#they can and will shut the whole county down won’t nobody leave their homes

[squigglywindy]

The fact that it’s getting into the negatives this week is absolutely horrifying we are not prepared for this. Should the animals come inside? Is the barn good enough? Will anywhere be open if we need food? How long will the power stay out when it inevitably quits? What do we do if our pipes freeze and there’s no water?

#AHHHHHH #This is stressing me #I’m dripping the faucets it’s all I know to do #imma be real I don’t think I’ve personally witnessed a temp below 0 #ignore me #squiggles rambles #y’all out there legitimately freezing and I’m screaming over this #NEGATIVE FIVE? HERE??? #they can and will shut the whole county down won’t nobody leave their homes

[walkerwords]

“The Bowman’s Sister” Part 3 of 4 - Daryl & Sister!Reader

GIF CREDIT: AMC

PART I  PART II PART IV

Word Count: 3030

Daryl Dixon & Sister!Reader (Rick x Reader in future)

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “World Gone Mad” by Bastille

Note: I didn’t put a summary on this one cause it’s def a filler chapter. I don’t remember who exactly gets bit during the flu pandemic thing in the cell blocks so I made it pretty vague. All i really wanted to do here was touch on the friendship that is growing with Rick and (Y/N). The next chapter will have some violence etc since one eyed wonder makes a reappearance. 

-------

You jogged down the stairs of the watchtower, passing Tyreese on the way as he headed for his shift. 

You had finally convinced Carl to get some sleep after you kept finding him hiding away in the tower in the middle of the night. He agreed to let you keep watch as long as you taught him to use a bow. You felt that was a fair trade so you had agreed.

You and the younger Grimes had bonded pretty quickly. He reminded you of how Daryl was as a kid. Always running around getting into trouble and making sure everyone was okay. You could tell he was developing a hard exterior but still had that childlike innocence when holding his baby sister or tending to anyone who was hurt. He had a lot of his dad in him and you figured the rest was his late mother and those who were helping to raise him. 

You decided early on that Carl Grimes would be someone you’d lay your life on the line for and not just because he was a kid. But because he was one of the only good ones left in the world. 

Walking back towards the cell block, you ran into Rick. He was coming out of D when he spotted you. He gave you a quick wave as you made your way over to him. “Another late night?” he asked, fatigue weighing on him clear as day. Since the run that you, Daryl, Glenn, and Rick had gone on, you had noticed that he was distancing himself a bit more here and there. When you asked Daryl about Rick’s odd behavior at times, he just shrugged and told you that sometimes the new world screws with people. You decided not to push it further. 

“Just tryin’ to earn my keep,” you said to Rick, stretching out your shoulders. Rick nodded, looking past you towards the main yard. 

“You’ve been staying out late a lot lately,” he said. “Sleep is actually a good thing, you know?” he joked. You chuckled slightly. 

“Yeah, but if sleep won’t come, no point in tryin’ to force it when I can take over for someone who actually needs it,” you pointed out. 

“Like my kid?” 

“He’s not invincible even if he thinks he is,” you said, tilting your head up to look at the night sky. 

“Thanks,” he said. You look back to him. “He doesn’t listen to me much anymore, so it’s good you can get him to get some shut-eye.” You shrugged off his thanks. 

“Boys his age are always rebellin’,” you said, “I doubt that’s gonna change in the Apocalypse.” Rick laughed, running a hand through his messy curls. The two of you started to walk. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but you didn’t care. It was nice to just be outside, safe, and having a conversation. You talked about everything from what the two of you did before the Turn to why he decided to use a prison as their new home. 

“It wasn’t easy,” Rick said, “We slept in the main field the first night. Cleared it of Walkers and then dealt with the rest of it the next day.”

“You know what? I’m surprised more people didn’t think to head to a prison in the first place. Or at least an abandoned one,” You said. “Hey, I bet Alcatraz is a hit right now.” Rick laughed at your joke, smiling wide.

“It is on an island,” he pointed out. 

“Exactly. Do you think Walkers can swim?”

“Oh god, I hope not,” Rick said, eyes wide in mock horror. “That’s the last thing we need.” You laugh, trying not to imagine Michael Phelps going full 2000 Olympics while gnashing his jaw. 

“Where did that word even come from? Walker?” you asked, remembering how weird it was to hear that first night in the cell block. 

“I heard it shortly after I woke up in the hospital,” Rick explained, “A man, Morgan, he saved my life and that’s what he called it when he shot it in the street.” 

“Hospital?” you asked, confused. 

“Yeah, I was shot before this all happened,” he said, gesturing around. “I was in a coma and didn’t wake up. My partner tried to get me out, but he had to go save Lori and Carl, make sure they were safe. He thought I died, you know?” 

“I would have thought the same thing,” you said, “you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Must have been terrifying waking up to all of this.” 

“It was...disorienting. I thought I was in Hell. Then when Morgan explained to me what was going on, I couldn’t believe it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…” he trailed off. “But then I met Glenn in Atlanta and he brought me back to my family.”

“Crazy how sometimes you just meet the right people at the right time, isn’t it?” you said, looking at him in the dark. He looked at you and smiled softly. 

“Yeah, it is,” he was quiet for a moment before he noticed the ring that was still on your finger. You twisted it around with your thumb absently. “You know, if you ever want to talk about him, I’m here,” he said, gesturing to the ring.

“Thanks,” you said. “It’s funny, I haven’t actually spoken about him since he died. Nobody to talk to and I know that’s why Daryl worries about me. He doesn’t get why I don’t want to talk about them, but I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I can change anythin’.”

“No, but maybe the more people who know about them, can help keep their memory alive,” Rick offered. You thought about it for a moment before nodding, more to yourself than him. 

“Thanks, Rick,” you said. He reached over and squeezed your shoulder briefly. “And that goes for you too,” you finished. He let out a breath and nodded as well, already understanding what you were offering. “You know, being out here, it reminds me of when Merle was locked up the first time,” you said, changing the subject. 

“The first time?” he asked. 

“Oh, yeah, my big brother was the biggest pain in the ass. Especially when it came to the county sheriff,” you laughed. “The first time, he and Daryl were being idiots as usual. I was at school, I think, and the boys decided to race motorcycles down by the tracks. Merle’s moronic friends were tryin’ to get Daryl to steal a bike nearby. I think it belonged to some kid that was a few years older than Merle. Daryl, of course, wanted to do it so he seemed cool in front of Merle’s asshole ‘friends’, but big brother said no and that he would be the one to do it.” You smiled as you thought about the day you got the call from Daryl who was concerned about the whole thing. “Turns out the owner was actually home and the bike was a lot more expensive than everyone first thought.”

“And let me guess,” Rick interjected, “Merle broke the bike.”

“Along with three bones and a bunch of other property damage and that was before he even got back to the tracks,” you said with an exasperated sigh. “Dad was pissed and since Merle was eighteen, he got charged and booked. I took Daryl to go see him while he did his time. Never liked bein’ near jails. Pretty ironic I’m living in one now.” You laughed quietly to yourself, but then you realized Rick was quiet. You looked at him, trying to see his face in the dark. “What is it? Am I really not that funny?” you tried. Rick cracked a small smile before it disappeared again.

“No, that’s not it,” he said before taking a deep breath. “I guess it’s just weird hearing about your brothers when they were younger.” Rick rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at you. His face was solemn and something was clearly bothering him. “I’m sorry about Merle.” 

“That wasn’t your fault, Rick. Daryl told me what the Governor did,” you told him, but he was shaking his head. 

“No, not about...not about that. I’m sorry about leavin’ him in the first place,” he said, but you were confused. 

“What are you talkin’ about?” 

“Daryl didn’t tell you about what happened in Atlanta?” you shrugged. 

“He said y’all got separated after you ran into a large herd. Daryl said you went back for him, but you couldn’t find him. I’m surprised you even did that, from what Carol and Glenn said, Merle was very...Merle while stayin’ with ya.” Rick nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. 

“It was my fault,” he said softly, the toe of his boot digging into the gravel.

“What was?” you asked, your voice low as well. Rick finally looked up at you and that weight was even heavier in his eyes. “Rick, what happened?”

“Merle was out of control,” he explained, “he was shootin’ Walkers on the rooftop, the shots bringing more and more towards the building we were in and he was just runnin’ his mouth. Kept mouthin’ off to another guy we were with, using slurs and whatnot.” You sighed at the information. You knew Merle could be a complete asshole, especially if he was using, and based on what Rick was saying, that was definitely the case. “He got into a fight,” Rick continued, “he was gonna get us killed so I handcuffed him to the roof, to one of the pipes. When we went back to get him before we left, one of the men, T-Dog, he dropped the key and…”

“You had to leave him,” you finished. Rick nodded, his hand coming up to rub at his brow. 

“We went back for him, I swear,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours, “but he was gone when we got back up to the roof. He had cut his own arm off to get out of the cuffs. He made his way out of the city and we didn’t see him again until Woodbury. I’m sorry, (Y/N), if I hadn’t of cuffed him to that roof, he may have been alive right now.” 

“Or he would have pissed someone else off and gotten himself shot or gotten too high and stumbled right into a Walker,” you told him. “I loved my brother, with everythin’ I had, but I wasn’t blind to his idiotic tendencies. Daryl either. We both knew how reckless and stupid Merle was. Hell, if I had been on that roof, I may have done the same thing. You were fightin’ to survive, you don’t have to apologize for that.” Rick stared at you in complete awe. 

“How can you be so...okay with all of that?” he asked. You reached out and took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Because I know you didn’t intend to leave him to die. I can tell you that much. I’m rather good at readin’ people,” you said with a small smile. 

“Because you’re a shrink?” he asked, his shoulders dropping a bit more. 

“Because I pay attention and I know who’s good and who’s not and you Rick Grimes, are one of the good ones,” you said. “So, don’t apologize. At least not to me. You have to start thinkin’ about what’s next.”

“And what is next, (Y/N)?” he asked. 

“I haven’t quite figured that out,” you said, letting go of his hand, “but when I do, I will make sure to tell ya. Deal?” He nodded. 

“Sounds good to me, Dixon,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and before you said anything else, a scream echoed from the cell blocks. You and Rick looked at each other before taking off towards the block. Rick pulled his gun as he ran and you cursed yourself for only bringing your knife with you. You pulled it from your belt as your boots pounded against the ground. 

You both reached the block just as a Walker stumbled out of a cell, it’s face covered in fresh blood. Two more followed, reaching for your friends as they fought them off. Stabbing the closest one in the head, Rick shot the others that reached for a scared woman. 

It was chaos in the prison as people screamed and the Dead rose. The noise only agitated the others that pressed against the fences outside. In the dark, you split off from Rick, searching frantically for your brother. You didn’t know if he was on watch or if he had gone off on his own. You were just praying that when you found him, he would still be breathing. 

You ran through the corridors, looking for Daryl. The gunshots from the block had finally calmed down, but you could feel the fear in the air. Your mind raced as you tried to think of ways that the Walkers could have gotten into the block. You and Michonne had just checked the tombs that morning, securing the entrances. Then there was the fact that the individual blocks were always locked just in case. 

Gripping your knife, you ran back down the hallway and pushed through the metal door, exiting into the night air. Suddenly, something grabbed your arm and you raised your blade, ready to drive it home. “(Y/N)! Stop, it’s me!” your arm froze as you focused on Daryl. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you. You relaxed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back, squeezing you tight. 

“You okay?” you asked as you stepped back, checking his exposed skin for bites. 

“M’fine, you?” 

“Yeah, just a bit out of breath,” you said. “What happened?” 

“Looks like some kid got sick, died in his sleep. He turned and bit others.” 

“Our own people were the Walkers?” you asked, sheathing your knife. 

“Ya,” he said with a frown. 

“Shit, that’s rough,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement, before grabbing your arm. “What are you doin?” you asked as he dragged you toward the administration building. “Daryl?”

“How do ya feel? Ya feel sick?” 

“No, I feel fine. Where are we goin’?” 

“Whatever is goin’ on, I’m not lettin’ you get it,” he said as he pushed into the building. Carl was already there, holding his baby sister. 

“So you’re taking me to an abandoned hallway?” you asked, confused. 

“We need meds,” he said. “Till we get em’, yer stayin’ in here,” he said, finally letting you go.

“You’re puttin’ me in quarantine?” you asked, your brows going high. 

“Damn right I am,” he said, handing you his spare gun. “Ya never had a good immune system to begin with. I ain’t takin’ any chances.”

“Daryl‒”

“Nah,” he interjected, “yer gonna listen to me for once, (Y/N). Don’t try to play big sister right now. Just do this one thing for me and stay here, alright?” You wanted to argue, but then he said something that made you shut up. “I can’t lose you like I lost Merle.” You sighed and nodded. 

“Okay, Daryl,” you said, moving the loose strands of hair from his face. “I’ll stay with Carl,” you promised. “Just come back in one piece,” you said, already knowing he would be one of the first to volunteer to go look for the meds they needed. Daryl nodded and kissed your forehead. He then turned to Carl. 

“Watch out for my sister, kid,” Daryl said. Carl nodded, standing up a bit straighter at Daryl’s words. He squeezed your arm once more before leaving the building and locking it behind him. 

“Guess it’s just you and me, Grimes one and two,” you said, sliding down against the wall. You sat, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. Carl joined you a second later, carefully resting Judith in his lap. 

“Shouldn’t it be Grimes two and three?” he asked.

“Nah, you two are definitely the top two Grimes in my book,” you said with a small smile. Carl smiled up at you before playing with his sister’s little hands. “Don’t worry about her,” you said, easily reading his expression, “she’s a lot stronger than she looks. She’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?” Carl asked, his voice a bit smaller than usual. 

“Didn’t Daryl tell you?” you asked, gaining his attention, “I’m psychic,” you whispered. Carl rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless. 

“Maybe psycho, but not psychic,” Carl joked. You placed your hand on your chest in surprise. 

