#carolina georgia fair

[titleknown]

So, while I've talked about this in other posts, I figured I may as well compile it in one post with this nifty propaganda poster (more on that later)

Long story short, they're bringing back KOSA/the Kids Online Safety Act in the US Senate, and they're going to mark it up next Thursday as of the time of this post (4/23/2023).

If you don’t know, long story short KOSA is a bill that’s ostensibly one of those “Protect the Children” bills, but what it’s actually going to do is more or less require you to scan your fucking face every time you want to go on a website; or give away similarly privacy-violating information like your drivers’ license or credit card info. 

Either that or force them to censor anything that could even remotely be considered not “kid friendly.” Not to mention fundies are openly saying they’re gonna use this to hurt trans kids. Which is, uh, real fucking bad. 

As per usual, I urge you to contact your congresscritters, and especially those on the Commerce Committee, who'll likely be the ones marking it up.

Those senators are:

Maria Cantwell, Washington, Chair

Amy Klobuchar, Minnesota

Brian Schatz, Hawaii

Ed Markey, Massachusetts

Gary Peters, Michigan

Tammy Baldwin, Wisconsin

Tammy Duckworth, Illinois

Jon Tester, Montana

Kyrsten Sinema, Arizona

Jacky Rosen, Nevada

Ben Ray Luján, New Mexico

John Hickenlooper, Colorado

Raphael Warnock, Georgia

Peter Welch, Vermont

Ted Cruz, Texas, Ranking Member

John Thune, South Dakota

Roger Wicker, Mississippi

Deb Fischer, Nebraska

Jerry Moran, Kansas

Dan Sullivan, Alaska

Marsha Blackburn, Tennessee

Todd Young, Indiana

Ted Budd, North Carolina

Eric Schmitt, Missouri

J.D. Vance, Ohio

Shelley Moore Capito, West Virginia

Cynthia Lummis, Wyoming

Again, it doesn't work unless you do it en-masse, so make sure to call ASAP and tell them to kill this bill, and if they actually want a bill to allow/get sites to protect kids, the Federal Fair Access To Banking Act would be far better.

Also, this poster is officially, for the sake of spreading it, under a CC0 license. Feel free to spread it, remix it, add links to the bottom, edit it to be about the other bad internet bills they're pushing, use it as a meme format, do what you will but for gods' sake get the word out!

Also, shoutout to @o-hybridity for coming up with the slogan for the poster, couldn't have done it without 'em!

#poster #cc0 #creative commons #internet censorship #internet freedom #us politics #american politics #KOSA #kids online safety act #censorship #scary

[intheholler]

Donations for Appalachian/Southeast USA Queer Organizations

Here lies the sister post to my resource list.

Under the cut, you'll find a list of regional, primarily queer-focused groups to donate to, if you have the means.

If you've ever accused us of being beyond help, or have ever said we should be sawed off into the ocean, here's your chance to help the many helpers trying to make the southeast a better place--those that always go conveniently ignored in such conversations.

General Regional Links

Appalachian Outreach

STAY (Central Appalachia)

Help suspected transgender John and Jane Does regain their identities

Southern Trans Youth Emergency Project (STYEP)

Southerners on New Ground (SONG)

Campaign for Southern Equality

Trans Health Project

Alabama

AIDS Alabama

The Knights & Orchids Society

Magic City Acceptance Center

Medical Advocacy and Outreach

Prism United

Shoals Diversity Center

T.A.K.E.

Thrive Alabama

Georgia

Carrollton Rainbow Inc.

Emmaus House

Feminist Women’s Health Center

First City Network

Georgia Equality

Kentucky

AIDS Volunteers of Lexington

Arbor Youth Services

Lexington Pride Center

Louisville Queer Youth

Louisville Youth Group

Kentucky Fairness

Kentucky Health Justice Network

Kentucky Youth Law Project

Sweet Evening Breeze

Louisiana

AcadianaCares

Louisiana Trans Advocates

OUTnorthla

PACE Louisiana

Shrevepride

Mississippi

Capital City Pride

Gulf Coast Equality

LGBTQ Fund of Mississippi

The Spectrum Center in Hattiesburg

Violet Valley Bookstore

North Carolina

Charlotte Transgender Healthcare Group (CTHCG)

Down Home NC

Guilford Green Foundation & LGBTQ Center

Pitt County Aids Service Organization

Tranzmission

Triad Health Project

Triangle Empowerment Center

South Carolina

Alliance for Full Acceptance

Charleston Black Pride

Harriet Hancock Center

Palmetto Community Care

T-Time

Uplift Outreach

We are Family

We are Family Trans Love Fund

Tennessee

CHOICES

Launch Pad

Metamorphosis

Mountain Access Brigade

My Sistah’s House

Pride Community of the Tri-Cities

Trans Empowerment Project

Youth Villages

Virginia

Justice 4 All

Nationz

Side by Side VA

Virginia Home for Boys and Girls

West Virginia

Harmony House West Virginia

Fairness West Virginia

Holler Health Justice

WVFREE

#appalachia #appalachian #southeast usa #queer #anti-fascist south #donations #donate #queer resources #alabama #georgia #kentucky #louisiana #mississippi #north carolina #south carolina #tennessee #virginia #west virginia

[mapsontheweb]

Minimum amount a tipped employee can legally make per hour

by u/xetal1

Source: U.S. Department of Labor, “Minimum Wages for Tipped Employees”, as of 1st May 2023. https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/state/minimum-wage/tipped

Tip credit: Most states employ a tip credit system. This means that part of the salary (how large part varies by state, see source above) may be covered by tips. However, the total wage (salary + tips) must exceed the total minimum or the employer is eligible to pay the difference. States not using this are Alaska, California, Minnesota, Montana, Nevada, Oregon, and Washington, where the employer must pay out the full amount on top of any tips.

Fair Standards Labor Act (FLSA): Some states (Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, Oklahoma, and Wyoming) have no state minimum wage or a state minimum wage lower than set out in the FLSA. Any business with a yearly revenue exceeding $500,000, or engaged in interstate commerce is covered by the minimums set out in this act.

#maps #xetal1 #tips #us

[joltning]

which freelancers do you think Georgia could beat in a fight?

the thing about him is

1. I think he’d heavily rely on the element of surprise to win. so assuming this is a training match or a negative interaction post freelancer he’d automatically have the lower hand. to me he fights like carolina if she sucked and was a lil bitch

2. we don’t see a lot of freelancers lol. while I’m sure he can beat a fair few of them all the important ones are high ranked so whatever I say he’s gonan look like shitass

anyway I don’t think there’s any that he’d guarantee win except like, the triplets, but I’d say he has a fair shot at connie (maybe not) florida (if he’s lucky) and wyoming (but only when close ranged.) .maybe york

#SORRY RED VS BLUE TQG. DO YOU FORGIVE ME #rvb #red vs blue #txt #ask box #georgia rvb #rvb georgia #agent georgia

[shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow]

It's not often I stray from history posts here, but today I am writing this in honor of my good friend Logan Spencer, who just passed away suddenly from a motorcycle accident.

I met Logan directly through my Shipwrecked page here, and quickly became great friends with him. He joined our Crew of the Charles Revenge-Living History, he assisted in the construction of my ship-stage in my backyard despite him being state away in Georgia, and I've enjoyed gaming with him and many phone calls and stops by his home. He also soon after became a fellow Order of Leviathan nominee alongside me, and I'm so glad he made it in. He was also a significant member of the Alee Pirates, a pirate Shriner unit out of Savannah, Georgia.

Logan was born in 1990, growing up in New Bern, North Carolina. He had been fascinated with pirates ever since he was a child, and loved everything Blackbeard. He was also a major fan of Jimmy Buffet, pirate history in general, and an avid supporter of all my endeavors. He was a loving father to his children and family, a kind and generous man who was willing to help anyone, and I am thankful to have known him.

I saw him last only 5 days back at Wormsloe Plantation's history festival. It was brief, but I got to give him a hug, and saw him last walking with his children.

He was also, like myself, a huge fan of music, so I'd like to share this link he sent me to a song he loved about Blackbeard:

Rest in peace my friend. Fair winds, and following seas mate. You helped many people, and made a difference. Thanks for everything Logan. I will miss you. Today's been a very hard day for me emotionally about this loss. Its crazy losing someone, especially someone with similar interests at the same age. Definitely not okay.

