had run along the bed of a small water course, dry at that time of year, until he came to a rye field amid whose high grain he hid himself until he thought the danger was past. From William Wright's the slave-catchers went to Joel Wierman's, where, despite all that could be done, they got poor Sam, took him off to Maryland and sold him to the traders to be taken far south. In 1856 William Wright was a delegate from Adams county to the Convention at Philadelphia which nominated John C. Fremont for President of the United States. As the counties were called in alphabetical order, he responded first among the Pennsylvania delegation. It is thought that he helped away during his whole life, nearly one thousand slaves. During his latter years, he was aided in the good work by his children, who never hesitated to sacrifice their own pleasure in order to help away fugitives. His convictions on the subject of slavery seem to have been born with him, to have grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength. He could not remember when he first became interested in the subject. William Wright closed his long and useful life on the 25th of October, 1865. More fortunate than his co-laborer, Daniel Gibbons, he lived to see the triumph of the cause in which he had labored all his life. His latter years were cheered by the remembrance of his good deeds in the cause of human freedom. Modest and retiring, he would not desire, as he does not need, a eulogy. His labors speak for themselves, and are such as are recorded upon the Lamb's Book of Life. #################################################### Album of pix of Plainfield w interior> https://goo.gl/photos/UKfYAyysNzACjBVF9 ########################################## The Wright House is located on property owned by Ludwigs on the northernmost end of Adams County in Latimore Township. It's along Latimore Valley Road, set back in a bit. I have never seen it in person, so I don't know what condition it is currently in. It is on private property, which is why I do not give the location of the house on my website. The black and white photos are from the 1920s and the color photos are from 1993. It played a part in the underground railroad and at least one of the photos shows where slaves would have hidden. My Dad said he was back there when he was little and they pulled the dresser away to reveal the crawl space behind it. I think William and Phebe Wright were the ones who owned it, hence the name, the "Wright House." I don't know anything about them, though, off-hand. The house looks like it would have been a nice place if it had been fixed up, but I imagine it's beyond repair at this point. -from email from D. Worley

2 notes · View notes

treeservicecompanypa · 1 year ago

Text

Tree Cleanup Services: Restoring Order After Nature's Fury

When nature unleashes its might, trees can bear the brunt of its wrath. Whether it's a powerful storm, hurricane, or even a simple seasonal change, trees may shed limbs, topple, or become overgrown with debris. That's where tree cleanup services come into play, as the unsung heroes of post-nature disaster recovery.

Understanding Tree Cleanup Services

Tree cleanup services encompass a range of tasks to restore order to landscapes affected by natural events or simply due to routine maintenance needs. These services are essential for several reasons:

Safety: Fallen branches or uprooted trees can pose significant hazards to people and property. Prompt cleanup ensures the removal of potential dangers.

Aesthetics: Overgrown or untidy trees can diminish residential and commercial properties' beauty and curb appeal. Cleanup services help rejuvenate the landscape.

Tree Health: Pruning and clearing debris can promote the health and vitality of trees, reducing the risk of disease or infestation.

Tasks Involved in Tree Cleanup Services

Tree cleanup services involve tasks by trained arborists or tree care professionals. These tasks include:

Removal of Fallen Trees: In the aftermath of storms or other natural disasters, tree cleanup crews remove fallen or uprooted trees to clear pathways and prevent further damage.

Branch and Debris Removal: Cleanup professionals clear away fallen branches, leaves, and other debris that clutter outdoor spaces. This not only enhances safety but also improves the aesthetics of the landscape.

Pruning and Trimming: When trees are damaged or overgrown, pruning and trimming become necessary. These practices help restore the tree's shape, remove hazardous limbs, and promote healthy growth.

Stump Removal: The stump may remain an eyesore after falling from a tree. Stump removal is often part of tree cleanup, allowing for complete area restoration.

Hazard Assessment: Tree care experts assess the health and stability of remaining trees to identify potential hazards. They may recommend further maintenance or removal if necessary.

