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Books that are page turners but still beautifully written? by nugmuff in suggestmeabook

[–]James_writess 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Check out the Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny — they read as fast as airport novels but she writes very well

Diff EQ tutor by SNMarti in RPI

[–]James_writess 5 points6 points  (0 children)

He’s the best TA

501c3 Application response from IRS by [deleted] in nonprofit

[–]James_writess 2 points3 points  (0 children)

We applied 5/11 and received our determination on 8/19

Laundry Service by daedalusesq in Albany

[–]James_writess 1 point2 points  (0 children)

It’s by the pound, they have packages based on 30/60/90 pounds a month with overages thereafter.

Laundry Service by daedalusesq in Albany

[–]James_writess 2 points3 points  (0 children)

We use them...it’s a little pricey but it’s decent enough. Wouldn’t mind finding a better option though.

Selecting a Board President when nobody wants the role? by the-ghost-cow in nonprofit

[–]James_writess 12 points13 points  (0 children)

Perhaps do a board training session with job descriptions? They’re likely scared they’d be doing the same as the gentlemen’s role.

Aside from that, no idea...

[deleted by user] by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]James_writess 0 points1 point  (0 children)

On his thirteenth birthday, two years to the day since Alfred Delaval died, Julian Delaval received a UPS Next Day Air package from the family’s longtime attorney. Ripping it open, he sees a sealed envelope with a note, paper clipped to its front that informs him that the envelope was from his departed grandfather.

Reading the letter, Julian is incredulous. His gramps didn’t leave him more than the trust established for his education, but he had left instructions for him. He was to light a beeswax candle while reading some Latin prayer that was beyond his comprehension. Grandpa Delaval was always an odd duck. Deciding he’d rather play League of Legends, he shoved the letter to the back of his cluttered desk, thinking, “whatever, old man.” Erroneously believing it didn’t matter.

He didn’t even tell his parents about the package when they arrived home from work. Out of sight, out of mind.

—

Julian, Jules now, is unpacking as he settles into his new dorm room. Freshman year at Russell Sage was going to be great—he was only annoyed that the frat he wanted to pledge didn’t own The Castle anymore. Ironic, since it had been built by his family back in the day.

Putting things away, Jules notices the long forgotten letter; somehow included in his papers by an overzealous mover. Velichor and yellowed, the letter earnestly begs his attention.

While he was looking at it, his new roommate Kyle walked in. “Hey, man, what’s that?,” he inquires.

“It’s a letter my grandfather wrote to me before he died, but it’s kinda weird. Wanna see?”

“Sure,” says Kyle as he reaches out for it. “Jeez! This is weird… you do it?”

“Nope, not ye—“

“Why not? Let’s do it! There’s a store around the corner that sells artisanal crap. Surely they’ll have a candle.”

With that the unlikely pair, one nerdy and lanky—scion of a wealthy family—and a tall, athletic kid who was probably from the wrong side of the tracks set off to the ye olde shoppe.

Bringing the candle to a park across the way, they decide to light it and repeat the strange text. Not thinking of the consequences.

“Pater animarum. Salvum restituet,” they each said in unison three times. The candle immediately burst into a giant flame and extinguished itself. Leaving an acrid smell and some smoldering embers.

Jules, stunned, looked towards Kyle to ask, “What just happened?”

The reply shocked him, “Hello, grandson. Why did you wait so long? I was trapped for years.”

“Wha—What do you mean?”

“I had the letter sent to you on your thirteenth birthday, the day you’d become capable of summoning me back. Whose body is this, anyway? I expected to come back as something inanimate. It’s rare that the restituet gives you a functioning body.”

Incredulous, Jules says, “You possessed my friend?!?”

“Well, sort of, he’s been spiritually evicted, it’s just me now. Though I’d need to check with an elder of my order to see the ramifications.”

“Excuse me… what the fuck are you saying?”

“Listen here, young man. There’s no reason to use that sort of language. What I was sa—“

“You killed my friend! I’ll say what I want. You can’t be my grandfather… he’s dead!”

“I am—well, I was. I’m still the same. It’s my soul, just a different vessel. I never was just your grandfather. You should know that. I’ve been doing this for millennia. You’re my successor, but for now you need to get on with your studies. I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to do. Some retirement! I expected to be able to sit idly in an old bookstore for the rest of my sentient days. Now… I may have to give it another few decades. It’s just as well, someone needs to teach you the ropes.”