“Wow, Grimes, never thought you’d be so cruel. I don’t know how our friendship can survive this.” Carl snorted at your words. 

“Didn’t realize we were friends,” he said, still smiling. 

“And I didn’t realize your daddy never taught you to be nice to people who teach you valuable skills,” you said, nudging his foot with yours. 

“I’ll work on it,” he said just as Judith yawns. 

“I agree with her,” you said, leaning back and closing your eyes. “Judith has the right idea.” You then felt Carl shift next to you, leaning into you and putting his head on your shoulder as Judith lay across both of your legs. You didn’t open your eyes as you sat with the Grimes children. Your lack of sleep lost the battle with your worries about Daryl and the sickness that had come to the prison and soon the three of you were sleeping peacefully. 

At the end of the hallway, Rick peered in through the window and watched as you held onto his kids, protecting them and offering them security. He wasn’t the best at trusting people in this new world, but he liked you and liked your spirit. It was easy to be your friend and he loved how easily you and Carl bonded. He only hoped that you would be around for them and Daryl. 

However, unbeknownst to him, things were going to get much worse and very soon and it wasn’t just a virus that crept up on the prison, but an enemy that lay in wait. 

#the walking dead imagines #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd imagine #daryl and sister!reader #reader insert #walking dead prison #walkerwords

[calypsoff]

Fifty Eight.

I am wondering when this Chris hate train will end, we are on day two of it and honestly it’s horrible. Nobody speaks to me or cooks and my clothes seems to be in a bag not washed, Robyn hasn’t spoken to me since and I feel very terrible about myself, I do. What I did was bad, I get it but I really need them to speak to me because I didn’t mean it in a malicious way, I never intended to go out of my way and do something to upset Mel this bad. I didn’t think it would be this bad, Barry has really changed, and I’ve deleted him off everything. I can’t have that in my life when I’m in this part of my life now, my wife comes first but I don’t think she feels that way right now because I did what I did. My phone pinged in my hand; TJ has text. Tapping on his message.

TJ: Ayo bro check this

Tapping on the link he sent me, the shade room page popped up. I swear if it’s anything to do with Barry I am going to go crazy, Robyn will kill me. Reading the top caption “Chris Brown cousin has a message” I read, putting the volume up on the video of my cousin in Jail on video phone “what the fuck” I said to myself, the video played “he is a dead man if that nigga come to VA, we don’t fuck with snitch ass niggas. I don’t care who he married he think he can escape what he done to me!? You got me in here because you couldn’t shut your mouth, you dead cuz! You can pass him that message! I got him, I got something for him. He a snitch, I got my people” he punched the screen, taking in a deep breath. I didn’t know niggas could send messages like that from jail, he got life, so he has nothing to lose. Why is it always me, exiting off the video and tapping on TJ’ name so I can talk to him about this shit “bro, I just saw it and I was like serious? In jail, he is so angry. He probably got sad you got the love of your life back” TJ said down the phone “I’m always on the edge of death, nigga I am tired. So is that nigga going to meet me? I might beat his ass by the way” I am angry at him, Barry is in Cali still and I told TJ I want to meet with him so he is sorting that out for me “yeah, he said he will meet you at iHop or whatever. Wish I was there, fucked up what he done. Just be careful anyways, your cousin is just angry. Lot of the comments people are just taking up for you saying he’s jealous and they would have done the same” shaking my head, I am fed up “see, anyone would. I will call you later. After the meet, what time he say?” I questioned “in half hour bro. Be cool and just cut ties. You have more to lose then him” TJ is right I do.

I am catching an Uber, I am unsure if Robyn wants me to use her services so I will do that. See that fat nigga and squash the shit we been on and close what friendship we had, I have bigger things to deal with and now I got a death wish going to VA, but I am, for my parents I am. They will get the home; I don’t care what they say. Since I am going out I need to tell Robyn, I have too. Even though she ignores me, but she is aware of me going, I miss her a lot. She doesn’t sleep in bed with me either, when thinking about it Robyn is right. I could have a daughter and my daughter will be Bajan, does that include her and that alone boils my blood because it’s wrong. Maybe I should have kept that to myself, but I just said it, well this is me going to find Robyn to tell her I’m going and to get blanked. My Uber will be here any minute so let me get out of this room to tell my wife I am going out, closing the bedroom door I see Robyn coming out of Mel’ room “Robyn!” I spat, she looked at me like I just annoyed her already. Jogging down the hallway to her “I know whatever you don’t want to speak to me but I’m going out, but I’ll be back later, just to see a client. Thought I would tell you, ok?” She nodded her head, she acknowledged it I guess. This is so awkward, and I hate it for me, I hate this so much. Walking off, what more can I say. I apologised but they don’t want to know but they have to eventually speak to me, I need to do something to show them I do care. I care about both of them and what happened to Mel has upset me a lot, I don’t know I need to speak to them somehow and tell them how sorry I am about it all.

Getting out of the Uber “thanks” I guess I’m going to sort this shit out, I just want this last meet with him and that is it, we done as friends because he has thrown me under the bus with Robyn and Mel, they both hate me so much for this. Pushing open the doors and making my way inside, I can see that nigga from here. Shaking my head making my way to the table, I really want to beat his ass, but I can’t, I need to be calm. Sliding into the booth sighing out “thanks for the breakfast anyways” pushing it back “well I thought last meal huh” he is so cocky “how’s the chlamydia coming along?” He looked up from his plate, angered I said it, but I said it loud enough for people to hear “nigga fuck you” I chuckled “asking a question and I get abused?” He shook his head “you have changed, you got this new fame and now you think you’re better than me. You giving me advice!? An ex-convict telling me!?” He is bitter “this ex-convict is married with millions in his account and on vogue, so you tell me who’s winning!?” I had to say it “what happened to you? Here I am trying to help you nigga! All you did was throw me under the bus with Robyn about knowing? You knew that is wrong” Barry sniggered “I said what I said, and I mean it; your wife isn’t perfect at all. Didn’t she fuck you in New York? How you feel that Rocky tapped that too” he’s trying to get under my skin “fine, I just wanted to see where your mindset was but fuck it. It was nice knowing you, we will see who TJ wants to remain friends with because I don’t think it will be you” getting up from the booth “Rihanna not speaking to you now? You are the bitch in the relationship, mr depressed. Got her pregnant to shut her up, hey everyone Rihanna is” before he could even say it I just attacked him, I couldn’t just not let him continue to talk shit. My fist meeting his face, all the pent up anger coming out in the punches I am throwing as he fell to the side moving to the corner of the booth not even fighting me back “speak now nigga!” He ain’t speaking shit, I stepped back from him “fuck you” I spat on him as I walked off and the diners just stared at me in shocked, fuck that nigga.

Looking down at my knuckles, I must have hit the table when I was beating his ass but now I’m waiting for an Uber to come and pick me up, I just walked off from the place, but my knuckles are a mess. Just all of it got to me, putting up with what my cousin is saying and then him and then Robyn not speaking to me, my anger just gets there better of me so that happens “Christopher Brown” looking up from my knuckles, the police are really here “yeah” I breathed out “if you would like to come with us quietly” clenching my jaw “sure” they will end up beating my ass if not, let me just go. The officer opened the door for me to get in, now Barry is going to press charges unlike Rakim that let it go. I have a conviction already, I am fucked.

My anger at Chris has left me and now it’s concern because Jay Brown called and said what is this about the shade room post which I wasn’t aware of, I just seen it now and it’s terrifying to say the least. I haven’t been speaking to him because the whole situation was fucked up, but now I’ve seen that I’m not happy, but I want him home and he said he was going out, where was he going I have no idea about. He didn’t even mention it to me which I don’t blame him because I am not speaking to him, I will go back to being angry once he’s home anyways “you think that little snitching title will leave him?” Mel asked, she is much calmer now. Hurt but calm, she’s ok to speak on it and what happened but this hurt me as much as it did Mel “erm I don’t know, I am shocked that they do this in Jail. What the fuck, Chris isn’t even that person and I hate it. I hate they do this to him; Chris isn’t that” looking at my phone, it’s been an hour and he hasn’t messaged me back or called me back “he hasn’t contacted you? I mean he wouldn’t go somewhere that is bad, that nigga has ptsd so he wouldn’t” Mel is right he wouldn’t so he must know the person “he’s been gone about four hours now, see I hate this! Every time we have a disagreement something terrible occurs, Chris has said that, and he always likes to make it up with me. You know what, this is a mess” I can’t never not be angry with him but when he comes back I will be even more angry at him.

Mel keeps looking at me, but she knows I am stressed out now, no contact and I’ve been trying for so long “even though I hate Barry I can try with him, I hate to see you like this” shaking my head, my phone started ringing and I looked at is ever so quickly, but the number is withheld. I will answer it either way “hello” answering the call as quickly as I can “Robyn, hey it’s me” this line is bad “Chris, where are you!?” I spat “I have been worried sick, what the hell. Why are not answering me, how could you” I said panicked “I’m sorry, I don’t have enough time just listen to me please. I’ll be really quick but I’m in a holding cell, I got arrested because I lost my temper and beat up Barry in iHop and they took me in for assault. You’re my first phone call I could make right, they got me in here wanting to charge me, but the evidence is there that I did it. They are looking to give me six months in county, right. I need you to post bail I’m at Beverly Hills station, they didn’t even let me make a phone call they just threw me in and booked me. Send someone else or anyone, I need the bail money Robyn” I nearly dropped my phone in shock “how much?” I shakily said “how much is it? Officer?” Be asked “for you, thirty thousand” what is that supposed to mean for him “thirty thousand, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get locked up just get me out of here for now please. I got to go” he put the phone down and my phone dropped in shock “what happened?” Mel said seeing my face of horror “Chris is in jail, again. This time for assaulting Barry in broad daylight at iHop” Mel’ mouth fell open “no way” I just want to cry “I need to get him out” Mel shook her head “no you don’t, get Rich to get him and stay away from there. No blogs have spoken about it, just do that” I am in shock.

Rich was in shock when I told him and he said he will once again pick him up, I just don’t know what made him do that. I am so scared, it’s not just the one occasion, if he ends up locked up for six months what about me. I am so stressed out now, I will pay anyone off for him not to go county or anything. Ok I wanted Barry to be beat up, but I was speaking out of anger, I didn’t think he would go and do that, he is so stupid. Now I am sat here just waiting and worried about him “Rich should have picked him up by now don’t you think?” I questioned Mel “yeah he should be here by now actually, I didn’t want him to do it though Robbie. I don’t want him to go Jail for that, not for him anyways. That was stupid” hearing the door back shut, the banging of the door was so loud, Mel and I just stared at each other “she’s not upstairs though bro” Rich is back, I shot up from the couch. Why is there banging happening in this house, Mel also got up but Chris should be back now. Rushing out, Rich pointed up the stairs “he went upstairs, he is angry” he held out some paperwork “he really isn’t happy, I told him you would be down here so yeah” taking the paperwork from him “posted the bail” passing the papers to Mel “I am going upstairs, thank you so much” I just need to see him, I can’t believe that this has happened.

Stood outside the bedroom door, I just heard Chris scream fuck. He is angry, blowing out air feeling upset for him and stressed out. Opening the bedroom door slowly, Chris looked behind him and at me with sadness filled in his eyes “Chris” I breathed out, walking inside the bedroom and closed the door “when I said I wanted to beat his ass I really didn’t want you to do it, I really didn’t me and Mel didn’t want that” I really didn’t want that at all “I promise you Robyn I didn’t go there to beat anyone’s ass, I went there to close the chapter with Barry and tell him how wrong he was but it worked out wrong, he started shouting you was pregnant in iHop, he started shouting Rihanna is pregnant, he kept talking shit and then when I got up from the booth he goes Rihanna is and I just punched him but because I lost my temper I kept punching him, he didn’t fight back. Then I walked off, look I must have punched the table a few times when I did” his knuckled are bruised and cut open “I didn’t go there to fight, I went there to tell him it’s done and how bad he is. I wanted to close that chapter, maybe see if he cared but it worked out wrong and now they are going to get me for assault” tears filled his eyes “I am going to miss my baby being born Robyn, I have fucked up. I have fucked up so much and on top of that my cousin” walking over to Chris “calm down, just calm down Chris. It’s going to be ok; we will fix this somehow. We will, nothing has hit no blogs. It’s all quiet right now, I can fix it” I am saying that like I can, but I am trying to think on a way “how did you get six months, where did you get that from? I don’t know, maybe we can just do something, maybe get community service. I will get my lawyer, it will be ok” wrapping my arms around Chris “it’s like you do good but then it turns bad” he will never know peace this boy, it’s like life comes at him every time.

Watching him run his knuckles under the water “what your cousin did was pretty creep by the way, the video was not good at all. Pretty evil I would say, that is when my concern kicked in and you was gone. Look Chris, deep down I am panicking because you hit Rakim and got away with that and now this, now I am going to try and keep this on the low. See if we can pay Barry off, he’s pressing charges on you Chris. He gave all your details, I read the paperwork. We can pay him off, if that keeps you out of county jail then I will do it. I just feel like something bad happens every time we have a disagreement, I was just upset at it all. I feel like you had the chance to tell me about him, I was saying to Mel. Chris wouldn’t have Barry around if he was bad, maybe he is on drugs I don’t know but right now we need to deal with you. Hand on my heart if Mel was whoring herself I would tell you about it, because it’s wrong but we pass that we have more to worry about” Chris made his way over to me “I am sorry, I was going to speak to you both tonight but that has changed” nodding my head “it has, Chris you got to stop losing your temper, honestly” he is going to get himself in some serious trouble “also your cousin scares me” I added.

#chrianna fanfiction #fanfiction #chriannaff #chrianna ff #chrianna #fanfic

[prorevenge]

Hurt my friend? I'll force you to drop out of college

So in my first year of university, I lived in a flat with five other girls. Next-door to our flat was a studio flat, where one girl lived alone. During the first week, she joined our flat for a party, and became friends with all six of us. Let's call her Mary. Mary had been long-term dating a boy who lived in another county in an open relationship. She was very fun to be around, and we all got on really well.