Tree removal and clearing or clean up services play an integral role in the aftermath of natural events and routine landscape maintenance. They contribute to the safety, aesthetics, and overall health of trees and green spaces. As stewards of our outdoor environments, these professionals help restore tranquility and beauty, turning chaos into order. Whether clearing a fallen tree blocking a driveway or rejuvenating a neglected backyard, tree cleanup services are the unsung heroes that keep our outdoor spaces safe and inviting.

#tree removal and clearing #tree removal #tree care #delaware tree care company #tree service company

1 note · View note

landscapingsunusa · 7 months ago

Text

Delaware Lawn Care Companies keep the residential home lawns clean & hygienic

Trees with deep roots and the freshness of organic herbal shrubs can be grown in the space called a lawn. It is one of the reasons that a homeowner is always worried about cleaning the mess. Dirt and mold growth in such spaces is common and difficult to avoid. Before the lawn’s health gets worse, consult the lawn cleaners of reputed companies. Throwing the steel cans & the wrappers of the food is unavoidable. Yet controlling its negative impact to an extent is possible. This blog explains how the Delaware Lawn Care Companies act as the backbone of commercial lawn cleaning & maintenance activities. The effect is visible especially when the strong winds or the heavy rainfall are outside.

#Delaware Lawn Care Companies #Montgomery Lawn Service #Residential Landscaping Philadelphia

0 notes

petepettingillposts · 4 years ago

Text

NEW YORK DAYS 1987 – 1988

I was born in Queens, a New York City borough but I grew up in Nassau County. The city always loomed large in our lives but we didn’t have much to do with it. It might as well have been another country.

My father worked at 26 Broadway. My Aunt Jessie worked in Manhattan, too, for General Electric in the sixties and early seventies. My mother worked for Liggett & Meyers until she left to have me in the late fifties. We visited the city a few times as kids to see my father, to eat at the automat, to ride the Staten Island ferry. As young adults we would drive in late in the evening to go to the top of the World Trade Center. We did that a few times. But we’d always come right back out.

Sometime in 1987 I was promoted by my company to a supervisory position in Rockefeller Center from one of the Long Island offices. I was not keen on this at all but I went. It was going to mean longer days because of the commute and I was uncertain what it would be like overall. I was twenty-eight years-old and had been with the company two and a half years. In hindsight I was not so opposed that I ever contemplated quitting my job. As a dutiful soldier, I took the assignment and went to New York City, much as I had taken orders to go from Fort Jackson, SC to Giessen, Germany a decade earlier.

I was married and living in Hempstead. We had been married just over two years. E was working as a research librarian at a Wall Street bond firm. Our apartment was very close to the Long Island Railroad station. It was only a mile but I did not consider walking there because it was not a great neighborhood. I drove to the station every morning. I had to have a town sticker to park in that parking lot.

I became excited about the job and wanted to do well. I went early every day. I recall getting up at 4:30 or 5:00, showering, dressing and leaving. We wore suits in those days, or at least slacks and sports jackets with a tie. Don’t forget the tie. In the late autumn and winter, I wore a trench coat or an overcoat. It was during this period I developed an affinity for herringbone. I had a maroon briefcase from Macy’s I bought for my promotion. That only went to the dump a few years ago.

Whenever I reflect on this part of my life to other people, I always make sure I tell them “I read the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times in the morning and the New York Post in the afternoon.” Stories in the news then were Tawana Brawley, the garbage barge, and, of course, Oliver North and Fawn Hall were waist deep in the Iran-Contra Affair with Ronald Reagan. And rarely a day went by that Donald Trump was not in the New York Post.

Rarely did I catch a morning train that did not require a change at Jamaica to go to Pennsylvania Station, so I also like to share how at least twice I fell asleep, missed the change, ended up in Brooklyn, and had to work my way up to Rockefeller Center on the subways from Brooklyn. I am glad that only happened twice. It is an ordeal.

On the approach to Jamaica, I was always fascinated by the ruin of Saint Monica. Saint Monica’s was a Roman Catholic Church built in 1856 and closed in 1973. In 1987 it was staggering to see this church, right in the middle of Queens, not just in complete disrepair but collapsing. It always captured my imagination: the people who had built it, loved it, and cared for it. And now abandoned it. What had become of them that this had become of this church?

