#smoky mountain truck meet

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt 4 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Honey wakes up to a new life.

words: 5.8 k

warning: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. drugging. threats of violence. coersion. kidnapping. traumatic flashbacks. violence. blood. shameless forced proximity trope. imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions.

you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if your parents aren't harboring a several hundred dollars-worth stash of beanie babies that are worth maybe $1 today, then this is not your jam.

Back to Part 3

Part 4

When her eyes cracked open, she was staring at a chandelier made from antlers. She blinked several times, noticing that the ceiling was different from any of Peter’s other rooms. She was gazing up at a vaulted A-frame ceiling with exposed redwood beams. The peak of the frame opened to a glass wall where sunkissed blue-green needles of giant Eastern white pine trees billowed.

She groggily sat upright, realizing she was nowhere near the familiar Boroughs of the city. Her limbs felt heavy. Once again, she was alone and buried in another heavenly-soft bed. She was in a bedroom, but it featured no personal touches. It could’ve been a hotel room, or a vacation rental. 

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and her bare feet touched the floor. She shuddered at how warm it was. Heated floors. A very, very expensive vacation rental.

Rubbing her dry eyes, she made her way to a closed door. It opened to a loft balcony, which overlooked the living room of a massive, two-story modern cabin. She gawked at the floor-to-ceiling windows, her breath catching in her throat at the splash of greens, yellows, and oranges from the trees lining the house. Beyond the thick treeline, she could see the smoky blue haze of a mountain range in the distance.

She stood dumbstruck, like Dorothy emerging from her tornado-tossed house. 

Not in Queens anymore, was all she could think.

“You’re awake,” his voice echoed from the lower level. 

She glanced down at Peter, hands in his jean pockets, wearing a thick cable-knit sweater. He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye, one that made her fret over the state of her bedhead. She felt ridiculous up on the balcony, like someone would start the monologue from Romeo and Juliet.

She bit her lip, pulling her eyes away. No good could come from seeing him as a Romeo. Even if he easily looked the part.

“So...” she began awkwardly, her cheeks flushed by his gaze. “Are we at Disney World or something? Did we check into the Wilderness Lodge?” She studied the rustic-meets-mid-century modern furnishings, idly rubbing the lace sleeves of her blouse. Her leather jacket had been removed and she honestly didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Sorry, Honey,” he said with a soft laugh that made her stomach weak. “No Mouse here. No gators either.”

Her cheeks pinched into a smile, before she remembered how she got there. The previous day’s events— Had it only been a day? How long was she out?— hit her like a truck. Her grin faded as she recalled her kidnapping. Her abduction. Her shameful, subservient soak in a stranger’s bathtub, followed by a dreary, restless slumber in his sheets. She’d been fed and given a good wash, like a stray dog. Dressed in clothes she could never afford. And had been drugged and taken to—

“Where are we?” she sharply questioned, anxiety chilling her tone.

Whatever smile Peter wore faded. “Not in Orlando,” he bit off.

He turned his back to her and crossed the enormous but cozy living room. Returning to his previous task, he crouched down in front of a soapstone, wood-burning stove in the corner of the room. He pulled the logs loose from a small bundle of firewood, and began loading it into the stove’s iron frame.

Frustrated, she huffed, glaring at the back of his head. Wondering what she was supposed to do.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Wherever here is?”

“Well, I’m building a fire,” he gave a haughty reply. “I’ve already tested the fuses, turned everything on, unpacked, changed clothes, and made coffee in the kitchen.”

“So you do know how to make it,” she muttered under her breath, sarcasm dripping from her mouth. It was quiet enough that there was no way he could’ve heard it.

“Lemme know if you want a taste,” he coyly replied, and it made her question whether or not he had. 

He hadn’t looked at her when he said it, and she was grateful because the innuendo was making her stomach flip. “I’m good.” She cursed the fact that her voice sounded more like a squeak.

“Well, since you’re wide awake,” he countered, in a teasing way that sounded too much like flirting. “Lemme show you ‘round the house.” He came to a stand, brushing the dirt and wood fibers from his hands. She found herself staring at the way his large palms glided across one another. 

It triggered the memory of those hands on her waist as he helped her into the bathtub. As he dressed her wounds. As he cradled her in his arms as he carried her away from her captors. As he cupped her face, wiping away tears, shielding her from the sight of a bloodied man who likely was dead because of her.

A chill went down her spine, her arms hugging herself tighter. “Maybe later,” she frowned, tucking her chin to her chest.

Silence settled for several seconds before she peeked at him from beneath her downturned brows. 

He considered her with pursed lips, silently observing. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. She bit her lip, and for a moment, she expected to hear another thinly-veiled insistence. 

“Okay,” was his calm reply. It surprised her. “But do me a favor instead. Go put on some hiking boots.”

“Hiking boots? I don’t have any—”

“They’re in the closet of the room you were in,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Grab a coat too. Meet me in the kitchen in five.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he strolled away. Once again, she had no room to protest.

When she opened the closet door in the room she assumed was ‘hers,’ she found a decent, walk-in space with rows of clothes hung up. She found a pair of leather hiking boots that looked brand new, in a cubby space next to 18 pairs of other shoes for a variety of occasions and seasons. 

Curiously, she checked the size. She was surprised to find that whoever she was borrowing these from had similarly small feet. Looking up, she spotted a lightweight puff jacket— Patagonia, of course— hanging up among the other articles of clothing. With a sigh, she pulled down the coat and checked the size. Another lucky match. She felt odd putting on someone else’s clothes. An uncomfortable thought crossed her mind— how many women had Peter brought to this cabin?

It was a thought she didn’t like.

When she traveled downstairs, fully dressed, she found the kitchen. She could tell he had a particular style, not too far removed from the one in the penthouse she’d observed earlier. A Scandinavian take on rustic. Immaculately organized open shelving. Spotless stainless steel. 

Curiously, she opened the fridge. There were a few groceries. Eggs, milk, sliced cheese, lunchmeat, orange and apple juice. It was a lot of empty space save for a few basic condiments in the door. Mustard that had exceeded its “best by” date by several months. 

The more she studied the kitchen and its contents, the more information she gathered about the man currently occupying it. 

An extravagant house in the mountains with breathtaking views. A kitchen worthy of Thanksgiving Dinner and every holiday celebration of the year. 

Barren. Untouched. Lonely.

A few minutes later, Peter approached with the handle of a small cooler in his grip. A backpack thrown over his shoulder. She curled a brow at him. 

“Sure you don’t want any coffee before we go?” he asked. “I’ve got a tumbler if you wanna take it to go.”

“Where are we going?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged his shoulders, a half-smile on his face. To her astonishment, he seemed...excited? Like a teenager going on a camping trip.

“Hiking,” he shrugged, like he was keeping a surprise. 

She stared at him like he had grown an extra arm.

“You’ll get a chance to break those in,” Peter added, pointing at her shoes. “‘Sides, it’ll be fun.” He reached into his backpack, inspecting the contents, mentally going through a silent checklist. She hadn’t moved a muscle when he looked back up at her.

“We outta get goin,’” he explained, disagreeing with her lack of hustle. “Sun’ll set in a few hours.”

She stared. Unnerved. Swallowed hard. She picked up her boot slowly, as if it was lined with concrete.

He started shuffling towards the door, before pausing and turning back to her. “Oh, one more thing,” he added. He locked eyes with her, smile never fading. “Lose the knife.”

She blinked. Her heart skipped. He watched her, eyes piercing like a hawk.

“Y’know,” he nodded nonchalantly, “the one you took from the butcher’s block?”

Her pulse started racing as she gazed blankly at him, rendered motionless. He jerked his head towards the butcher’s block on the counter, acknowledging that he noticed one of the knives was missing.

With wide guilty eyes, she glanced at the block, then back at him.

“Go on. Put it back.”

She felt like he was staring at her forever. Every second that passed, his eyes got darker. More challenging. More dangerous.

Eyes on the ground, she crept slowly back to the block on the counter. Pulling up her shirt, she retrieved the 8-inch steel butcher’s knife tucked in the waist of her jeans. She slid it back in its proper place, then turned towards him. Trepidatiously, she lifted her eyes off the ground. Peeking up at him, afraid of his wrath.

What she found was his eyes locked on her, a satisfied little smirk on his lips. He gazed at her with an expression that was either affectionate or amused. Either way, he made it clear that she was practically powerless in this situation. She posed no threat.

“Good girl,” he appraised, before turning and heading out of the kitchen door. “Follow me.”

The hike through the woods was quiet, but not tense. At least not on his part. Peter led her on a path through a thick grove of trees. She was still shaken by being confronted about the knife. It was obviously a shock to her, but not to him. She couldn’t know that his observation skills were sharpened by years of people trying to stab him in the back, and not just metaphorically.

The trail was solid with only a few patches of mud. Luckily, the weather had been ideal for his plans. It wasn’t wet, or too terribly cold, especially with the sun positioned where it was. The increased blood circulation from the gradual upward climb helped. There was snow in the forecast but it wouldn’t start until tomorrow morning. They were lucky enough to enjoy one of the last days of fall before the winter would sink its teeth in.

Luck was not something he was used to, but he always seemed to find it with her. 

Peter felt his own heart begin to beat faster, but not due to physical exertion. He dragged his hand through his hair. His palms were sweaty. They were getting close. 

“Almost there,” he announced, trying to maintain his cool. Or whatever it was he was pretending to be. Many awkward years as a teen and even more awkward conversations with women proved that he was anything but cool. He’d always been a nervous wreck. It was pure luck that he’d undergone the changes in life to be able to talk to a girl, let alone have the confidence to ask them on a date.

And here he was again, feeling like he did in high school. He didn’t really know what he was saying, probably didn’t make any sense, and had no idea how to ask such a pretty girl whatever it was he was asking. 

His lack of practice was showing. It had been a long time since he felt this way about anyone. 

Not since—

“Are you taking me out to the woods to kill me?” his Honey blurted out.

He stopped in his tracks, turning to her with an incredulous stare. 

She stood several feet from him, ramrod straight, shoulders tense. 

“Really?” he breathed. More confused than offended. “That’s what you got outta this?”

She shrugged her shoulders, with that adorable anxious look on her face—the one she’d make when the wheels in her brain were spinning, and her mouth was moving a mile a minute, and all he could do was be hypnotized by the way her lips moved. “I mean... you’re you,” she softly replied, in her defense. “What else am I supposed to think?” 

He pursed his lips. The sting of her words seized his throat.

'You’re you.' He considered her meaning, heart sinking. A monster, she intended to say. He couldn’t keep the sorrow from filling his eyes and her expression changed. She looked apologetic.

It made him feel even worse. She was apologizing to him. He swallowed hard.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said sincerely. He held his chin a bit higher, and she considered his truthfulness. He turned back towards the path. “C’mon.”

Quietly, she followed.

A couple of minutes later, they arrived at a clearing next to a huge flat rock. It was from an elevated vantage point that offered a beautiful view of the valley through the trees. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the vista. With ease, he scaled the rock, setting down his backpack and the cooler. 

She watched him curiously as he pulled a blanket from the backpack and began laying it out on the solid surface. Once it was flat, he began pulling items out of the cooler. She heard the rustling of plastic, staring up at him curiously. He came to a stand and leapt down to her level with surprising agility. He extended his hand to her.

“C’mon,” he beckoned. “I’ll help you up.”

His Honey hesitated, as she always did, looking up at the rock, then back at him. His smile began to falter, worrying that she would refuse. She had no reason to trust him, after all. But slowly, she took his hand. He smiled, feeling his heart soar. 

He clenched her body to his, wrapping one arm around her waist. He used the hand to quickly scale up the rock again, in a move so quick and effortless it made her think he was a professional rock climber. Or a mountain goat.

He held onto her tightly when they were at the top of the rock. Like the night before in his bathroom, he found himself not wanting to let go. He stared down at her bright, beautiful eyes—soft, gentle, timid— and breathed in her air. The scent of his body wash on her skin. Mingling together in an aroma that made his heart flutter.

Sheepishly, she glanced away, not able to withstand the heat of his gaze. As if remembering what planet he was on, Peter released his grip and let her stand on her own. She looked down curiously, her eyes widening to the sight at her feet. 

Peter had laid out a picnic blanket and a delicious-looking spread complete with sandwiches, fresh fruit, cookies, charcuterie, and empty champagne flutes. The small gasp she let out as she observed the meal made his stomach flip. He was excited and terrified—not sure himself how she would react to his attempted olive branch.

She blinked up at him, astonished. 

He felt his tongue go dry as he stammered anxiously. “I, uh... thought we could have a late lunch?” She stared, stunned and silent. “Um,” Peter felt his fingers begin to twitch. He glanced around the space, swallowing hard. “Um, p-please... Sit.” He lowered himself onto the picnic blanket, crossing his legs like a kid. Slowly and hesitantly, she followed, mirroring his position.

He beamed at the gesture. He turned his attention back to the spread. “So, yeah—um, we got sandwiches. Uh, I did turkey, cheese, with tomato, I... I-I sorta forgot the lettuce. We can still get some though. Tomorrow, not now. Because... yeah.”

She gazed at him, her expression softening as he stumbled his way through the menu.

“Some other stuff here—crackers, salami, this sliced cheese I got at a Middle Eastern grocery. I don’t think there’s anything regionally specific about the cheese, though. I think it’s just cheddar and gouda...”

He worked to hide his flustered blush. She looked up at him with a soft gaze. He hoped she found it endearing, maybe even charming—and not like he was a dork. Which is how he felt.

He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “Um, cookies—The good kind with the chocolate chip chunks that are really big. There’s also some raisin cookies because I accidentally grabbed them from a place thinkin’ they were chocolate chip, and then I got the chocolate chip cookies, but I had these oatmeal raisin ones, and nobody likes those when you think you’re getting chocolate chip, but maybe if... you had them... in addition to chocolate—”

He cleared his throat. Pictured the way his last serious girlfriend would grin at him when he was babbling. He relished the memory, and glanced up. She looked different. Not just in the obvious way, but not in a bad way. Her expression wasn’t judgmental, or annoyed, and she didn’t make him feel like a dork. She stared at him in silent astonishment, almost like she was marveling at him. Almost like he was worthy of her.

It made his heart flutter. “Anyway... uh... you can have whatever you want, um... I...” He swallowed hard. “Um, there’re also grapes. And, uh—” He glanced down into the cooler, his smile falling. “Shit,” he quietly muttered. “Damn it.”

“What is it?”

“The champagne,” he huffed in defeat, frustrated with himself. “I forgot the goddamn champagne.”

“Oh,” Honey said, gently. “It’s okay.”

He ran his palms down his face. “Nah, s’not okay—”

“No, really, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he groaned. “I didn’t bring anything else to drink. I-I didn’t think—” 

“This is—this is great,” she emphatically replied, trying to ease the pain of his embarrassment. It was another one of her kindnesses toward him.