Time goes by and she visits us regularly for company. Through this she ends up meeting most of my friends, including my best friend, who we'll call Sarah (as she has a part to play in this story). Mary opens up about her shitty family, and how her parents never taught her to cook anything -- so me being me, I offer for her to come round one night and I'll teach her how to cook her first meal. We agree on a simple stir fry to start us off, and I bought the ingredients. On the night, she tells me about her relationship; and how she's looking to experiment with specifically women (and how her bf had given her permission); and how she found asian people particularly attractive. She was well aware that me and my friend group are mostly LGBT girls, and I'm pretty clearly asian. I'm a kind of stereo-typically attractive woman; and have experienced similar uncomfortable situations with men many times... so without her directly asking in the first place, I made it clear I wasn't into doing that and she happily told me that was totally okay.

She tells me about her passion for becoming a nurse, and more about her bf; and how she gets a little jealous sometimes, causing her to look through his phone often when they're together. That struck me as really unhealthy, so I told her it was. She found it weird I thought it was a bad thing to do. That should have been a huge red flag for me there and then, but I'm a big idiot who always tries to see the best in people. I tell her to maybe stop that habit and just trust him (as the way she talked about it made her sound like she was an r/ nicegirl who somehow scored with some poor pushover of a dude and it worried me a bit).

As the night goes on, my flatmates all arrive and hang out. When everyone was there, Mary let as know that our front door closes really loud when we leave it to shut automatically, and directly through the wall was her bed. It wakes her up often, so we should always slowly, manually close the door ourselves so as not to wake her up ever (she gets very tired as she's doing a nursing degree with crazy hours). We all agree to do this for her because it's not much effort for us, and the night ends.

Fast forward a few months and I need to find a place to live in my second year of university. I go looking for houses with Mary, as Sarah was staying in the same place for the next year and all my current flatmates had already arranged stuff (I had left it late like a fool). A lot of my friends had spare places in flats, but like Mary I was going to try to rent in a house, so we go to visit a 2-person small house on the nice side of town with her parents. It's lovely, I can *just* afford it and everything's fine except Mary keeps getting angry with her parents for what looked like no good reason. I would understand some hostility if you grew up with such a bad family, but she was actively berating and shouting at her parents in front of the estate agent. I don't know why I overlooked it... probably because my own family wasn't great and I still thought that much negativity was okay? Fuck, I dunno.

The estate agents' office we went to seemed a little dodgy, which made me feel uneasy. Mary desperately wanted a place to live though as she had nobody else to go with (in hindsight I freaking wonder why); and she pressured me very hard to sign. So I reluctantly do the tenancy agreement, and we're set to move in next year, no backing out now, deposit laid, all that. I'm a little nervous, but I'm convinced Mary has some good in her heart and that she can learn to be a better person while we live together with my love and encouragement. She likes my company because I'm always trying to put a smile on her face even when she's down, and I'm hoping she'll learn she can be happy when she's with the right people for her.

She tells me that she doesn't let her boyfriend interact with other girls, and she doesn't let me see him when he visits. She outright asks me to try sexual stuff with her a few times over the months, using her depression as a pity card. I say no each time, and worry starts to grow inside me about how I was going to have to move in with this person... I felt grateful our bedroom doors would have locks on them.

My flatmates started getting uncomfortable around her. They were all straight, and her lowkey sexual behaviour towards them made them ask me if that was okay; and made me irritated that she was reinforcing that whole gay-predator stereotype on them. We were her only friends though, so I told everyone to just try and help her learn to be better, as long as they were okay and comfortable with that. My kind flatmates all did just that, bless them! The fact Mary was getting good influences from these people boosted my assurance that she'd break out of her toxic attitude just like how I and so many other people did as teens.

One night, I get a message from Mary. She says she's feeling incredibly depressed, and asks if she could come over for company. It was late as hell, so I just left it on unread and went back to trying to sleep. About half an hour later, I hear scuffling coming from the other side of the wall, where Mary's apartment is; something very unusual. I felt bad for ignoring her message, but I was tired and couldn't bear any of her burdens tonight, so I let it go and went to sleep. We were meeting the next day anyway to discuss our housing situation for next year over a cup of tea.

The following morning, I wake up to see a BILLION messages from Sarah. Apparently, Mary called Sarah over since Mary was feeling depressed and needed company. Sarah is a strong and tough person, but our first year of university was a stressful time for her and her head was a bit of a mess, and she was uncomfortable in her own body. Even though it was late, she went over to Mary's place, where it was weirdly boiling hot (Mary cranked up the central heating no doubt). This meant Sarah had to strip down to just her tank top... and I won't spare you the details, but Mary peer-pressured Sarah into getting into Mary's double bed together in a "girly sleepover" type way, and then did something very illegal. Sarah didn't know what to do, and was too scared to leave afterwards. She had a horrible, horrible night; and sneaked out once Mary was asleep.

I'm a passionate person, I'd say, but I'm not generally angry. I learned that when you look like me, nobody takes you seriously when you get angry. However, I was shamelessly pissed off. Mary was being a pretty bad friend recently, and that final act of shittiness set me COMPLETELY over the edge and then some.

Despite that, Sarah took priority. I messaged the flat group chat with a "block Mary on social media, I'll explain when I get back," while Sarah and I went to the student support office and explained everything. She was traumatised as hell, and seeing strong Sarah completely break down over something Mary had done made me absolutely fucking livid. I felt this crazy mix of sadness, pity, and pure rage; seeing my sweet best friend in such a state. She did nothing wrong and had been going through some tough times - it was the last thing on earth she needed. She didn't want to press charges as her family had no money, there was nothing she could do.

I needed to get out of the tenancy agreement for next year. I was absolutely kicking myself for signing it in the first place. I went into that estate agents' office with little-to-no plan, other than "get out in any way possible, even if it means flirting your way through." It wasn't pretty and I felt awful, but somehow, I managed. I was free from living with her at the expense of my day and dignity, which made me even more pissed off.

The arranged time of our meeting at her apartment was approaching. I was well-aware of how I'd just absolutely fucked her over for next year by backing out of that tenancy agreement. I was fine though, I had several offers from friends in apartments to come live with them, so I just had to say goodbye to the idea of living in a house. Outside the corner where her and my front doors to our apartments are, I send a message to my flat's chat saying I won't be long and I'm almost home. I knock on Mary's door, and she lets me in. The sight of her face makes me want to spontaneously combust right there, but for the sake of my pacifist lifestyle, I hold it together. Inside her flat, I calmly tell her that because of what she did I would not be moving in with her next year, and the tenancy agreement was terminated.

She EXPLODES at me, and outright denies everything. That made my blood boil; I trust Sarah with my life and the experience of her relieving all that nasty crap was fucking harrowing. All I had done was make Mary food and talk about life with her and try to help her be better and thought she was making progress, but she was going MENTAL at ME after SHE had done one of the worst things you can do, saying personal things like "Are you fucking kidding me?! You ended it with ME because of what some OTHER person said, without talking to ME about it!?? What does that say about YOU?! What kind of person does that make YOU? How selfish do you have to be?!" And then some more personal stuff about how I'm a failure as a student and my choice in academia would lead me nowhere and how I look ugly, stuff that would really hurt your self esteem if you're not ridiculously self-assured like I am. It pissed me off even more that she would try to hurt me into thinking I was wrong, though. Some lovely toxic manipulation right there.

So for the first time since I was a kid, I lost it at someone. I let loose on all the things I disliked about her; yelled back that she was a terrible person for what she did to her boyfriend, for not seeing anything wrong with what she did to Sarah, for being manipulative as hell, and she was lucky the police weren't up her ass right now. I told her to fuck off, that she wasn't getting anything from me or my flat any more, that she was never going to be a nurse with a personality like that; and then, on a really awful personal note... that she was crazy for doing something so fucking awful just because she wasn't hot enough to score with me or Sarah.

I saw her expression twist, and it was the ugliest I'd ever seen anyone look. She reached an ultrasonic pitch screeching stuff at me, but I just stormed out her flat while she was still talking.

Back in my flat, I see 4/5 flatmates at the kitchen table with cups of tea, waiting for me. They asked me how it went... and I told them we were ignoring Mary from now on, because if any of them wanted to talk to her, I'd want to cut them out of my life as well. The sighs of relief from the table filled me with sweet validation. Then, the last flatmate loudly arrives through the front door. Mary is crying and wailing behind her at the other side of the doorway. We watch flatmate 6 pose dramatically as the huge, heavy door swings shut behind her with a massive SLAM. The racket Mary makes becomes quiet and muffled. Flatmate smiles at us, and we all cheer and yell and hug together.

After that, we didn't bother gently closing the door for her, and since we knew her timetable, scheduled parties for her prime sleeping time; where lots of people would be loudly storming in and out the flat and music would be blasting. I don't even like parties, lmao.

Because she did that, Mary now has no friends, no sleep, and no accommodation for the upcoming year. We told her boyfriend what she had done via facebook, so no boyfriend too.

Her academic life was effectively ruined from then on. The lack of sleep meant her grades and attendance plummeted. Her personal life was completely dead all of a sudden. We didn't care, and kept doing whatever we wanted with no consideration for her life. She dropped out of university before the semester ended, and I haven't heard from her since.

I just finished my dissertation in some macroevolutionary morphological analysis, and my side-hobby as an illustrator on the internet is doing so well now (this is a side-acc so you'll never know who I am :P) that I don't need a job any more to pay for everything while I'm studying. Sarah fell in love with a beautiful girl and they've been dating for over a year now, she's doing amazing and has already been accepted into postgraduate study with near-perfect grades.

(source) story by (/u/mifukichan)

#prorevenge #by /u/mifukichan #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[sugarfreecapsicle]

country mile - part two

moodboard by the impeccable @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

bucky barnes x reader

southern!au

warnings: nsfw in later chapters (will be indicated), ptsd, angst, fluff, lots of pining and details about generic southern united states area, mentions of war

summary:  Even years after coming home, Bucky Barnes still feels out of place in the humid farmlands of southern Georgia. But he’s not the only prodigal to return back home.

if anyone is interested, I do have an (embarrasingly) long spotify playlist I’ve created as I’ve worked on this - let me know if you’d like the link! I cherish and covet any feedback on all my work. Thank you so much for reading!

If anything had changed in Beulah, you couldn’t find it on your drive into town. Main Street had its triangular banners pulled between streetlights, the courthouse and post office were still connected and the First Baptist Church stood proud despite needing a fresh coat of white paint and a few shingles replaced.

Your destination remained a few streets over in a quiet nook closer to the long stretches of farmland - a little green house with a white porch and mottled brown roof. Gravel spat from your tires as you pulled into the driveway and under the aluminum car port. Releasing your keys from the ignition, you and your car sighed in relief - it’d been years since you’d driven so far.

The radio now off, you could hear passive nature. Birds in the distance called to one another, speaking different languages perhaps. Wind kissed the fields of crops, the tall grass, the lush trees. You grinned upon hearing the faintest song of wind chimes.

Your key, the one with the sliver of paint that matched the kelly green exterior, still fit in the lock. A deep breath in and out, and then you entered.

Furniture was covered with an array of mismatched flat sheets - flannels, florals, solids. Your wrist covered your nose as you surveyed the old living room, wood creaking and groaning beneath your steps. 

“Well, I declare.”

You pivoted on your heel, wrist holding its protective barrier at your nose. A smile broke through your grimace caused by the afternoon sun bearing down.

“Hey, Mrs. Wilson,” you answered cheerfully. The older woman had changed about as much as the town in the past decade or so, dressed to the nines for no reason other than she could and coiffed immaculately. She met you on the front porch with a hug warm and tight enough for you to have believed she was your mother.

“It’s so good to see you, baby girl,” she cooed in your ear, a hand at the back of your head with fingers threaded in your hair. “It’s been so long! And you’re so grown - nobody in town is going to believe it’s you.”

She holds you at arms length and assesses everything she can take in about your appearance. The overjoyed smile never leaves her face. 

“You been taking care of yourself, honey?” A tenderness shifts into her excitement, her hand running the length of your arm shoulder to elbow. You nod once, and Mrs. Wilson tucks the loosened strands of hair behind your ear. 

“About as best I can.” You barely get the answer out before she’s following up with more fussing.

“How long are you here?”

The question makes your stomach lurch, and the subsequent stammering you rattle out isn’t helping the obvious discomfort. “Until I can figure out if I want to sell the place or not. Part of me wants to, but-“

“Don’t you worry about a thing, honey,” she pats both your arms this time. “We’re all going to take good care of you and this place. We always have, haven’t we?”

It’s rhetorical, you're sure, but it feels half doubtful. When you left, it wasn’t on the best of terms, and the whole town knew how messy a burned bridge could be. 

“You come on over for dinner tonight,” she offers, returning on her walk home. “I know Sammy is going to shit a brick when he sees you!”

Mrs. Wilson scurries off, and her offer for dinner won’t be ignored. The whole town loved her cooking so much, she opened up a small eatery that had won awards from a few regional publications in its first year. Summer meant barbecue - one of Mrs. Wilson’s most famous dishes and a personal favorite.

You turn to face the doorway again, the interior darker and foreboding to your sensitive nose. A trip to the pharmacy was in order for Benadryl before you could truly settle in for the night.

Part of you expected more of the town to be out and about their daily routine, but the heat was nearly unbearable. With an aging town, weather affected even errands. 

The small bell above the pharmacy door chirped happily as you swung the door open. Refreshing cool air engulfed you, your body’s tension slacked and dissipated like spilled water in the parking lot. A familiar head of salt and pepper hair popped around a corner.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Bruce laughed heartily, leaning his arms over the tall drug counter. “The last time I saw you, you were flipping off the whole teaching staff at County.”