(Pictured is Logan Spencer's nominee photo for Order of Leviathan, us playing the pirate board game Merchants and Marauders together, and us on my ship stage during my birthday last year that he helped me build)

#Youtube

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Molly Sprayregen at LGBTQ Nation:

Four Southern states have joined together with four conservative organizations to sue the Biden administration over a recently issued rule banning anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination in education.

[...]

The idea is that it’s impossible to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity without taking sex into account, a legal argument that the Supreme Court has already used in its 2020 Bostock v. Clayton Co. ruling with respect to job discrimination.

With the new rule, any school that receives federal funding will no longer be able to discriminate against LGBTQ+ students. This could affect states and school districts with policies to out LGBTQ+ students to their parents or ban trans students from using bathrooms that correspond with their gender. The new rules could also give students who face discrimination recourse in federal courts. Alabama, South Carolina, Florida, and Georgia allege in the lawsuit that the Biden administration does not have the authority to make this rule and also that it goes beyond the original intentions of Title IX, according to CBS News. The states are joined in the lawsuit by the Independent Women’s Network, Parents Defending Education, Speech First, and the Independent Women’s Law Center.

“The role of Cabinet agencies is to interpret laws as written by Congress – not to redefine the meaning of words to suit a fringe group of activists,” said Parents Defending Education president Nicole Neily in a statement, which went on to claim the rule proves “the Biden administration’s contempt for families, trumping state laws which reiterate parents’ right to access information and make decisions about issues related to their children’s gender identity in schools.” “By lowering the standard of ‘harassment’ to little more than a one-off expression of humor, satire, or parody,” Neily continued, “the free speech rights of every young learner in America has become subordinate to how the most sensitive student might interpret a phrase. This Title IX rule is both unconstitutional and immoral, and we look forward to vindicating our members’ rights in court.”

“We will fight very strongly against this rule,” added Florida Attorney General Ashley Moody (R), “just to ensure this does what Congress intended it to do, and that is provide opportunities to everyone and especially protect the security and fairness for our biological females.” Moody also claimed the new rule “is really a radical departure from what Title IX was originally meant to do.” The lawsuit alleges that the rule “conflicts with many of the state plaintiffs’ laws that govern public institutions of higher education and primary and secondary education, including laws involving harassment, bathrooms, sports, parental rights, and more.” It continues, “The rule thus impedes the state plaintiffs’ sovereign authority to enforce and administer their laws and creates pressure on the state plaintiffs to change their laws and practices.” The new rules, however, do not discuss transgender student-athletes and which teams they can play on. The DOE is reportedly planning to issue a separate rule regarding what Title IX means for sports participation.

4 Southern states are suing the Biden Administration for the right to discriminate against LGBTQ+ children over the LGBTQ+-friendly Title IX changes.

#Title IX #Anti LGBTQ+ Extremism #Anti Trans Extremism #LGBTQ+ #Joe Biden #Biden Administration #Transgender #Alabama #Georgia #Florida #South Carolina #Ashley Moody #Parents Defending Education #Nicole Neily #Independent Women’s Network #Independent Women's Law Center #Forced Outing

[skyeet-the-writer]

backwoods to beaches (rooster x female!reader)

1 — Piano-Playing Pilots

ever since i watched top gun 2 i've been obsessed with miles teller. like obsessed like it's embarrassing. so, to deal with my problem, ive written and entire ass essay as seen below you. and there will be more. much more coming towards yall

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x female!reader

summary: as a girl from georgia, california is a big change. but working at a bar gives you a perfectly good reason to oogle at piano-playing pilots on a late night

word count: ~5.8k

warnings: some swearing, alcohol (obv), suggestive mentions, hardcore flirting around the end

notes: if you couldn’t tell by the title or the summary, reader is from georgia and down south so there will be a lot of mentions/references to this. i myself am from western ky, but if i’ve gotten anything wrong or aren’t portraying it correctly, lmk how to fix it! other than that, enjoy y’all. x.

insp by @heartsofminds fic “blooming”

playlist:

That first summer as a bartender was rough. California was a lot hotter than you thought it would be, and by the time the night was over and the rush of military men and women had thinned, you were covered in sweat.

California was also not as pretty as you had made it up to be in your head. There were a lot fewer trees than you would have preferred. But there were beaches.

Back from where you came from, everything was pretty to you. Rolling hills, fields full of wildflowers. Beautiful sunrises and even more stunning sunsets. Acres upon acres of forests, with dirt trails dusty and worn from generations of four-wheeling and ATVing. Miles of farmland that were always ready when harvest comes around. Creeks clear as glass and ponds full of almost every kind of fish one could think of. Everything you had grown up with and around was absolutely gorgeous to you.

California had her fair shares of beauty. But not as many as back home.

When you and your best friend graduated college, you two wanted a change of scenery. And so, when her uncle called her and invited her to live with her, she accepted and took you with her. It was hard, watching that small town you had lived in all your life fade in the rearview mirror, but at the time, it was what you wanted.

Your friend's uncle was in the navy and he lived in Miramar. Also called "Fightertown, USA". You quickly figured out why when a jet flew over your head as you two exited the car upon your arrival at your new home.

You and your friend smiled at each other, excited to have a fresh start.

To complete the absolute teenage dream, the two of you got a job at the same bar, the Hard Deck. It was just a few minutes away, a perfect fit for your friend, who always happened to be late to everything. Not to mention that it paid pretty well, had tips, and was also run by a woman.

But on your second week, you realized how much of a nightmare it could be. The naval men and women always came in, talking loudly, and began to laugh louder after a few drinks. But somehow, it reminded you of home. That's why you lasted longer than your friend did.

You found joy in your stressful job. The owner, Penny, often called you into work during the weekend, the busiest time. You began to recognize people's faces and remember their names, even remembered a few orders as the weeks went by.

When the summer came to an end, you had become some of the patron's favorites. Some were familiar with your accent and you found friendships in those ones, asking what part of Georgia, Louisana, or Carolina they were from and smiling at stories you could relate to.

Another year passed and the next summer, you became even better at your job. When you first started, you were a nervous, shy little girl from Georgia who had trouble remembering things but was still so sweet. Suddenly, you became this young lady with a thick accent and an even thicker skull. The girl who used to blush and twirl her hair at any man who flirted with her to a woman who would simply shake her head at another young boy just vying for attention.

Tonight, the bar is hopping. Penny, who, despite being your boss, is one of your closest friends/motherly figures, is busy chatting it up with some older guy who doesn't look over the age of thirty. You didn't catch his name, far too busy with the customers Penny should be dealing with. But you don't mind. You don't know a whole lot about Miss Penny's personal life, but something tells you that there was once something between her and the older man.

"Could I get another beer, Miss L/N?" asks Cooper, a regular from last year.

"Of course, Coop," you tell the man, taking his glass from him. "What was it, Bud Light?"

He nods. "You got it. Say, how come you always rememberin' all these orders. I couldn't ever do that."

With a smile, you refill his glass and place it back to him with a new napkin under it. "Ain't you a flight operator?" you tease with a raised brow.

Cooper smiles and laughs. "Yeah, that's true." He lifts his glass to his lips.

You tap the bar in front of him and move to another patron next to him. "Besides, you come in here often enough for me to remember." You turn to the woman in front of you. "You had a whiskey on the rocks, right, darling?"

The lady nods and suddenly there's a loud ringing of a bell from nearby. The bar erupts into cheers and you spot Penny's date with his head in his hands and Penny with a triumphant smirk.

"Looks like this one's on the house," you tell the woman, topping her glass off before sliding it back towards her.

Humming to yourself, you mentally prepare for the next round of drinks on the man. It was bar rules that if anyone insulted a woman, they had to buy the entire bar a round. It sure was fun to watch their smirk vanish from their face. You've rung that bell a few times yourself and watched the color drain from the man flirting with you fade from his face almost as quick as the smug smirk.

"Hey, pretty lady!" comes a familiar voice that makes you smile. Jake Seresin, A.K.A. "Hangman", approaches the bar, grinning. "Can I get four beers on the old man?"

With a simple nod and a smile, you reach to the fridge below the bar and pull out four beers, two in each hand before handing them to Hangman.

"How's your evenin' been, Jake?" you ask him, taking just a moment to have a small conversation.

The man grins and says, "Pretty good. You?"

"Had three guys ask for my number," you reply, grinning. "Threatened to ring the bell on 'em if they didn't cut it out."

Jake groans. "You shoulda done it anyway! Would've saved me a lot of money." With a laugh, he walks off, likely to his friends. You've been watching them play pool all evening and you can hear their banter even from over here.