Shortly after departing Jamaica, the trained stopped at Woodside, and from there accelerated and dove in to a tunnel under the East River. Next stop: Pennsylvania Station.

Depending on the weather I would either walk the mile from Penn Station to Rockefeller Center or I would take a subway. I had two choices: the 1 train or the F train. The F train stopped in a mall beneath what was then the JC Penney building. I could work my way through the labyrinth to number 10. Using the 1 train I would emerge by a deli and I would always get a fried egg on a bulky roll and pint of Tropicana orange juice for about $2. Those guys could move some people through that place every morning. The hustle was all New York.

Early on I learned about synchronized commuting on the subway: the best entry point on the subway that would be the best exit point off the subway for my stop. You will see the same New Yorker standing in the same spot at the same time for decades with little deviation.

Rarely was I the first one in the office. Pat always beat me. In those days he commuted in from the Delaware Water Gap. That was an hour and a half each way! I would eventually work with Pat again in Dover, New Hampshire.

I loved the work I was doing in New York. I was a supervisor and we were doing liability claims primarily for department stores, hotels, and restaurants. I worked with some great people and we had a lot of fun. I can still name names but I won’t. We had one guy who frequently took naps in the bathroom stall with his pants around his ankles.

It was a formative time in my career. I had good managers. They let us do our work and were there for us when we needed them. We dealt with some huge and complex claims, and I was exposed to some of the most notorious plaintiff attorneys in the country. I was naïve and would go right at them. I had no idea who I was dealing with until it was all over. Sometimes it ended well and sometimes it did not. But we settled cases all day long.

We had some high profile claims that were in the news and we’d always have a few with celebrities. It was real time stuff. I worked with some great defense lawyers. And to be honest I worked with some really good plaintiff attorneys. One guy actually coached me on how to do my job. I mean he was completely forthright and honest. I remember his name as if I spoke with him last week. “Kid, make sure you are leaving a paper trail because you will never remember it all and I’d hate to see you get hung up.” My adversary said that to me.

I am sure I ate lunch but I don’t remember much about it or any particular routine except for walking. I walked everywhere. I’d walk up to Central Park and back. I’d go down to Bryant Park and the New York Public Library. I took advantage of the sights and sounds of the city. Of course, the famous Christmas tree was right outside our building and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral was across the street. I had no inside information but I knew my city career would be a brief period of my life and I wanted to take in every piece of it while it lasted.

I frequently walked over to the then construction site of Worldwide Plaza. When I first visited the site it was a great big hole between West 49th and West 50th Streets and Eighth and Ninth Avenues, the proverbial city block. And for the remainder of my time working in the city I watched that hole turn to a foundation and three main buildings, the tallest being fifty stories. If you have never watched a skyscraper being built, it is really something else to see the trucks arriving with steel beams, and the workers and the cranes put them in place and fasten them.

If I did take the subway back to Penn Station at the end of the day I have no recollection of that now. For the most part I walked. It was a mile and it was an interesting mile of people, places and things. And smells. Smells good and bad. It always seemed like the best choice to walk. In fact it might be quicker depending on the timing of the subway. And it was a good way to unwind. If my timing was right, I could catch the Hempstead train and not have to change at Jamaica. In fact, I think I planned it that way most often.

To call Penn Station bustling is an understatement. Certainly, not for the faint of heart. I quickly became accustomed to it, entering from Seventh Avenue, descending the escalator, and working my way through the faceless crowd and countless shops and concessions. Thinking back on it all now, it was pretty amazing, the timing of it all: leave the office, walk to Penn, get on the train moments before it pulled out.

I feel fortunate I had the experience. After about 18 months, I was moved back to one of the Long Island offices and shortly after that, in 1989 I came to New Hampshire on a 3 – 5 year temporary assignment.

I’ll leave it at that for now.

1 note · View note

dcnativegal · 5 years ago

Text

Day 55 of Pandemic, & I’m sick

Monday, May 4, 2020. Day 55 of the global pandemic (declared by World Health Organization on March 11th.) We as a planet hit 3,500,000 cases today, and 250,000 deaths. There are many more than that, but the planet doesn’t have enough tests. But then, there was this announcement:

So obviously we’re in good hands. [Sarcasm alert.]