“No, no, no, it’s—look, I got it.” He hopped to his feet and it made her nervously stretch her arms, as if she could somehow catch him if he slipped off the rock. “Don’t worry, I-I-I got it. It’s... it’s right back at the house, I can run back real quick—”

“Seriously?” she replied. “It’s... it’s way back there? I mean, you don’t have to! I promise, I'm not even thirsty. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No, no, no, I already laid everything out. The food’s out. It’ll just take me 2 minutes. You should dig in.”

“Wha-what? Are you sure? I can wait for you.”

“Have a cookie,” he pleaded, filled with a nervous energy that had him scurrying down the rockface. “Don’t worry, just 2 minutes. Less than! I’m gone. Already gone. Be right back!” 

He took off in a frenetic jog, disappearing from her sight. She watched him, curious and confused at how he’d be able to cut down a 10-minute hike into just two. 

Honey glanced back down at the appetizing spread and the thought and care that went into each detail. When did he even have time to do this? She picked at a sandwich that was cut into an elegant triangle and wrapped with cellophane. Examined it.

Then, it hit her. She glanced back at the trail, eyes wide. Peter was nowhere in sight.

He was surprised at how fast he could move through the woods, almost as quickly as he could navigate through skyscrapers. His mind was still churning over the picnic, scolding himself for forgetting something so pivotal. He grumbled about his forgetfulness, and about the awkward dissertation he decided to give about the cookies. He also neglected to bring anything else to drink. He should’ve remembered the moment she turned down coffee back at the kitchen—

He froze, dropping to the ground from the canopy. Both feet hit the dirt with a soft thud. His stomach plummeted even further. 

He glanced back at the trail behind him. Where he had left his Honey. 

Where minutes ago she’d questioned whether he was plotting to murder her, a thought so obscene it made him sick to his stomach. 

And just a few hours before that, he’d drugged her and brought her to a location so secluded she wouldn’t even know what state she was in, not having seen a license plate.

He’d left her. Alone. 

“Mother Hubbard!” he growled.

What a fucking idiot. A lovesick, bumbling dork.

At once his senses shifted into overdrive. Panic rising within him. An urgency overtook him, like a scream crawling up his throat. He was hurtling back through the air, cursing himself as he broke his body on every branch along the way. 

By the time he approached the rock, he landed hard enough to crack the surface. His fears were confirmed. The picnic blanket was abandoned. The young woman was nowhere in sight.

“No, no, no, no, no…” he babbled to himself, pulling at his hair as he scanned the clearing desperately. “Honey!” His voice boomed, a crack of thunder wrapped in frustration and fury.

No reply. Not that he should expect one.

He shouldn’t expect anything.

He shouldn't expect to see her ever again—not alive, anyway. 

His stomach lurched. The next time he would see her face, she’d be beaten beyond recognition. Her skull and body broken on the fists of Wilson Fisk, her blood staining the cuffs of one of his dress shirts.

“Honey!” 

His second shout came out with more desperation. Breaths exploding in short bursts. The trees were spinning. His heart threatened to break out of his chest. It felt like it already had. 

He dashed down the trail, eyes scouring the landscape. Senses were hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves, every snapped twig. It was too much information to take in at once. 

She was gone, and he wouldn’t find her again until it was too late. Why would he think she’d stay put? Why would he think she’d stay with him a moment longer than she had to? He had her, and he lost her. 

She was gone.

—stay with me, Gwen, please—

“Honey!” he screamed with a flayed voice—shrill, broken, terrified. 

She had been terrified. Shaking like a leaf when he’d found her on the freezing concrete of the auto body shop. Scared of what had happened and what could happen. Scared of what Fisk’s men would do to her. Scared of what Peter would do to her.

Peter Parker, the monster.

He was trembling. He was about to cry—when had he started to cry what a fuckin’ loser— as he stared at the soft dirt and crushed leaves of the path he was on— Gwen’s broken body, spine smashed to pieces, blood spilling from her nose and eye sockets, about to be interred in the soil—searching desperately for footprints...

Katzenberg had been terrified, sputtering petty excuses through bloody lips. Half-dead, incoherent pleas. Desperate in a futile attempt to save his own life.

“It was nothin’ personal, I swear it.. I-I... It was all Kingpin’s idea—takin’ pictures... I-I-I’m not even into that sick stuff... It’s disgusting, what he wan’ed... Can’t even watch it on the internet, I gotta kid sista, y’know...”

Peter dug his nails into his palms. 

Honey had been terrified. 

Gwen had been terrified. 

Ben had been terrified. 

May had been terrified.

He was terrified. He knew Wilson Fisk and what he was capable of. Peter had seen with his own eyes the victims of Kingpin’s wrath. The gender made no difference. He left bodies destroyed.

He was going to be sick. In a fit of panic, terror and rage, he started stalking down the path, roaring out her given name.

“Your hands, Nicky,” Peter sneered as he approached his terrified captive. He was sobbing over his gag, fat tears, snot and blood streaking his face. “You put hands on a woman for the last time...” 

Peter gripped the hammer tight, brought it down onto Katzenberg’s knuckles. Then he did it again. And again. And again. One for each knuckle. One for the gash on his Honey’s forehead. Eventually, he quit counting.

Peter was cupping his face, nearly dropping to his knees in the dirt. The sun would set soon. It would be dark, how would he find her in the dark? He could barely breathe. Deep breaths.

“People are so lame sometimes,” Honey gave Peter this weird little face, like she was saying ‘bleh’ and gagging simultaneously. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

They had been in one of those rare, magical moments where it was an odd hour of day and the shop was empty save for the two of them. It felt selfish, having her all to himself. Indulgent. It was an indulgence that made his mouth water.

Bright-eyed, body poised like a ballerina, she craftfully poured foam into his cup. He fell under her spell. The aroma of coffee and lavender flowed through his senses, and he felt himself relaxing as he sank deeper. Taken by the current. Longing to dive into her magic.

“Ugh, it’s the worst,” she said. Even her complaints were done with a smile. “Things get a little crazy in here—like that one time during the marathon when the street was closed down so the crowd could watch so we were just friggin’ blitzed, like DEFCON 1, and it was the Rock’n’Roll one, and y’know we’ve got that drag queen revue across the street, too—super fun by the way if you haven’t gone yet—but they constructed a stage on the street with like 100 giant speakers so that one of the queens could perform as the runners went by, and they turned the volume way up and everyone kept piling in here wanting coffee. Meanwhile I can’t hear any orders because Cher is belting it out.”

She giggled and the sound alone could break his heart. “S’anyway, that’s not the point—When it gets all crazy train in here, I just hafta close my eyes and think to myself ‘deep breaths.’ In and out.”

He took a deep breath, pulling his hands from his face. Inhaled the chilly air. Breathed in the scent of wet leaves and pine and the memory of coffee and lavender.

In and out.

In his mind, she was staring at him. Giving him that look that hurt to look at. Like staring at the sun. Burned his eyes and his soul. 

He’d take that image home with him, wired from the excessive amount of caffeine, and think about it when things were too overwhelming. Whenever he felt his anger building. Or when he was showering off his sins for the day and he’d let his hand wander to the part of him that burned the most for her.

In and out. Breathe. Listen.

He felt the tingle crawl up his spine. Then he heard it: a twig snap.

Before he could see it with his eyes, the picture was in his head. He bolted in its direction just as a crack rang out overhead. 

Honey was falling. She let out a squeaky shriek that Peter never wanted to hear. She was plummeting, her eyes staring up at the tree canopy. She was falling to earth from her hiding place in the tree above their picnic spot.

The solid rock beneath her rushed up. 

Impact. And another.

Peter gripped her body close to his chest, his arms wrapped around her like serpents. He’d snatched her from her free fall, catching her in midair and landing with a heavy thud. Chest heaving, his eyes shot to her face, searching for blood. 

Her eyes fluttered wildly, disoriented from her near-fatal fight with gravity. She sucked in breath, heaving in a gasp. Gently, he lowered her to the ground, dropping to his knees. It’s like his brain lagged behind his eyesight. The fierce sound of her pounding heart released him from his terror-striken state. 

When she made eye contact with him, his eyes were red-rimmed and bleary, tears welling with relief. They stayed like that for a moment—he kneeled while he cradled her, fingers trembling against her skin. He searched her eyes—you stay with me—listening to the song of her pulse.

Her hand lay limply in the dirt beneath her. Fingers brushed the sharp rough face of a softball-sized sandstone. She gazed up at him, blind instinct taking over, and slammed the rock into the side of his head. 

He tumbled to the side, releasing his grip immediately. She hesitated, glancing back at her devastating hit—both shocked and horrified at her own actions. Then the panic set in. She flipped around and scrambled to her feet. She pumped her legs, running as fast as she could down the dirt trail away from her captor.

Suddenly, her feet were pulled out from underneath her. She came flying down, chest slamming into the dirt. She coughed as the air expelled from her lungs, tears filling her eyes from the shock. Reflexively, her legs were still moving, almost like a cartoon character. 

No! No! No, please, no! She was unsure if her screams were in her head or if she actually recognized the sound of her own disembodied voice. Kicking her legs, confused and frustrated  as it seemed they were bound in some sort of stringy—what the heck is this stuff?—material that wrapped around her legs like snakes. She kicked wildly to no avail, like her legs were tangled in blankets made of glue. She reached down, trying to free herself, snatching her hand back when she felt how sticky her binds were.

A shadow fell over her. Peter’s silhouette stood tall, back against the setting sun, as he glared down. Blood trickled from the temple near his ear. Eyes blackened with rage.

The sound she made was barely human, a pathetic yelp, as he snatched up her body and yanked her into his grip. Her legs were useless, so she used fingers, fists, palms, nails—anything to get him to release her. His hold was iron around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll. 

He marched down the path with her writhing desperately on his shoulder. A mix of blubbering sobs—please, nonono, please, somebody help me, please help!— and savage scratching. When she was able to angle her arm and drive her elbow in the back of his head, he whipped her body around to his front. The ease at which he tossed her made her feel infantile in comparison. A muzzled, declawed feral kitten, whom he could easily toss off a bridge into a river.

He was going to kill her. She knew it. She had screwed up badly, and now he was going to kill her. Her fight wore down, the overwhelming exhausting sorrow bearing down on her, and soon she was a weeping mess of desperate pleas. He said nothing, paused for nothing, and gave her no inclination of what was next. The way he gripped her prevented her from being able to see how infuriated he was, but she felt it in his muscles. Like osmosis his fury seemed into her and it made her shudder. 

There would be pain, she thought. She was certain. Her mind flashed back to his victim in the chair and her imagination pictured what he must look like right now. She imagined a torso floating in the East River, picked apart by fish. Head and arms buried somewhere nearby in concrete. 

She screamed, terrified. Begging desperately that someone could hear her. Praying for salvation. 

Sooner than she thought, he had kicked open the kitchen door and was carrying her through the living room. 

She could barely breathe through her sobs. “Please, please, don’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry s-so sorry, please, don’t do this—”

He marched up the staircase and turned down the balcony to the bedroom she had woken up in. As he passed the threshold her fight came roaring back. 

“No, stop! Please, please stop! No don’—I won’t run away, I promise—!” 

He threw her, and her body was flying backwards. Landing hard against the mattress. The force of it silenced her for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. Like a lion, he was on her. On top of her. His hands caught hers as she came up defensively to hit him. Wordless and possessed, he dragged her up to the headboard, his weight smothering her.

She wailed incoherently—Please don’t do this, I'm sorry, please— and was silenced by a sharp thwip. Her wrists flew to either side of her head, covered in the sticky gunk that restrained her legs. The sensation stunned her. Her body went rigid as he straddled her hips, pinning her hips down with his weight while her hands were unmovable at the sides of her head.

His eyes were the color of ink. The darkness in them threatened to swallow her. She went still, save for the uncontrollable heaving of her chest, as she peered up at his nightmare-stare with horror.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he glowered and hissed through his teeth. Her fear beckoned her to look away, but he gripped her jaw tight. Forcing her gaze into his. Pupils blown, blood trailing down his cheek like motor oil, he glared at her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

It was more than a threat. It was a promise. She knew it. Her heart seized in her throat. She cowered beneath him, trembling and pliant. Silent as a mouse.

“And I swear to god—on my mother’s soul,” he breathed through his mouth, speaking so quietly it was nearly a whisper. “If you ever pull that shit again... I will.”

It was a horrible look he gave her after that. Chilling, to say the least. Something so intimately livid. It bordered on obscene. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, watching his body leer over hers threateningly. It wouldn’t surprise her if he reached up and snapped her neck. She was expecting it.

But he released her chin, withdrawing himself. His footsteps pounded like a hammer as he marched across the hardwood floor. The heavy door slammed, shaking the top story of the house.

With a trembling chin, she gazed up through wet eyes at the ceiling. At dust-covered antlers suspended by chains, swaying in the gentle draft. 

The sound she heard outside of her room was almost inhuman. A bellowing roar. It frightened her—of every fuckin’ little thing, always so frightened, scared of your own shadow, when would  she going to be done being so scared all the time?—and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

She wept as quietly as she could until sleep overtook her.

Continue to Part 5

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#Lizzy writes. #Lizzy writes! sugar and vice #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #mob!peter parker #mob au #mafia au #spiderman au #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker andrew garfield #andrew garfield au #mob!andrew garfield #mob peter parker au #mob peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #tasm smut #tasm angst #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm fanfiction

[lowlyroach]

630) The Sallow

Mucus puddle

Forehead slick

Sticky soles

Turn the mirror

Not much clearer

Sharp object exile

Find an Xact comfort

Barrier broken

3078 words poorly written

Needs revision

Bloody-wrist nightmare

Rest unrestful

Sleepy Sunday

Nothing changed

Bug-buzz excitement

Hand-bound padding

Climb a mountain

Look back

The ground's all flat

Unmoving muscles

Semi-truck rumbles

Wearing antlers in the windshield

A color, an insect, and bread

All brought low

Blood-soaked hands

Breathe in bleach

Won't wash out

It runs dry

Pools in your palm

Everlasting?

Burned down the sail

Crucified to the mast

Saltwater eyelids

Swollen shut

Swallow the sun

Friends take a stab at your back

Clenched teeth against stinging

Portray you as you are

Corpse with a serpent tongue

Grinning fangs

Strike at feeding hands

Passionless accusations

A liar's whip

Nothing is changing

Tight fist strangles

It's a picture planned

Preordained prophecies

Constellations spit secrets

When the world sang

Nobody can hold the hollow

Hands sift through the shallow

Desperate for a flood

Your clothes are dry

She fell into you

Bite off all you can chew

Thoughts like mud

Neck deep muck

One step at a time

Sinking deeper in

To starvation

Swallow silt

Shotgun vacation

Spiderweb stasis

Reach out

All eyes scowl downwards

Cancerous mosquito

Every vice at once

It's a birthday bash

Wait for devils in the dark

Pupils enlarged

Only singing hyenas

You watched the ants move

The shadows stretch to yawn

Fit you in her palm

Taste the rust in your mouth

Become star-bound

To a desert sun

Throat of sand

You spoke her name, then

A declaration

A demand

More important than thirst

You stared at it

Cyclical curse

Fist to concrete

I called you then, too

Always left outside

Rotting alone

Where wilting holds home

Backs turned away

It's you by yourself

It's horrendously ugly

Nobody wants to look

Hidden hand pockets

Thigh limps

Invisible is better

Face thinner

See my skeleton

Weight watchers

Plummet to gutter

When is it healthy?