As the night wears on, you quickly begin to wear out. Bartending is an exhausting practice, mixing drink after drink and refilling or restocking. Thankfully, most people only get beers. Those are your favorite kinds of people, the ones where you can just hand them something and have them be on their way.

Eventually, your best friend, Dixie, comes in, instantly claiming her usual seat at the bar close to the door. You smile when she walks in and she races to steal one of the few open barstools before someone else can claim it.

Dixie doesn't drink, which is odd considering how often she comes in to bother you. You place a bowl of chips in front of her and sparkling water and wipe your hands down.

"Y'all are busy, huh?" she asks, crunching on one of the bar's chips. "Look at all these hunks, Y/N."

With a roll of your eyes, you remember why she comes in so often. She loves to oogle at the military boys that filled the majority of the bar. She always had a thing for military men. That was one of the few things you didn't have in common: despite living in a military town, none of the men seemed to do it for you. Most of them were too cocky, too bold, their egos too big. You never preferred those kinds of boys.

Dixie on the other hand? They were her favorite. You remembered her bringing a couple of them back home your first few months. Those were the nights you sat out in the back screened-in porch watching some movie or show with your earbuds at max volume.

"Dixie, you know I can't stand them," you tell her with a smile and a shake of your head. "Their egos are way too big."

"Wanna know what else is big?" asks Dixie, wiggling her eyebrows. You give her a look of disgust and she laughs.

"I'm telling your momma next time we head home," you threaten, pointing at her.

She laughs again. "We both know you won't, Y/N."

With another roll of your eyes, you head towards another patron waving you down. "What can I help you with, darlin'?"

"Can I get a few shots of tequila, please?" asks the man.

You nod. "Sure thing. Three okay?"

"Yeah, that works."

With a bright smile, you say, "Alrighty!" and get to work. Picking three shot glasses out, you fill them to the brim with tequila. You also put some salt on a plate with a few wedges of lime and pass it to the man. "You got it all?"

He nods, carrying the shots in one hand and the plate with the rest of the fixings in the other. He thanks you before walking off back towards a table.

With a glance to the door, your heart almost stops. You know he's a fighter pilot. He's not wearing a flight suit or a uniform or anything. No, he's just in a white beater with a faded Hawaiian shirt and aviator glasses. But there's something about him that you just know is the epitome of a fighter pilot. You've met enough of them in the year that you've lived in Fightertown, you're confident you can spot one from a mile away.

For a naval pilot, though, there's something different about him. Maybe it's the way he's standing, slightly slouched and not fully upright like so many of the other ones do. Maybe it's the way he's biting the bottom of his lip like he's nervous. Or maybe it's the way he somehow exudes a vibe of...chill. An aura of calmness and relaxation that you can feel from over here.

You watch him spot a group back near the pool table and watch him walk up to them, where Jake is laughing with his fellow pilots. You watch Jake stand up and raise a brow. Does he puff his chest out?

"As I live and breathe," you hear him say with a smirk evident.

The other man, who appears to be the same height as Jake, says nothing. He just shakes his head, pushes his shades up, and leans on the table.

You wonder why he's wearing sunglasses in an already dark bar.

However, you’re quickly snapped out of your fantasy when you see someone else waving you down. With a small blush you hope is mostly invisible in the dim light, you walk over, apologizing.

All throughout the night, you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of that pilot. You have no idea what his name is and you’ve never seen him before in your life. But there’s just something about him that makes you yearn. Your eyes yearn to him while you pour another drink and you almost spill a few times, much to the amusement of Penny.

Eventually, you spot Penny's date counting his cash and cards, trying to find a way to pay off his debt. Then he smiles sheepishly, holds his hands up, and the next thing you know, Penny is yelling out, "Overboard, overboard!"

Hangman and a few other airmen who happened to be around the bar grab the man, each having a limb. You've seen this happen plenty of times, and it still makes you laugh, watching another man get thrown out of the bar because he couldn't pay his debt.

It was never anything mean, just playfulness. That's what the bar was. It was playful, it was friendly. It was a place for naval men and women alike to come after a hard day's work of...whatever they did and get a drink and play a game of pool or darts with a friend. It was one of the many things that reminded you of home.

During a short time when things calm down, you lean next to her where she’s chatting with Dixie. “Hey, Pen. Who’s that guy over there by the pool table?”

She looks in your direction and tilts her head. “Y/N, there’s no one over there.”

With a frown, you see that there isn’t anyone over there indeed. Scanning the bar, you search for him. “W…where’d he go?”

Suddenly, the music from the jukebox comes to an abrupt stop and there are cries of dismay and a few curses. But the single note on a piano has you whipping your head in that direction.

That same man is sitting there at the piano, his friends gathered around him. You tilt your head and lean your forearms on the counter, watching as he plays a few notes you almost recognize.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will. But what a thrill."

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!" sings nearly the entire bar, voices blending together perfectly.

You laugh as the pilot continues the song that you now recognize as a song by Jerry Lee Lewis. It's one of your favorites, you remember your grandfather playing it on the record machine he refused to give up.

"I laughed at love cause I thought it was funny. You came along and you moved me, honey. I change my mind. This love is fine."

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

A soft, manicured hand grabs your own and pulls you to the bar. Dixie is smiling, mouth open, and singing along with the rest of the bar. "Kiss me, baby!" She presses a long, exaggerated kiss to your hand and you laugh loudly.

"Mmmm, it feels good!" you sing, grabbing both of her hands as she stands. It's difficult to dance together across a bar, but you make it work. "Hold me, baby!" You bring Dixie up to the edge of the bar and give her an awkward type of hug.

"I wanna love you like a lover should!" she sings with you, cheeks pressed together. "You're fine. So kind!" she pulls away and grabs your shoulders as you wiggle them, sending the two of you side to side, grinning and laughing. "Imma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!"

You push her away as she picks up an empty beer bottle and uses it as a microphone. That's what you've always loved about Dixie, how she was always so confident in herself.

"I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs. I get nervous but it sure is fun! Come on baby, you're driving me crazy!"

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

You laugh and stop singing for the piano solo. You take a second to look at the man playing said piano. He makes it look so easy. He's smiling, surrounded by his friends, and you can't see his fingers, but you're sure they making a blur across the keys. His friends howl and holler at him, Fanboy thumps a hand on the wooden instrument. You notice that his sunglasses have slid down as he slides his fingers down the piano, creating a glissando. He smiles at his friends turned fans, clearly enjoying the attention.

You bounce to the music, continuing to watch Dixie attempt to copy what the pilot is doing. She's failing, quite terribly, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Kiss me, baby! Woo, that feels good. Hold me, baby! I wanna love you like a lover should."

You yourself get lost in the music, leaning across to also sing into the empty beer bottle with Dixie, almost like a duet. Your eyes are closed and your cheeks are red, maybe from the heat, maybe from the excitement.

What you don't spot, however, is the gaze that the piano-playing pilot gives you while he sings. He spots you halfway across the bar, how can he not? Hell, he can even hear your voice from over here. There's some kind of drawl to it, one he hasn't quite heard. But your singing is good, almost as good as his. Your friend's voice, not so much, but you don't seem to care, singing along and bouncing your head, a bar towel in one hand.

He finds himself smiling before looking down at the keys, making sure his fingers are in the right spot, even though he knows that they are.

"Come on baby, you're driving me crazy!"

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

The song finishes off with a few final notes and the bar erupts in cheers and howls, quickly turning to a chant.

"Rooster, Rooster, Rooster, Rooster!"

You tilt your head, clapping as Dixie joins the chant, holding a fist up. That can't be his real name, surely. Perhaps a callsign, like Hangman. Still, you somehow think it’s fitting for a man like him.

The pilot, Rooster, stands and does a cheesy dance. He lifts his arms and moves his hips awkwardly and you laugh at how utterly stupid it looks. You're not sure if you imagine it, but you think that this Rooster character looks directly at you and winks.

But you must be imagining it because the next moment he's leaning back and throwing his arms back before standing up straighter as the chants become faster. You laugh and even begin chanting yourself as he pumps a leg up, exclaiming. He pushes his glasses up with one hand, beer bottle in the other, before looking around the bar and smiling.

The chants die down and after a few minutes, someone plugs the jukebox back in and some song by Elton John begins to play again.

Dixie sits back down, pushing her hair out of her face. "Man, I love this town."

You nod in agreement and move to hand out a couple more beers.