The entire planet has slowed down, such that seismologists can detect the quieting of the earth: less shuddering of industry, cars, construction. Check out the drop in electricity usage:

Here’s a bit of perspective from Instagram:

The Lesbians of Paisley have been fertile ground for viruses. Valerie is nearly recovered from the viral pneumonia she was diagnosed with on March 26 at the emergency room at Lake District Hospital. She’d begun to feel feverish and achy, with violent coughing on March 15th, 2 days after what turned into my last day in my office at the hospital’s primary care clinic, and a day and a half after we’d dined with our friends Toni, Al, Bonnie and Bruce in person, sans masks. We began 100% isolation from the outside world the minute she felt sick. She recounted the ER adventure to a friend thusly: We drove in and they have organized a system that resembles getting on a [military] base after 9-11. We sat in the pickup at the checkpoint until a somebody in protective attire had taken my temp and saturation levels and asked a bunch of questions. Then they slapped a red sticker on the dash, told us to park in the ER lot and "don't get out of the pickup." Five hours later I had donated blood and been CAT scanned. I had two pneumonia shots that were current and two flu shots, also current. They checked the blood against 14 different virus strains and came up blank. The chest showed white lungs and my saturation levels were iffy. So they used one of the tests they had been sent, gave me antibiotics (just in case) and sent me home. Took me three days to sleep off all that fun.”

Me and Griffey the poodle waited in the pickup for her. At every sound, he got up from the passenger’s seat and looked at the ER entrance where she’d disappeared. No Valerie? Back to sleep. I walked him 3 times. Hope, her RN daughter, told us that her flow through the ER was great practice in maintaining distance and perfect hygienic process through the CT scan, taking blood, even pushing her food on a tray to her. Lake Health District Hospital is prepared, and still, technically speaking, zero cases in the county.

I was so anxious about her health, her ability to breathe, that I gave up all thought of working from home. I listened to her breathing and coughing, brought her tea, and finally, asked her to write out her last will and testament. She did, and put it away. I figured, her kids are wonderful and won’t fight about stuff but, better for her to express her wishes, even if the paper wouldn’t be legally binding.

Apparently, I get the FrankenDodge (the pickup which has hit one too many deer and who’s grill is sewn together by wire). I’ll take it but I’d much rather have her.

We waited 10 days for the nasal swab results. While we waited, she got better. Never had that cytokine storm, nor that respiratory crash. Storms and crashes; pretty apt words for the medical horror of end stage COVID-19. Once her test came back negative, despite the warning of her PCP who says that nasal swabs miss between 30 and 47% of positive cases, I was able to go to town on the 10th of April, get some software downloaded onto the computer so I could work from home, and hit Safeway while wearing a mask. I also dropped off one of Valerie’s homemade masks to a friend, along with some toilet paper illustrated with Trump’s kissy face. The moment of levity was greatly appreciated.

I started feeling lousy six days after my jaunt to Lakeview (April 16th). Cough and release of gook high up in my chest. Headache. No fever. Who knows if I have COVID-19. We listen to a British gentleman, Dr. Campbell, daily, as he reviews what’s going on globally, and he interviewed a woman who had exactly my illness course, before she moved on to fever and gastrointestinal symptoms. She never got tested. Too much hassle. Which is so ridiculous, criminal really, and in the USA, a direct result of American hubris and incompetence. Fine. Anyone with any symptoms of any illness is isolated until we have a vaccine and treatment, is my prediction. I’m still feeling shitty, though better. Started taking antibiotics just in case and in the hopes of recovering SOMEDAY.

My son Jonah and his girlfriend June escaped just in time the terrible plight of New York’s COVID19 deluge of infections and hospitalizations. They’ve been in Baltimore at June’s mother’s beautiful home. He spent his 26th birthday in the basement because they were still in quarantine. See adorable picture, below. Now they’re allowed upstairs, enjoying the quiet. Apparently, writing and directing music videos is not an essential service during a pandemic, but he’s writing pitches and living off the most recent lucrative gig with Kesha, thank goodness.