You smirked. “I promise I’m still as behaved as I was then. How’ve you been, Bruce?”

He shrugs, straightening to stand upright. The platformed area behind the counter gave him a few inches of height over you, but it became clear he would be at eye level if he stepped out to the sales floor. Crows feet had settled heavier at the corners of his eyes, but the warmth of his gaze hadn’t faded in time.

“Can’t complain. What can I do for you?”

Bruce wasn’t good with small talk, though it had never meant he didn’t care. You remembered fondly how abrupt he would be in class when your English teacher begged him to elaborate in his written work. 

“I’m cleaning the house out, so I was hoping I could stock up on anything you had for allergies.”

He holds an index finger up as he walks with purpose among the pristine shelves. Bruce disappears behind a set and returns with a small bottle.

“Take it with plenty of water and something light on your stomach,” he orders, making unwavering eye contact. “And make sure you’re drinking plenty of water after, too.”

You nod with a nostalgic grin. “It’s good seeing you again, Bruce.”

He can’t deny you a friendly nod and smile. “You, too.”

The general store across the street has its ceiling fans on the porch spinning lazily. Rain had stained some of the exterior, maybe in part with age, but the sign held strong and beautiful as ever.

A red-haired dog laid outside, gazing over as if to monitor for danger or new arrivals. It couldn’t be, could it?

You jogged over, the newly acquired pills rattling in the bottle. “Commando?”

The dog raised his head at your voice, ears pert and tail thumping against the old wooden flooring. He was irresistible to you even now, years later when he was clearly no longer a small pup. Your nails scratched behind his ears and along his collar, giggling as his rear right leg began to kick under your ministrations. With his tongue lolling out, he rolls over to give you ample real estate of his belly for rubs to which you oblige him. 

The rickety door opens and snaps shut beside you, worn brown boots turning towards you.

“Y/N?”

You turn, and your reply catches in your throat like a dagger.

“Bucky, hi.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #my fic

[ineedrelationshipadvice]

Is it okay that I dont see my boyfriend during this pandemic? He asks me to come over but I don't think it's the best idea to, because it's advised we isolate and my job (that I have to go to because we haven't shut down) is high risk because I'm a cleaner at a venue so I see multiple different people and clean up gross things everyday, but he says that because I can go out to work then I can go out and see him. I dont want to hurt his feelings but I dont think he's seeing the big picture

There really isn’t precedent for this sort of thing. So suffice it for me to say, but you should probably follow the laws. The county I live near just went on mandatory shelter-in-place, which generally means going out for any reason at all. If you’re in an area where that’s happening, just make sure you’re following the rules and regulations outlined by your local officials. Last thing you want is to go to meet your boyfriend and get a citation for breaking travel restrictions. 

But let’s say that you’re not sheltering-in-place. Should you still see your partner? 

I think that really comes down to preference. A cleaner isn’t inherently a high-risk job; the level of risk rises with the amount of people you’re meeting with, not just because you’re interacting with gross stuff. As long as you’re cleaning with appropriate attire on and not licking doorknobs and stuff, you will probably be fine on the front of getting sick, and seeing your partner won’t be that big of a deal. 

The thing to take into account, however, is that Coronavirus is INCREDIBLY easy to transmit. And moreover, people can be asymptomatic for a very long time, and may not show any severe symptoms at all. This means that if you’re infected, but don’t realize it, you could be a risk to essentially everyone around you. How likely is that to actually happen? Again, depends on the generalized risk, depending on way too many factors. 

It also needs to be reminded that young people are not immune to Coronavirus. Just because older folks are at the highest risk doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t. Even if most of us just weather the virus and get on it, there are new figures rising that say young people who do get sick can get severely ill. Quoted from here:

But of the 508 patients known to have been hospitalized, 38 percent were notably younger — between 20 and 54. And nearly half of the 121 patients who were admitted to intensive care units were adults under 65, the C.D.C. reported. 

Nobody wants to get sick with this. And your boyfriend may not be taking it seriously, but it is serious. At the same time, humans need connection, and it’s perfectly natural to want to see the people that care about you. You just have to go into doing such things with the full acceptance that something bad might happen, and decide whether that risk is worth it for you. 

________

As a final note for this, because I’m sure there are many reading this who are in a similar position of wanting to see their loved ones, but are not sure what to do. I’m just going to assume that all of us are dumb monkeys with smartphones, because that’s what we are, and we’re very frequently going to make very stupid decisions in our own self-interest. 

Thus, if you’re considering or planning to visit your romantic partner while self-isolating, here is a quick rundown of things to take into account.  

First, when should you NOT see your partner? 

Are you around sick people? This applies especially to anyone working in a hospital, grocery store, or with other essential services. You’re around a lot of people. Just don’t do it.

Are you feeling under the weather? It doesn’t matter if it’s the cold, a simple cough, the flu, or actual coronavirus. If you’re not feeling well, STAY HOME. 

Have you been to a high risk area recently? This includes anywhere that a lot of people were. The beach, Disneyworld, foreign country, concert. Doesn’t matter. If you were recently around a huge number of people, STAY HOME and see if you develop symptoms. 

Does the law say to stay home? Obey the law. 

And then, assuming you ARE seeing your partner because you simply can’t help yourself, how can you make sure you’re not getting them sick? 

WASH YOUR HANDS. You should already be doing this all the time anyway, and if you don’t know how, a video is here and down below. But first thing you do when you get to your partner’s house, WASH YOUR HANDS. No hugs, no spanks, no nothing. Straight to the sink with you. 

STRIP. Man, who knew coronavirus was so sexy? But seriously, take off your damn clothes. If you drove from your house to theirs by yourself, it’s no big deal. But if you were out and about, interacting or nearby other people, or on public transit, why bother taking the risk of the virus being on your clothes? Bring a clean set of clothes with you, and change into them immediately. Leave them in a corner of the room or in your bag until it’s time to go home, and don’t interact with them. This way, if by some weird circumstance the virus IS on your clothes, you can get all cuddly without transmitting it from surface to your partner, or to yourself. Personally, being a bit of a germaphobe myself, this is the first thing I do any time I get home. 

WASH AND SHOWER. Again, this mostly applies if you were in public or on public transport, especially at your work. But go ahead and take your shower first thing. If you have coronavirus on you, it could be on your skin, on your hair, on your face. It’s invisible, so there’s no way to know. So just take a shower! Easy peasy, and you’ll be smelling great. 

SEXY TIME ANNOUNCEMENTS. Let’s be clear, coronavirus gets into the body through - usually - us dumb humans getting it on our hands, and touching our eyes, nose, mouth, ears, etc. So can you be sexy with your partner? GOOD QUESTION, and I don’t have the answer. So don’t take the risk with your dirty hands. If you want to be physically affectionate, follow the rules above: wash up thoroughly just to make sure.  The other concern is if you have the virus, and you start making out or smashing your partner, you could be spreading the virus. Again, this is no guarantee, and I’m no healthcare professional. But just be aware that this is directly putting yourself and your partner at risk in the event either one of you have the virus. Just be careful, and don’t be a hero if one person’s sick, and the other’s like, “I DON’T MIND I LOVE YOU.” Not this time, player. 

SHARING IS NOT CARING. Lots of partners will frequently share lots of things. Anything from cups and finger-foods, to as much weird stuff as toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and other stuff. Firstly, don’t share tooth or hairbrushes with people, that’s super unhygienic. But secondly, consider sharing less for now. If you or your partner share a cup of water, that’s one more opportunity for someone who has the virus in their system to pass it. Go reenact the Lady in the Tramp spaghetti scene later; right now, just use your own silverware, your own cups, your own plates, etc. 

BE AWARE OF WHO THEY SPEAK TO. The whole point of social distancing is that we’re interacting with the minimum number of people possible. If you and your boyfriend are only seeing each other, and nobody else beyond your work, that’s an OKAY scenario. Not great, but not bad. But if either you or your boyfriend are also visiting family, visiting other friends, going to their own job, etc., this should be a hard no-go.  Social distancing only works if we literally distance ourselves socially. That sucks, but it’s for the sake of everyone. If your boyfriend is visiting his other friends, his family, his coworkers, then you two should be highly aware of the web of people you’re interacting with. You’re already taking a risk by associating with one another; if you two are socializing as per normal, that’s just not good in any way.

Again, I’m not a healthcare provider. Listen to other people before me. But I know how hard it is to deny yourself contact with your significant other. It’s hard on everyone. And I know people are going to do it out of some romantic sense of love, and I can’t stop anyone from doing that. 

My goal here is to minimize the damage. PRACTICE SOCIAL DISTANCING, even when it sucks. Make sure you’re interacting with the minimum amount of people as possible while anyone around you might be sick. If that means that the sucky reality is you won’t get to see your partner very much, then that’s just life. Have internet dates, find other ways to associate. There are alternatives. 

And wash your fuckin’ hands. 

[wahbegan]

The Scary Asylum Trope (From Somebody Who’s Been Committed)

I can’t help but feel that the very loud and righteous voices of people with the best of intentions....who also have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about often overshadow those with a more nuanced and realistic view of the world because they’ve been through the shit. Especially on this site. In the real world, of course, both are drowned out by the man who both has bad intentions AND no idea what he’s talking about, but either way, the fact remains: people with first-hand experience of the ugliness of society saying shit nobody wants to hear, especially shit that makes the world a bit more morally grey and a bit more frightening than anyone would like to deal with are never listened to. 

 Although it’s often overlooked, I think we can all agree that the mentally ill and substance-addicted are among the most cast-off and overlooked members of society. Junkheads and crazies are already struggling to survive and nobody wants to give them a job, get too close to them, give them money, have them wandering the streets or coming into their businesses. Unlike other forms of oppression, one of the most insidious things about this is it’s opposed by almost nobody. “Don’t give that guy money, he’s a crackhead”, “stay away from that bum, she’s not right in the head, she’s dangerous”, “we can’t give you a job because of your history with substance abuse”, none of these statements are remotely controversial with the vast majority of people. A lot of people get angry when you say they should be or even suggest the mentally ill (not disabled, mind you, just ill) or addicted are even oppressed by society at all. Addicts, particularly. The general consensus is they ARE dangerous, they DO do illegal shit, they ARE unpredictable and unable to work reliably or have an interpersonal relationship with you, and most importantly...they brought this on themselves. This, of course, brings us to that great garbage bin of society’s dregs, the mental hospital.

Okay, so a bit of background. In Senior Year of college, I was alcoholic, cartoonishly depressed, and trying to deal with vague, unspecified shit that may have been trauma or a personality disorder or something I do not know, all I have ever been officially been diagnosed with is depression, but that doesn’t cover everything. I don’t know to this day exactly what’s wrong with me and I’ve gotten too old and used to it to really care enough to speculate. But long story short, one night I got too mouthy about a suicide attempt as I often do...to be honest, I think my crippling fear of the oblivion i believe follows death tends to manifest as loudly telegraphing my intentions to commit so that I have a chance to wake up even if I don’t chicken out at the last second...but anyway. My friend Vanessa came by my door and helped me down out of the home-made belt noose in my closet, and the cops were called. Cue being taken away in a cop car in handcuffs and 96 hours in a mental hospital without ANYONE believing any of my attempts to defend myself or even being put before a judge how’s that for due process ladies and gentlemen?

I won’t say what hospital I was in due to all the horrible shit I’m about to say about its character, but I WILL say when i first got there, many a joke was made about a then very topical certain someone who was known as a whistleblower and/or traitor depending on where you fall on the political spectrum who leaked a bunch of CIA and NSA shit. Oh, yeah, completely unrelated, did I mention I went to the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, VA? Just a fun tidbit.

Anyway, I know this is slow in getting to the point, so let’s cut to the meat of the thing. From Outlast (the good one), to Arkham Asylum, to Silence of the Lambs, Session 9, Halloween, to House on Haunted Hill (the bad but enjoyable one), to that story some kid in grade school and/or your older sister wouldn’t shut the fuck up about that had an escaped mental patient who apparently the staff had deemed wise to give a pirate hook for a hand, the common consensus is: mental hospitals are fucking scary. More specifically, crazy people are fucking scary.

In recent years, as we’ve all grown a little more compassionate and people give the mentally ill at least a few months or years before they decide your shit is too much for them to deal with and throw you out like a leper, there’s been very strong pushback against this. Particularly on places like tumblr and other random blogs and op eds around the internet. It’s easy to see why. Dehumanizing the mentally ill is not only offensive to people who CAN actually generally understand and remember what you say about us, thank you very much, it’s just lazy. People like Michael Myers (no not that one the scary one) and Joker, who would NEVER see the inside of a hospital due to their clear intelligence and control over their actions, are thrown in an asylum as a cheap plot device, and classifying a character as crazy lets you ignore pesky little things like “character motivation” and “consistent characterization in general, fuckwit”. People may even praise your character for lacking those things if they’re cuh-RAZY enough. Again, Michael Myers (still not that one) and Joker.

I’m a huge fan of the pushback against the escaped mental patient with a hook trope. Having been a mental patient myself, I can assure you that almost all ANYONE wants to break out of that shit hole to do is get some good fucking food, sleep in a real bed, and pork their significant other. Mr. Pirate Hook, in a realistic version of that story, may have jumped the teen lovers for their car just to drive it to the liquor store and then his girlfriend’s house.

The problem is, and this is the main point of this giant fucking essay, that there is now also considerable related pushback against asylums being scary places. Ironically enough, this is coming not mainly from certifiable and dangerous-to-themselves-or-others type people. This pushback is coming from very well-meaning young adults with anxiety disorders and/or depressive episodes who are very sweet and god bless them I just know for a fact have never EVER seen the inside of one of these fucking places. It is coming from people who don’t want asylums to be seen as scary places because they want the mentally ill to want to go to them. To help them, ostensibly, but a tiny little cynical “fuck everyone” part of me thinks it’s more like to sweep their mess into someone else’s room so they don’t have to fucking handle it.