A little after 2 a.m., the bar begins to empty out. You stopped selling alcohol twenty minutes ago and most patrons had left an hour before that. 5 a.m. wake-up call was the next day and you couldn't imagine it being easy. Most days you didn't wake up until after 9.

You and Penny are both closing up together. Dixie had left a long time ago with some young pilot, again. You sighed and rolled your eyes, watching her be all blushy and giggly as he pulled her out of the bar, pretending like it was her first time.

"I swear," you say to Penny, sweeping. "I'm gonna be an aunt one'a these days if she keeps this up."

Penny laughs, continuing to wipe down the bar. "You think so?"

"I know so!" you exclaim, pausing at your area by the pool table. "You should hear her. At least once a week, she brings one of those boys by and they keep at it all night long. That girl has stamina!"

Penny laughs again, loud, like she always does. She covers her mouth with her hand, waving a hand to get you to stop. “I believe you, I believe you!”

With a shrug, you get back to sweeping. “I just hope that they’re done by the time I head back.”

Your boss and friend just laughs and you sense her shaking her head. Silence fills the bar again, the quiet songs on the jukebox providing the only background music. You spot a bottle cap hidden under a table and reach down to pick it up, tossing it in a nearby trash can.

Suddenly, you hear Penny curse and turn your head towards her. “What’s wrong?”

“Amelia just texted,” she answers, setting the rag down to use both hands on her phone. “Says she’s throwing up and has a headache…”

You frown. “Aw, poor girl. Hey, you go on home, take care of her. I can finish closin’ up here.”

She looks at you, head tilted and brows furrowed. “You’re sure?”

You nod, grinning at her. “Of course! I’ve closed up enough. ‘Sides, we’re almost done.”

Penny nods and quickly walks out from behind the bar, giving you a quick hug. “Thank you so much.”

You hug her back. “‘Course.” While she heads to the back to grab her things, you finish sweeping, putting all of the dirt into a dustpan and emptying it before tying up the trash, prepping it to be thrown away after you lock up.

Penny comes back through, jacket over one arm and purse in the other. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

With a nod, you add before she leaves, “Get her some ginger ale! Works better than Sprite. For me, at least.”

The woman nods and thanks you before leaving. Soon, you hear her car start up and pull out of the gravel parking lot.

You’re alone. For the first time all day, you’re alone and it feels great. With a little smile, you head toward the jukebox, wanting a particular song. Finally, you see it and clap your hands a little before selecting it.

"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene," you sing with Dolly, making your way to the bar to grab the rag and wipe down everything one more time. "I'm begging you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. Please don't take him just because you can."

The guitar and the drums give you a nice beat to move to, and you find yourself walking in step with the music. Years of learning to dance in elementary school and dancing at weddings really paid off.

Dolly Parton has always been one of your favorite female artists. She was your first real introduction to music when your Meemaw played her while baking your cookies. It was one of your earliest memories, one you've always cherished since her passing.

"Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain. And I cannot compete with you, Jolene."

You wipe down the tables again. You've had a habit to wipe them down right before you leave, so you can make sure you've gotten everything. You reach the area by the pool tables and rearrange them, putting the pool sticks back in their correct spots and making a neat triangle in the center of the pool tables.

The door opens, and though you can't see who walked in, you know it's not Penny. Thinking it's someone who doesn't realize you're closed, you shout, "Sorry, y'all, we're closed! We're open at five tomorrow!"

Footsteps on the wooden floor echo through the mostly quiet bar. A voice calls out, "Yeah, sorry to bother you, but I think I lost my wallet."

You pause, hands resting on the furry green pool table. That voice. It's familiar yet not. You tilt your head and turn the corner to see whoever it is.

It's him. The piano player from hours ago. Rooster.

And I can easily understand how you can easily take my man. But you don't know what he means to me, Jolene

With a smile, you put on that bright, southern charm that comes so easily and so naturally. "Oh, for sure. I don't believe me or Penny have seen a wallet, but what's it look like?" You tilt your head. "I'll help you look."

He's not wearing his sunglasses anymore, they're hanging from the collar of his white shirt. His eyes look you up and down but from this distance, you can't quite see what color they are. Still, you can see the way his cheeks warm and how he clears his throat. "Thanks," is all that he says. His voice isn't quite deep, but something about it sends your heart thumping.

"What's it look like?" you ask again, heading to the bar to double-check the box that's been dubbed a lost-and-found. Basically, it was where you and Penny dumped things that had been found and not claimed yet. There were a few wallets, but those ones had been there for weeks. There were a few pairs of glasses, both reading and sunglasses. A couple of cards that Penny was waiting to cut up and even the random shoe. You had found that one, and you and Penny spent twenty minutes arguing about who could walk out while missing a shoe.

Rooster meets you at the bar, leaning his forearms on the surface. You take the box out and place it next to him. You definitely don't linger on how damn strong his arms look and how tanned they are.

"It's dark brown," Rooster explains, sifting through the box. "Got my initials stamped on it. It's thick as shit, I throw everything in it."

With a light smile, you ask, "What's your initials?"

"B.B.," he answers.

With a click of your tongue, you walk out from across the bar to search the booths and tables. You didn't run across it during your sweep or wipedown, but you could've missed it. "Those stand for somethin' other than Rooster?"

You hear him chuckle and it sends a jolt down your spine. "They stand for Bradley Bradshaw."

"Oh." You smile, putting up the chairs as you search. "See, that makes more sense."

He laughs this time. Suddenly it stops and he asks, "What the fuck is a shoe doing in here?"

With a snort, you turn to him from across the room. He's holding up said shoe, an old and beat-up white Nike Air Force 1. It's been there for a week, and you and Penny hadn't bothered to throw it away.

You answer him with an innocent smile and a shrug. "No idea. Penny found it last week, under a table. Asked her what we should do with it, she just threw it in the box."

Rooster chuckles and throws it back in. "It's not in here."

You lift another chair up and flip it over, placing it on the table. You give the man a look and say, "Help me find it then, princess."

He gives you a teasing smile and asks, "Princess?"

With a cheeky grin, you give him no reply and continue to look. You've always been a tease, ever since college. Your friends always told you how a classmate had gotten a crush on you just by one look. Whenever you met someone cute in a bar or at a party, you would give them a look, flirt with them for a few minutes, and then disappear. It wasn't something you really did on purpose (at least not all of the time), it was just something that happened.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. I’m begging of you, please don’t take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. Please don’t take him even though you can. Jolene, Jolene.

For the next several minutes, you and Rooster look for his wallet. You stack all of the chairs up and he searches between the booths and around on the floor.

You search near the piano, running a finger along the keys. This piano is incredibly out of tune and old as dirt, but when he played, it sounded brand new.

“Where’d you learn to play?” you ask, turning to see him by the dart board.

He meets your gaze and something in his eyes change. There’s a flash of sadness behind those hazels. You can see his eye color now, and it reminds you of acorns in early October mornings.

“My mom taught me,” he answers.

The jukebox clicks and the song changes. A Johnny Lee song plays, his voice nostalgic and comforting.

Well, I spent a lifetime lookin' for you. Single bars and good time lovers were never true. Playing a fool's game, hopin' to win. And tellin' those sweet lies and losin' again.

You smile, sweetly. “That’s sweet.”

He nods, glancing at the floor. “Yeah. Apparently my dad knew how to play and she wanted to teach me.”

“We’re y’all close?” you ask, wiping a stripe of dirt off of the instrument. It’s thinner than you thought it would’ve been.

Something in the atmosphere shifts and you look up at Rooster. He’s staring at the green dart in his hands, turning it between his fingers. His brows are furrowed and are his shoulders shaking?

“Bradley?” you ask softly, tenderly.

His head snaps up to you and he quickly says, “Call me Rooster.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause everyone else does.”

Biting your lip, you tell him, “I ain’t everyone.”

I'll bless the day I discover another heart, lookin' for love.

Finally, his face breaks into a grin, his mustache making his smile look ever better. “You know, you’ve got a pretty way of speaking.”

“Yeah?” You walk towards him, hands clasped behind your back. “What about it do ya like?”

He throws the dart at the board and it lands in the inner circle. Then he turns to face you, walking towards you. “I like the way you hold your vowels out. And how you shorten words that don’t need to be shortened.”