One-sixty or zero

Lightheaded rise

Fall back to bed

Can't hold body up

Busy smoky lungs

Glowing in gardens

Dancing salt pillars

Swim in honeyed rivers

Wonder when

Weeds worked their way in

Even honey can rot

Entropy greeted warmly

Pollen poison

Endless spinning

Always queasy

Deep breaths

Cold sweats

Pawn plays at puppetry

Checkmate before you moved

You knew, didn't you?

Why did you play?

A self-sworn war

Aim sword at the door

The beast you see in the glass

It's all you have left

It's everything they said

Blade falters in hand

Open up

Just let it have you

You've killed yourself

You don't deserve peace

You are your own offering

Teeth snapping

Jaws slavering

Sounds of skin tearing

Sinew stretches thin

Bruises erupt on thigh

Stare at scarred wrists

Try to go unnoticed

Grip life by the neck

Squeeze out what's left

Not a drop to drink

No starlight to swallow

Always so hungry

Vivid colors of life

Burn until

Ashes become sallow

Wide eyes lose light

Hang by noose

To live is to lose

Such feather-light words

Hope plants fickle seeds

Rip out the roots

Her delusional eyes

Made a sculpture from a vulture

Coincidence becomes crucible

Melt down all that you are

Not enough to fill the hole

Disgustingly visible

Fear grows violent

Cower

Bleeding painting

Hide it in the dark

A 91% match

Left alone with a playlist

Whisper solemnly to the air

I was made to wither

Thoughts turn sinister

Battered barricades

Tiles stained

Time passes on the outskirts

Two become one at eleven

You did this to yourself

You don't deserve help

They all knew it, too

Everyone who loves you

Finds deserved rue

Join me in this

Love like a mangy mutt

Claws and teeth twist

Closed eyes see past

Taste rot in my kiss

Feel me licking the inside of your belly

I promise to kill God

Meet him with buckshot

Need a week at Georgia

I've seen the ending

Planned in a planner

Wearing a ring

Always and Forever

Time hasn't moved

11:15

#poem #poetry #writing #spilled ink #twcpoetry #poeticstories #9/2

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian au #nessian fic

[mh073099]

Excerpt from a book I may never write lol because these have been sitting in my drive for so long and just need to be put out there.

-MF Haley

I had just graduated high school and life was changing in every way possible.​ We spent 24 hours on the road to Florida. 24 hours sounds like a rough drive, but never with her. We confessed secrets, pointed out random thoughts, and described our dreams. ​Dream jobs, dream houses, dream men. We fought too. Fight and scream and accuse each other over our past and our pain​. Silently asking and granting forgiveness on dark mountain roads. Silence would open up into soft singing, and I ended up staring curiously at the mountain tops, wondering what the view was like from up there. She would bring me back down to earth by pointing out how hungry she was, and that food was the move.

We stopped at what she liked to call ‘greasy spoons’ or ‘holes in the walls’. When you're traveling, and you find yourself in the middle of nowhere on the interstate, you can find all kinds of hidden treasures in the likes of food. Choose a random exit, take a left or a right, whichever feels best. Drive for about 15 minutes, give or take. You are guaranteed to find a greasy spoon. These are liminal spaces, found tucked away from everyone, known to only those who wander or have been haunting that place forever. The small town will always have one, maybe two gas stations at most, maybe a post office. But the dinner will have the best food in 100 miles. Whether it’s BBQ in Atlanta, a Ma n’ Pa’s diner in Michigan, an old pizza parlor in Galveston, TX, or some backwoods diner in the smoky mountains, these places will always feel like home.The few people are friendly, the food will be cheap, and the coffee will save your life. We found our diner, off the route of I-75, tucked away in the corner of a mountain. Surrounded by fog and rain, we could hear a train in the distance, tracks clicking as an old beat up truck passed us by hitting puddles. The dinner smelt old and like coffee.

“Order anything you want,” she would say, but really she meant, “Order cheap please.” I ordered the same thing as her. We ordered breakfast that night, Eggs bacon and toast. Adding a side of grits for that sweet southern flair. She taught me to put ketchup on my eggs and dip my toast in them. We would laugh over Gossip and plan out trips we’d never take. Italy was always a favorite.

“Imagine an old studio apartment in Rome, a small door off a cobblestone path.” She would paint the prettiest picture. “The landlord an old shrew of a woman. There would be big open windows with flowing curtains and a tall ceiling. Old jazz will play in the background off an old radio, the smell of garlic and wine would hang in the air, and I would be warm. Warm and dancing in the arms of a tall, dark and handsome man. He would passionate and spontaneous.” She would dream up anything, and I would feed off those dreams. However, we learned to dream to avoid reality. Men don’t dance any more, and passion is a heartbreaker’s disease.

I told her of the boy I was dating, and how I could feel myself starting to be held back, and his grip on me tighten as he was starting to realize he would lose me once I went to college. In turn, she would describe old lovers who let her down, who ended their lives because “when I

left, I took all the love with me,” she said. “They would learn what love was from me, and when they hurt me and I left, the absence of it would change them.” She was cursed to always teach men what love was, but never got the chance to receive that passionate love she deserved. I told her of my doubts in my relationship, and she screamed, “NEXT!” She startled the few other people in the diner, and we dissolved into giggles.

“You don’t need someone to hold you back. One day, you’re gonna meet a guy who will encourage you to be the best version of you, you can be, and push you to take every opportunity you can. And he will stay beside you cheering you on, no matter how far you are because he loves you. You can do better because you are better.” Those words were probably some of the best advice she had ever given me. Love was a constant topic. We craved it, dreamed of the real thing. Avoiding the reality of what love is for us, a means to an end.

We ate our food, and carried on. Old songs blasted out the radio, and we sang along softly.

“So long ago I don’t remember when,

That’s when they say I lost my only friend.

They said she died easy of a broken heart’s disease, As I listened through the cemetery trees,”.

We sang out the words of a Wall Flowers’ song, not knowing that those words would mean so much more to us in time. Maybe she knew, and that is why she loved it so much. We passed the state line into Florida, and we were on a roll. The stars shone more brightly than I had ever seen. I thought I could see part of the galaxy. I stuck my head out the window, felt the cool breeze on my face, and tasted the salt on my tongue. The ocean smelt strong, salty and closel; that’s all I could talk about while she smiled at me as the sun rose over the road. Before we reached Key Largo, we stopped at Cape Canaveral, and played on the beach for a few hours. We were long over do for a break and needed to stretch our legs. We ate cheese sandwiches, smoked for a minute, and headed towards the water.

I can still hear calling my name out in shock, as I splashed her and she chased me along the waves, joy hanging around us. We swam in the ocean, feeling the salt wash away everything we were running from and trying to forget. We felt free and light, unburdened by our reality for just a moment. Our reality was changing and unknown, unfamiliar. Little did I know, this would be our last magical moment together. We eventually got where we were going, but the journey there was the best part. I knew everything was about to change, but there on that beach? The waves lapped at our feet, the sun kissed our freckles, and we just existed. We were ok, we were together, and we were happy.

Or at least, I was.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writing practice #writing prompt #writers #bookworm #cabin #dark academia #poems on life #memoir #book ill never write #maybe #I don’t know #how do you write about the worst thing that’s ever happened #how do you NOT write about the worst thing that’s ever happened #artists #about me #artists on tumblr #spiritual awakening #toxic traits #toxic mom #toxic me #miss the diners tbh #I dont know what I’m doing #what am I doing #i don't know what im doing but hey lets see where this goes. #it is what it is #writing is hard #dealing with this shit is harder #am I at 30 tags yet?

[sirjustice970]

Flower in 3D in computer illuminate grass heap on factory house on slightly raised land then place Xmas lights 2 heap on the middle then drop avocado on black or purple fruit or beans and boom ya flowers in the dark. U can replace grass with any veggies, fruit, cereal, leaves or berries and on the adjacent floor to the heap place all mentioned above to replace grass and many people with his same sample from 1 of the above to replace the grass on all such mentioned as all veggies in sacks, leaves, fruits, berries and cereal and boom ya flowers and the latter protocol applies to every thing made in the boom process drop 1 among many others placed in netted sacks from 1 such netted sack or basket dude

Place grown green grass in any consumed liquid or on drugs and in the boom process makes such tablets or syrup as if even u chew green grown grass elevates headache dude

The above with 3D rotating photo on computer and even many from different sides of the same machine can even apply with foods dude

How those who own yacht feel and leave big all alone adjacent to lakes, leaves ugali with sukuma 4 that night on open air, freshly cooked that night and the next night will tipsy or drunk take it but a bit sour and that the feeling of even those eating in garbage, not frustrated to admired good life they cant achieve so rather die in style dude. Give it a try dude

Boiled eggs with much cut tomato with chilies and garlic with salt if u like partaking many times u love, dry slight mountainous lands and detective knows it that way while ugali and sukuma fresh from the firm means u love undulating lands as wheat lands dude. Smokies desert landscape watching from above dude like storm is over song, chicken watery lands and u love voodoo, Tangerine eaters love mountain areas, fish swampy lands and with more i cant mention.

Even on Facebook or Instagram u need not to create ya website like with sex business but just on the mentioned above open 1 a/c and place all ya photos and inscribe ya name and refer folks to your another personal a/c not necessarily Fb but another 1. The FB 1 can be urgency one dude

Laptop made when 1 piece placed in hay in slanting house factory basement hole, Xmas lights placed on upper floor 2 hole in the middle then u drop paw paw on kale as those in the link below in the dark

https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/tech-life/5-cheapest-windows-10-laptops-in-india/slideshow/52233641.cms

While computer made when in factory house above not in basement but slightly uplifted land insert 1 sample in cabbage with 1 Xmas light on the middle of the roof then drop guava on grass and boom ya long screen HP computer dude

Fridges made when slanting factory house uplifted land inside place 1 in hay then Xmas lights as with laptop then fall white guava on eggs as in the link below or avocado on paw paw or fall carrot on yam, waru, dark beans or fruits to give ya different types or 3D photo on computer illuminate cabbage heap then drop kale on hay or kinda, masturbate a kid dude

https://www.theverge.com/2020/1/2/21046822/samsung-lg-smart-fridge-family-hub-instaview-thinq-ai-ces-2020

Smartphones made when 1 piece placed in paw paw heap in the hole basement of such factory house then Xmas lights 2 on upper floor meet the hole walls b4 u drop cabbage on kale or caress a woman booty or chop guava and boom ya phone bro esp apple phones, try with every gadget of every company known to ya

With TV 1 sample in cabbage on upper floor of factory house protruding land in dark 1 Xmas light in the middle of the roof then drop clothe rags on hay or caress a woman booty or drop guava on cabbage synonymous with Samsung TV or paw paw in hay on hilltops then chop cotton wool in the dark or caress a woman booty or shower with hot water or trample on rat on hillside

Speakers in the link below made when 3D photo illuminating like cabbage heap in factory slanting topography house not in the hole up raise land like b4 u drop kale on cabbage Xmas light 1 on the ceiling or chop any purple fruit or beans as leave or caress a woman booty her in bend over manner

https://www.tradewheel.com/p/2019-china-manufacturer-new-led-tv-276648/

Condom and other medical equipment which are risky to the normal  environment now packed between 2 glued cushioning as above to protect  them from reach of sunlight to make them dysfunction in 1 way or the  other dude

U can place CD in such cushioning then on 3 D dimension  on computer illuminate grass or cabbage heap with b4 dropping kale or  chopping hay bar and boom CD inscribed inside such cushioning 2 parts  glued or in flat land factory house with basement and gum tree or dark  fruit peel in side the basement hole on each side and even corpse, place  one such glued cushioning even 1 placed in box in hay heap then chop  avocado or drop cabbage and boom ya CD

As well with wall  decorative stone place inside slanting factory house basement with  corpse inside or charcoal on the floor or standing dark wood/timer lean  on the wall from the floor and even cut corpse hands, when 1 sample  placed in grass and hay bar dropped or maize poured down on grass as in  the link below or trample on coconut husks.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/299067231485599292/

Cabbage  in hay in factory house slanting land basement when u chop mango seed  not in hole but raised floor makes buses in the link below or drop paw  paw but now in the hole with upside-down paw paw tree trunk or in the  1st case Xmas lights on the ceiling kinda

https://www.afrik21.africa/en/seychelles-to-introduce-electric-buses-in-public-transport/

Or  cabbage in hay in cliff lands next to lakes with hay bars around then  caress 1 shoulder make buses in the link below or chop paw paw with  mango around instead of hay or drop oranges with pumpkin fruit around in  the link below

https://www.afrik21.africa/en/seychelles-to-introduce-electric-buses-in-public-transport/

Yachts  can be bought like 4 people, so u share the price and the repair  insurance or damage, where each person have his/her own week to cruise  with it or be in it synonymous with Norway. When 1 wants to get off such  partnerships he is given 25% of the yacht price minus depreciation dude  and not necessarily u know the folks who want to get into such  partnerships as can be advertised provided u adhere to rules of  maintaining the yacht, ship or plane, getting it to its parking b4 the  next dawn some few hours to dude. When its ya week u can own it or rent  it and be there to avoid damages, u can be the driver to get that money  or be there to watch how driven to protect it from damages not beyond  our control as some can be out of jealousy dude as we know mankind dude.  This the way forward not dyeing within ya pleasure resorting to many  dubious acts to get such as much as the pay per day with any machine  protocol and this should be well adopted in many economies dude and even  with housing units as u share the rent, not necessarily knowing each  other even 4 good as its registered under firms that maintain such as  Urgency dude

E-bullet train made when paw paw placed in hay in  lands next to the lake alongside running hill only small land to the  water body from the hill foot then u chop paw paw when Xmas lights on  both side of the train in midday or drop tangerine when mango around in  the rainy nights as in the link below, place heap of all fruits and  veggies always around in making much products and drop sack of all  veggies and fruits down, emptying the sack to make any gadget dude

https://m.economictimes.com/markets/stocks/news/bullet-train-electric-vehicles-reality-soon-10-stocks-that-may-fast-track-big-returns/articleshow/60510113.cms

E-light  rail as in the link below made when guava placed in paw then in kale  presence peel cabbage or drop hoho or trample on rats when avocado  around in forest go down slightly lands or in story house building  basement of the city

https://dailyactive.info/2019/04/11/raila-odinga-bringing-the-electric-light-rail-to-kenya/

E-bicycle  guava in grass in presence of pumpkin chop mango in slanting house  basements as in the link blow under bulb light or dark or kale in hay  and in presence of kora brown stone and even gravel chop tomato in such  slanting factory house basement lights on or not

https://dailyactive.info/2019/04/11/raila-odinga-bringing-the-electric-light-rail-to-kenya/

https://www.desertcart.co.ke/products/175989016-gyroor-450-w-folding-electric-bike-up-to-23-mph-with-20-miles-range-14-inch-air-filled-tires-3-adjustable-speeds-electric-bikes-for-adults-with-dual-braking-system

E-bikes  guava in oranges then in presence of Xmas lights in 2 floor corners you  chop coconut in the dark or drop shoe polish or pour down paint to the  floor as on carpet makes E-car dude and on another something makes  something else like on grass makes trucks just increasing the heap or  reducing dude, while on hay makes E-buses, when u drop grass on paw paw  heap on the floor makes PS4 or hurl acid to fanta soda or ps5 is guava  in hay on such factory house basement in presence of kale chop hit seed  like paw paw or millet with hammer or drop onion with avocado in place.  Rule is drop any all fruits and veggies in from a sack all all the drop  as well resting on the adjacent floor to the heap dude as charcoal bags  in the song link below

https://www.sites.google.com/site/chinaelectricbikes/

https://twitter.com/BGR/status/1267546017085472768

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-InF9ieRRI

[incarnateirony]

So anyway, life updates on what I’ve talked about good, bad, and vagueblog.