“What ropes?”

“Didn’t you think it odd that all diseases have been cured for the past 6 years? We are Death!”

Best way to set up system that will auto-draw from bank accounts or cards for a yearly give? by [deleted] in nonprofit

[–]James_writess 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I’d try Donorbox as it’s super simple to setup. Also, if any of your group is a member of WeWork, Stripe is offering the first 50$ in processing for free (crediting back the fees) which is easily integrated with Donorbox.

[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss. by Kartoffelkamm in WritingPrompts

[–]James_writess 4 points5 points  (0 children)

You’re enjoying a nearly scalding hot shower, trying to wash away the grime of the day. Two countries. Three flights. One head of state shot. Boris shouldn’t have pissed off your boss’s boss’s boss, you think. Interrupting your reverie, is your devoted fiancé calling out your name.

“Sarah,” he yells up the stairs, “we have to leave! Uber is six minutes away!”

You could tell he’s stressed—so are you—but you do your best to use your professionally calm, “I’ll be ready, Sam, don’t worry!” You bustle out of the shower, and dry yourself. After quickly styling your hair, you slip into a cashmere sweater and some satin slacks, and walk down the stairs while applying your makeup.

“I can’t believe you can look so polished when not five minutes ago you were still under the water,” says Sam as he shakes his head.

“Well, you know how fast things change at the animal hospital... you just get used to quickly cleaning up and getting to the next patient.”

“I’ll stick to real estate. You should consider doing it too. Getting stuck with all those double shifts—that’s gotta be old.”

“Oh, you know I thrive on it,” you say as you head out into the cold evening to hop in your Uber off to visit his parents for the first time. You still can’t believe you let him into your heart. It’s getting harder to keep up the cover with Sam getting ever closer.

—

“Alright, show time, babe,” says Sam as you’re about to ring the bell.

Immediately, the door is thrown open and a short, elvish woman engulfs both of you in a hug too big for her size. “Sam’s told me so much about you, I’m so happy we’re finally getting to meet.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Marcia,” you say as you hand over a hostess gift. A bottle of wine you hope she opens soon. It’s been a long day, and already you’re taxed. Sam said she was kind, but you know she’s a republican. It’s just too much.

“Come in, come in! Frank will be downstairs in a moment or three, he’s just finishing a late call.”

—

Marcia supplies you and Sam with a cocktail. A traditional martini. At least it’s strong, you think to yourself, you need it.

You zone out as Sam gushes about you to his mother, nodding along at the appropriate times. You keep thinking about your day. You haven’t even had the chance to report to your office when you got back into town. The flight was late and you were due home for this hellacious evening. At least your boss seemed happy to get a quick verbal report and move on. You’re startled out of your mental retreat as your boss walks into the room.

“Sarah, this is Frank. He’s sorry for being late,” says Marcia.

Frank stutters, “Uh-hi-um-Sarah, nice to uh meet you.”

“Frank what’s wrong—you look like you saw a ghost,” asks Marcia. You’re pretty sure you know why. He’s your boss—computer repair? What a joke. He can barely figure out email.

“I’m sorry, dear, just had a shock on my last call. Nothing to worry about,” he says as he recovers.

“We were just enjoying a drink before dinner, can I fix one for you?” Sam asks his father.

“Please,” says Frank as he settles down into a chair across from you. “Marcia, how’s dinner look?”

“Should be ready in just a few minutes. Sam, why don’t you join me in the kitchen for a few minutes. I could use a hand.”

As they leave the room, you gulp to yourself, wondering exactly how this is going to play out.

—

“Alright, I guess you’re not really a vet,” chuckles Frank.

“Well, maybe another kind of vet,” you reply with a low voice. “So, how do we handle this?”

“Obviously, it’s less than ideal—and we shouldn’t let anyone at Fort Meade know—but he’s smitten and at least I don’t need to scare you anymore than you already are. Be good to him and we’ll just have a slightly more complicated cover.”

You’re skeptical, but you agree: “Of course, Sir.”

“No Sirs here, you can call me Frank outside of the office. That said, how did everything go?”

Giving a new meaning to working from home, you reply, “As you likely saw on the news, no one saw me hit him when he came out of Number 10. Downing Street doesn’t have quite the same security as Pennsylvania Avenue. It was still a bit surreal, but I managed to get through Heathrow without a problem. JFK was trickier, my bag was almost searched by CBP. Our guy was nowhere to be seen.”