You smile. Many people on this side of the states have complimented your accent. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But something about it coming from him, Bradley, made it feel different. He was a pilot. An attractive one at that. Tall, blonde, dark and lean. That pornstash your mother always found sexy on Tom Selleck you now found sexy on him. The way he’d lick his lips, always getting the bottom of it wet. Your mind went to the gutter and you wondered how scratchy it would feel somewhere else.

"Where are you from?" he asks, walking closer.

"Georgia," you answer. "Small town named Pearson, it's right by Savannah."

He nods, finally stopping in front of you. He's tall and he looks down at you with a small smile. You're not so close that you're practically touching, but you're close enough to smell him. And you note that he smells like the ocean and sweat and beer. Somehow, all of those scents at once make you weak in the knees.

"How long have you been in Fightertown?"

"Little over a year."

"Have you, uh, met anyone in that year?"

With a smirk, you say, "Nah," and lift up the wallet you found under the piano bench. "Fighter pilots just don't do it for me."

Bradley's face twists into a smile of sorts and he takes the initialed wallet from your head. "What makes you think I'm a pilot?"

Walking away from him, you say over your shoulder, "Call it a hunch."

Lookin' for traces of what I'm dreaming of, hoping to find a friend and a lover. I'll bless the day I discover another heart lookin' for love.

Your nerves are on fire and you can barely feel your legs. But you still keep walking even though you know his eyes are on you. You're nearly done closing up. You just need to take the trash out and turn the lights off before locking the doors.

Part of you is excited you're closing up. It's past two in the morning, you woke up before eight and you're absolutely exhausted. You smell like beer and other various alcoholic beverages. You want to take a shower and pass out for the next nine hours.

But another part of you is upset because you know your conversation with Bradley is coming to a close.

"Do you live here?" asks Bradley, eyes following you as you take the trash up and tie it at the top. "Or are you just visiting?" He goes to the jukebox and turns it off, sensing that you're nearly done.

"I live here," you answer with a nod. "Come on, I want to go home." There's a pile of mostly empty trash bags by the door that Penny was kind enough to put there for you to grab on the way out and you move to them after grabbing your purse and your phone charger that was in the back. "Hey, don't you got early wake-up call?" You make your way towards the door, sure you look awkward carrying four garbage bags over your shoulder. Still, Bradley says nothing while you shut the lights off in descending order before walking out the door.

"Yeah," Bradley admits, holding the door open for you. He even takes the keys from your hands and locks up the doors to the bar for you.

"Thank ya," you say, breathing a sigh of relief at the warm ocean breeze that greets your face. The air smells salty and slightly fishy, but you've never wanted to smell anything more. "Well, what are you doing here still, then?"

He slowly follows you towards the dumpster at the far corner of the parking lot. Normally, you'd be nervous outside at night, but tonight, you're not by yourself. You've got a big, strong navy man to protect you. Not like you'd need it.

"I needed my wallet," he says, honestly. Then he adds, the grin in his voice audible, "Plus I'd never pass the chance to talk to a pretty lady."

"Oh, you're quite charming!" you call, tossing the bags in the dumpster, thankful trash day is tomorrow. Wiping your hands on your shorts, you make your way back to your car, noticing that he parked next to you. "You must make all the ladies swoon."

He scoffs and throws the keys across his car back to you. You catch them in your fist and dangle them around your middle finger. "Maybe. Not enough to keep them, that is."

You tilt your head, heart thumping fast and face flushed from all of this flirting. "Shame. You seem like a catch." Throwing him a grin, you open the door of your old, beat-up truck your father gifted to you the moment you turned fifteen. "Go to sleep, Bradley!" you call, starting the vehicle up.

He smiles, watching you. "Yes, ma'am."

With a small shake of your head, you turn the volume of your radio up just a bit. Some random Miranda Lambert song is playing and you back your truck up, throwing an arm over the seat to watch where you're going. When you're far enough back to clear Bradley's tailgate, you crank the wheel to the right, gravel crunching under the tires.

Bradley is in his car, but you still smile at where he was and tear out of the empty parking lot into the even emptier streets. Taking a left, you head home, exhaustion finally catching up. Your eyelids grow heavy and you yawn. Still, you don't miss the bright red taillights of Bradley's car taking off in the opposite direction of you.

With a satisfied and triumphant whoop, you beat your hands on the top of the steering wheel. Your heart is racing and suddenly your exhaustion vanishes as you recall the last twenty minutes.

Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. What a character. Piano player, singer, flirt, yet still kind and charming. Chivalrous, almost. You have no idea how long he'll even be in Fightertown. Most people stay for a few weeks until eventually being deployed elsewhere.

You hope that he'll stop at the bar every night and lose his wallet again.

#top gun 2 #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #x reader #rooster x reader #southern!reader #rooster x southern!reader #rooster x female!reader #originalwork #Spotify

[cultml]

[acemapleeh]

Alfred Home Headcanons

We see Alfred with quite a few houses throughout the series so I think it’s fair to say the man gets around and lives all across the country. It was difficult pinning down just a few for this post and even more so for the photos to go alongside it.

I’m going to be narrowing things down to regions of the United States but I think this man has at least one home in every state. We’ll be here a lifetime if I had to describe his home in Ohio vs Indiana.

We’ll start with New England.

His oldest homes are located here, the most noteworthy is his white colonial home in Massachusetts just outside of Boston overlooking the bay. This is the one he was raised in for a large part of his youth under Arthur’s care and tutorage. Think of the house that we see in the episode of America’s Storage Room Cleaning with the wrap-around porch and expansive garden. It’s an honestly massive home for just one person to be living in. During the mid to late 1800′s when people like Lovino, Tolys, and Morgan came to work in the United States, this was the main residence that Alfred lived with them in. Finally felt a little less lonely.

I think Cape Cod or Georgian is the best fit for the style of house in this region, like, to be more specific.

Traditional accents rather than it being the main focus.

Similarly to Arthur's dust-covered archive of an estate, this is where Alfred stores a lot of his things from the days of old. Unlike his father, he doesn't put much out on display. A couple pieces of memorabilia here and there but for the most part, he's got it in a box shoved in a corner of a room he hasn't opened in half a century.

What once was Sir Lord Kirkland's bedroom when staying in the colonies, has the largest upstairs balcony that looks over the garden and on clear days, out to the harbor. A telescope perched on the railing always on the lookout for father's return home.

I think something of old he does have out on display is a massive quilt he has up and framed in the living room. It's something that took him ages to finish back in the 19th century and the fabric is far too fragile for him to use it practically anymore.

For New York, he lives in a high-rise apartment in Manhattan. Big, open floor plan, and lots of large windows, and it's perfect for entertaining guests. This is his most modern and luxurious residence. Beautiful view of the city and Central Park. Think of the apartment that we see in Hetalia of the Living Dead.

Back in the 20s he 100% had one of those big Gatsby mansions out in the Hamptons and threw parties all of the time but got rid of it all towards the latter half of the decade. Think of the ridiculousness of Mansion Party by Ninja Sex Party

The last one for this area will be the brick row house in West Philadelphia. This is likely his second oldest home and where he spent a lot of his time during the Revolution. This is where he feels like where he was really born as a nation so he has a lot of deep ties here.

I want to give him an attic bedroom with a desk by the window that can see the steeple of Christ Church near the Delaware River. The same desk he's written pamphlets for the Revolution, letters to his brother, and for even a time, a typewriter when he was feeling a resurgence of literature and poetry in the early 20th century is still there.

I don't which state exactly has that beautiful blue suburban with the big pool. Somewhere there's not a lot of snow year-round and gets those hot summers where all you want to do is submerge yourself in water. Somewhere in the South, I'm thinking either one of the Carolinas or Georgia.

He feels like the type of person to have ranches all across the central US. Most of the year he has other people working on them to take care of the animals.

The one he frequents the most is the working cattle ranch in Arizona.

Time capsule midcentury house out in the Midwest. I want to say somewhere in the Chicago area. I want to put it in Southern California where this style of house first started to get popular but going to give some love to other parts of the country.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, a sunk-in living room pit, short staircases connecting rooms throughout the house, partial brick walls, fireplaces centered in rooms, and several doors and windows to access the outdoor living space.

If you've been on my blog for a while then you might have noticed I love making Alfred a California Beach Boy. I can give him so many houses in just this state alone but I'll keep it short and sweet.

His bum-out beach cottage is located in Santa Monica and he's been located there since the 1890s. The house itself has been remodeled and updated several times over the past century. The materials he uses for the house as well as the layout stay fairly consistent, with lots of natural, light wood and open space to allow in lots of sunlight and central airflow. It's also a small space; you open that front door and right away you can already see the living room, kitchen, dining room, and out to the ocean out back. The entryway is the house.