But I introduce you to Betty White, or the Millennium Falcon, name pending.

Most of yall know that I’m on disability, dealing with some massively janky medical issues that Alabama’s bottom-ranked health care system doesn’t even know how to cover, and my wifey blew a disc in her neck at work, essentially debilitating her, too, but also earning a small settlement. In scale of it, 25K -- 21 after lawyer fees -- isn’t really much to do anything with.

So we had already known we had to fix up and sell the house and thought, hey, the land value went up substantially out here, we can pocket and flip it and be hella good.

Until her father finally came out here and in long story short, found out that the inspector that ran through this house when my wife first bought it (during our breakup period YEARS ago) didn’t do his job and it’d be 20-30K worth of repairs to even sell this place at the value her loan is for, meaning we pretty much have to short sell it to get out from under it. I mean bad shit. Fire hazard wiring and rotting roof and siding element under shiny things that hid it that have clearly been deteriorating since long before the house got a lipstick job.

So we went and found an RV, because it’s time to go. We have to GO. We have to get out of this state. There’s nothing for us here. There’s no medical care, there’s no worker protections, being LGBT women we’re extra up a creek in the area, it’s just bad. So RV it was! But finding one in the now suddenly cramped budget with the house turning up bunk entirely was FUN.

But like a stroke of providence I happened to find a listing the day it was upgraded on what has been jokingly referred to by my friends as the Millennium Falcon of RVs. 

It came from an older couple, almost 60, that had been RVing for a few years, and the thing was already used when they bought it. It’s a friggin 1994. It’s old, it’s Chonk. But it was a project RV they decided to start on and while it has a solid AF 454 engine in it,

 they’ve over a few years put in just about New Everything. New transmission, new air brakes, new air bags, new radiator, new septic lines, new alternator, new battery, new steering and suspension, new new new new new. Modified backup camera that tracks engine temp/tire pressure/etc like modern dashes and stays on constantly instead of just when backing up. It has its little hijinks with the in-n-out stairs being funky and the generator is a funny little bit because they didn’t want to spend 8K+ on a generator for an old RV so they got one that’s an external mount, which I imagine is why it was having a hard time selling.

Atop that inside the wife went bananas and got rid of the shitty old wallpaper and painted it bright colors different on every wall, removed the space consuming fold out couch since they didn’t need an extra bed and installed an armoire-storage-couch-thing that takes up half the outter floor space, stuff like that.

This was their baby and they intended to keep this baby and did great work on this baby, and the second I saw it in the advert, I knew it, because the images weren’t all spit cleaned sales stuff, it was vacation images with their shit still hanging inside it and their party lawn with their sports teams and stuff and the shiny lights they added on it to make it a party bus like

So anyway it turned out they basically got conned into getting a newer shinier one and just wanted to get the fuck OUT of Alabama but because of the generator and age it wasn’t selling at market value which was about 15K even as old as it is, and had price gouged it down to *8500*

Thought it was too good to be true, got our old construction and mechanic friend go out out there and go over it with a fine toothed comb and this thing, as he put it “goddamn if I had the money, I’d buy it myself, what the hell, you ain’t gonna get anything better for that price, hell, you ain’t gonna get anything as good for the price” THEY JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF ALABAMA. And I mean, MOOD, BIG MOOD.

In fact the money they were asking for was basically to pay off loans and costs on all the New Stuff they put into it to begin with.

Because of them basically gouging their asking price in half an old lady had come to see it same day and at first the husband was like WHOEVER GETS US THE MONEY FIRST but talking to us the wife was like HELL NO THAT OLD LADY COULD BARELY GET IN THE THING SHES JUST GONNA DRIVE IT DOWN TO FLORIDA AND LET IT ROT THIS IS OUR BABY THESE GIRLS NEED TO TAKE CARE OF IT AND THEY WILL and she ran interference through the weekend until our mechanic friend could go check it out.

You might ask “if you have a buttload of money why an RV” but in trying to get out of Alabama and all the way back to Oregon where I literally KNOW I can make it work out in life for us, for reasons that are a whole story unto themselves, the moving costs cross country alone for a uhaul would be expensive AF. Downpayments. Finding pet friendly apartments. And then whether it was portland or somewhere else we could get STUCK. And we’re tired of getting stuck. So we’re packing up our own FUCKING house that we FUCKING own outright that fucking NOBODY can take away from us and with NO payment obligations and FUCK THE SYSTEM.

So anyway this big fuckin honker the wife was like WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE DRIVING THIS to Shea, but Shea worked for both Uhaul and Hertz so like hauling bigassed trucks around was kinda her thing and she also worked horses so giant ass horse trailers, you name it. So she just got up in there like she belonged and next thing you know we’re doing 65 down the bendy ass mountain freeways of central alabama like we been doing it for years

PS when you are in a literal fucking house 65 feels like 90, I’m just letting you know that now.

We’re still at our house cuz we gotta get this properly under our own tag/insurance and get a tow for the car. It was funny though cuz experienced or not knowing it was OUR LITERAL HOUSE Shea started like GOTTA BE CAREFUL GOTTA BE CAUTIOUS GOTTA MAKE SURE NOBODY DUMB and it turned into GET OUT THE WAY FUCKERS I’LL WIN within the 120 mile haul back home. Like BITCH I’LL TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS BUT I AINT GONNA TRY TO JACK RABBIT STOP THIS FUCKER SO YOU BETTER GET SOME GIDDYUP IF YOU GONNA MERGE YOU FRIGGIN HONDA

This beast only has 65K miles on it. And that sounds like a lot but for an RV that isnt S H I T. People are like, if you can find a used one under 100K you’re doing okay. Half of those miles are just taking it out for a jog because you’re supposed to drive it once every couple weeks to keep it from rusting out basically. They just safely drove it in like a tristateish area down here for a few years as you can see on the cabinet stickers and moved around to sports games and shit and had fun.

The bedroom is purple. The kitchen is blue and yellow. KJSDKJFSjk she was like “Fuck the 1990 floral wallpaper we updating, there’s extra paint in one of the storage bins if you wanna touch any of it up”

So that’s it. We’re gonna do some work with said mechanic friend on the AC and a few tweaky details and as said, gotta tag/insurance/tow but once we get that worked out, that’s it, that’s home starting in a few weeks. 

We’re heading to Independence, Missouri first to touch base with my internet momma then swinging in Salt Lake City to meet old media friends like the folks at Arrowstorm and stopping to enjoy their stuff at Evermore Park before hitting Portland which, reasonably, I’ll guestimate we’ll be at like a week or two before Halloween but maybe we’ll make better time. If you’re en route to those destinations and wanna meet up, lemme know, we’re still gonna have fun on the way and try to record shit. 

Portland is the city I know how to work to and from the bone. I can turn any quarter into at least a dollar there, quite literally; I know how to eat eight times a day for free if need be. I reasonably think we can stay WELLLLLLLL above the line of needing that kind of assistance but because Shea is very anxiety driven to know we outright have a promised home and have promised food if worst case scenarios happen really made her go, you know what, fuck it, sure, Portland, you loved Portland, the wages are good in Portland, let’s do Portland.

If we start with dry camping at locations with free plug ups even still paying for Shea’s car and insurance, once major gas costs GETTING there are done, we’ll be running about 500 a month, and again, that’s including insurance for both vehicles and paying off her car note. Depending on the lot we land at, 700-900 a month. I can float that on my casual residual income. Everything after that is profit. Everything after that is success. I refuse to let Shea be anything less than Okay, but most of all, weird and nonconformative as it is, everything after this is scales of success. Hell minus the car note we’d be under 600/mo on the pricy end. We got dis. 

No more of my wife being convinced she needs to performatively pull loans on her livelihood and shelter for the illusion of a 3/2 middle class life with a picket fence and a job she hates in a place she hates that she doesn’t know how to get away from. Hell, if she ends up hating Oregon? WE CAN PICK UP OUR HOUSE AND MOVE.

QUEER CULTURE IS HAVING THE MILLENNIUM FALCON OF RVS RAINBOW PAINTED INTERNALLY TO HAUL ASS TO PORTLAND OREGON AND AINT SHIT YOU CAN DO TO STOP US, FUCKERS.

It’s literally parked in our yard right now awaiting our voyage.

You bet your ass we’re getting an aux cord and blaring classic rock on surround sound the whole goddamn way

Also gonna get a CB radio to roll with some of the better trucker herds out there. Trust me, solid investment for a multitude of reasons. And entertaining.

If you don’t know what Smokie In The Woods is on a CB radio, you don’t know the road.

It also comes with a lot of gadgets you usually have to buy, like converters for USB chargers in older vehicles and the cable antenna and an extra tent and hell they left two bikes on it like YALL WANT EM YOU CAN HAVE EM, SURE

So buying the RV, paying the friend for the loss of a work day, the necessary gas to get out there, and the tow all in all is gonna run us about 12,000 bucks total, which isn’t a bad deal for bringing your own house with you.

We already burned a few thousand of our settlement trying to fix this house before the bad news and/or upkeeping bills but now it’s time to burn it and walk. By the time we roll I’m expecting us to have about 4K over costs in the bank, which is... enough. It’s more of a nest egg than we’d have if we stayed here that’s for sure, covers emergencies on the way there and gives us a few months to get our shit together. Even the part-iest part time job out in Portland will float any overhead on bills much less if shea can fall in with all the media and digital work out there with her graphic design and art, we’re eyeing the portland saturday market to sell her stuff at in season too. SCREW THE SYSTEM YALL

#not spn #me #the road so far

[benbarnesfrustration]

Cady’s Awakening, Part 1

A Ben Barnes Character Fic.

A Ryan Brenner x Cady (third person) story. This is a very late contribution to @banditthewriter​‘s Ben Barnes Bingo Challenge.  Life got away from me for a bit, so I’m posting this first installment to hold myself accountable to finish. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Cady is a carefree girl who longs for the open road. Does she find her counterpart in a tall, dark hitchhiker?

Rated PG. We haven’t gotten into much fluff yet, but this is a squeaky clean as it gets.

Cady heaved the last sack of grain into the back of her pickup truck, landing it with a heavy whump. She stepped back and wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow. It was usually hot in Timbercreek Canyon, but in July it was damned hot, and the sun was relentless.

About 15 miles south of Amarillo, Timbercreek Canyon is a veritable oasis in the arid Texas desert, providing much-needed irrigation to the many ranches that have sprung up as a result.  Cady’s family ran one of them, Palomino Ridge Ranch. There, horses, cattle, pigs and chickens were raised and sold.  Cady had been helping out at the ranch since she could walk, and stood to inherit from her parents, as she was their only child. However, Cady had her doubts. She’d barely been out of Texas except for ranch business, and wasn’t sure she wanted a future as a rancher without experiencing more of the great wide world.

Cady’s father was sending her to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, in the shadow of the Smoky Mountains. She was to deliver several bushels of rye meal and sorghum to a few stops along the way, and upon arrival, collect a thoroughbred stallion to bring back for breeding. It would be a long trip, at least eighteen hours each way, not including stops, but Cady was looking forward to it. She loved the open road and the chance to get out of Texas and see more of the country, and having the wind in her hair as she sang along loudly to her favorite country and blues standards.

She loaded up the rest of her supplies, waved goodbye to her folks, and set out. It was only noon, so she should be able to get a couple of deliveries out of the way before she would need to stop for the night. She drove along, singing and humming along to her tunes; perfectly content.  A few hours later, not long after she made her first drop off, she was surprised to see what appeared to be a young man in the distance, walking along the road. Texas was flat, so she could see him quite a ways out, and she saw him turn and stick out his thumb when he heard the sound of her engine. I’ll be damned, she thought to herself. You don’t see too many hitchhikers around here. She felt a pang of pity for the man. It was hot as hell out here, and there wasn’t another town for miles and miles.  Normally she wouldn’t entertain such a notion as communicating with a hitchhiker, but she legitimately worried about the guy’s safety, so she slowed as she approached him. 

She pulled over to the side of the road, slid over to the passenger side, and leaned out of the window.  She was struck dumb for a moment when she looked the man full in the face. Well that is one good looking fella, she thought. Dark scruffy hair and dark eyes, he was quite literally the definition of “tall dark and handsome,” only he looked like he’d been sleeping rough for a while. He smiled warmly at her, and pushed up the brim of his baseball cap to better see her. Cady noticed he had tattoos on his fingers and arms. I wonder where else he’s got them, she thought devilishly, before pushing that thought aside.  “Miss,” he greeted her politely.

“Well you’re taking your ass in your hands setting out on this road on a day like this,” she chided, but without real bite. He smiled wider, relaxing at her joke.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he replied, his smile touching his eyes. He had a vague drawl that Cady couldn’t quite place. Is that West Virginia? Kentucky? He pulled off his hat and swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “I don’t suppose you can let me climb in the back of your truck and ride along with you a while? The breeze would do me good.”

Cady thought a moment. She was by no means a clueless girl, and knew that picking up a hitchhiker was a reckless thing to do. But he had kindness in his eyes, and there was just no faking that. “You can ride in the cab with me,” she said. “Get you out of the sun and into the AC for a bit.”