Now, before I continue, let me stress that the place I was in was a bit renowned for being a terrible shit hole. I’m sure my experience would have been a lot nicer at a suburban 50k a day mansion rehab for celebrities in the hills of Los Angeles. You don’t condemn all hotels in the world because of one particularly traumatic stay at the bumblefuck nowhere clown motel next to the old graveyard (yes that is a real thing), right? And unlike hotels, there’s no such thing as an asylum critic. A lot of people do NEED to be hospitalized for safety, and a lot of people DO, through one method or another, find themselves better off by the end of their stay. And I’m sure the go-to solution for any and all of life’s problems isn’t “tranq them in the ass and throw them in an isolation room” in EVERY hospital. But I get a sneaking suspicion it’s most of them. With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s continue.

Mental hospitals are the most terrifying fucking places in the world. Every time one of my well-meaning friends who’s never been committed says they think a brief hospital stint would do me good, I want to throw a blender at their fucking head. Every one of your relatively well-adjusted but probably on an anti-depressant or anxiety meds guidance counselor and social workers friends will list their good qualities until they’re blue in the face and tell you it’s not at all like the movies and there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s not like the movies, most of the time. Not exactly. But that resort and bond with people who have been through the same thing as you and time to work on yourself and group therapy and art class pitch they sell you on? Yeah, it’s bullshit.

Let’s continue with my story. When I was brought in from the main hospital, they first sent me to acute. I’ve been to county jail, and I’ve been to the acute treatment (read: high risk/high security) wing in an asylum, and I would pick county. Every fucking time. Bless her heart, my patient and long-suffering girlfriend at the time, who had been by my side for the whole process, was sitting next to me and holding my hand as they did the intake survey. They were at least compassionate enough or smart enough to know I would be a lot more placid and manageable with her around to let her stay for the intake process. Outside, the hallway was dark, one guy was on a prison-style wall-mounted phone, some dudes were playing cards, a woman was wandering up and down the hallway....and up and down and up and down and up and down the hallway. And from somewhere, someone was screaming. Not words. Just...screaming. Nobody seemed to do anything about it, see what she was screaming about. I don’t know if it was agony, misery, or fury. Maybe some combination of the three. On and on and on, with breaks seemingly only to get her breath back. I was in the acceptance stage at this point, and was busy shutting down emotional channels one by one and going into survival mode, steeling myself for my stay, but my girlfriend at the time...she looked terrified and broken-hearted. The thought of her leaving a loved one in this windowless pit (this wing, you see, was underground) destroyed her. I could tell. It would me, if I were in her situation. It is a traumatizing situation to be in. There’s no way out, nobody believes anything you say unless you tell them the worst, you can see that woman out in the hall passing back and forth and back in forth in the door window, and someone is screaming like she’s in Hell. Maybe she was.

The screaming was when I first realized an ugly truth and my morals were shaken into a grey zone: people who are mentally ill can be pretty fucking scary. Even if they’re harmless. I never saw that woman or found out why she was screaming. But in that moment, I desperately feared her and hoped I would never find out. It’s easy now for me to look back on her with compassion and pity and feel ashamed for my reaction, wish I could have helped her, but then...I was already in a fragile place. She scared me. And this leads to the next conclusion, even worse. You scare other people, and maybe it’s understandable that they’re scared. 

I deeply repress my anger. I have never in my life been violent or had the urge to be, and I don’t plan on changing that. But my anger is repressed. It can take a lot of battering before it shows itself...but when it comes out, it’s in a sudden, explosive, deep-throat scream worthy of a jump scare in a horror movie showing a protagonist is losing his mind and can’t be trusted any more. I usually only get about half a sentence out in this way before I scare myself, my eyes go wide with horror, I clap my hands over my mouth and run out of the room crying. But by then it’s too late. I got so drunk so often I forgot huge chunks of my past and have no idea what I said or did. I emotionally wounded people. I acted unpredictably. I asked to borrow a friend’s cigarette while she was DRIVING, and casually, with no warning, ground it out on my arm. My girlfriend often found me passed out through booze or asphyxiation or covered in blood. Crazy is undeniably scarier to live with than it is to witness, and I often get frustrated when it feels like people don’t remember or fully understand that. But...that doesn’t mean witnessing it isn’t fucking horrible. People were being perfectly rational to be afraid around me. Never afraid OF me, everyone who knows me knows of my physically gentle nature (with others) and desperate desire to be a good person. But they were afraid: afraid of my behavior when I wasn’t in control, of what reckless and insane shit I might do to self-destruct and/or inadvertently hurt people around me.

Thankfully, my intake survey and a nurse who noticed my relatively normal behavior both indicated I should be in the (above-ground!) high-functioning wing, so I was quickly moved there. I never figured out who that scream belonged to. But even in high-functioning...it wasn’t much reprieve. A woman shit the bed, a man fresh out of acute regaled us with stories of getting tranqed and thrown in isolation because he had barricaded himself in his room with all his furniture and berated the orderlies as they tried to force their way in about “you should really bolt the furniture down it’s a safety risk I could be killing myself in here” because he was bored. My only friend in the wing, who I really did like quite a lot and still do even though we fell out of touch, had a roommate who was always acting like she was just on the edge of doing something fucking stupid. Once, her husband smuggled her a shaving razor, which she whipped out in front of my friend, waving it around and threatening to kill herself. When my friend alerted the orderlies, this woman put it (IN ITS CASE I always feel I should clarify) up her pussy to hide it and feigned ignorance, resulting in my friend going to isolation. No tranq though. This was the high-functioning unit, after all.

Your one-on-ones with the psychiatrist were roughly 3-5 minutes in length and consisted of medication questions and asking if you were literally going to beat your head against a wall until you died in the next 15 minutes, otherwise talk about it in group. The more you insisted to this man that you were fine and shouldn’t be here and inquired about the legal status of your incarceration and when you could be released, the worse he thought you were. 

There were times to gather and talk about feelings. There was art. Some people were very good at it. Visiting hours. But most of the time was just...sitting. Sitting, bored out of your god damned skull, so bored you might just barricade your room with all of its furniture and laugh and laugh and laugh as the orderlies try to force their way in. The patient man doesn’t need to inflict physical torture to break someone. Isolation and boredom do things to the human mind, maybe sooner, maybe later, but...up there, I said hospitals make a lot of people better. They also make a lot of people worse. Then they have to stay for longer. When they’re finally released, they don’t remember how to live in the normal world and soon end up back inside. 

Just like prison. Make no mistake, the asylum is a prison. A prison where nobody believes a god damned word that comes out of your mouth. A prison for people nobody wants to deal with. A prison where they stick you with people whose crazy does NOT fuck with your crazy and you start to think maybe people are right for not wanting to deal with you after all. That’s the worst part of negative emotional reactions to symptoms of mental illness. How god damned much they remind you of yourself. The trauma I mentioned off-hand up there was that my ex from High School may or may not have abused me it’s complicated and fuzzy i don’t remember it’s not important. What is important is a new girl came in once who casually admitted to abusing her boyfriend. I backed away slowly and retreated into a private room, where my one friend had to comfort me. Later, the class clown, Mr. Barricade Tranq-in-the-Ass, made a rape joke in front of her. A rape survivor.

Everyone’s mind breaks in very similar ways, but for very different reasons and with just different enough symptoms and fears and psychotic hatreds that there WILL be people in your unit you fucking hate, whose crazy and yours grind on each other’s gears. There will be people you are afraid of, people you’re stupidly attached to for no reason other than they’re there and nice to you.

Throwing all these people in a hole and throwing away the key does not create an environment conducive to anyone’s mental health. Then, of course, there’s the treatment. Yes, like I said, if you’re willing to petition like 5 people about it and constantly remind them, you may get some good one-on-one time. You may get some good nuggets out of group therapy. You might make nice art. Mostly, though, they cut you off from the outside world and take you away from everything you love and put you with a bunch of potentially terrifying strangers and just fucking leave ya there. To rot. 

The problem with mental hospitals is the problem they’ve always had. No, obviously nobody’s head is in a cage and they don’t electrocute and lobotomize you, but the theory is the same. They want you to stop being crazy. But first, and foremost, they want to keep you there and keep you under control. That is the primary goal. Not treatment. Keeping you there and controlled. I suppose if you consider the history of asylums it’s quite humane, but I wasn’t joking up there about the tranqs in the ass.Everything from death threats to trying to pork another patient to getting too lippy with a nurse is treated with the tried and true ass-tranq isolation room. How long will you be in there? Who knows!! Until they remember they put you in there and/or the shit that you’ve smeared on the walls starts to smell. 

And all of this leads to the most horrible conclusion of all, the kind that makes people truly lose their minds if they think about it too long in that Lovecraftian/Poe kind of way where your hair turns white: maybe there is no right way to handle mentally ill people, and if there is, we sure as fuck haven’t found it yet.

The mentally ill are oppressed and deserve compassion. Love. Support. But we can also be terrifying to the mentally well, to each other, to ourselves...and forcing all of these people into a cage they don’t want to be in with strangers who they’re irritated with and scared of who are irritated and scared right back at them and leaving them in this weird, artificially constructed, regimented society until you deem them fit to leave is....ha. Well, it’s crazy!. And it is scary. And it can and often does make people worse. 

So please, don’t...don’t say mental hospitals shouldn’t be seen as scary or shouldn’t be used in horror. By all means, do it. But do it well. Look to Outlast. See, in Outlast, the set-up is very trite. Big asylum, patients escaped and massacred the staff. But you’re there on a tip that human rights abuses and clandestine experiments were being performed. Most of the inmates are doing vaguely unnerving shit but are harmless, just like a real hospital. Some are just fucking watching TV. And the game is never satisfied with “this guy’s crazy.” Walker, the ‘UGE FUCKIN GOI who everyone’s terrified of has awful PTSD and if you listen to his idle dialogue, is always muttering about containment protocol and stopping the spread of something. And by the end of the game, you realize he might not be as crazy as he seemed, and that the patients massacring the hospital staff was completely understandable and maaaybe even a little bit their own fucking fault. One guy, in an absolutely heart-wrenching and my absolute favorite part of the game, is just sitting broken in a burning kitchen talking about how this place took everything from them because nobody cares about a few abused or dead lunatics, so he’s gonna burn the whole fucking thing down.

You know what it basically comes down to? Most of the crazy people aren’t dangerous. Some are, but the ones that are have clear motivations. Crazy ones, but motivations. Almost like........ooohhh the point emerges REAL FUCKING PEOPLE! Make villains crazy. Well, all right to be honest, it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a bit on that, but I don’t want it to stop entirely. Depict asylums as the Hellish shit holes they are. But for God’s sake, just write mentally ill people like human beings. A human being you can’t understand isn’t the same thing as a non-human. Nobody does things for NO reason at all. If you’re writing a crazy villain, don’t make him evil because he’s crazy and the symptoms of his crazy are being evil; if you’re setting something in an asylum, make sure the horror doesn’t start and end with guys in straightjackets frothing at the mouth and screaming about how they want to fuck whoever’s walking past them in the aorta. 

I don’t want the truth about us, our condition, our capacity for harming those around us, or how fucked up it is how society treats us because it has no idea what the fuck it’s doing sanitized because it’s difficult to deal with and there are no clear good guys.

#mental illness #ableism

[goldendiie]

moonlighting

(ah!! back from the dead!!)

Sally was an attorney before she moved to Radiator Springs; her knack for winning most of her cases earned her a respectable reputation in Los Angeles. In her time, she had defended the guilty: robbers, pedophiles, homicidal maniacs. However, kidnapping was a first, as was defending someone she knew personally.

It was mid-August when the Carburetor County police rolled into town: all shiny, black paint and perpetually frowning faces. Fillmore had gone missing over three months earlier. Nobody thought it was anything significant, as he often wandered off without telling anyone, only to return a day or two later. As time wore on, the only person who remained unconcerned was Sarge. Naturally, the police questioned him first.

“Tell me again, Sergeant Jones” The detective, Holden Willis said, putting out his cigarette, “Where you were on the night of August fourth?”

“Out.” Sarge grumbled. Sally cursed silently to herself. If he kept going like that, he would be arrested.

“Care to be a little more descriptive?”

“No.”

The detective grunted, and wrote something down on his notepad. Then, he asked: “What was your relationship with your neighbor?”

“We were…“ Sarge paused, before saying hesitantly: “Friends.”

“Really? That's it?”

Sarge opened his mouth to retaliate, before Sally interrupted.

“Detective Willis,” She said, “I believe this was an interview, not an interrogation?”

The detective eyed her with contempt, before continuing: “A lot of people seem to think you argued a lot. Any reason for that?”

“Different political beliefs.”

Detective Willis scribbled something down on his notepad. “Any other reasons?”

Sarge sat silent for a minute before he answered with a short, "No."

"So, you didn't have any other reason to want to harm your neighbor?"

"Detective, if you think I was the one who killed him--"

"Kill? Why do you say kill?"

"He wasn't very agreeable."

"Did you fight about that?"

"Detective." Sally interrupted, "I think our time is up."

Detective Willis glanced at the clock on the wall, and said: "Right you are."

. . . . "You can't be vague like that." Sally said as they left the County police station. "It makes you seem suspicious."

Sarge didn't reply. The whole time Fillmore had been missing, he'd been numb to the fact that there was a possibility that he might *not* come back. He'd been in shock ever since the police had gotten involved.

The two drove in silence for a while, before Sally asked: "Do you really think he's dead?"

"I don't know." Sarge replied.

Sarge caught her watching him, like he was going to say something else. He kept quiet, unwilling to divulge any other information. . . . . The victim's name was Fillmore. He ran a shop in Radiator Springs called the Taste In, which sold homemade organic fuel. He went missing on August fourth, and nobody had called it in because the disappearance wasn't suspicious. It wasn't abnormal for him to wander off occasionally, only to come back a few days later unscathed. By all means, this should have been no different.