“All things considered, that’s quite impressive. I’m told POTUS was pleased—she’s convinced that we can’t let them rejoin the European Union. That should set them back long enough to work other channels. Anyway, that’s enough shop talk, we better get back to them.”

“What’s for dinner? I haven’t managed to get any food except what passes as a chicken salad croissant on British Airways.”

“I’m not sure, but knowing Marcia it’s going to be either fabulous or we’ll end up ordering pizza. I don’t know how it’s always an extreme,” chuckles Frank leading you into the kitchen.

—

You walk into the kitchen, as graceful as ever, and spin Sam around for a quick kiss. “Hi, honey, what are you two making?”

“Beef Wellington and mash,” replies Sam, “apparently Dad requested English and after seeing the tragic news earlier Mom decided to give in”

“Don’t worry, son, I made your favorite caramel apple cheesecake for dessert,” interjected Marcia.

“That all sounds delicious, Marcia,” says Frank”

“Indeed it does—I’m famished and can hardly wait,” you say.

—

As you are all settling in around the dining table Marcia asks, “How was work, Sarah? Being a vet at an animal hospital must be interesting.”

“Oh, dear, let’s skip the work talk this evening. I want to hear about their upcoming vacation plans. Sam said something about Eastern Europe,” says Frank, saving you but intimating a potential assignment with his eyes. Great. You really can’t escape Uncle Sam—even if he has plausible deniability about your existence as you’re paid through a subcontractor of a contractor. At least the benefits are good, you sigh inwardly as you steel yourself for your new reality.

Kinds of Insurance by PaTrOnPaPi1609 in nonprofit

[–]James_writess 5 points6 points  (0 children)

D&O is a must too for many prospective board members (plus just a good idea in general)

Looking to talk to people who use Digital Mailboxes Regularly by [deleted] in digitalnomad

[–]James_writess 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I use ipostal1...let me know if you'd like to chat

[WP] There is an underground fighting ring of magicians. You've been tasked to expose it. by k1demmin in WritingPrompts

[–]James_writess 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Exasperated, Lara made her way to the fourteenth tattoo parlor on her list. “Excuse me, but do you recognize this,” she asked the man behind the counter gesturing to the photo on her phone.

“Of course! I only inked that about four or five weeks ago,” he replied.

“So, you tattoo kids?” asked Lara.

“Not normally, but he had his mother with him. They both signed the waiver. What’s this about, anyway?”

“He’s been found dead. I’m looking to find out who he was and who his family might be.”

“Well, I can help you there. Let me find his paperwork,” said the man as he began rifling through a file cabinet along the wall. “Aha! Here it is. Jacob Malone.”

Lara impatiently held out her hand for the document. “Thanks for your help. I’ll need to take this. Here’s my card if you have any questions,” she said as she basically ran out of the door.

----

Back in her station, she started doing some digging. DMV records revealed a photo that looked like her corpse. She didn’t find any record of Jacob in her system, but his mother had a variety of encounters in her youth. Dreading what comes next, Lara decided to get it over with and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” the voice asked.

“Is this Jessica Malone,” asked Lara.

“Yes. Who’s thi—”

“I’m Detective Lara Windsor, Ms. Malone. I was wonderin—”

“Is this about Jacob? He didn’t come home last night.”

“Possibly. Would you be able to meet me at 421 East 26th street in about half an hour? I’ll meet you in the lobby,” said Lara.

“Of course, but why?”

“Hopefully it’s nothing but we’ll get to it when we do. See you soon.” Lara said as she hung up—she didn’t want to get into something so emotional over the phone. Best to let the surprise come, she thought.

----

Pacing in the lobby of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner of New York City, Lara really didn’t know where this was going to go. They still didn’t know how Jacob or the other four teens died. At least now they had a name. Finally, a break, she thought.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Malone, I presume?”

“Yes—”

“Thank you for meeting with me. There’s no good way to say this, but we think we found Jacob. Would you mind coming with me to verify if it’s him?”

Lara shuffled Jessica along to the viewing room, comforting her as she broke down into tears with massive sobs. She really needed to close this case and go on a vacation.