The man nodded, his face more somber. “Thank you miss,” he replied softly. “I’m so grateful.”  He swung his case– which Cady was only now realizing was a guitar case– into the back of the truck along with a worn backpack, and hopped into the truck. Cady cranked the AC, and the man slumped back, a blissful smile on his lips. It made him look quite angelic. “Ahhhh,” the man sighed. “This is nice.”

Cady handed over a bottle of water. “Here, swig on this. You’re probably pretty dehydrated. I’m Cady, by the way.”  The man took the bottle of water with a nod. “Thank you Cady. I’m Ryan. Pleased to meet you.”  Cady smiled at the man– Ryan.  “Now you just sit back and relax,” she said. “How far do you need to go?”  Ryan shrugged. “I don’t really have a destination. I sort of just…go.”

Cady blinked in surprise. Was this guy a drifter? A homeless? While she was surprised, she was no more concerned than she was a moment before. She wondered if she was being very stupid.  

“You just set out and see where the road takes you huh? I kinda like that. Sounds freeing.”

Ryan smiled. “It is, but it’s not without its challenges for sure. Like the pickle I found myself in today…I must say thank you again.”

Cady smiled. “Think nothing of it. I would just be grateful if you would repay my kindness by not stabbing me,” she laughed as she put the truck into gear. “You don’t seem the sort, but you never know.”  

Ryan laughed in return. “Don’t worry Cady, I don’t intend to.”

                                                      *****

They rode on for hours, the time falling away quickly as they talked. Conversation was easy with them. They shared a similar temperament; an ease of manner, and a curiosity about the world. Cady learned that Ryan was a musician, and he usually busked or looked for gigs while he was on the road for extra cash. Cady told Ryan all about her family and ranching, but also spoke of her doubts when it came to her own future in the field. Ryan listened intently, nodding along, contributing platitudes where necessary.  As the sun waned toward evening, Cady pulled into a Waffle House parking lot.  “You hungry?” She asked.

“Starving,” he replied with a smile.  

“Come on then,” Cady said. “I’ll buy you some dinner.”

Ryan’s smile faltered. “I have some money,” he said softly. 

Cady turned to look at him. “I wasn’t suggesting you didn’t,” she replied brightly. “Only that I’d like to buy dinner. Now come on!”

Ryan followed her into the restaurant, where they both soon tucked into breakfast for dinner, as it was what Waffle House was known for; eggs, pancakes, grits, hash browns, bacon, the whole nine yards. They spoke as much as they could as they tucked away the meal.  When they were done, Cady and Ryan walked back to the truck. She paused at the door. “Ryan,” she asked, “what’s the plan? I’m heading all the way to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and I have another ten plus hours on the road ahead of me. I was planning to stop for the night in a couple of hours. I usually just pull off onto a secluded road and sleep in the truck, but you’re welcome to sleep in the back of the truck.

Cady felt a small amount of apprehension creep into her mind. Not because she was worried about Ryan, but because….she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But Ryan gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her tummy. The way his big dark eyes locked onto hers while they spoke over dinner. The way his smile lit up his face. The way his soul seemed to speak to hers.

She realized with a jolt that the apprehension she was feeling was a fear that they would part ways. That he would be gone from her life. Oh shit– Cady thought to herself. Am I falling for this guy? 

She waited for him to respond, as he had paused to think– or perhaps to calculate a response.

“Cady–” he started, paused, then started over. “Cady, I don’t want to impose, but I’d like to go all the way with you.”

They both seemed to realize how that sounded at the same time. Cady stifled a giggle while Ryan looked horrified. “I mean! Oh lord. No. I mean, I’d like to travel as far as you have to go, if that’s alright with you.” He put his face in his hands and groaned.  Cady laughed. “Relax, I’d be happy to have you.” She put a hand on his arm. “I know that wasn’t what you meant.” 

Would it be so bad if it was?

                                                      *****

They rode on in contented silence for a while before Cady turned to Ryan and asked, “so I’ve been trying to figure out where you’re from, but I just can’t place your accent. I give up,” she chuckled.

“Utah,” Ryan replied. “That’s where I grew up and sort of what I consider home base, but I don’t like to stay in one place too long.”

“Do you still have friends and family there?”

“Some,” Ryan nodded. “A lot of folks have moved on. I’m from a small town and there isn’t much opportunity there.” He shrugged. “It’s beautiful though, surrounded by snow capped mountains and lush forests.”

Cady laughed. “That’s basically the opposite of where I live! It’s the canyonlands of central Texas, practically the desert. Hot, flat, and dry. I spent my childhood chasing lizards and roadrunners.”

“Well we have some of that in Utah, but not the part where I’m from,” Ryan added. “Jumping into creeks and riding horses was what I got up to as a kid.”

“Horses, well that’s something we have in common then,” Cady grinned.  “That’s actually the purpose of going to Kentucky. Sell grain along the way, come home with a new thoroughbred.”

“That must be exciting,” Ryan replied. “Seeing the country and petting horses sounds pretty great.”

“It is, but–” Cady broke off, thinking.  “I’m still doing a job. I’m not free to do as I like. Like you.”

“True,” Ryan said, “but it’d be nice to have someone to go home to. A real family, a place I wanted to put down roots. Now, whenever I’m home, I just can’t wait to hit the road again.”

“So you have nobody that makes you feel like you’re home?”

Ryan turned to fix Cady with his dark eyes. There was something about his spirit that spoke directly to her soul.

“Not yet,” he replied, and smiled.

(to be continued…)

@banditthewriter​

#ben barnes character fic #jackie & ryan fanfiction #ryan brenner fanfic

[trickshxt]

Carries, bridal style. 

SMACK! CRASH!

“You’re nearly as bad as I was!”

He barely hears Rich over the laughing the other’s doing. Pine needles prick his face, pressed up under his helmet somehow and he sneezes. Then sneezes again as he attempts to free his leg from a particularly wicked split branch. “Thanks for that, firefly, thanks…”

Moments later a hand frees his foot and he’s facing the world right side up. Rich just GRINS at him, brushing a pine branch from his shoulder. “I mean, I know I give you morning wood -”

Barney groans, flicking a pine needle at Rich’s nose. It hits with satisfying accuracy. “Absolutely not.”

“Awwww, c’mon, you love my sexy jokes!”

“Lemme know when you get one that’s good OR sexy.”

Rich staggers back with a hand over his heart. “Wounded. WOUNDED. The love of my life, stabbin’ me in the back like that? How could you?”

With all the drama of every free Shakespearean park production Barney’s seen in his life (and there’s been a good many of them) Rich turns with a flourish, wheezing something that Barney suspects is supposed to be a sob. It’s all drama, badly put on.

Barney barks a laugh anyway. “All right, all right! Best dick joke I’ve heard all morning.” When Rich sniffs, loudly, he amends, “Day? Week? Fine, month.”

That gets Rich turning, laughing, and Barney finds himself pulled in for a kiss. Or, well, a near kiss. Their helmets clang and Barney steps back with a groan. His consolation is seeing Rich do the same.

“Right, forgot about that,” Rich mutters. Barney snorts. (He couldn’t be more fond of a headache than he was then.) Rich just glances up at him, eyes bright. “Go again?” When Barney raises an eyebrow, Rich points to the air.

“Again,” he agrees

The sun lowers in the sky and then has lowered further still by the time they stop. He’s breathless from the effort. Endorphins high at the fact he can start and stop now - tree free since 3pm - and can accelerate enough to join Rich on a rocky ledge halfway up a mountain to watch the sunset. Their feet swing as the sky blushes to red. The helmet in his lap is starting to feel comfortable. (Something he never thought he’d say, considering what it represents.) The boots no longer as foreign and he kicks a foot to watch the yellow flash in the sun.

Rich watches from the side of his eyes and Barney catches the tell tale crinkles in them even if he misses seeing the look himself. “Gonna be a great flyer yet.”

“Eh,” he says with a click of his tongue. His shoulder bumps Rich’s though, pleased. “Gotta good teacher.” He pauses. “When he ain’t laughing at me.”

Rich’s laugh bounces. “C’mon, babe, you can’t hold that against me!”

Barney knows he never could. “Too late, holdin’ it against ya.” His arm slips around Rich’s waist and feels that heavy warmth in his chest that he’s missed. “Gonna have to make it up to me.”

A scoff meets that. “What’d’ya think all this is?”

“Investin’ in future laughing rights?” He teases. Rich snorts, though says nothing, and Barney leans in to give his neck a long, slow kiss. Tries again. “Indulgence?”

Rich is quiet for a long enough moment that Barney wonders if he’s said something wrong. Before he can ask, though, Rich turns his head and catches his mouth in a kiss. “Indulging isn’t that bad, right?”

Barney snorts. “Naw.” And kisses him again. “Not when we both like it.”

He almost wants to ask about the pause. But Rich takes his hand in his and squeezes hard. So he lets the topic drop, squeezing back. By the time the Little Dipper is high in the sky they’re both red lipped and sheepish at the over enthusiasm apparent on their skin.

***

It’s still chilly for camping, but when your better half spends most of their time away in the stars you make do with a few extra blankets. The air may sting their lungs, but Barney’s known how to build fires for decades now.

“Shoulda known my Heathfire knows how to build one,” Rich teased.

He’d laughed. “Your Heathfire knows a thing or two about survivin’.” He’d meant it as a joke, but the ping in Rich’s face reminds him of just how non-linear grief can be. He’d thrown the lighter fluid can at the Nova then, unsurprised when he’d caught it, and had grinned. “Wanna make a fireball?”

The soreness from the pine tree landing is finally fading a little as they luxuriate in the heat, stomachs full of charred hot dogs and s’mores still sticky in their mouths. He watches, eyes lidded, as Rich cackles at a mallow mound bursts into flames on a stick.

“And thus, the mallow kingdom fell,” intones Rich quite seriously.

It makes Barney smile, seeing the boyish glee in those gray eyes and the content flicker of a gold glow around a carefree form. He wishes, so badly wishes, he could capture the moment forever. Something all stardust and magic and smoky fire. He savors it here and now in a languid look from across the way, meeting Rich’s eyes with a fondness he won’t put to words.

Rich’s smile softens at him, before the marshmallow falls to a true firey end. Rich blinks and Barney laughs. “Think it got scared. Felt the gravity of it all.”

The groan that comes from Rich’s chest is absolutely worth getting jabbed with a marshmallow covered stick. “That was BAD, babe.”

“An’ yet you’re still here,” he retorts, attempting to wipe sticky sweets from his sleeve.

There’s that funny little silence again, Rich’s hands stilling with a curl of his fingers, and Barney wonders if the man even knows he’s doing it. Pausing in such dramatic fashion. He’s hesitant to point it out, considering the circumstances (his shirts are just now finally fitting Rich again). So he waits for a moment, giving him space to think.

“You-”

“I got you somethin’.”

That surprises him. He blinks, sitting up a bit as Rich scrambles to his feet and dives for their bags as if whatever he’d managed to sneak along will grow wings and take off. (For all Barney knows, it could.) He’d done most of the packing, yet somehow he hadn’t seen the jaw dropping STACK of papers that Rich is pulling from the bag now. He sits up a bit, brow furrowed, jaw dropped, as Rich brandishes the stack with a smile so pleased it’s nearly feral.

“Here!” Rich holds it out, excitement curling around his features, a clear and present thing that’s so infectious Barney finds himself smiling just beholding it.

He takes the paper with a small OOF and looks down at the first page. His brow knits. “What is it?”

Rich plops down unceremoniously behind him, arms wrapping around his chest. He can practically feel the man vibrating. “It’s Xandarian.” Rich’s chin finds his shoulder, resting there. “Xandarian’s got some of the BEST poetry in the galaxy. Like, some of the greatest lines you’ll ever read. Only problem is they don’t translate well into English and it’d take even Worldmind awhile to figure out a good translation so…I figured you could just read ‘em yourself.”

The thought put into it curls around his heart, finding the cracks left from so long ago and filling them in with gold dust and stars. His shoulders hitch in a huff and he thumbs the black ink with a softness he forgets he has sometimes. “Is this what you disappeared in the library for?”

Rich gives a satisfied giggle.

“Is this what caused the copier to explode?”

Rich winces at that. “I, uh, have no comment on that incident.” He adds quickly, “Neither does Worldmind so shut up.”

“Uh-huh.” Barney may not be able to go back to the library for a bit, but the packet in his hand is a testament of thought and care that he cherishes more than can be said for most points of his life.

With a practiced finger, he turns the page and blinks a bit. The words may be foreign but he knows poetry well. And this isn’t it. It looks more like…

Rich’s arms squeeze him, delighted. “Gonna have to learn the language first before ya read in it.”

He stares at the language spread before him. Something powerful and promising in their foreign nature. It’s less the challenge that excites him and more the fact that what he can do with it, what he will be able to understand someday that has him shivering despite the radiating warmth from the fire.

His breath comes out shaky. “I…how did ya know?”

Rich kisses his cheek, vibrating again. “Just had a feelin’.”

Barney turns then to catch him in a proper kiss, feeling Rich laugh in his mouth. The papers press between them as a hand caresses Rich’s cheek. He won’t admit to his eyes being wet, and if Rich notices he says nothing. (He’s not sure what he can ever give the man that is equal to the thought spared for him in these moments. He can only hope his actions say ‘I love you’ as much as Rich’s gifts do.)

Excitement flares in him, spreading through him like wildfire. It doesn’t dissipate, rather, it collects until he is pressing himself against Rich’s chest, hunched down with his knees up enough to cradle the thick stack of pages.

Rich’s arms settle around him, Nova Force pressing down like a weighted blanket, glowing with what Barney now knows is contentment.

“What’s this?” He asks, pointing.

“The alphabet.”

“Teach me?”

Rich’s lips smile against the back of his head. He does. They get through a few pages, hitting general phrases until ‘get up’ inspires something else entirely to do just that. And with a laugh, Rich lifts him in a bridal carry, Barney too caught up in a laugh and a gasp to do anything more then let him parade them to the tent.

They spend their last few waking hours with their hands and mouths full of other things.

***

The drive home is filled with bad country music and more pit stops then they can count. They’re dragging their feet to get back to the city and doing so by belting Jolene at the top of their lungs as they take every scenic overview drive off they find. The cab of the truck is filled with laughter. He would say it feels like old times, but it feels so distinct from that old nostalgia. Like it’s something all its own. Treasured for what it is in this moment and always will be in his memory; without compare.

They’ve hit a long stretch of open road when the radio dies and though Worldmind tries not suitable alternative is found. Rich hits the knob with a huff. “What’s the point of havin’ ya if you can’t even find some tunes?”

Barney snickers at the look that passes over Rich’s face and he feels a silent, thought high five for whatever Worldmind said is warranted.

“Only got a bit before we hit civilization again anyway,” Barney consoles. Rich just huffs. “Could stop at another truck station if ya want a refill on pop.” Rich just gives him a sideways glance and pops his lips. Barney scowls at the joke and swats at him with a hand. “Shuddup.”