Detective Willis finds himself at his breaking point the minute he exited the interrogation room. There was no crime scene, no leads, no suspects. He was beginning to think that the victim had actually run off, and would be back in a few days' time. As far as anyone seemed to know, he was there, and gone the next morning. 

"Go home, Willis," His partner, Detective Grant, said as he passed by his desk. Night had long since fallen, and the graveyard shift was getting started.

"It doesn't make any sense," Willis said, glaring over his folders of evidence. "There's no leads, no *nothing*--"

Grant cut him off with a groan. "Willis, please, this case is, like, consuming your life. Go home for once," "Grant, none of the suspects know anything," Willis said, "They can't all be innocent."

"Yes, they can," Grant argued. "Have you ever heard of someone killing their friend for no reason? Wait, never-mind, that's not the point--"

"What about that Sergeant guy?" Willis asked, pulling out one of the numerous case files. "He acted pretty suspicious in the interview...."

"What?" Grant snorted, "You think that, because they fought a lot, he has a corpse in his basement? Please.”

Willis scoffed and turned back to his paperwork. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Grant leave. . . . .

"Where were you on the night of August fourth?" The detective asked. Flo scooted closer to her husband.

"At home, man," Ramone replied. "We closed the shops for the day, and went home."

"Did everyone else do the same?"

"Everyone except Fillmore and Sarge, I suppose." Flo said.

"Do you know where *they* were?"

"No, man." Ramone said, and Flo added: "We try not to pry into other people's business."

The detective nodded, and scribbled something down.

"Do you know of any reason why Sergeant Jones would want to hurt him?"

Flo and Ramone gaped at him.

"Of course not!" Flo cried.

"They've known each other for years, man, there's no reason he would intentionally hurt him!"

The detective frowned, and scribbled something on his notepad.

. . . .

"Lightning McQueen." Willis said. "Good to finally meet you. Huge fan."

McQueen remained unfazed, a flat, emotionless expression glued to his face.

Willis coughed, and frowned. "Uh-- where were you on the night of August fourth?"

"At home." McQueen replied, like all of the others.

"Alright..." Willis trailed off. "Would you happen to know where Sergeant Jones was that night?"

McQueen shook his hood. "Last I knew, he was still at Flo’s with Fillmore.”

“Is this a normal thing?” Willis asked.

“Yeah.”

Willis paused to write something down.

“And--- and they were friends, right?”

“Mm-hm.” McQueen replied, before frowning. “Actually, they fought a lot. I don’t think that would change anything though.”

"Why do you think that?”

“I dunno, they--” McQueen sighed exasperatedly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sarge wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t do that.”

McQueen watches as Willis frowns, and scratches out his writing. “Thank you for your time.” He says quickly, ushering him out of the room. 

. . . . Lizzie didn't know why she was in a police station, nor did she know why the man in front of her was getting more and more frustrated.

"Tell me again." The detective said, "Where was Sarge on the night of August fourth?"

"I wouldn't know," Lizzie repeated. "He keeps to himself, that jeep. I was out with my Stanley--"

"Yes, I know." the detective interrupted (‘such disrespect!' Lizzie scoffed to herself later on). "You've told me a few times where *you* were."

"I suppose I have."

"What about Fillmore? Where was he?"

Lizzie hummed. That was a tricky question. She assumed: "Well, he was with Sarge, wasn't he? Those boys are rarely seen apart...."

She watched a grim look come across the man's face. "Thank you, ma'am," he says. "That's all I needed to know." . . . .

"So, Jones was with Fillmore on the night of his disappearance..." Grant repeated, seemingly struggling to wrap his head around it.

"So, he obviously did it!" Willis grins. "He's obviously the culprit!"

“Lemme get this straight.” Grant says, waving a tire to silence him. “You think that Jones did it just because they were together on the night it happened?”

Grant glares at him. "They were friends, Willis. How many times do I have to tell you--"

"Are you sure about that?" Willis interrupts. "Is anyone sure about that?!"

Grant just shook his hood. Willis was losing his mind, that’s for sure.Too many all-nighters, or maybe he just needed an oil change. 

. . . .

“You have no right to come here and search my--”

“We have a warrant, Sergeant, so please calm down.” 

Sarge seethed as he watched police cars rifle through his belongings. They opened cupboards, doors, cabinets, everything. His medals were tossed aside like they were nothing, his surplus removed from their shelves. Everything was out of place.

“You won’t find anything.” He says. “I didn’t kill him, I didn’t do anything--”

The detective shot him a side-eyed glance. Sarge was incredibly close (too close) to fighting him. The detective looked like a wimp, he would win easily-

“What’s this?” 

Sarge snapped his attention to one of the officers, who pushed a small wooden box towards him. Sarge knew it well: black velvet lining and indents where the weapon would go.

“That’s my pistol.” He says, matter-of-fact. “From the war.”

“Have you used it recently?”

“Of course not, why would I--” 

He stopped. Noticed how it was tossed haphazardly in the box, not quite in its place. That was certainly incriminating.

“Put those in an evidence bag, willya?” The detective said over the rest of the clamor. 

Sarge looked past the officer in front of him and towards the detective, who looked at a closet with wide eyes. He felt a rush of panic behind his eyes as he realized what they’d found. 

A box of old photographs spilled on the floor, most of which were of Fillmore, smiling, laughing, frowning. Candid, all of them.

Sarge’s eyes met the Detective’s, and he knew that his fate would not be favorable.

. . . .

“Why did you have all those pictures of him? And why were you hiding them?!” Sally cried. She coughed, and avoided the stares of the onlookers her outburst had a attracted.

“I told you, we were friends!” Sarge says, exasperated. He had been arrested the very minute the photos and the gun were put into evidence bags.

“It’s a little creepy, that you have a whole bunch of pictures of just him.” She returned. “You should tell them the truth about it.”

“I have been telling the truth!” 

Sally breathed deeply.“I’m sure you’re telling part of the truth, but we’re missing something.”

Sarge remained silent, and Sally’s mind went on red alert. “You didn’t actually--”

“No! I wouldn’t--” He groaned. “There’s no reason I’d want to--”

“No, no, I know, it was a stupid question.” Sally neatly squared her tires on the ground below her, calming herself.. “The whole truth. Right. What is the whole truth?”

She watched Sarge’s eyes narrow, and he sighed

“We were-- you know-- something, at one point.” He was quiet for a moment, and then: “But that was years ago! There’s no reason I should need to talk about it--”

“It doesn’t matter how long ago it was.” Sally interrupted. “They think you killed him, and you have to tell them why you have the photos.”

. . . .

"Tell me again.” Grant said, looking for any fault in the sincerity on Sergeant Jones’ face. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, his eyes held some quiet kind of contempt.

“I had the pictures because....” Jones stopped, and started again. “Because we-”

“Because you had a fling with him during the seventies.” Grant finished. “Got that. But, why did you keep the pictures?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” Jones said through gritted teeth. “I just put them away and forgot about them.”

“Why didn’t you throw them away? You broke up, didn’t you?”

“Oh, please. We’re adults and we handled it appropriately.”

“And you claim you were still friends after that?”

“Yes.”

Grant chewed on the inside of his cheek, and he sighed. “I’ll buy it.”

. . . .

“You believe him?!” Willis exploded. 

“Man like that wouldn’t come up with an excuse like that.” Grant returned. “It would be losing his dignity, or something.”

“He’s obviously lying to get himself out of trouble!” Willis refuted, “These pictures are creepy, and you know it!” 

Grant shrugged. “I believe ‘em. You don’t have to, but you’ll eventually come to know you’re wrong.”

. . . .

Fillmore didn’t mean to stay in San Francisco for very long. He’d left in the early morning to have as much time there as he could. Few days, at most. But, as they normally did, days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. 

It was November when he finally returned home, pulling into his normal spot at Flo’s around nine in the morning. He dully noted that Sarge was nowhere to be seen, and he might be sleeping in for once in his life. It would be good for him, to get some rest like that.

Though, he began to think that maybe Sarge wasn’t resting, what with the explosion of noise when people noticed his presence. 

“Where have you been?!” 

“...So worried!” 

“...Didn’t even call!

“Whoa.” Fillmore said, slowly backing out of his spot. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

The rest of the town stared at him in disbelief. Sherriff was the first to speak up, to explain: “Sarge has been arrested for your kidnap and murder.”

And Fillmore laughed. Oh, this was all a joke. They were playing a prank on him because he’d been gone so long. Though, maybe it wasn’t a joke, because they were still staring at him in disbelief....

“You’re kidding, right, guys?”

Nobody moved. Nobody blinked. 

. . . .

“So, they find this box of pictures, and they’re all of you, right?” McQueen said quickly, watching Fillmore out of the corner of his eye. “They arrest him because of that, and now he’s in the county jail.”

“They threw him in jail because he had pictures of me?” Fillmore asks.

McQueen was surprised that he even responded. He hadn’t said much since they’d left Radiator Springs. “Yeah.” He returns.

“Pretty dumb reason to arrest someone, man.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Sally joined in. 

. . . .

Grant was having a good morning. That is, until he looked out the window. 

“Holy--” He pressed his grille against the window, hardly believing what he was seeing. Quickly he whirled around, and shouted to Willis: “You won’t believe what we have coming!” 

Willis peered out from behind a corner, smirking. “Is it Mrs. Gibbs again? Tell her we haven’t found her cat--”

“Worse.”

The door to the Carburetor County Police Department opened and closed, and their eyes were drawn towards the noise.

. . . .

Sarge didn’t know why he was being towed out of the cell, nor why the detective seemed so giddy. They’d finally come to their senses, hadn’t they? He wasn’t guilty, and he could go home. 

“I suppose you’ll take this parking boot off of me?” He said. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Good. It’s uncomfortable. I don’t know why you--you--”

His sentence fell short as they rounded the corner, and he spotted Fillmore smiling fearfully from one end of the room.

If Sarge didn’t kill Fillmore before, he might have to now.

. . . . 

“I’m in for it, man.” Fillmore said through gritted teeth. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“No, he’s not.” Sally assured. “He was just as worried as the rest of us.”

Fillmore’s eyes never left Sarge’s as the parking boot was taken off, and as Sally left to go speak with the detectives. For a minute, Sarge stood on the opposite end of the room, staring him down.

Then, he advanced. 

“You know how goddamn worried we were? How worried I was? We thought you were dead!” Sarge seethes, and Fillmore backs up until his backside is against the wall. 

“Hey, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for--”

“We thought you were dead, Fillmore.” Sarge deflates. “It’s good to see you.”

Fillmore feels the weight drop off of his back. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

. . . .

(Still not quite the way I wanted it, but it’s an improvement. took me a while to post because i had to fix some things to make it coherent, as well as write an ending that kind of made sense)

#cars fanfiction #writing tag #sargemore but its a past relationship that they both recovered from and they are now friends #sargemore is only in there so i can put some incriminating evidence in sarge's figurative hands

[itsfinancethings]

RIVERSIDE, Calif. (AP) — Jarred Evans, a professional football player in China, is used to wearing a helmet and shoulder pads. But in the wake of a deadly viral outbreak, he’s switched to a mask and medical gloves.

“When you’re dealing with life and death, it’s a whole different ball game,” he said in a telephone interview Thursday.

Evans, 27, was one of 195 Americans evacuated from the city of Wuhan and flown to March Air Reserve Base in Southern California until authorities confirm they don’t have the coronavirus that has sickened thousands and killed more than 170 people.

Most cases are in China, but the outbreak has spread to more than a dozen countries, and the World Health Organization declared a global emergency Thursday.

The U.S. on Thursday confirmed the country’s first case of person-to-person spread of the virus, a man who is married to a Chicago woman in her 60s who got sick after she returned from a trip to Wuhan.

Evans and the other evacuees, including children ranging from around a year old to about 13, are staying at the sprawling base where they received a battery of blood tests and were given nose, throat and mouth swabs, Evans said. Some test results won’t be back for a week, he added.

While the surroundings are fairly comfortable, Evans said Thursday that he and others are still being cautious about mingling.

“I’m still wearing my mask and I’m still wearing my gloves,” he said in a telephone interview. “We’re still not knowing who has it. I’m still taking major precautions. You don’t know whether you’re in the clear.”

“Today a lot of kids were enjoying the weather,” he said, and the base provided scooters, bikes, footballs and soccer balls for them to play with.

But at dinnertime, Evans added, “everyone’s getting their food and going right back to their rooms.”

Those being held at the base 60 miles (96 kilometers) east of Los Angeles arrived Wednesday morning. They aren’t required to stay but had agreed to remain for at least 72 hours. Officials also can quarantine any of those evacuated on a case-by-case basis.

That happened to another American who tried to leave Wednesday night.

Officials in Riverside County ordered the person quarantined for two weeks unless medically cleared sooner, said Jose Arballo Jr., a spokesman for the county’s public health agency.

The order was issued “as a result of the unknown risk to the public” because the person had not undergone a complete health evaluation, the agency said.

It can take up to 14 days for someone who is infected to develop symptoms, health officials believe. None of the Americans housed at base have shown symptoms of the virus since their arrival, Arballo said.

Evans said he would remain until testing shows he is free of the virus.

He is a professional quarterback who moved to Wuhan several years ago to play in a Chinese football league.

The city of 11 million people felt joyful, he said, with residents getting ready for the Lunar New Year.

Then, in a matter of days, “it turned into chaos” as news broke of the rapidly expanding coronavirus outbreak. Suddenly, Evans said, people were swarming pharmacies and stores to get masks and disinfectant spray.

Friends translated the news for Evans, who speaks no Chinese.

“I stocked up on rice, noodles, water, anything that could help me survive for a week or two,” Evans said.

The Chinese government shut down the city. Buses, trains, taxis, and personal cars were banned. The military patrolled some streets.

“That’s when people, honestly, stayed locked in their homes,” Evans said.