It's almost purposely made so you can see the wear on the floors and furniture. If he drops a surfboard on the floor and there's some damage left behind, he'll leave it there. You can see the wood frames have been handmade and have some flaws and mistakes if you run a hand over them.

It's also very analog with most of the tech in the house dating to maybe the mid-90s at the latest: VHS and record player, rotary phone, etc. No AC either but he does have a great internet connection.

If I cannot fulfill my lifelong dream of having a colorfully painted Victorian house in San Francisco then Alfred can have one. I think he spent a lot of time in the 80s in the Bay Area and this old house was just a constant project of fixing up and refurbishing.

Okay, the last one I'll talk about for the time being will be his house up in Washington State.

I just really love Contemporary houses and Alfred had one built for him when they first started gaining popularity in the Pacific Northwest in 1935. Large windows invite the beauty of the region into the house while complementing the natural landscape. The Pacific Northwest features steep, rugged terrain that encourages post and beam architecture.

Tucked away in cozy woods and nestled along a majestic river.

Decor often brings nature indoors using live-edge wooden furniture, stone and wooden accents, and other cozy touches.

I don't see Alfred as being a big log cabin person but incorporate the coziness of one into this house. Place that Twilight filter on and it's his most aesthetic getaway.

#hws america #alfred f jones #aesthetic #headcanons #hetalia #ace creates #dumb little headcanons #alfred jones is the biggest pain in my ass #i loved and hated compiling all these images #i have so many more that weren't used y'all #i was annoyed with arthur's big stupid estate #this fucker has his own stupid expensive homes #long post #i feel like i'm going to have to make a part 2 #and not talk extensively about california

[titleknown]

So, you know all those bad laws I tell y'all to call your senators to kill? Well here's a good one for you to promote!

Basically, you know how payment processors freak the fuck out if even the slightest whiff of adult content shows up on a website, which has lead to the widespread sanitization of the internet?

Well, this bill, S.293; aims to prevent that crap!

And, it's currently in the Committee of Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs, so if your Senator is one of the following, call them and tell them to vote yes on it:

Sherrod Brown, Ohio, Chairman

Jack Reed, Rhode Island

Bob Menendez, New Jersey

Jon Tester, Montana

Mark Warner, Virginia

Elizabeth Warren, Massachusetts (Tell her it would be a start on apologizing for voting yes on FOSTA/SESTA)

Chris Van Hollen, Maryland

Catherine Cortez Masto, Nevada

Tina Smith, Minnesota

Kyrsten Sinema, Arizona (ugh)

Raphael Warnock, Georgia

John Fetterman, Pennsylvania

Tim Scott, South Carolina, Ranking Member

Mike Crapo, Idaho

Mike Rounds, South Dakota

Thom Tillis, North Carolina (Probably not reaching this asshole)

John Kennedy, Louisiana

Bill Hagerty, Tennessee

Cynthia Lummis, Wyoming

J.D. Vance, Ohio (Ugh)

Katie Britt, Alabama

Kevin Cramer, North Dakota

Steve Daines, Montana

If they're one of those right-wing dipshits, tell them it would help them prevent "cancel culture" via socially-conscious payment processors. Because subterfugue towards conservatives is always cool and good! Always!

Also mention that, in a happy irony, this would actually make kids safer by allowing platforms to acknowlege that, yes, people make a living selling well-endowed monoecious horsegirl drawings on their platform, and actually put properly finetuned safeguards in place.

As opposed to now, where they have to dance around it and put it in a grey-area hell so that Peter "Dracula" Thiel doesn't get his seastead in a shoal and ban them, which nobody likes!

So, call 'em if you can, boost even if you can't!

#law #laws #legislation #censorship #anti-censorship #payment processors #politics #american politics

[rockislandadultreads]

New in Horror: Oct 2022 Releases

It Rides a Pale Horse by Andy Marino

The Larkin siblings are known around the small town of Wofford Falls. Both are artists, but Peter Larkin, Lark to his friends, is the hometown hero. The one who went to the big city and got famous, then came back and settled down. He’s the kind of guy who becomes fast friends with almost anyone. His sister Betsy on the other hand is more… eccentric. She keeps to herself. When Lark goes to deliver one of his latest pieces to a fabulously rich buyer, it seems like a regular transaction. Even being met at the gate of the sprawling, secluded estate by an intimidating security guard seems normal. Until the guard plays him a live feed: Betsy being abducted in real time. Lark is informed that she’s safe for now, but her well‑being is entirely in his hands. He's given a book. Do what the book says, and Betsy will go free. It seems simple enough. But as Lark begins to read he realizes: the book might be demonic. Its writer may be unhinged. His sister's captors are almost certainly not what they seem. And his town and those within it are... changing. And the only way out is through.

The Hollow Kind by Andy Davidson

Nellie Gardner is looking for a way out of an abusive marriage when she learns that her long-lost grandfather, August Redfern, has willed her his turpentine estate. She throws everything she can think of in a bag and flees to Georgia with her eleven-year-old son, Max, in tow. It turns out that the estate is a decrepit farmhouse on a thousand acres of old pine forest, but Nellie is thrilled about the chance for a fresh start for her and Max, and a chance for the happy home she never had. So it takes her a while to notice the strange scratching in the walls, the faint whispering at night, how the forest is eerily quiet. But Max sees what his mother can't: They're no safer here than they had been in South Carolina. In fact, things might even be worse. There's something wrong with Redfern Hill. Something lurks beneath the soil, ancient and hungry, with the power to corrupt hearts and destroy souls. It is the true legacy of Redfern Hill: a kingdom of grief and death, to which Nellie's own blood has granted her the key.

The House at Phantom Park by Graham Masterton

n this abandoned hospital, pain lives on... and it wants revenge. St Philomena's military hospital has been abandoned for over three years. Now Lilian Chesterfield, who works for one of the most successful building companies in England, is in charge of developing it into a luxury housing complex. But as soon as she and her colleagues start work in the Jacobean-style mansion, their dream turns into a nightmare. They hear screaming from wards full of empty beds. They hear doors slamming and find cutlery scattered over the kitchen floor. Then they see faces peering at them from the mullioned windows. Lilian is pragmatic – she doesn't believe in the supernatural. But just when she's put her mind at rest by scouring the mansion from top to bottom and finding nothing, a former patient of St Philomena's arrives with a warning. The hospital is haunted. And it is haunted by something a thousand times more terrifying than ghosts...

Lute by Jennifer Marie Thorne

On the idyllic island of Lute, every seventh summer, seven people die. No more, no less.

Lute and its inhabitants are blessed, year after year, with good weather, good health, and good fortune. They live a happy, superior life, untouched by the war that rages all around them. So it’s only fair that every seven years, on the day of the tithe, the island’s gift is honored.

Nina Treadway is new to The Day. A Florida girl by birth, she became a Lady through her marriage to Lord Treadway, whose family has long protected the island. Nina’s heard about The Day, of course. Heard about the horrific tragedies, the lives lost, but she doesn’t believe in it. It's all superstitious nonsense. Stories told to keep newcomers at bay and youngsters in line.

Then The Day begins. And it's a day of nightmares, of grief, of reckoning. But it is also a day of community. Of survival and strength. Of love, at its most pure and untamed. When The Day ends, Nina―and Lute―will never be the same.

#Horror #Gothic #Gothic Fiction #Paranormal #scary #scary stories #ghosts #supernatural #gothic horror #thrilling #thriller #book recs #Book Recommendations #reading recommendations #booktok #horror stories #new books #new releases #booklr #book tumblr #library books #tbr #books to read

[athenswrites]

Knight of Dawn, Chapter 9 [NYTF]

TW: parental death (mention)

As the elevator doors slid open, Piers’ stomach dropped. The fluorescent flood lights filled the room in a sterile white light, turning their skin sickly pale. It reminded them of Dr. Panya’s lab. 

In the center of the room, sprawled out in their chair, was President Dubois, holding a glass of something in one hand and lazily swiping through his Lens with the other. His comfort threw them off guard. Outside the oversized windows, the city’s nightlife went on. 

“President Dubois, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Piers smiled pleasantly, stepping into the room. In their ear, the steady white noise of their earpiece disappeared with a quiet crackle. He’d laid the trap, laid the bait, and they were walking right into it.

Piers knew they’d be fine. Their knife was stashed on their ankle, and they had a concealed pistol holstered on their left hip. They’d taken down infected twice his weight, alone. 