They go quiet after that, pleasantly so. He whistles a bit of Jolene, the song an earworm for the next few days he’s sure. A glance in the mirror catches sight of Rich, however, looking out and looking so very far away.

It’s so similar to the moments of silence he saw this trip. With no distractions comes no excuses, and he clears his throat. “Everythin’ all right, firefly?”

Rich startles a bit, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly after a moment. “Oh, uh, yeah. Just thinkin’ I guess.”

Barney raises an eyebrow, hums, “Yeah?”

They’ve never pushed each other when it wasn’t necessary. Some thoughts can’t be shared, can’t be uttered into the air just then. It’s an unsaid boundary they’ve respected from the beginning, and Barney is ready to respect it now should the topic be dropped.

He admits, he’s a little surprised when Richard speaks, “I gotta go back, eventually.”

His heart drops, though the fact remains they’ve both known since Rich fell to the streets of New York. No matter what space does - will do - to the man, Nova Prime always, always responds. “I know.”

(He misses him already, just thinking about it. Another two years is worth the wait, but oh the weight it does add.)

Rich gives him a sad smile, a hand reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “Gonna try not to make it another two years before I’m back.”

Barney appreciates the reassurance, even if there’s no promise there. (He wouldn’t ask for one, wouldn’t make the man give a promise he can’t keep.) “I know.” He wets his lips and glances over. “It’s all right, Richie, I get it. You know that?” He can’t quite keep the question from that.

Fortunately, Rich catches it and gives him a knowing smile. “To paraphrase a guy I know: I know.”

That breaks the tension, a laugh escaping from Barney’s throat. (He can’t remember when he’s laughed this much in years. Since before Rich came into his life with a sly, smug smile that he’s come to associate with tightness in his chest.) “Jackass.”

“Learned from the best!”

“Like you weren’t one before ya met me!”

When they pull over at the last scenic outlook before the road home, Barney beats Rich out and to his door, waiting to pull him into a dip and a kiss. The surprise on Rich’s face is worth it, particularly when he pulls back and smirks, ( passable Xandarian - hi there cutie ).

Rich’s smile is brilliant, dazzling. Charmed enough to make Barney’s toes curl. “You’re gonna be fluent before I even know what to do with ya!”

Barney presses kisses to his cheek. “That a challenge?”

“Sure,” Rich says, eyes hooded and mischievous. “You get through enough of that book before I get back next time and I’ll bring ya something special.”

Barney rolls his eyes. “Don’t need the promise of somethin’ to do that.”

Rich pauses, just enough for Barney to straighten them both. “But what if I want to?”

He remembers indulgences versus investments then and raises an eyebrow. “You been thinkin’ about somethin’, haven’t ya? You keep gettin’ these little, pauses, an’ goin’ distant.”

Caught, Rich shrugs a bit and turns away. Barney almost wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything at all. “Just…doin’ some thinking.” Barney’s breath must catch or Worldmind must say something because Rich turns back around, wide eyed and hands up. “Not that kind of thinking! Blessed One, not THAT.”

Rich catches one of Barney’s hands and traces the knuckles, careful and slow. Eyes down. Barney can practically hear the gears whirring. The Nova Force thrums. “Just…I love you. A lot. I like being with you. And…”

Rich trails, but Barney is patient, used to working without words. He watches Rich shift, consider, and finally break with a squeeze of Barney’s hand to his arm. “I want you to see where I go, meet my friends, see all the places I keep telling you about.”

He’s offered this before, asked subtly and not so discreetly. It was a while ago, when things were still new and shaky between them, and he remembers laughing it off. Barney Barton in space. Again. It hadn’t had a plausibility to it that seems far less implausible now.

Barney thinks. “What were you gonna bring back, luggage?”

At that Rich laughs. “Think about it?”

Barney nods. “I will.” And he’s careful to keep eye contact when he says that. Though he can’t help but add, “Really though, luggage?”

Rich shrugs, cheeks pink, tilting his head a bit in the way he sometimes does when Worldmind is speaking to him. Barney doesn’t ask. (If Rich wants to share he will.) But he does move in to give the Nova another kiss, teasing his lower lip with his teeth.

“Fucking luggage.”

“Hey, whatever you’re into-”

Barney shuts him up with another kiss. He won’t tell him his mind is decided for a few days yet; not until an end is closer in sight. But from the way his hand slides to Rich’s lower back, the other smoothing over borrowed shirt to curl around his neck possessively, he likes to think that Rich perhaps has an idea what the answer will be.

It can wait though.

For now, they kiss. Look at the view. Sing along to country songs they don’t know and drink bizarre pop they find stuffed in the back of a display at the gas station. And if there are any more pauses it’s the kind filled with soft looks and blissful enjoyment of company well kept.

#golddome #v: burning out his fuse up there alone #[ CUTE THING 2 ] #[ only a day or so late ] #[ but it got away from me big time ]

[ourcrazyrvlife]

We started our full-time RV life in Bandit on November 23, 2019. It's been an adventure, that's for sure! Are we sorry that we did it? Heck no! We feel so very blessed to be in this lifestyle, even with the occasional hardships that come with it (RV and truck repairs and maintenance, finding sites during snowbird season, etc). We figure, though, that we'd be suffering through similar hardships of we owned a house again, just of a different variety. And, we're living for less than we ever could if we were still renting an apartment or owning a house. (Disclaimer: recently, we've been getting the urge to research buying a small plot of land somewhere remote in the Smoky Mountains, putting a small cabin on it, and becoming somewhat self-sufficient. Right now, though, it's just a shadow of an idea.) Upgrading out of Bandit to a newer RV is going to have to wait another couple of years. We had to invest in a newer truck this year. At 170,000 miles, the Ford was nearing the end of its natural life and was going to need major work to continue serving our needs... with no warranty, obviously. So, we bit the bullet in February and purchased our 2018 Chevy Silverado. The engine is always more important than the caboose, as they say (at least, that's how we feel). Bandit continues to meet our needs, now if only we could find the time, energy, and knowledge to make some necessary repairs (YouTube is our best friend and has been during this entire season of our lives!). #believe #camping #RV #livinginanrv #dogtraining #onlinedogtraining #rvlife #rvtravel #ourcrazyrvlife #rvfulltime #fulltimerving #Christian #blessings #lifeontheroad #rvadventures #rvlivingfulltime  #rvcamping  #traveltrailerlife #rvcouple #prayer #pray #Bible #God #Jesus #love #faith #remotetraining #rvlifestyle #Christ #sharethelove (at Thousand Trails Orlando RV Resort & Campground) https://www.instagram.com/p/CcshSzBO2W0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#believe #camping #rv #livinginanrv #dogtraining #onlinedogtraining #rvlife #rvtravel #ourcrazyrvlife #rvfulltime #fulltimerving #christian #blessings #lifeontheroad #rvadventures #rvlivingfulltime #rvcamping #traveltrailerlife #rvcouple #prayer #pray #bible #god #jesus #love #faith #remotetraining #rvlifestyle #christ #sharethelove

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[firstavenue7thstentry]

Dayna Frank, President

St. Vincent / Palace Theatre / November 18 Jackie Venson / Turf Club / September 28 Frank Ocean / FYF Fest / July 22 Atmosphere / Palace Theatre / March 10 Thomas Abban / 7th St Entry / December 13 Bonus: Prince Memorial block party and dance parties

Top album: DAMN. by Kendrick, anything else is a lie

Regret Missing: Flip Phone “Queens United” benefit for Puerto Rico SZA in the Mainroom & Kendrick Lamar at Xcel

Nate Kranz, General Manager

Atmosphere / Palace Theatre / March 10 Dave Rawlings Machine / Pantages / August 23 Dead & Co. / Hollywood Bowl / May 31 Kamasi Washington / First Avenue / November 9 Wilco / Palace Theatre / November 17

SHOW I MISSED is JRAD @ Red Rocks on August 31

My 5 bonus picks for favorite show are: Vulfpeck / First Avenue / May 1 Gary Clark Jr / Palace / August 3 Seu Jorge / Pantages / June 17 Kevin Morby / Turf Club / August 29 Bob Dylan / Xcel Center / October 25

Sonia Grover, Booking Manager

Top Shows All of them.

Regret I didn’t miss any shows.

Eli Flasher, Talent Buyer

Marty Stuart & His Fabulous Superlatives / Fine Line / April 11 Adrian Belew Power Trio / Turf Club / March 12 Dead & Co. / Wrigley Field / June 30 Iron Maiden / Xcel / June 16 Kikagaku Moyo / 7th St Entry / May 14

Album: Aldous Harding - Party Missed show: Tom Petty 6/03/17

James Taylor, Talent Buyer

Liam Gallagher / First Avenue / November 20 Thundercat / First Avenue / September 17 Gary Clark Jr / Palace Theatre / August 4 Patti Smith / Northrop / March 8 Vince Staples / First Avenue / March 16

Regret Missing: Jason Isbell / Palace Theatre / July 7 Best Album of 2017: Kendrick Lamar, DAMN.

Mike Killeen, Chief Financial Officer

Macklemore / Palace Theatre / November 2 Atmosphere / Palace Theatre / March 10 Jain / 7th St Entry / March 31 Rufus Wainwright / Orchestra Hall / December 2 Marian Hill / First Avenue / June 1

I take no prisoners and I have no regrets.

Damon Barna, Director of Event Operations

5) Atmosphere / First show at the Palace Theatre / March 10 4) Gary Clark Jr / Palace Theatre / August 4 3) A Prairie Home Companion / Palace Theatre / October 7 2) Rodrigo Y Gabriela / First Avenue Mainroom / June 2 1) Kamasi Washington / First Avenue Mainroom / November 9

Album of the Year: Kamasi Washington, Harmony of Difference #1 Show I regret missing: Dent May / 7th St Entry / November 1

Marc Dickhut, Director of General Operations

Macklemore / Palace Theatre / November 2 (Kids loved it too) Bob Mould - Solo Electric - Turf Club / April 18 Spoon / Palace Theatre / September 15 Charlie Parr / Turf Club / January Residency Social Distortion / Palace Theatre / July 26 Bonus: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit / Palace Theatre / July 7

Album: Spoon - Hot Thoughts Missed: QOTSA / Palace / December 3

Debbie Hager, Operations Manager

1.) Tori Amos / The O'Shaughnessy / October 24 2.) Arcade Fire / Xcel / October 29 3.) Future Islands / First Avenue / October 1 4.) Hurray for the Riff Raff / Fine Line / April 30 5.) Pitbull & Enrique Iglesias / Madison Square Garden / June 30

Top Album: St Vincent - Masseduction

Regret (Tie): Phantogram / Palace / March 12 Lucius / State Fair / September 2

Lori Simonson, Accounting Assistant & Office Coordinator

Truckfighters / 7th St Entry / January 25 Goatwhore / The Frequency (Madison) / February 27 Sleep / First Avenue / April 19 Boris / Triple Rock / October 21 Chelsea Wolfe / Turf Club / October 25

Top Album: Chelsea Wolfe - Hiss Spun Missed Show: Tom Petty / Xcel Center / June 3

Sawyer Derry, Turf Club Operations Manager

Mogwai / First Avenue / December 1 Phantogram / Palace Theatre / March 12 Mew / Turf Club / August 13 Spoon Micro Show / Turf Club / December 11 Colin Stetson / Turf Club / July 23

Regret Missing: Wolf Parade / First Avenue / October 27 Best Album: Fever Ray - Plunge

Alex Nowak, Operations Manager

Raging Fyah / Turf Club / February 14 J Boog / Turf Club / February 8 Skatalites / Turf Club / September 17 All Them Witches / Turf Club / November 17 Tribal Seeds / Turf Club / February 14

Show I regret missing: Mihali @ Ice House

Emily Hoar, Marketing Assistant

LCD Soundsystem / Pitchfork Music Festival / July 14 The Minneapolis Uranium Club / Seward Café / December 15 Ho99o9 / Triple Rock Social Club / May 26 Palm / Turf Club / July 8 DJ Keezy (opening for Big Freedia) / The Cabooze / June 21

AOTY: SZA’s CTRL Missed Show: SZA / First Avenue / September 1* *=technically I was there… don’t get too drunk when you meet your heroes.

Erin Rocky, Office Coordinator

The White Buffalo / The Cedar / December 1 Dirtwire / Studio B / December 14 Senses Fail performing Still Searching in its entirety / The Cabooze / March 29 Jim James, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, and Warren Haynes collaborations, and alternating String Cheese Incident/Umphrey's McGee sets on a spinning stage / Lock'N August 2017 - Best Festival Ever Warren Haynes and The Ashes & Dust Band / Fitzgerald Theater / February 23

Album: The Lil Smokies - Changing Shades Regret: SCI at Red Rocks on my birthday :( too perfect and such a bummer it didn't happen

Cheers to another year of killer shows! Nah nah nah nahhhhh

Jon Gilbert, Website Coordinator

Quintron & Miss Pussycat / Turf Club / July 15 Jens Lekman / Fine Line / March 8 John Mulaney / Northrop / September 14 The Mountain Goats / First Avenue / November 18 Jen Kirkman / Woman’s Club / October 5 Special consideration: Fuck 2016. / Turf Club / 12/27/16

Top 2017 album (split decision): Favorite: Slowdive, Slowdive Most played: The New Pornographers, Whiteout Conditions #1 missed show regret: Ted Leo +Rx / Triple Rock / November 11

Kent Horgan, Promoter Representative

Marty Stuart / Fine Line / April 11 Kinky Friedman / Turf Club / May 3 Nicolas Jaar / First Avenue / July 14 Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile / Palace Theatre / October 25 King Krule / Fine Line / October 31

Aoife Roberts, Booking & Finance Assistant

John K. Samson / Turf Club / October 18 Lemuria / 7th St Entry / February 06 The Wedding Present / Turf Club / April 22 At the Drive-In / Palace Theatre / June 17 Dillinger Four / final Triple Rock / November 21

Regret missing: Julien Baker / The Cedar / October 21 Best record: Play the Songs You Like by Radiator Hospital

Jerrod Woods, Marketing Associate

Vince Staples / Marathon Music Works (Nashville, TN) Tedeschi Trucks Band / The Ryman (Nashville, TN) Odesza / Myth Live / November 9 Alabama Shakes / Sloss Fest (Birmingham, AL) Sturgill Simpson / Sloss Fest (Birmingham, AL)

Top Album: Awaken, My Love! - Childish Gambino Biggest Regret: Khalid

Stacy Schwartz, Community Manager & Special Events

Lucius / State Capitol Rotunda / February 10 Bon Iver / Rock the Garden (strong wave of nostalgia) / July 22 U2 / US Bank Stadium / September 8 Patti Smith / Northrop / March 8 Father John Misty Microshow / Icehouse / May 16

Show I regret missing: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers / Xcel Center / June 3