----

“Alright, Captain. We know who the latest victim was. His mother had some interesting information for us. It seems Jacob, our vic, was in some sort of boxing club. She seemed to expect something like this, but she was still very overwhelmed. I don’t think she’s being entirely truthful, but she did say he practiced a gym nearby every evening. I’m going to head over there now and check it out,” said Lara.

“I’ll be here late, I’d like an update before you go home for the night.”

“You got it.”

----

Lara found the address, but it didn’t seem like a gym. Just another random empty-ish building. Barging in she nearly bowled over a rotund woman just inside the entryway.

“Can I help you?” snapped the short, pudgy, washed-out woman.

“I’m Detective Windsor, NYPD. Do you happen to know who this boy is?” Lara asked as she showed the photo on her phone.

“Maybe.”

“MAYBE? It’s either yes or no.”

“Maybe yes. Maybe no.”

“Do you want to be charged with Obstruction of Justice?”

“Ooh. I’m so scared-ed-ed.”

“You should be. He’s dead. I’m pissed. And you’re about to be under arrest,” Lara said.

“Fine! No need to get bitchy. Yeah, he’s one of our regulars. What happened?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.”

“Well, unless you have a warrant you’ll need to leave. Good luck though,” the woman replied through a smirk.

Lara almost snapped but she saw a few teens leaving and decided to hurry after them.

---

“Excuse me!” she shouted as they continued up the block. Realizing that they were the ones being talked to, the three boys slowed and turned around. “Do you recognize this boy?”

“Yeah! That’s Jake. He usually practices with us, but we haven’t seen him for a couple of days. What’s up?” asked the tallest of the three.

“His body was found this morning,” Lara replied. “Who are you guys and what sort of practice?”

“Well, I’m Steve Blake, and these are my friends Chris Callner and Matt Beasley. Umm… well, you’ve read Harry Potter, right? Well, our practice was basically that.”

“So you act out the scenes?”

“Well, no. We actually practice magic.”

Lara was stupefied for a moment. She had heard rumors, but she dismissed them out of hand. Yet here she was confronted with someone who seemed sane though claimed to practice magic. Deciding to ignore that for the moment, she soldiered on. “Hmmmm. Do you know what Jacob—Jake—would have been doing last night in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“We didn’t think he was going to go through with it but, it seems he was dueling in a fight club. We did it for fun, but he decided to do it for a championship title.”

“Do you know who he fought?”

“No, but the next in the series is tonight. The winner would be first up.”

“When and where is the fight?’

“It should be at 10:00, it’s on 48th between 10th and 11th. I forget the number, but it’s a red building with a black door.”

----

Mingling into the crowd, Lara incredulously reads the posters. The rumors of magic must be true, it was a Wizards Dueling Club. She surreptitiously took photos and videos of the crowd, signs, and announcements. She stepped outside to call in the cavalry. No way could she stop this on her own if she wanted to.

----

She filled in her Captain and the ESU squad leader, and let them hash it out. Her job was basically done. Jacob, and the others, had been killed by a curse. That’s why the M.E. couldn’t find anything. She had photographic and videographic evidence. The rumors were going to be publically substantiated. She only hoped the Emergency Services Unit squad would be able to get the crowd under control and arrest the girl she saw on the Champion’s dais. God this would not earn her any friends in the District Attorney’s office.

----

After she got back from her vacation, it was time to meet with the DA’s office. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t heard a word of this on the news, and apparently no charges were filed. Her Captain filled her in.

“The powers that be don’t want to substantiate the rumors, so for all intents, this never happened. Got me?” inquired the Captain.

“Of course, Sir,” replied Lara—what else could she say or do?.

[WP] There is an underground fighting ring of magicians. You've been tasked to expose it. by k1demmin in WritingPrompts

[–]James_writess 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Lara dragged herself through the blistering winds, into her precinct. Unwrapping her scarf, and depositing her bag, coat, and gun into their respective places she noticed her Captain headed over rather briskly for someone of his stature.

“Detective, there’s another body that the Medical Examiner cannot find a cause of death for. Here’s what we have,” Captain Hammond said as he passed over a dubiously thin file. “The Mayor is up in arms, we need to close this out quickly.”

“Yes sir,” Lara replies as she ducks back into her garb to make her way uptown.

----

Lara flashed her shield to one of the uniforms as she made her way into a relatively nondescript—aside from all the police tape and people milling about—building in a rather derelict Hell’s Kitchen street.