He compared the deserted city to an Old West ghost town.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this before,” he said. “Imagine new York city being shut down. I was completely scared at first, because I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen. I don’t speak the language, and my family is so far away.”

Evans holed up in his home for a week and a half until he received the news that the U.S. Embassy was evacuating its diplomats and their families and other U.S. citizens.

He was notified that a chartered flight was carrying some of the 1,000 or so Americans in Wuhan back to the United States. The flight was coming in the next day.

Evans said he was told, “If you can make it there, you’re on the flight.”

“It was a race against time,” he said.

Evans found an acquaintance who drove him to the airport. The embassy notified Chinese authorities of the license plate number so he could pass through the guarded streets.

Evans said he was No. 171 out of 195 people permitted on board.

On the plane were two men in full hazardous material suits, who warned them about the seriousness of the outbreak. Nobody appeared sick but all of the passengers decided to wear masks throughout the flight, Evans said.

The plane flew to Anchorage, where the passengers had health screenings, and then landed at March Reserve Air Base on Wednesday morning. The U.S. arrival was joyful, Evans said.

“We were clapping, smiling, laughing … there were cheers,” he said.

Once he is cleared, Evans intends to visit his family. Then it’s on to Switzerland, where is signed to play with the Bern Grizzlies this year. But he would like to return to Wuhan when the coronavirus outbreak recedes.

“The community is amazing, the people in Wuhan are amazing. China is a beautiful place,” he said.

But the threat of the deadly disease has left its mark.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this before,” Evans said. “The weirdest thing is the threat of man. You can actually get this virus by shaking hands.”

“I’m a very hands-on person,” he said, “And for me to be quiet and not to interact with others has been one of the hurtful things that I have to do. But to protect myself, I have to do it.”

#IFTTT #Blogger

[thisdaynews]

How Legal Marijuana Is Helping the Black Market

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/how-legal-marijuana-is-helping-the-black-market/

How Legal Marijuana Is Helping the Black Market

When the new marijuana shop opened up just down the street from his own marijuana shop, Greg Meguerian, owner of The Reefinery in Los Angeles, kept an eye on it. When that shop stayed open past the legal closing time of10 p.m. and sold customers over a quarter-pound of cannabis at once,four times more than the legal limit, Meguerian knew he wasn’t competing with a licensed dispensary.

“It’s so shady, if you look at it,” Meguerian said. “It looks like a shady crack house.”

Story Continued Below

The 15 Spot – as the tarp sign hung in front reads – doesn’t appear on Los Angeles’ list of authorized retail businesses. Meguerian and his lawyer reported the illegal dispensary, but it’s still open—and Meguerian is paying a price. He said his sales are down noticeably since his illicit competitor moved in. (Calls to the 15 Spot went unanswered because its phone is disconnected.)

“I told the state, ‘If I lose 20 percent, you just lost 20 percent in taxes.’” He told POLITICO Magazine. “You feel like your words are falling on deaf ears.”

What’s happening to Meguerian is a window into one widespread side effect of marijuana legalization in the U.S.: In many cases it has fueled, rather than eliminated, the black market. In Los Angeles, unlicensed businesses greatly outnumber legal ones; in Oregon, a glut of low-priced legal cannabis has pushed illegal growers to export their goods across borders into other states where it’s still against the law, leaving law enforcement overwhelmed. Three years after Massachusetts voters approved fully legal marijuana, most of the cannabis economy now consists of unlicensed “private clubs,” home growing operations and clearly illicit sellers.

Though each state has its own issues, the problems have similar outlines: underfunded law enforcement officers and slow-moving regulators are having trouble building a legal regime fast enough to contain a high-demand product that already has a large existing criminal network to supply it. And at the national level, advocates also point to another, even bigger structural issue: problems are inevitable in a nation where legalization is so piecemeal.

“You’re never going to eliminate [the illicit market] until most of the states are legal,” says Adam Smith of the Craft Cannabis Alliance, a group in Oregon advocating for small cannabis farmers. “As long as half the country still can’t get it legally, there’s a market for it illegally.”

***

State troopers in Idaho don’t know whythey are seizing so much marijuana crossing their border, but the numbers offer a pretty strong clue.

With Oregon growers producing three times more marijuana than consumers inside the state could handle, neighboring Idaho has reported a 665 percent increase in the amount of illicit marijuana officers have seized. In 2016, the year before Oregon’s adult use laws took effect, troopers confiscated 508 pounds of marijuana. Oregon’s new recreational market went into full effect on January 1, 2017, and the number of licensed dispensaries jumped from 99 to 260.That same year,the amount of cannabis confiscated by Idaho State Troopers skyrocketed to 1,376 pounds and kept climbing. Last year, seizures totaled nearly a ton.

Law enforcement officers in Oregon, though, are under no illusion that their state’s growers are not feeding that supply.

“If anything, it’s gotten worse [since legalization],” Sgt. Brandon Boice of the Oregon State Patrol says. “There’s still high demand for southern Oregon marijuana throughout the country, that has not changed.”

When Oregon legalized marijuana in 2014, the state tried very hard to stifle its black market by ensuring the path into the legal market was as easy as possible. It did not limit licenses and it simplified regulations, creating a program with one of the lowest barriers to entry in the United States.

It worked.

Now, Oregon is an easy place to find high-quality, cheap, legal marijuana. There are over 650 licensed marijuana dispensaries in the state, or three times the number of McDonalds’ restaurants (205). If you’re an Oregonian living in a legal town or county and you want to buy marijuana, there is no reason to shop illegally.

John Hudak, a cannabis expert at the Brookings Institute in Washington, D.C., says he is skeptical that Oregon’s legalization correlates to an increase in black market cannabis exports. But the Oregon state legislature has taken steps specifically to curb the siphoning of its oversupply out of the legal market. This past April, Oregon state senator Floyd Prozanski cited the illicit market in his support for a bill that would cut down on the number of licenses available in Oregon.

But there are 39 states where marijuana remains illegal for recreational use and that has proven to be an attractive market for Oregon growers. Boice estimates there may actually be more illicit marijuana growing in Southern Oregon than before legalization, almost all of it heading out of the state.

“Law enforcement is just inundated with illegal marijuana and exportation,” says Boice. “There aren’t enough resources in place for us to do anything about it.”

***

If Oregon’s surplus of legal marijuanahas become a massive headache for its neighbors like Idaho, the illicit markets thriving in parts of California and Massachusetts are self-inflicted wounds. High state taxes and fees are driving up the price of legal cannabis, and mild repercussions for remaining unlicensed discourageexisting business owners from navigating the complex licensing process in both Los Angeles and Boston.

Massachusetts legalized the sale of marijuana in 2017. Since then, close to 200 business licenses have been approved across the state. Boston approved its first one just this week.

As they wait for approvals that don’t come, marijuana businesses continue to operate in a legal gray zone. Sieh Samura, 40, opened his private cannabis club in Boston in 2014, when only medical marijuana was legal. In 2018, Samura was given priority status under the state’s community empowerment program. Almost a year and a half later, Samura still doesn’t have an open dispensary. He needs something called a community agreement from Boston before he can apply for his state license, and he doesn’t have that yet.

So in the interim, Samura continued running his private club, one of a handful in Boston and Worcester, where customers could bring their own product – much of it home grown or purchased on the illicit market – and share and smoke communally. They are unlicensed and supposedly legal, but when asked by POLITICO, state and local officials disagreed on whose job it is to regulate them.

When she heard this, Massachusetts-based cannabis advocate Maggie Kinsella laughed. “So basically nobody knows what’s going on.”

Kinsella says that this runaround between state and local governments has essentially left New Englanders in the cannabis industryto fend for themselves. She says that the lack of legal, open dispensaries with good product means 80 percent of the market is still underground. And a lot of the customers at the legal dispensaries, she adds, are primarily from out of state.

“It’s probably premature to say that we’ve had a big dent in the illicit market” says Steve Hoffman of the Massachusetts Cannabis Commission, the state’s independent commission created to monitor the licensed cannabis market. And, he adds, “I don’t think we’re ever completely going to eliminate the illicit market, I think that’s probably unrealistic.”

Like many cannabis advocates, Hoffman says the illicit market in Massachusetts likely won’t die completely until cannabis is fully legalized federally, and access to things like banking—for basic needs such as loans and deposits—is easier for startup businesses. The barriers to entry, he says, are still high and discourage even those who have had approved licenses from opening up shop.

In California, where the statewide regulatory apparatus is legendarily hard to navigate, those barriers to entry are only magnified.

“California is so big, the problem is the opportunity,” says Kyle Kazan, CEO of California Cannabis Enterprises, which operates dispensaries in Los Angeles, Santa Ana and will soon open a third in Santa Barbara.

“You better have a lot of money and a whole lot of patience,” he says. “Because California is so not for everybody.”

High startup costs, licensing fees, and taxes make it hard for cannabis businesses to compete with unlicensed dispensaries that get equal billing on Weedmaps, a website that is essentially the Yelp of cannabis. Los Angeles, for instance, is estimated to have over 1,000 dispensaries, according to some advocates, but only 200 of them are licensed. This means the vast majority are illegal businesses.

This problem has existed ever since the early 2000s when law enforcement failed to address the explosion of medical dispensaries.The result was the growth of a vigorous unlicensed businesses – operating in the open, but with no permits to sell cannabis. The problem metastasized when the state legalized adult-use marijuana in 2016. Los Angeles was slower to issue licenses than some other Californian cities like San Francisco or neighboring West Hollywood, leaving a market gap for unlicensed players to fill. Customers in Los Angeles can’t easily distinguish a licensed dispensary from an unlicensed one.

The city has dedicated close to $14 million to the problem. And it has conducted raids, most notably a city-wide crackdown in 2018 that resulted in the closure of 108 unlicensed businesses – but often the dispensaries just pop up again somewhere else. The city shuts off power and then the dispensaries buy generators. The LA city attorney has begun to go after landlords, levying $20,000 fines for every day the illicit dispensaries remain open.

Alex Traverso with the California Bureau of Cannabis Commission says that not all unlicensed dispensaries in Los Angeles are bad actors, though. Some, he says, want to enter the legal market but the barriers to entry are too high.

“[They] are paying their taxes and are trying to do things right, they just don’t have the ability to get a license.”

Traverso’s solution is much like the approach favored by advocates in Massachusetts and Oregon: Make the market legal across both the state and the nation.

“Of all the 542 cities and counties we have in the state, collectively, only a quarter of those allow retail locations,” explained Traverso. “But to say there are no retail locations operating in those… just because you ban [marijuana] doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

It’s not just the legal business owners who are taking the hit. Meguerian, the Los Angeles dispensary owner, is right that his losses are also the state’s. Before California voted to fully legalize cannabis in 2016, officials estimated the state would pull in $1 billion in tax revenue in 2018. In the end, it has collected slightly more than a third of that, putting a painful financial point on an unfulfilled promise of the national legalization movement.

***

In the end, many advocates say, states can do much more to fight the black market, but it will never be fully gone until the federal government gets involved. As long as marijuana is treated the same as heroin under federal law, the regulatory map across the country will remain open to exploitation by those on the illicit side of the industry.

“Cannabis consumers are rational economic actors,” explains Hudak, at the Brookings Institute. “They’re probably going to pick the cheaper option. In a lot of states, that would mean black market cannabis.”

Adam Smith in Oregon says the ability for legal farmers to access markets like New York would solve Oregon’s problem. Give cannabis farmers legal interstate commerce, and you incentivize them to get into the legal market.

Alex Traverso in California says federal access to banking would lower startup costs and provide a financial buffer for new small businesses, encouraging more to switch to the legal market.

In Massachusetts, Steve Hoffman says the illicit market isn’t going anywhere completely until federal authorities treat cannabis the same as alcohol. “I don’t think you can, at this point, regulate cannabis the same way you regulate alcohol because of the federal prohibition,” he says.

As governments increase funding into law enforcement efforts and more counties, cities and even states come online, the market for illicit cannabis will decrease. Some point to Illinois, previously a destination for Oregon weed, which just legalized cannabis for adult use.

Kyle Kazan, a former police officer, agrees that the fight against the illicit market isn’t over yet.

“I’m not really that shocked by anything that’s going on,” he says. “I think we’re in like inning two of a nine-inning game.”

Read More

#black #Foreign #market #Politics

[cloudwomensquarterly]

For the love of Tucson: Creating a desert oasis to combat climate change By Jana Stormont

Article republished with permission of the author. When I first moved to Tucson, it rained almost every day during monsoon season. I remember waiting for it to cool off in the evening so we could take the little ones to the pool. Inevitably we would watch from the car as a storm swept by. Then we would enjoy the most luminous sunsets as we swam - storm clouds catching the brilliant hues of the setting sun. That was the beginning of my love affair with this stunning desert. But it wasn’t until I witnessed the ravages of record heat and sparse rain on our own little monsoon garden that my heart became totally invested in fighting the effects of climate change on our desert town.

I've often pondered how climate change would affect Tucson.  Nobody knows exactly.  But, from what I've learned, climate change often seems to intensify the extreme weather of a particular area. In that case, Tucson would continue to experience rising temperatures, prolonged droughts, and more severe flash floods. That means even more flood damage as storms further erode the banks of hard, dried river beds.

The desert will eventually return to its natural state with or without us. But if we don't stop savaging the earth for profit, Tucson could become a stark, barren desert. If we don't change our ways now, even our iconic saguaros won't be able to survive the scorching heat.

I sometimes wonder what will become of my little house after finally paying off my mortgage. If temperatures continue to rise, would my boys still want to live here? Would they even be able to sell the house if they decided to leave? That's one reason I'm dedicated to finding ways to lessen the impact of climate change on our town or at least find ways to live here comfortably.

Anyone who is paying attention knows we need to reduce our dependency on fossil fuels and curb our wasteful consumer lifestyle if we want to stave off climate change. But for Tucson to be more resilient, we need to learn to responsibly use the resources the desert has to offer: the power of the sun, native flora and fauna, and our seasonal rainwater.