Isaac Burton, Graphic Designer

Downtown Boys / Triple Rock / September 15 Jay Som / 7th St Entry / March 22 Angel Olsen / First Avenue Mainroom / October 2 Girlpool / 7th St Entry / May 31 Palm & Lvl Up / 7th St Entry / February 27

Regret Missing: Pile / 7th St Entry / May 9

Adrianna Korich, Box Office Coordinator

Kendrick Lamar / Xcel / August 19 Mayday Parade A Lesson in Romatics 10 Yr Anniversary Tour / First Avenue / April 20 2 Chainz / Palace Theatre / August 25 Sylvan Esso / First Avenue / August 7 Girlpool / 7th St Entry / October 23

Show I regret missing: Lil Peep / Amsterdam Bar & Hall / October 17 Album: Pretty Girls Like Trap Music - 2 Chainz

Rodney Smith, Depot Kitchen Manager

1) Gary Clark Jr / Palace Theatre / August 4 2) Marian Hill / First Avenue / June 1 3) Sublime / First Avenue / July 19 4) Brother Ali / First Avenue / November 16 5) Flogging Molly / Palace Theatre / May 16

David Sundquist, Purchasing Manager

St. Vincent / Palace Theatre / November 18 Queens of the Stone Age / Palace Theatre / December 3 GWAR / First Avenue / November 7 Har Mar Superstar / Turf Club / November 22 Violent Femmes / First Avenue / October 18

Regret Missing: Beck / Palace Theatre / August 17 Best Album: St Vincent - Masseduction

Ashley Ryan, Director of Marketing

Patti Smith / Northrop / March 8 Jason Isbell / Palace Theatre / July 7 Sylvan Esso / Eaux Claires / June 16 SZA / First Avenue / September 1 The xx / Palace Theatre / April 28

Regret Missing: Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers / Xcel Center / June 3 Album: DAMN., Kendrick Lamar

Top image: Screenprint by Kevin Cannon

#first avenue #7th st entry #turf club #turfclubmn #firstavenue #palace theatre #palacestpaul #twin cities #minneapolis #st. paul mn #minnesota #live music #end of year #best of list #best of 2017 #staff picks #kevin cannon

[rouletteweekend]

Flea Market Guy (FMG) and I went on a Sunday morning adventure yesterday. I had mentioned on Saturday that I wanted to go on a hike. He had mentioned that he wanted to just chill out before he had to go to work at 4. I thought maybe I’d just go hike alone at the nature center, but nothing had been set in stone. We like to spend a little time together before he goes to work, so I thought if I was going to go hike, it would be around 3 or so.

He went to an AA meeting early Sunday. He goes every day. We are on day 38 of sobriety (happy dance), but I’m still trying my best not to stress him out because if you know anything about alcoholics, then you know they don’t need much of a reason to drink. Or maybe I should say, everything can turn into a reason to drink. But he’s been doing great and I’ve been trying very hard to be positive and supportive. Luckily, I’m really good at both. And he’s really good at being happy, so it’s seemed really easy from where I am sitting.

I know it hasn’t been easy on his end, but he’s taking it in stride and I am enjoying every moment of it.

So when he got home from his meeting yesterday, I was laying in bed half reading a book and half playing ToonBlast on my phone. We all have our addictions, but enough about mine. FMG got home and said that we were going to a waterfall. It took me all of 30 seconds to change my clothes and put my hiking shoes on and we were out the door before he could finish his cigarette. We decided to go to Cataract falls in the Smoky Mountains.

FMG said it was supposed to be a 1 mile hike to the falls and then it would be a mile back down. Piece of cake. I was ready to go. It took us about an hour to get there and the one mile hike was actually only .1 mile. We basically got out of his truck and walked 100 steps and were at the falls.

  Cataract Falls

The Falls

Me and FMG

  After hanging out at the falls that were barely falls at all (probably because we have been in a drought), we decided to walk part of the trail that was the Cove Mountain and Laurel Falls trail. It was much further…

  We didn’t have time for an 8 mile hike or an 11 mile hike, because FMG had to work in a few hours, but we did have time to take a small hike up about a mile before we headed back down and I’m really glad we did.

If you are from Tennessee then you know all about the fire in the Smokies. If you live in the US, then maybe you recall seeing it on the news. If you are in another country, you may not have any idea what I’m talking about so I’ll give you the short version: in November 2016 a massive fire started in the mountains and it burned acres upon acres of woods, people lost their homes and there were some people who lost their lives. It was a tragic time for East Tennessee. And as tragedies usually go, once the smoke clears or the rain stops or the water recesses,  people tend to forget about what happened. I’m guilty of it too. But today was a good reminder of the destruction.

As FMG and I were walking on the trail, it was nice and cool and green.

  We walked up the mountain and it was almost like a clearing. There was no shade and lots of the greenery was gone. And it was HOT! The temperature had to have increased by about 20 degrees. As we looked around, we could see that part of this mountain had been on fire. The green that was there was new growth. We could see parts of trees that were still covered with soot. And even though it had been 3 years, you could rub your hand along the trunk and have ash and soot on your palm. There was a large old tree that was still standing but it was mostly black from flames, but it was still alive and you could tell he fought to be there. He didn’t have leaves anymore but he was standing tall and strong. And there was another tall lanky tree that was black all the way up to the top and right next to it was a tree just as tall that hadn’t been touched at all. The fire looked like it had jumped and was selective about it’s victims.

      The forest is fighting to regrow. We could see across the valley the tops of trees that had been burned but were still standing and below them, we could see the lush forest that was left unscathed.

Life is like that sometimes. We watch others or ourselves get trampled on over and over while others seem to be skipped over and left unscathed. But lots of times, it’s the ones that have been burnt and refused to fall that are the really successful ones. I want to be that old burned tree standing in the middle of the forest refusing to fall.

It wasn’t long before we were back in lush forest again and in the shade. We took that as our cue to head back down the mountain to the truck. We talked about destruction and the wonders of nature to build itself back up after tragedy. We should strive to be more like nature.

So if you feel like your life is getting the best of you, just remember, they may burn you down, but you are an oak and not even a forest fire can bring you down.

          Took a trip to the Smokies and had a revelation... #beatree #life #love #survival #stayup #rouletteweekend #blog Flea Market Guy (FMG) and I went on a Sunday morning adventure yesterday. I had mentioned on Saturday that I wanted to go on a hike.

#cataract falls #falls #fire in the smokies #hiking #hiking trails #smokies #smoky mountains #walking #wildfires

[elisekw4-blog]

A Bad Fall

Being home was surreal and yet I was 100% ready to be back on trail as soon as our time there was up. We left Seattle on a hot Sunday morning and headed to Snoqualmie where my parents sent us off. We hiked uphill for seven miles and cowboy camped at Ridge Lake, one of many beautiful alpine lakes in the area. I woke up at five am to the strong smell of smoke. We were suddenly in a cloud of smoke, covered in ash. The next day was full of ridge walking with these spectacular views which were now hidden in the smoky abyss. As bummed as I was about the smoky curtain, I tried to make the best of it anyhow. About five miles into my day, on a downhill section of the ridge walk, I stepped on a rock at the edge of the ridge, and immediately turned my ankle in the worst way. My full body weight and some serious momentum were both working against me. As I lay in the middle of the trail, pack straps choking me, knee skinned, I began to sob. I wasn’t crying because I was hurt, although I knew I was badly injured. I cried because the first thought I had was ‘my thru hike is over.’ Devastation flooded me. I’ve come so close, and this is how it ends?! I started to cry out for DB, but he was too far ahead and couldn’t hear my cries. I couldn’t stand. I continued to cry and soon enough another thru hiker came along. I had met Bobby Hill a few weeks back, but didn’t really know him. He immediately took off his pack and sat down with me. He gave me something for the pain and told me he would stay with me for however long I needed. I was SO grateful to have him there with me. We talked about my options. As the tears subsided, the reality sunk in. This was a real injury. I was on the side of a steep mountain, miles from water, and there were no easy exit points. I could hike back to the last water five miles, or continue north to the next water three miles ahead, where DB would be waiting for me. If I couldn’t hike at all, I needed to seriously consider pressing my SOS and get airlifted out. For anyone who knows me, the last option wasn't one I would give into unless it was life or death. After more tears of frustration, some pain killers, an ace bandage wrap, and lots of motivation from my peers, I decided to hobble the three miles north to the pond where I would meet up with DB. Bobby Hill patiently walked behind me and made sure I was okay. About half way to the pond, we turned around a bend to find DB, hiking south to find me. "Honey, I'm broken" were the first words out of my mouth. I've fallen so many times on the PCT and I've never been hurt. Why this time?! DB walked behind me just as Bobby Hill had, and we slowly made the other mile and a half to the pond. I soaked my already grapefruit size ankle in the cool water and we ate lunch and talked about our options. I didn't want to turn around and so we decided to hike the next three miles to the waterfall and camp. It was the slowest three miles of my entire hike (including the Sierras). Along the way we met a hiker named The Mayor, who gave me some extra food and offered to carry my pack for a while and give DB a break. Of course DB said he didn't need the help....my night in shining armor ;). When we arrived at the waterfall, camping was limited. There was already a hiker posted up and just enough room for us to squeeze onto a semi flat rock on a cliffs edge. Not ideal, but we had no other options. There was a small note at the campsite reading, "resident rat. Do not camp here! Will chew through ANYTHING to get to food". We didn't take this too seriously. We've been living out here for five months and have never had any issues with rodents. Our friend Tissue showed up shortly after, and we all made dinner together. Tissue gave me a great ankle brace and some pain killers. We set up our cowboy camp and went to bed shortly after eating. It had been a long day and I needed some good sleep. DB and I decided to use our food bags as pillows to ensure the rat would stay away. We've always been under the impression that animals will smell us first and be scared off. Well, this nasty little bugger had some balls. No sooner than five minutes after laying my head down did I hear the pitter patter of rat feet on my thermarest neoair. Omg!!!! The rat had crawled right up to my head! We shooed it away, only to have it return as soon as we settled in again. This was an ongoing issue for a while. Finally we decided to flip over so that our heads were towards the cliff and we stashed all our food between us and cuddled it. That damn rat finally left us alone and we got some much needed sleep. However I did fall asleep with my tent poles in one hand and my head lamp in the other, ready to swat the bugger if he was brave enough to return. The first thing most of us do when we wake up is pee (sorry, but I have no filter anymore). On this morning, my ankle was so swollen and so painful, I could barely preform this task. We were 20 miles from any road and I couldn't even pee on my own. This was bad. I crawled back to my sleeping bag and began to cry. I cried and cried and cried. When I thought I was done crying, I cried again. I was so frustrated with my body and so fearful that this was the end of my PCT adventure. DB told me I had to make a decision. We would either commit to the 50 miles to Stevens, with a high probability of running out of foods and a chance of doing more damage to my ankle, or hike back 20 miles with enough food to take it easy and have a better chance of making it safely. This was one of the hardest decisions for me. I've never hiked south bound. I'm a north bound thru hiker. This was a time where I had to put my pride aside and make a smart decision. I made the choice to hike back to Snoqualmie after trying to walk 50 ft from the campsite to trail in utter agony. DB insisted on carrying my pack and we ever so slowly made our way up the many switchbacks we descended the evening before. Along the way we ran into many familiar faces of hikers we had met along the way but hadn't seen in a long time. Everyone stopped to make sure we were okay, offering help carrying my pack, made sure we had extra food and meds. It was amazing to feel so much support from my thru hiking peers. We even met a section hiker named Janis, who was a massage therapist. Janis gave me a treatment right there on trail! My gratitude was overflowing. We arrived at the pond after three hours and spent the rest of the day soaking my foot, elevating it and simply resting. DB was so supportive. We are used to being on a sort of schedule and meeting these goals we set for ourselves each day. My injury threw a wrench into our plans, and of course I felt guilty for being the reason we had to turn around. DB didn't make me feel guilty about it for a second. Be was 100% supportive in my decision to turn around and did every single thing he could to make sure I was okay. He reminded me to drink water and elevate my foot at each break. He carried my pack the entire way out....which had to have been extremely hard. He had his own pack on his back and mine on his chest, climbing mountains to our exit point. Many hikers who passed by us commented on how strong he was and what a champ I had in a hiking partner. Of course I fully agreed with each of them, yet each time he would tell them they were wrong. He told them that I was the strong one and the champion for hiking on my injured foot. I honestly couldn't be luckier to have him as my hiking partner. Our friendship makes the hiking more enjoyable, but it most certainly makes situations like these far more manageable. We hiked fifteen miles the following day, all the way to the road. We were both exhausted and sore. We weren't sure how we were going to get to Leavenworth where we planned to stay with my friend Erika (an 7ne RN alum) and her husband while I could heal. It was almost seven pm and we had no plan and we were beat. We decided to walk to the Chevron at the pass where hikers get a free beer from a local named Dan who hosts a food truck and figure out a plan there. The moment Dan handed us our beers, my phone buzzed. It was Erika, telling me that her good family friend Donna who lives at the pass had a room and hot meal for us to stay the night. I yelped with utter joy and hugged DB. I called Donna moments later and I kid you not, she was there within five minutes! We couldn't have dreamed of a better scenario. Donna is truly one of the kindest souls we've met on trail. She and her husband provided us with hot showers, laundry, their guest room and two hot meals. My parents (they are incredible) picked us up early in the morning and drove us all the way to Leavenworth to Erika's house. I'm officially resting now and am feeling so grateful for all of the support on and off trail in the last 72 hours. Thank you to everyone who offered to help me. I'm immensely lucky to have a such wonderful people in my life and I don't take it for granted one bit. I'm certain that I'll be back on trail in no time. Until then, I'm looking forward to catching up with my old friend from UWMC here in Leavenworth. Feeling SO much love and sending it right back to all of you! XO -Munch

[mybookplacenet]