One of the most moving things that is happening in the USA during this time is the 7pm clapping ritual for medical workers and first responders in New York City, in all the boroughs:

There’s a firefighter in DC who’s going to hospitals and nursing homes to play the bagpipe.

That’s where my daughter Clara lives, in DC, but right now she’s staying with a friend in Laurel, MD, since her group house dynamics are stressful and had a symptomatic guest at last report. She’s working from home to make sure the Latinx school children are getting the tutoring they need now more than ever. We worry about her husband Jose and his country, Guatemala, since there are COVID-19 cases down there, and refugees seeking asylum are being dumped there, with and without the virus. Over 700 cases in Guatemala as of today. We hope he will get to the USA this year. However, Trump referred to it as a shithole country, which doesn’t bode well.

My sister and her husband are well, thankfully. They work fulltime from home in the company of Pepper the cat and Darcy the chocolate lab. Yuuki, 25, stays there, too, mostly in their room; they are out of work and applying for unemployment. Kohji, age 28, works from home in DC and makes more money as a web designer than I ever will after 34 years as a social worker, but who’s counting. (I remember well the admonition of a field instructor back in 1987: don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.) His girlfriend is probably out of work; she works for a nonprofit that plants trees in DC. Probably not essential work right this very minute. Makoto, 23, is out of quarantine and looking for something to do; he’ll be a senior at the University of Delaware this fall. As far as I hear on Facebook and email, the rest of the folks with whom I share DNA are well. So that’s good. I worry about my Aunt Mary Lee who is 87. But she says not to: she’s fine and her ritzy retirement community in McLean, VA is on “lockdown.”

Psychologically, in the experience of quarantine and ‘social distancing’, there’s me, and then there are my clients.

My moods go up and down, but a little further down than usual. The terror that Valerie might die of COVID-19 has passed, but I figure I will always need therapy. I have “Facebook messenger” video chats with my therapist, Darcy of Bend, every other week now, which helps. Having ‘Generalized Anxiety Disorder’ and a tendency toward major depression, I find therapy to be a corrective. A bimonthly tune up. Without it, I naturally veer toward negativity and neurosis, and a hypervigilance that served me well when I was a child, but is exhausting, overwrought and over-thought as an adult.

Psychologically, Valerie is always fine. Seriously. She was once told as a young woman by a therapist who’d tested her with the MMPI (the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) that she was outrageously and puzzlingly normal. Now that she’s feeling mostly well again from the pneumonia, she’s been tearing up the joint, fixing the sump pump that apparently keeps this little house from drifting down main street on the wetlands it’s built on. Digging out the leaves from our irrigation ditch, chopping and clearing the wood from our front yard.

The BEFORE picture:

The AFTER Picture.

And this happened one morning in March. Just a cattle drive past our front door.

Valerie’s planning a garden at her daughter’s place, which has a deer-proof fence and lots of sun up on the hill above us. A delivery of horse manure is scheduled, and the garden bed has been rototilled. Val’s granddaughter Jessica and her husband Alan are living up there now, working from home for their Portland-based gigs. They’re almost finished the 14-day quarantine since they moved down here. The new normal: anytime anyone leaves one locale for another, they disappear into strictest quarantine, not to leave their abode. Groceries are delivered to the doorstep. A recent day turned out to be Jess’ 25th birthday: I’d bought a canvas bag with a picture of a pug on it, like her dog Archie, and Valerie found something gluten free flour mix with fresh jam to give her. Birthday gatherings are suspect at the moment.

Here’s a lovely idea for quarantined birthday celebrations:

What a kind and generous offer.

Even in isolation, Val and I do socialize, on zoom. The one pictured below is church.

We ‘visit’ with our fellow parishioners from St. Luke’s on Sunday evenings. Then we say Compline together, from the Book of Common Prayer. My favorite prayer of all time is this one from that service.

Yes, shield the joyous. Because joy is fleeting.

Our writers’ group, Easy Writers, ‘meets’ on zoom every Monday now. I wrote this bit about my yarn for the prompt, ‘write something in your home that means a lot to you.’

I am doing a great deal of crochet and a little knitting.