We can start by implementing solar power to keep our air-conditioners running and planting native shade trees to cool our neighborhoods. But to be really sustainable we need to start living in harmony with the desert. No, I'm not talking about living off the land like the Hohokam before us. I'm not talking about giving up all of our modern conveniences. (Most of them can be adapted or retrofitted to be more environmentally sound.) I'm talking about restoring as much of the desert habitat as possible in an urban environment. I'm envisioning our neighborhoods as desert oases with edible forests of native plants and desert rain gardens with drought-tolerant heritage crops. You've probably seen some lush desert landscaping or cool community gardens popping up around town. That's what inspired Dan and I to plant our own edible forest irrigated with rainwater and greywater and to start experimenting with drought-tolerant crops. We are working towards food security.

How do we transition Tucson into a healthy urban desert oasis? The first step is embracing the nature of the desert we inhabit. Stop trying to force it into something it's not. Stop bulldozing it and paving it over for perpetual development. Shut off the sprinklers that water those little patches of grass in front of businesses. Sorry, manicured lawns don't belong in the desert - native plants do. We need to rethink our perception of tidy xeriscape landscaping and stop suffocating our native vegetation with plastic and mounds of gravel. Why on earth are we raking up all that great organic matter that could be nourishing our soil and allowing the rainwater to sink in?

Noooo!

One of the biggest concerns of living in the desert is having a reliable source of water.  Right now Tucson depends on CAP water. A whole coal-powered generating plant was built to run the pumps that push our water 336 miles uphill from the Colorado River. Unfortunately, that source isn't sustainable. As droughts continue, there will be more competition for that diminishing water supply.

The good news is that there is enough annual rainfall to supply every Tucsonan's water needs - if we harvest the stormwater. We need to redo our flood control infrastructure so water isn't directed to the streets to evaporate on its way out of town. But we don't have to wait for the city or county to approve expensive infrastructure improvements. We can all incorporate rainwater harvesting features that keep the water in our yards to irrigate our native landscapes, edible forests, and drought tolerant gardens.

Diverting roof water to mulch covered catchment basins not only conserves water but helps to restore our aquifers as well. If you wanna see how it's done, you can tour Watershed Management Group's Living Lab and Learning Center. Using a combination of cisterns and earthworks, WMGharvests enough rainwater to meet all of their needs - including irrigating some fruit trees! But more important are their efforts to restore Tucson's aquifers and get our rivers flowing again.

Underground cistern at WMG's living lab

By returning our yards to a more natural state that allows rainwater to sink in, our hope is that it will replenish the Tucson basin and get the rivers flowing year around.

But I have an even greater vision!

If we could get everyone on board, we might even be able to restore the riparian habitats by the rivers. We could install green infrastructure and drywells throughout the city. We could all use earthworks to sink in more of the stormwater in our yards, schools, churches, business properties, and empty lots. That would slow down the rush of water before it gets to the rivers and washes. Then the county could stop bulldozing the native vegetation in our washes for flood control. That native vegetation would act as a sponge allowing flood waters to sink in! There would be less flood damage so we would save money. (Extreme weather costs Tucson and Pima Country $9,449,667 a year.)

Just imagine! If we could stop development in our floodplains, we could see the return of the great mesquite bosques or stands of sycamore, willow, cottonwoods, ash, and black walnut trees that once hugged the flowing Santa Cruz. The riparian habitat would attract more birds and other wildlife to Tucson. Arizona is already a bird lover’s paradise with ecotourism contributing to our $21.2 billion tourist industry. Imagine Tucson becoming the hub of ecotourism!

This may seem impossible with our current "development is progress" mentality. But consider this - the city has plans to relocate family homes and businesses to widen Broadway. That is going in the wrong direction if we want Tucson to be sustainable. It encourages the growth of our car culture that accelerates climate change.

What is your vision for Tucson?  Would you like to ride your bike along a flowing river surrounded by twisty mesquite? Pick a fig from the orchard in the park? Watch hummingbirds, butterflies, and other pollinators flutter around desert shrubs in a traffic median? Snack on some yummy edible weeds? Stop by a neighborhood garden stand for some freshly harvested salad fixin's? Wouldn't it be cool if a local farmer grew drought tolerant heritage white wheat and amaranth by the Santa Cruz River to be milled right here in Tucson and baked into healthy bread in Tucson's own native grains bakery?

That's me holding a bag of freshly milled mesquite flour.

I have a dream. I believe Tucson can be self-sustaining if we reduce our dependency on fossil fuels, cut down on waste, restore our desert flora and fauna, and use the desert's resources responsibly.  Instead of polluting our water by mining coal, we can use one of the desert's most abundant resources - the sun! Why not power our vehicles, homes, and businesses with solar? We can retrofit our older houses and business buildings to conserve energy and water. We can have neighborhood micro food parks with safe bike and walking paths. We can make Tucson THE ecotourism destination by attracting more birds and wildlife to our urban desert.

Brad Lancaster shows how a curb cut lets in street water to irrigate mesquite trees.

We already have a great community working to make Tucson more sustainable: Sustainable Tucson, Feeding Tucson, Community Water Coalition, Sonora Environmental Research Institute,Sonoran Institute, Watershed Management Group, Tucson Water, the 2030 District,Local First, Zero Waste Tucson,UA Compost Cats, Desert Harvesters,Iskashitaa Refugee Network, Arizona Master Naturalists, The Sierra Club, Tucson Audubon Society, Mission Garden, Trees for Tucson, Native Seeds/SEARCH, the Pima County Seed Library, Living Streets Alliance, the U of A,the Desert Museum, and theCommunity Food Bank's Community Gardens. Several schools like Manzo Elementary and Changemaker High have gardens and there are already a number of neighborhood gardens.

The Pima County Department of Environmental Quality is working on a manual for better green infrastructure. The City of Tucson and Pima County have pledged to fight climate change.

Let's work together for a sustainable future for Tucson!  

See more at Sustainable Living Tucson

Jana Segal Stormont is a screenwriter and activist-blogger.

#climate change #Sustainable Living Tucson #Jana Segal-Stormont #Drywells #Cloud Women's Quarterly Journal Spring 2018 #CWQJ SPRING 2018

[daycoolair]

HOW A ZONE CONTROL AIR CONDITIONING SYSTEM CAN SAVE YOU MONEY

We all love saving money. Whether you like to challenge yourself to cut bills, or you just celebrate when the electric bill this month is lower than last, everyone enjoys a break from high costs.

Air conditioning is one of the biggest expenses of the summer months. We dread living without it, but it isn’t any fun to see the bills double or triple, either. Years ago, before central air became the norm, families used small air conditioners in the areas where they spent the most time. Many people tried to at least cool a bedroom or two, and maybe one living area, whether it was the family room or kitchen. This gave them a place to gather when the heat of the day maxed out, and during the cooler times, they could use the whole house again.

When central air came dominated the scene, it became commonplace to cool the whole home. A few families learned to shut off ductwork and close doors, but most families just paid the bill. Of course, they were told that it was inefficient to shut it off when they left home, and that it was just as costly to vary the thermostat as it was to leave it on all the time.

Today, we know better. Science has given us good data, and we know that it IS more efficient to let the heat rise while we are at work, and then cool it back down just before we get home. Programmable thermostats can do it for you, and today we even have smart thermostats which communicate with our phones and figure out our patterns.

There is another option, and it makes even more sense. The new technology applied to our homes has been in use in larger buildings for many years. Everyone could see that if you had a large building, and could control the temperature by area, or zone, it would allow better efficiency. Nearly every commercial building has zone temperature control.

Now, let’s rethink this application, and apply it to our homes. In our imaginary home, we have several defined zones. The sleeping zone is only used at night, and possibly in the evenings if the children study there. The family zone includes the family room, kitchen, and dining area. This is the most used space in the evening. In the basement is an overflow area, which has entertainment, toys, laundry, and a guest room. This area sees activity in the evening, and on weekends. So… why are we paying to keep the bedrooms cool during the 16 hours a day that they are not in use? Why is the family zone being cooled all night when nobody is there? The overflow area only sees activity after dinner in the evening, and a lot on weekends, so why is it being cooled during the rest of the week? Imagine three programmable thermostats tied to three separate cooling systems. Now the bedrooms are only cooled during the late evening and night. During the day, the temperature can rise ten degrees. The family room is cooled down as the family rises, and warms after they leave, then cools as they arrive home, and warms again as they retire. The overflow area is left warmer until after the dinner hour, cooled for just a few hours, and then warmed again as they all make their way to bed. You can see how little cooling is now involved. There are several ways to make this happen. Daycool Heating and Air can look at your living situation, and recommend a system which will make the best sense for you. It won’t take long to recoup your investment when you are saving so much on your cooling costs. Give us a call today.

The professionals at Daycool Heating & Air understand your time and money are precious. All of our installers and technicians are trained on a regular basis to stay up to date with the changing HVAC laws and rules. We are NATE Certified and are in great standing with ACCA. We service the Mobile and Baldwin County, Alabama areas. Our top priority is customer service. We are available 24/7 if you need us, call 251-633-5121. You may also visit us on the web at www.daycoolair.com and like us on Facebook for tips and tricks to keep your AC and home running smoothly!

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[itsfinancethings]

January 31, 2020 at 12:14AM

RIVERSIDE, Calif. (AP) — Jarred Evans, a professional football player in China, is used to wearing a helmet and shoulder pads. But in the wake of a deadly viral outbreak, he’s switched to a mask and medical gloves.

“When you’re dealing with life and death, it’s a whole different ball game,” he said in a telephone interview Thursday.

Evans, 27, was one of 195 Americans evacuated from the city of Wuhan and flown to March Air Reserve Base in Southern California until authorities confirm they don’t have the coronavirus that has sickened thousands and killed more than 170 people.

Most cases are in China, but the outbreak has spread to more than a dozen countries, and the World Health Organization declared a global emergency Thursday.

The U.S. on Thursday confirmed the country’s first case of person-to-person spread of the virus, a man who is married to a Chicago woman in her 60s who got sick after she returned from a trip to Wuhan.

Evans and the other evacuees, including children ranging from around a year old to about 13, are staying at the sprawling base where they received a battery of blood tests and were given nose, throat and mouth swabs, Evans said. Some test results won’t be back for a week, he added.

While the surroundings are fairly comfortable, Evans said Thursday that he and others are still being cautious about mingling.

“I’m still wearing my mask and I’m still wearing my gloves,” he said in a telephone interview. “We’re still not knowing who has it. I’m still taking major precautions. You don’t know whether you’re in the clear.”

“Today a lot of kids were enjoying the weather,” he said, and the base provided scooters, bikes, footballs and soccer balls for them to play with.

But at dinnertime, Evans added, “everyone’s getting their food and going right back to their rooms.”

Those being held at the base 60 miles (96 kilometers) east of Los Angeles arrived Wednesday morning. They aren’t required to stay but had agreed to remain for at least 72 hours. Officials also can quarantine any of those evacuated on a case-by-case basis.

That happened to another American who tried to leave Wednesday night.

Officials in Riverside County ordered the person quarantined for two weeks unless medically cleared sooner, said Jose Arballo Jr., a spokesman for the county’s public health agency.

The order was issued “as a result of the unknown risk to the public” because the person had not undergone a complete health evaluation, the agency said.

It can take up to 14 days for someone who is infected to develop symptoms, health officials believe. None of the Americans housed at base have shown symptoms of the virus since their arrival, Arballo said.

Evans said he would remain until testing shows he is free of the virus.

He is a professional quarterback who moved to Wuhan several years ago to play in a Chinese football league.

The city of 11 million people felt joyful, he said, with residents getting ready for the Lunar New Year.

Then, in a matter of days, “it turned into chaos” as news broke of the rapidly expanding coronavirus outbreak. Suddenly, Evans said, people were swarming pharmacies and stores to get masks and disinfectant spray.

Friends translated the news for Evans, who speaks no Chinese.

“I stocked up on rice, noodles, water, anything that could help me survive for a week or two,” Evans said.

The Chinese government shut down the city. Buses, trains, taxis, and personal cars were banned. The military patrolled some streets.

“That’s when people, honestly, stayed locked in their homes,” Evans said.

He compared the deserted city to an Old West ghost town.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this before,” he said. “Imagine new York city being shut down. I was completely scared at first, because I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen. I don’t speak the language, and my family is so far away.”

Evans holed up in his home for a week and a half until he received the news that the U.S. Embassy was evacuating its diplomats and their families and other U.S. citizens.

He was notified that a chartered flight was carrying some of the 1,000 or so Americans in Wuhan back to the United States. The flight was coming in the next day.

Evans said he was told, “If you can make it there, you’re on the flight.”

“It was a race against time,” he said.

Evans found an acquaintance who drove him to the airport. The embassy notified Chinese authorities of the license plate number so he could pass through the guarded streets.

Evans said he was No. 171 out of 195 people permitted on board.

On the plane were two men in full hazardous material suits, who warned them about the seriousness of the outbreak. Nobody appeared sick but all of the passengers decided to wear masks throughout the flight, Evans said.

The plane flew to Anchorage, where the passengers had health screenings, and then landed at March Reserve Air Base on Wednesday morning. The U.S. arrival was joyful, Evans said.

“We were clapping, smiling, laughing … there were cheers,” he said.

Once he is cleared, Evans intends to visit his family. Then it’s on to Switzerland, where is signed to play with the Bern Grizzlies this year. But he would like to return to Wuhan when the coronavirus outbreak recedes.

“The community is amazing, the people in Wuhan are amazing. China is a beautiful place,” he said.

But the threat of the deadly disease has left its mark.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this before,” Evans said. “The weirdest thing is the threat of man. You can actually get this virus by shaking hands.”

“I’m a very hands-on person,” he said, “And for me to be quiet and not to interact with others has been one of the hurtful things that I have to do. But to protect myself, I have to do it.”

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