President Dubois’ focus didn’t waver from whatever he was working on, as he drained the rest of his drink and sat the glass of ice down on the side table. Piers took a seat in the plush armchair across from him, red velvet and gilded gold. It was Adele’s, identical to the one in her bedroom and the one in the wall of her office. Compared to the sleek white couch that President Dubois was sitting on, the glass table between them, or the abstract chess pieces before them, it seemed antiquated. The thing which irritated them the most though? He’d taken their side of the board, leaving them with the white pieces. None of it was right.

And yet, their curiosity kept them there. Piers awkwardly coughed, and finally, President Dubois glanced at them. He waved his work aside and stretched, joints snapping and popping as he did so. Then, he offered the nervous Piers a hand to shake.

“Monarch Hall, I have to thank you for putting up with that. I had to finish some business. You know how it feels. And please, call me Dubois, like everyone else.”

They shook his hand, before realizing they still had the tinfoil-wrapped cake in their other hand. He laughed when they offered it to him wordlessly, taking it and peeking under the foil.

“Of course, apple cake. It’s the one thing I’ve been missing. Darcey, he’s a great cook, but he just can’t make it the same as Marcie can.” He sat it on the side table, before gesturing to the chess set, “You go first. I know you have questions about me, and I’m not surprised, so let’s make it part of the game. Each time you move a piece, you can ask me anything, but I can’t guarantee answers. However, I have questions of my own for you. No bullshit from either of us. You’re not a great liar. Fair deal?”

Hesitating, Piers weighed their options. Did they really want to get into this? What did Dubois want to know?

Their curiosity got the better of them, and they leaned forward, delicately moving a pawn forward, before settling back into the plush chair. “Easy question first, Dubois: Where are you from? Your accent is a little different.”

He thought for a moment, longer than he should have, before responding, “Louisiana, originally. Both my parents were from New Orleans. I’ve lived throughout Georgia and North Carolina, but their accent stuck around.”

Letting the silence hang, Piers tried to get him to continue, but he simply shed his dark grey suit jacket, and laid it over the back of the chair, before moving one of his own pawns with a still-gloved hand. He met Piers’ intense stare.

“What’s going on with the Royal Research Laboratory now that Her Majesty is, well, gone?”

They immediately thought of the message, from Jackie. 

He knows she’s gone, and you need to be careful.

They didn’t want to respond at first. After he grabbed his glass off the table, he leaned back, cocking an eyebrow, and drinking some of the melted ice water. Finally, they came up with at least something to say: “Dr. Panya is still in charge. Xe’s our Royal Scientist. Xe’s worked here longer than I’ve lived here.”

“I know.” He subtly rolled his eyes, as Piers leaned forward, moving their next piece. The question and his response put them on high alert. He’d been so direct to start with, and they felt better about their next question.

“What was your family like?”

At that, he froze a little, leaning forward to move another piece, “My parents were scientists, and I grew up moving around a lot because of that. My mother passed when I was young, and my father wanted me to be just like him. What about your birth parents? Have you ever met them?”

Piers had struck a nerve with him, and they were proud of themself. “I never met either of them. Adele never really talked about them. I know my birth mother is dead though; she’s at least let that slip. I don’t know about my birth father.”  Sliding another piece forward, they asked their next question. “What got you into politics?”

At that, he relaxed a little, and so did some of the tension in the room. Both of their questions were too strong, too fast. They needed to wait a little longer to crack him. 

The game traded back and forth, questions and answers which danced around the topics Piers was truly interested in, and they were getting frustrated. His responses never dove too deep into his past or into his family. He never answered more than asked. If they pushed too hard, he’d push back with the same force. The information they’d gathered was so little…and they were also getting their ass handed to them in chess! They never lost!

“Check.” Dubois grinned, pulling his leg up into his lap and leaning forward to watch them, as their king sat trapped. They groaned, studying the moves they had left, none of them saving them from the inevitable. Their queen had been sacrificed at the wrong time, and all they had left were pieces too far or in the wrong position to help. They'd stretched themself too thin, and he’d knocked off so many vital pieces.

“Well fuck…” Piers cursed under their breath, spinning the board to look at it from the other side, before returning it to the original position.

“Not used to losing it seems…” Dubois laughed, pissing them off even more, before asking his question. “How long do you remember living in the palace?”

“I’ve lived here since I was a baby.” Their answer was straightforward. They had nothing to hide.

Sighing, Dubois corrected them, “How long do you remember living in the Palace, Jillian? I didn’t ask you how long they said you’ve lived here.”

It was then that Piers realized what he was getting at. 

“My memories from before I was infected are murky, at best. I remember hardly anything from before I was thirteen, if anything at all. It’s all what Adele and Marcie and Grady have…told me.” They fell quiet at the realization.

Tongue tied, Piers was silent, unable to respond to Dubois. He noticed, face going soft as he moved their queen back on the board, where she’d been captured… But she was also now able to capture his king in one move. “You play like Adele. Calculated and precise, yet you don’t take your time and you make unnecessary sacrifices. It won’t serve you well in the world of politics. Keep your allies close, your enemies closer, and your cards to your chest.”

Finally, Piers reached out, using their queen to capture his king, before asking their final question, one they’d been sitting on. It wasn’t personal originally, but they soon realized it might be.

“Why has North Carolina not launched an attack on Georgia? You’ve pressed into South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia, yet left us alone.”

Dubois seemed a little surprised, but unphased for the most part. “And that’s your final question, really? Adele is one of the most headstrong people I know. I am quite scared of her. I know what she’s capable of, and what she offered to the Palace...” Dubois trailed off as he began to reset the board.

Piers finished his thought, “But she’s gone.” 

“But she’s gone.” He repeated them, tapping his black king against the board, before setting the king down beside his queen. “I need to head back to my room, or Darcey might come looking for me. We can speak again later.” Silently, Piers watched as Dubois stood, stretching once again with his joints popping sickeningly, before he grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch, as he spoke again. “I will be coming back. You’re going to end up biting off more than you can chew, and it’s gonna choke you, Jillian-”

They interrupted his obviously threatening speech, “-Why the hell do you call me Jillian?”

Dubois did not answer, turning his back on them and heading for the elevator. It opened almost instantaneously, and he left them alone in the Rooftop, more confused than when they’d started.

WIP PAGE

Tag List (reply or dm to be added or removed; I pulled from the old tag list + the call post): @author-a-holmes, @soul-write @flowerprose @ceph-the-ghost-writer @theglitchywriterboi @when-wax-wings-melt @thechaoticflowergarden @lyralit @penspiration-writing @samatedeansbroccoli @charlesjosephwrites @italiangothicwriteblr @thetruearchmagos @pineapple-lover-boy @unilightwrites @sanguine-arena @bardic-tales @joshuaorrizonte @blind-the-winds @circa-specturgia @hymnonlips @aloeverawrites @the-stray-storyteller @writeblrsupport @starlit-skys @kyuponstories @guessillcallitart @magic-is-something-we-create @talesofsorrowandofruin @writingonmymind @imslowlydisintegrating @worldsfromhoney

#writeblr #writing #wip #excerpt #athenswrites #nytf #creative writing #my writing #story writing #novel writing #writing community #writer #piers hall #rene dubois

[sublimeenemykryptonite]

" Come on ya'll get this night started yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh celebrating tonight at the georgia Carolina state fair and then ya'll Sunday morning is about memory remembering the legacy ya'll that passed away yeah about the A Memorial Church Service Prayer Ceremony Sunday but tonight Friday night I said Friday the 13th ya'll something like that #fridaythe13th night ya'll right now it's party time it gonna it gonna it gonna end up dead like that minute it gonna it gonna it gonna break every day breakfast training classes in church but Friday night partying drinking and celebrating last year drama girl not right now next Friday and Saturday nights party Halloween at the Lake we know where it's at not like that #booamadeahalloween2 or 1 not like #grandtheftauto San Andreas drunk like hell give me time girls Glass Ball Lady what you talking about talking to #eddiemurphy in that #thehauntedmansion all that A** in those jeans s** is the word of the night on my mind #sisterghost or #sisterbreetanner WWE saw a shark swimming in #grandtheftautofive had to shoot it sorry shark had to shoot you I got scared I'm not fun of sharks but I have a song about sharks including Halloween shark it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna hit her from the back and the front oh girl got that showing out got that shower running it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna spill my food then give bikini shots at the beach all night high running from the dead zombies I see dead people nightmares coming on me hide out police get here on time now not scared the butler did it he killed the wife tell him what you did ramsley I did it I had no choice she was going to run away with you sir now I'm pissed off damn you all hell it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna it gonna yesssss"

[shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow]

Apologies for the absence over here on Tumblr, I've just been so insanely busy since the release of my book. It's odd how the writing process sees you cooped up and lackadaisical, and you have time for things, and book's progress just goes on and on. But after it comes out, things change. Since the book's launch in late September I've - - Setup Author booth at Cedar Key Pirate Invasion (Florida) - Setup Author booth for Launch Party in Goose Creek (South Carolina) - Setup Author booth at Old City Pirate Day in St. Augustine (Florida) - Setup Author booth at Colonial Faire and Muster at Wormsloe (Georgia) Now I've got my upcoming confirmed plans over the next 3 months: - Pirate Educational Display at Fort Dorchester (South Carolina) - Pirate Educational Display and Author booth at Wilmington (North Carolina) - Pirate Educational Display at Fort King George (Georgia) - Pirate Educational Display and Author booth at Powder Magazine (South Carolina) - Author booth at Penumbra renfair in St. Augustine (Florida) - Pirate Lecture and Book Signing at Museum of Coastal Carolinas (North Carolina) And my unconfirmed plans over the next three: - Author table at The Pirate Store, St. Augustine (Florida) - Author table at Starbucks, Mt. Pleasant (South Carolina) - Educational Display or Author booth at Ponce DeLeon Inlet Lighthouse (Florida) - Pirate Lecture at Wormsloe Plantation (Georgia) - Educational Display at McLarty Treasure Museum (Florida) Events confirmed for later in the year: - Author booth at Panama City Pirate Invasion (Florida) - Pirate Educational Display and Author table at Feast of the Pirates (North Carolina) ... So I've been busy, and all of this above is still yet to happen soon. My calendar is filling up. I still have more contacts to follow up on, and other events for the reenactment crew, like potentially Huntington Beach (South Carolina). Can't believe I'm a "professional pirate," and have made such a name for myself, but I'm definitely thankful for all the friends and notable contacts amid the educational fields I've made along the way that's making this possible with my book release. I know its already been a long post, but I just wanted to say that I wish I still had the time and umph to keep up with all of my various social medias. Both Instagram and Tumblr have fallen a bit to the wayside while Facebook has remained my primary - its just historic sites and museums all have Facebook pages, but not tumblrs for example. So I've had to prioritize what I've needed to do to get to this point. Still, I'll try and toss up a few more posts and not neglect the site here so much. Hope you guys understand.

#pirate history #pirates #shipwrecked with captain marrow #folklore #haunted #pgabt

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Graham Kates, Katrina Kaufman, and Stefan Becket at CBS News:

Twelve New Yorkers have been selected to serve as jurors in former President Donald Trump's criminal trial in Manhattan, filling out the panel on the third day of proceedings.

The 12 jurors include seven men and five women, chosen from a pool of dozens of potential jurors who submitted to questioning about their personal lives and political views. The selection process will continue Friday, since six alternate jurors are needed before the trial can move to opening arguments. One alternate had been selected as of Thursday afternoon. "We have our jury," Judge Juan Merchan said after the new jurors swore an oath to decide the case in a "fair and impartial manner." Trump, seated at the defense table, stared at the newly sworn-in members as they exited the courtroom. Merchan said the court is on track to begin opening statements as soon as Monday. Prosecutors will present their case first. Before court ended for the day, Trump's attorney Todd Blanche asked if the defense could find out the names of the first three witnesses prosecutors plan to call to the stand. Joshua Steinglass, a prosecutor in Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg's office, replied that doing so is a courtesy they normally extend, but refused in this case. 

"Mr. Trump has been tweeting about the witnesses. We're not telling them who the witnesses are," Steinglass said.  Merchan said he "can't blame them." Blanche seemed mystified, and asked if the defense is not going to find out who the witnesses are until they walk in the door. He offered to "commit to the court and the [prosecution] that President Trump will not [post] about any witness" on Truth Social, Trump's social media platform. "I don't think you can make that representation," Merchan said. Blanche offered another solution: giving the witness names only to the lawyers, who wouldn't share them with Trump.

[...] Trump pleaded not guilty when he was indicted more than a year ago on 34 felony counts of falsification of business records. He denies all allegations in the case, which revolves around reimbursements to former attorney Michael Cohen for a "hush money" payment to adult film star Stormy Daniels. Prosecutors say Trump covered up the reimbursements in order to distance himself from the payment, which days before the 2016 presidential election temporarily bought Daniels' silence about an alleged affair. He has also denied having the affair. Trump has raged against the case, accusing prosecutors of charging him for political reasons. He has also frequently lashed out at the judge on social media, accusing Merchan of bias. "I'm supposed to be in New Hampshire. I'm supposed to be in Georgia. I'm supposed to be in North Carolina. South Carolina," the presumptive Republican nominee for president said in the hallway outside the courtroom. "I'm supposed to be a lot of different places, campaigning. But I've been here all day on a trial that really is a very unfair trial."

All 12 jurors and one alternate juror was seated during the 3rd day of the jury selection process in the Trump falsification of business records trial. 5 more alternate juror spots need filled before opening arguments begin. #TrumpTrial

#Donald Trump Trial #People of New York v. Trump #Donald Trump #Juan Manuel Merchan #Todd Blanche

[beardedmrbean]

Dec. 30 (UPI) -- The owner of a Florida-based farmworker company has been sentenced to 118 months in prison on racketeering and forced-labor conspiracy charges.

U.S. District Court Judge Charlene Edward Honeywell of the Middle District of Florida sentenced Bladimir Moreno, 55, Thursday and ordered him to pay more than $175,000 in restitution to the victims, all of whom were Mexican H-2A agricultural workers between 2015 and 2017.

According to court documents, Moreno owned and operated Los Villatoros Harvesting, a farm-labor contracting company that employed Mexican workers on H-2A agricultural visas. Authorities say that once the farmworkers arrived in the United States, Moreno used false promises and coercion to compel the workers to labor under harsh conditions in Florida, Kentucky, Indiana, Georgia and North Carolina.

Authorities say Moreno and his co-conspirators coerced H-2A agricultural workers by imposing debts on them, confiscating their passports and keeping them in the United States after their visas had expired. He also forced workers into "crowded, unsanitary and degrading living conditions" and threatened workers with arrest and deportation if they didn't meet his demands.

RELATED Gov. Newsom signs bill expanding union rights for farmworkers

Federal investigators say Moreno also gave investigators fraudulent worker records during their probe of operations at Los Villatoros Harvesting.

"This defendant abused his power as a business owner to capitalize on the victims' vulnerabilities and immigration status, luring those seeking a better quality of life with false promises of lawful work paying a fair wage," said Assistant Attorney General Kristen Clarke of the Justice Department's Civil Rights Division. "The defendant forced Mexican agricultural workers to labor under inhumane conditions, confiscated their passports, imposed exorbitant fees and debts, and threatened them with deportation or false arrest."

Justice Department officials charged Moreno in 2021, and he pleaded guilty earlier this year to conspiracy under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, as well as conspiracy to commit forced labor. Two of his co-defendants previously pleaded guilty to conspiracy under the RICO Act and previously were sentenced in October. Christina Gamez, a U.S. citizen who worked for Los Villatoros Harvesting as a bookkeeper and supervisor, was sentenced to 37 months in prison. Guadalupe Mendes Mendoza, 45, pleaded guilty to conspiring to obstruct a federal investigation and was sentenced to eight months of home detention and a $5,500 fine.

RELATED Supreme Court rules against unions organizing on California farms

The Palm Beach County, Fla., Human Trafficking Task Force and the county's Sheriff's Office investigated the case with help from multiple Department of Labor investigators and worker-rights organizations. The Florida-based Coalition of Immokalee Workers said it assisted federal investigators after two workers escaped from their employers' control by hiding in the trunk of a car and escaping to seek help.

"Forcing individuals to work against their will using abusive and coercive tactics is not only unconscionable but illegal," said U.S. Attorney Roger Handberg for the Middle District of Florida. "We will continue to work with our task force partners to combat human trafficking in all its forms, including prosecuting those who exploit vulnerable workers."

Anyone with information about human trafficking can report it to the National Human Trafficking Hotline at 1-888-373-7888.

#nunyas news #roast em