Yarn is my comfort and my joy. It is the raw material I create blankets and scarves and hats with. My tools are hooks and needles made from wood and plastic and metal. My fingers are also my tools.

Some of the yarn is like cotton candy: spun mohair from a goat is said to have a ‘halo’ or ‘aura’ because of the gentle cloud of color you can see an inch or two away from the spun thread. Some yarn is like twine: you can see every string of ply. My favorite is merino wool and single ply. A unity of color that will not split. All for one and one for all, the fuzzy stuff is twisted and bound into a single string of strength…

My clients are stressed out. The pandemic adds a layer to the stress they were already experiencing. I listen and knit, from within the cocoon of the yarn room which my folks can see behind me. One of my clients wanders about with her phone in her hand while I get slightly dizzy. I like this kind of counseling since I get a glimpse of my clients’ homes. Reminds me a little bit of being a geriatric care manager. You can tell a lot about a person from their home. From my home you can tell that I have a lot of yarn, and I work multiple projects at a time because there are piles of them alongside my recliner.

One of the sad weights of being present for my clients is their level of estrangement for most if not all social connections, especially people with whom they share DNA. And every single one has what is called in the mental health world “complex PTSD” from multiple traumatic experiences. I sit with them, on the phone or via video. I hope to model for them what Carl Rogers called ‘unconditional positive regard.’ I breathe deeply to release my own distress at their sadness. We explore one tiny step toward reducing their isolation, the sense of trust. All during a pandemic where other people could be carrying a potentially deadly virus.

It’s no wonder I’m pawing mohair out of screen for my own comfort.

Sometimes I email clients links or articles on how to keep their spirits up, or about good things that are happening instead of the dire predictions they’re listening to or watching. There is much to share that is hopeful. I sent one to a client on creative ways to care for everyone and she shot back:

“I believe this is Liberal rhetoric.

Esp the paragraph below:

This current emergency provides the possibility for a new emergence—the birthing of a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people and the living Earth. “

Oh well. We can’t have a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people, now can we?

Sigh.

Brilliant writing is being penned right now, since the entire planet’s human inhabitants are barely one degree of separation away from this virus, which is apparently ‘barely alive’ and therefore hard to kill, as it spreads onward to make millions miserable and hundreds of thousands die.

I’m saving articles from The Atlantic, The NY Times, and the Washington Post, and following a historian named Heather Cox Richardson who writes a daily blog called Letters from an American. In a recent post she writes:

“The big news … has been the ‘protests’ of state governors’ stay-at-home orders and mandatory business closings to try to contain the novel coronavirus …These protests are a classic example of trying to control politics by controlling the national narrative. The protests are backed by the same conservative groups that are working for Trump’s reelection. …These are not spontaneous, grassroots protests. They are political operations designed to divert attention from the Trump administration’s poor response to the pandemic. Even more, though, they are designed to keep the American public divided so that we do not protest the extraordinary economic inequality the pandemic has highlighted.

These protests have diverted the national conversation by turning a national crisis into partisan division along the lines the Republican Party has developed since the 1980s... The change of subject protects not just Trump but also the ideology at the heart of his Republican Party. Since 1981, Republicans have argued that the economy depends on wealthy businessmen who know best how to arrange the economy—the makers-- and that it is vital to protect their interests. Under their policies, wealth in America has moved upward. The pandemic has highlighted how these policies have removed economic security for ordinary people. They cannot pay their bills, and they might well turn against an ideology that uses our tax dollars to bail out corporations while they must risk their lives to pay their rent.” [Emphasis mine]

I am so glad someone smarter than me can reveal the interconnections of what’s going on politically.

There is food for thought on Facebook and Instagram: in the guise of a rewrite of Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese, this poem.