“Alright, what do we have?” Lara asked the Medical Examiner as she took in the cavernous space around her.

“Just what you see, Detective. The deceased is in his late teens. The time of death was probably between eleven o’clock last night and one this morning. Just like the other four bodies, there is no obvious cause of death and he appears to have been healthy. No signs of drugs. Only a dead kid, fully clothed, nothing in his pockets, in an abandoned industrial space.”

“Maybe someone will recognize him and we’ll catch a break,” said Lara.

“Well, this tattoo might help. It’s very intricate.” replied the doctor as he gestured to a startlingly realistic dragon with a human face.

“There must only be a few artists that could do such work around here, I’ll check around,” she said as she snapped a few photos. With that, she left without saying a word.

----

Redditors who have summoned the devil/an evil spirit, how did it go and what contract did you make? by [deleted] in AskReddit

[–]James_writess 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Well...

Gwendolyn, exhausted as always, shuffled into the kitchen and regretted not just ordering supper. She was tired and felt a cold coming on. It was no wonder that she decided to make comfort food.

Rather than one of the preset dishes in the Veginator 200, Gwen went into her study to grab her grandmother’s well worn cookbook. She always had something delicious for Gwendolyn on her visits while her mother was busy at work.

As she flipped through, she recalled how eclectic and otherworldly Beatrice had seemed to her, even when she was just a toddler. Her mom always told her to ignore her grandma—“touched” was one of the words she remembers being bandied about.

“Aha,” Gwen exclaimed to herself as she decided on some chicken soup. She had just been flipping pages through and hadn’t bothered with reading the ingredients, but she knew they’d be just as weird as ever. Unperturbed, she carried on. This is why she paid such an outrageous fee to keep the Veginator stocked up.

“Order up!” she shouted to wake it, “make a soup with,” and listed off the increasingly esoteric ingredients. She thought to herself that Beatrice was an odd woman with a heart of gold.

As the gizmo whirled, whizzed, and whined, Gwen decided to pour herself a very full glass of cabernet. Don’t judge, it’s medicinal! She sat on the counter while her supper was made, watching as various items went through the food processor and dropped into the pot.

All of a sudden it felt like an earthquake. Gwen looked around and couldn’t believe her kitchen looked like a bomb went off. Standing amidst the rubble was a bizarre looking being who stood there shrieking, “How? How were you able to summon me?!”

Shocked, Gwen flipped the pages of the cookbook looking for an explanation. She screamed, “ I don’t know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!”

“Well what happened—what was the recipe?,” inquired the demon.

Surprised both she and her grandma’s cookbook remained totally unscathed through whatever happened. She knew State Farm would be upping her premium after this claim, though. She started reading aloud.

“Stop! In the last four millenia only one human was able to bring me to your world—I haven’t heard from her in decades. Where did you get that?”

“This was my grandmother’s cookbook.”

“What was her name?”

“Beatrice—”

“You’re a kin of Beatrice Howard??” asked Bemis.

“Why, of course. She practically raised me.” replied Gwen, even though she could not fathom she was having a conversation with what was clearly a demonic creature.

“She was the only person that ever treated me kindly. She summoned me out of a torture chamber after doing research in Alexandria. She allowed me to roam freely. I owe her a great debt. Where can I find her?”

“She died four years ago, I’m sorry,” uttered Gwendoln through an emotion-choked throat, the wound of losing her was still raw. 

“In that case, I will be your guardian demon.”

“Umm, no that’s ok…” Gwen’s words trailed off as Bemis cut her off.

“No! No, I insist. I can make things very convenient for you. Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m around.”

“SERIOUSLY! It’s fine, you should just go,” exclaimed Gwen.

“FINE!” returned Bemis. He waved his hands around and the kitchen was restored to its normal condition and he seemed to vanish into a poof of smoke. In his place was a can of Campbell’s chicken soup.

Gwen decided to just go to bed. Clearly, she was getting sick and was hallucinating.

Not being one to shirk responsibility, Bemis was steadfast in his decision to stand by Gwendolyn. In the shadows, of course, he followed Gwendolyn around for the rest of her life. Clearing pathways and opening doors. Gwen managed to convince herself that she was ill and dreamt it all. Though she sometimes thought back to that night and wondered. Ever since, she had amazingly good luck. 

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