Mary Oliver for Corona Times (after Wild Geese)

by Adrie Kusserow

You do not have to become totally zen, You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better, your body slimmer, your children more creative. You do not have to “maximize its benefits” By using this time to work even more, write the bestselling Corona Diaries, Or preach the gospel of ZOOM. You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn everything capitalism has taught you, (That you are nothing if not productive, That consumption equals happiness, That the most important unit is the single self. That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine). Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold, the ones you sheepishly sell others, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling. Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills, suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks. Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting, Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind, a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors. Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds, Could birth at any moment if we clear some space From the same tired hegemonies. Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch, Stunned by what you see, Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins Because it gives you something to do. Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing, Do not let capitalism coopt this moment, laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart. Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath, Your stress boa-constricting your chest. Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods, are no less sacred than a yoga class. Whoever you are, no matter how broken, the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over announcing your place as legit, as forgiven, even if you fail and fail and fail again. remind yourself over and over, all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body all have their place here, now in this world. It is your birthright you be held deeply, warmly, in the family of things, not one cell left in the cold.

-Adrie Kusserow

Not one cell left out in the cold. Yes.

There is so much to be grateful for. I have a place to live, and even while paying off my bankruptcy debt, I have plenty. Enough that I can make small donations here and there. Here’s one cause I found: supporting foster children who were in college and now have no place to go. (Terrible visuals for the logo: it’s “Together We Rise.”)

Soon, the nights of below freezing temperatures will pass, and both Lesbians of Paisley will be healthy at the same time. Perhaps I’ll get my Tricycle-for-Grownups serviced and toodle around for exercise. Perhaps the Stitch & Bitch knitting/crochet gatherings will resume, maybe in a park for physical distance and social connection.

And maybe I’ve already had Covid-19, and so has Valerie. Looks like 50-70% of all the people on the planet, not quite 8 billion humans so maybe 4 to 6 billion people, need to catch this thing in order to give our species herd immunity. Or WILL catch it because we have no way to stop it, only to slow the infections so that health care is not overwhelmed. We live and Love in the Time of Coronavirus, to paraphrase Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I maybe a libtard, a snowflake, a lily-livered liberal, who’s heart bleeds. But I agree with this sentiment, found on Facebook, our American ‘commons’:

Love absurdly and abundantly, my people. And wash your hands.

#covidー19

2 notes · View notes

treeservicecompanypa · 2 years ago

Text

Tree Care Services During Winter Season

It's no secret that winter can be a challenging time for trees. However, it's important to remember that your trees still need care. It's a great time to take care of your trees because it's when they're most vulnerable. Here are some of the most common tree care services you can get during the snowy months:

Different Tree Care Services that Can Be Done During the Snowy Months

Pruning - Tree pruning is essential to keeping your trees healthy, but it's vital during the winter since they're more prone to damage from wind or ice storms. If you notice any bare spots on your trees where branches have been broken off, or if you see tree branches that might be damaged from exposure to harsh winds and freezing temperatures, get in touch with a local tree professional. They can come out and take care of it for you before any more damage happens.

Stump removal - This service keeps your yard looking better, helps prevent erosion, and keeps your yard safe from damage caused by falling tree branches or limbs.

Tree removal - Tree removal is sometimes necessary when a tree has become too large for its space or is causing damage to other structures in the area (such as a house).

Mulching - If you've got a lot of dead leaves on your property that isn't being blown away by snowstorms (or if you don't have enough snow), it may be time to mulch those leaves into your soil so they decompose more quickly than they would otherwise—and give new life to your plants next spring!

Fertilizing - During this time of year, we recommend fertilizing at least once per month (depending on what kind of fertilizer you use). Fertilization will help ensure that your trees get enough nutrients during these long winters.

Right-of-way clearing - Roadways and access areas must be clear for traffic or repair crews, particularly if power is disrupted. Delaware tree service company has the experience and expertise to perform right-of-way clearing.

#Delaware tree service company #tree service company in Delaware #tree service #tree service company #tree care service #tree care service in Delaware #Delaware tree care service

0 notes

sciencenewsforstudents · 6 years ago

Link

WASHINGTON, D.C. — Climate change can be overwhelming. Over the past 250 years, human activities have warmed the planet’s surface, changed weather patterns and even made the oceans more acidic. Halting or slowing down these changes requires that people stop putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere in high amounts. The problem is too large for any one person to fix. But what if you could? What if you suddenly had the power to do one thing to stop climate change? What would you do with this huge responsibility?

The Regeneron Science Talent Search is full of minds that are up for this challenge. Winning the Science Talent Search, after all, isn’t just about who’s got a good science fair project. The finalists are challenged to think like a scientist and take on big problems. Like climate change. We asked some of this year’s finalists what one thing they would try if they had the infinite power to fight climate change.

Going green

If he could do one thing to stop climate change right now, Daniel Schäffer, 17, would start planting. Daniel is a senior at Montgomery Blair High School in Silver Spring, Md. Plants take up CO2 from the atmosphere and store that carbon in their trunks, stems and leaves, so the more plants, the less CO2 to worry about. “I’d stop deforestation and plant a ton of trees,” he says. “It’s not the quickest, but it’s sustainable.” Plus, it doesn’t force people to change their behaviors.

“Plant more trees anywhere there’s space,” agrees Kaili Liu, 17. The senior at Ravenwood High School in Brentwood, Tenn., wants to put plants on buildings, too, she says. She advocates creating more green roofs — covering roofs with gardens and greenery. “Green roofs and trees will help decrease CO2 emissions,” she says.

Catching carbon

Plants can suck CO2 out of the air, but people can also develop technologies to do this, notes Rachel Seevers, 17. Rachel is a senior at Paul Laurence Dunbar High School in Lexington, Ky. These technologies could trap carbon as it is produced from fossil fuel plants, she says, or even suck it directly out of the air. “You can take emissions and recapture them and reuse them … take it out of the air and use it for good.”

If you want to force people to change, says Kevin Chengming Qian, 18, hit them where it counts — their wallets. The senior at Montgomery Blair High School would “assign values to each thing that’s harmful [to the climate], and when each person does that, I’d tax them.” You get charged extra, he says, if it’s clear you don’t care about climate.

Hit them where it counts

Emma Montgomery, 18, says she would attack companies instead of people. “One thing I get upset by in terms of climate change is how there’s a big focus on what the individual can do,” the senior at Ossining High School in New York says. “In reality, it’s the corporations that are contributing the most” to climate change. She wants heavy restrictions on companies that produce too much carbon dioxide.

Explainer: CO2 and other greenhouse gases

The government could also work together with businesses to limit the burning of fossil fuels, says Preeti Sai Krishnamani, 17. She’s a senior at the Charter School of Wilmington in Delaware. “I’d want them to work together for green innovation and to reinvent their products,” she says. “The only way you can influence people is to change the products they are using.”

Some people in the U.S. government are starting this approach, notes Brent Perlman, 17. “I would try and pass the Green New Deal,” says the senior at Byram Hills High School in Armonk, N.Y. The Green New Deal is a proposed government program to promote renewable energy and energy efficiency. “I think it’s important to incentivize people to transition away from gas,” he says. “I know a tax on gas is very unpopular, but I do think we need to make sacrifices now to preserve the health of our environment for future generations.”

While we’re making big changes, says Amol Singh, 18, let’s go worldwide. “I would impose a carbon tax on all countries,” says the senior at Lynbrook High School in San Jose, Calif. “The money would be used to reduce the effects of climate change.”

When you believe

It’s time to change the way the public thinks about climate change, says Chirag Kumar, 17. People need to realize that climate change is already having impacts, says the senior at Horace Greeley High School in Chappaqua, N.Y. “It’s not only about tomorrow getting warmer,” he notes. “It’s about extreme weather events, like the polar vortex and extreme heat waves. It’s a problem that will change how we live our lives.”

Laws and taxes can make people change. But people might change on their own if they believe the problem is worth working on. That’s why Ana Humphrey, 18, wants to educate people. “It’s such a big challenge; we need to collaborate,” says the senior at T.C. Williams High School in Alexandria, Va. “If we could get everyone on the same page, I think we would figure it out. These are issues that impact all of us.” Perhaps the most important key to climate change, then, is getting everyone to understand that’s is a problem that needs solving.

(The Regeneron Science Talent Search is run by Society for Science & the Public and funded by Regeneron. Society for Science & the Public also publishes Science News for Students. Regeneron is a company that develops treatments for diseases such as cancer.)

#science #sciblr #scied #climate change #climate action #RegeneronSTS

12 notes · View notes