Featured Post: Florida Fiction Series by PC Zick

"About Florida Fiction Series: Florida Fiction Series Box Set Three full-length novels filled with love, intrigue, murder, and mayhem in wild and wacky Florida Tortoise Stew, Trails in the Sand, Native Lands follow the outrageous happenings in the Sunshine State when it comes to developing and destroying precious natural resources. Love and romance mingle with bits of environmental truths in these three contemporary novels. ˃˃˃ Tortoise Stew - Politics, murder, and chaos in rural Florida ". . .a hugely entertaining book about local politics, corruption, environmentalist and journalism in a small fictitious town in Florida." -Christoph Fischer Books Often compared to the novels of Carl Hiassen, Tortoise Stew exposes the quest to destory the landscape of rural Florida. Small town politics take center stage in this novel about the development of Florida at any cost. Kelly Sands is a reporter covering some of the more controversial and contentious issues in the fictional north Florida town of Calloway. Dead armadillos and gopher tortoise carcasses are left as calling cards to those opposing the development as commission meetings erupt into all-out warfare. With the murder of one commissioner and the suicide of his wife, Kelly begins an investigation that threatens to topple the carefully laid plans of the developers and politicians to bring a movie studio and landing strip within the city limits of the small town. When a young girl is killed by a semi-truck from Monster Mart, the environmentalists become even more vocal against the developers' plans. Chaos reigns as both sides raise voices and fists in one cacophonous uproar until saner heads bring justice to all. ˃˃˃ Trails in the Sand - Family secrets, an oil spill, and redemption "Trails in the Sand is a southern drama on the scale of Anne Rivers Siddons." Amazon review When environmental writer Caroline Carlisle sets off to report on endangered sea turtles during the BP oil spill in 2010, the last thing she expects is to do is uncover family secrets. The long-kept secrets threaten to destroy her family, unless she can heal the hurts from a lifetime of lies. To make matters worse, Caroline's love for her late sister's husband, Simon, creates an uproar in a southern family already set on a collision course with its past. Trails in the Sand is set on Florida's panhandle and the east coast near St. Augustine. Florida's Panhandle beaches, including St. George Island, off the coast near Apalachicola in the Gulf of Mexico, are home to hundreds of sea turtle nests each summer. When the oil spill threatens to come ashore on Florida's Panhandle beaches, conservationists and wildlife managers join together in an historic effort to save the sea turtle eggs by moving them across the state to Cape Canaveral. As the oil from BP's oil spill continues to spew forth into the Gulf of Mexico, urgency to save Florida wildlife mounts. It's in this atmosphere that Caroline discovers the truth about her family as she writes stories about the rescue of the eggs. ˃˃˃ Native Lands - Nature and love disrupted always find a way back “Native Lands by P.C. Zick is a wonderful novel and a gripping thriller at the same time. Handling several plot lines and many characters with ease, Zick has a story rich in plot and full of fabulous characters." Amazon review When their environment is torn apart by a conglomerate of international interests, a tribe of native Floridians thought to be extinct rise up and form their own oddly matched conglomerate, and with the assistance of nature, attempt to halt the destruction of the natural world they treasure. Cultural boundaries established centuries ago are erased as love and nature seek the balance lost in the battle for power and control of the last of the Florida frontier. Targeted Age Group: Adult Written by: PC Zick Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Author Bio: Bestselling author P.C. Zick describes herself as a storyteller no matter what she writes. And she writes in a variety of genres, including romance, contemporary fiction, and creative nonfiction. She's won various awards for her essays, columns, editorials, articles, and fiction. The three novels in her Florida Fiction Series contain stories of Florida and its people and environment, which she credits as giving her a rich base for her storytelling. She says her, "Florida's quirky and abundant wildlife--both human and animal--supply my fiction with tales almost too weird to be believable." P.C. writes both sweet and steamy romances. The sweet contemporary romances in her Smoky Mountain Romances, are set in southwest North Carolina. Another sweet romance series, Rivals in Love, contains two books with four more in the works. All six follow the Crandall family of Chicago as the siblings find love despite their focus on successful careers. Her steamy romances go from Florida to Long Island. The Behind the Love series, set in a small fictional town in Florida, feature a community of people who form bonds as they learn to overcome the challenges of their youth. Her Montauk Romances are set in and around Long Island and feature simple, yet sophisticated beach houses designed with romance in mind. The two books in this set are filled with steamy scenes as love grows and thrives. No matter the genre of novel, they all contain elements of romance with strong female characters, handsome heroes, and descriptive settings. She believes in living lightly upon this earth with love, laughter, and passion, and through her fiction, she imparts this philosophy in an entertaining manner with an obvious love for her characters, plot, and themes. Follow the author on social media: Learn more about the writer. Visit the Author's Website Facebook Fan Page Twitter Read the full article

#contemporaryfiction #DeepwaterHorizon #ecojournalism #Floridafiction #Floridapolitics #literaryfiction #P.C.Zick

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... F is For Family (S02E04) Night Shift Airdate: May 30, 2017 @Netflix @GaumontTV Ratings: Privatized @BillBurr @mikepriceinla Score: 8.75/10 @FYeahBill @FIFFNetflix TVTime/FB/Twitter/IG/Tumblr/Path/Pin: @SpotlightSaga **********SPOILERS BELOW********** 'Is my house clean?' No seriously, I'm gonna look up and you take a look in. I need to know... Can't go trouncing about town, especially the notorious 'Cocaine Cowboy City' of Miami with powder around the edges of my nostrils. I wouldn't think anyone, in any decade of existence, would want an onlooker seeing them trading coke for anything right out in the open... Whether that's in a record store, yes they still exist & I'm sure they would love a visit, or a street corner... I'd suggest visiting the record store over the street corner. Just as walking, talking, 'Teenage Turmoil', 'Trepidation Tornado' (Yeah, I'm also a sucker for wordplay), Kevin Murphy (Justin Long) is looking to make it big in what he sees as almost a dream world of sorts as a bonafide rockstar, he spots his well connected, high rolling neighbor, who is very much a part of that dream world, bribing an aggressively apprehensive DJ to play a pop record with a picture of a 'Teen Heartthrob' holding an adorable puppy on the front... But hey this is where they are in their lives. Pretty sure I've been lower. Vic (Sam Rockwell), along with the rest of the cast, has so much more room to breathe now that the series has been extended from 6-Episodes to the nicely rounded off number of 10 entries for S2. However, this means that Vic can no longer simply be that hurricane of a character, representing the perfect storm of carefree 1970's hedonism and indulgence. Suddenly, there are consequences for his actions and we are peaking into a long, dark tunnel where Vic is on the verge of an 'existential crisis'. No, there are no immediate repercussions for any of Vic's self destructive behaviors quite yet anyway, but the forlorn fates are written all over his face. Right now he's much closer to what we would refer to the point of 'existential dread' than we would call a full blown 'existential crisis'. The writers are smart though, they're giving you a peak of his cards without letting you see his full hand and that will surely create a helluva payoff when it it's finally time to pay the piper. That's a stark difference from a character that was once a quick, in & out, 2-D slice of animated comic relief. When it comes to television, cinema, film, real life, whatever... 'Existential' and 'Crisis' are literally my two favorite words in the English language, not only because they are so beautiful when paired together, but more so the fact that it's one thing Im actually good at. I know that's a really weird thing to be proud of, excited to dive into, or even claim to be 'good at'... But with all the LSD & DMT I've consumed in my life, I believe I've had more self-induced existential crisis and egodeath(s) than most of the worlds population. It's not just hallucinogenics and weird dissociatives, or even a finely tuned education in psychology & sociology that have made me an expert and lover of all things 'existential', it's also real life experience in all things crisis... Inner, outer, dramatic, and otherwise... I've always been dramatic, I got it from my mother, and her adoptive Mother... They are whatever is slightly above the 'every southern woman' version of Bette Davis & Joan Crawford. Everything is a spectacle, darling. Anxiety attacks are full on broadway performances, complete with Tony Awards, a nice Southern 'Wink', and a long list of 'Thank You's at the end... Oh and trips to the mall that start out sweet & fruitful and end in sheer terror. My Step-Father is more like the American Cherokee version of a cross between Tim Allen & Jim Gaffigan, if that makes sense. He has a traditional, signature style of humor that is both clean & observational and masculine & sometimes surprisingly crass, mainly due to his dual nature and long hard road from the cesspool of a nasty rock bottom to the heights of being a pillar of his community. There was a time in my life where these attributes all made me angry, just like Kevin. At that rebellious teenage age, if someone says go, you stop and if they say stop, you go. If a parental figure or an adult influence that we look up to makes a mistake, as a young adult many times we hold them to it unfairly... As if they're supposed to be perfect because they are the adult. As kids, we want to meet them halfway with unrealistic expectations. Essentially that's because adults meet their children and particularly teenagers with unrealistic expectations, themselves. Can't expect a toddler not to touch a hot stove, can't expect a little kid not to pick their nose (or worse), can't expect a teenager not to do usual teenager stuff, and we can't expect our parents to always remember all of that in times of stress. Looking back now (and let's hope Kevin moves forward to this place soon), I know that I learned the most from watching my parents make mistakes and subsequently finding a way to fix it, by any means necessary. Kevin is already sick over his issues with his dad, so he's practically ready to give up when he sees Vic forking over line after line until DJ Howlin' Hank (Josh Adam Meyers) would say he loves any record Vic gave him to play (yes, that includes records with vinyl covers that feature kids holding puppies that look like they "fell out of Donnie Osmond's pussy"). When one reaches the epiphany that hard work, talent, and actually being cool isn't what gets them to top, a breakdown of some sort is to be expected. Personally I've had this specific epiphany more than once (complete with influential dramatic Hollywood Breakdown), so a nice soul searching, ego shattering session of smoking weed (or simply insert alternative mind expansion drug here) his friends refer to as 'Oregon Gold dipped in Columbia River Salmon Piss' out of a baby doll made into a pipe is just what Kevin needs to push him to a point where he's ready to face this new, harsher, cruel world to get their band's ultimate goal achieved... Being played on the radio, preferably by DJ Howlin' Hank... Because, you know, at least they are 100% sure what it takes to make 'Hank Howl' (thanks, Vic)! So off the clueless teenage trio goes to score some blow. This should be good. Kevin has currently written off his father, Frank (Bill Burr), for his inability to accept a certain kind of defeat... Or better yet, I should say... Face his humility for a greater good and 'bite the bullet' at the unemployment office. He sees his father's stubborn pride as a weakness, when really like any human attribute, it's technically both a positive and a negative. The fact that Frank is lying to Sue (Laura Dern) about it, makes it all 100x worse, though... Creating a mountain blocking any possible view to see the silver lining. Frank taking a humiliating, lower paid job, just to avoid a handout is silly and ultimately a bit insane, but at least Frank is trying to do something instead of curling up into a corner & folding. Still, the whole ironic arrangement is not lost on us. Don't think for a moment that we won't be on the lookout for bumper stickers being sold at 'Hot Topic or 'Urban Outfitters' that say "Ask me about my Loser Husband's shit job!" Frank's insecurities and paranoia are officially at an all time high. His new boss Smoky (Michael Kenneth Williams) shows Frank the restrictive ropes of the world of vending machines, its many perks, and how to "Shove it. Slam it. Twist the lock. Stick the key inside your sock." Why can't the key just be on the key ring? Simple. "Because the rhyme came first, system came later." Frank is killing it, but an accident with the lock on the back door (see how important those rhymes are), ends up with the bag of change they've been collecting falling out of the back of the truck and finding it's way all over the dirty urban street. Frank goes into survival mode, scouring the street like a hardworking crackhead to recover the change. As this is happening, Kevin is out looking to score $10 worth of coke in the same seedy downtown neighborhood. Last time I checked $10 won't get you a bag of coke, and I live in a city where cocaine is easier to get than the attention of a bartender, and cheaper to get than a simple single liquor cocktail. These three young clowns mistake a pimp for a drug dealer and one of the funniest scenes of the series commences when the 'white' they are all so ready to score turns out to be an obese, Caucasian, $10 prostitute that has difficulties keeping one of her titties inside of her blouse. As the trio scrambles to escape the low rent hooker who offers to 'fuck them all if they have a sandwich bag', they end up passing Frank digging for nickels on the side of the street. Ok, ok... This is obviously the worst possible scenario for Kevin, but his frustrations lead him to march into the radio station with his band's demo tape in hand, demanding to be heard. Fuck the system, right? Everything might be going to shit for the characters in the Netflix Original 'F is For Family', but when you are down on your luck and you don't even know why you're stuck in a meaningless, chaotic existence... Suddenly an existential crisis becomes your best friend. Frank's embarrassing dedication to picking up the change in the street leads him to secure the job of no one's dreams, Sue has a sudden idea for a product invention when going through the mundane process of drying out her lettuce while making dinner salads, and Kevin's frustration & desperation pay off after the boys tune in to hear Vic use a two syllable taste of their song to introduce the weather segment. To three young boys with a pipe dream that's like the equivalent of being featured on MTV's 'Total Request Live' in 1999. Recently I've watched a friend go through a horrible incident and face their mortality. Suddenly that person is trapped in an existential nightmare... 'What's any of this worth if it really doesn't lead to anything, if we are all biding our time on this earth until the Grim Reaper comes-a-knocking anyway?' And that's just the base of it. We've all got our existential and emotional baggage to deal with, but it's the unexpected moments when you're at your lowest point that suddenly remind us that even tho we might all just be going through the motions and repeating history over and over, sudden sparks of light can suddenly reignite your passion for life... Its as all as easy as that, or as difficult as that, whichever way you want to look at it. Like Frank said in the beginning of FIFF's 'Night Shift', "I woulda killed myself, but I don't want to haunt my own house." **********Written By: Kevin Cage********** Special Thx: TVTime, Bill Burr, Michael Price, Jerry Wilson, Kat Holiday, Chad Rigsby... Dedicated to: Denver G. Pratt http:://www.tvtime.com http://www.spotlightsaga.com http://www.facebook.com/SpotlightSaga http://www.facebook.com/groups/ArtsEntertainment

#f is for family #fiff #michael price #bill burr #cartoon #tv time #spotlight saga #Kevin Cage #TVTime #spotlightsaga #Laura Dern #Justin Long #debi derryberry #Sam Rockwell #haley reinhart #Mo Collins #FIFF 2x04 #Night Shift #trevor devall #Kat Holiday #netflixandchill #netflix #netflix and chill #tv review #tv news #tv #tv show #tv series #animated series #f is for family 2x04

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How To Become A Firefighter In Virginia

I can’t tell you how many aspiring firefighters have asked me how to become a firefighter in Virginia.  I have personally met several firefighters who work there, and they are some of the most professional and highly trained firefighters I’ve ever met. 

Virginia is one of the most interesting states in the US because despite being an average-sized state in the middle of the east coast, it seems to be the center for so much. Virginia has so much history in the way it has shaped the nation and it continues to leave an important legacy.

Cities continue to grow in the south, the mountain regions bring in even more tourists and revenue and Arlington still supports the nation’s capital.

With so much to protect regarding Virginia’s past, present and future, it needs the best possible fire service at its disposal. So, how can you be a part of this vital Virginian firefighting team?

How to Become a Firefighter in Virginia

At least 18 years old

High school education or higher

Virginia resident with US citizenship

EMT training recommended

Good moral character

Physically fit

No substance abuse issues or current tobacco use

As you will see, when I discuss some of the departments in Virginia, the state wants nothing but the best. They will weed out the weakest candidates and can seem a little ruthless.

However, most candidates of the right age and with the right qualifications can at least apply. Below I want to take a look at some of the expectations when applying to become a firefighter in Virginia.

This means the training requirements, responsibilities and challenges in different regions. I will also discuss some of the different departments and the training facilities.

Firefighting in Virginia

The landscape of Virginia changes dramatically from east to west. A large portion of the eastern stretch of Virginia is taken up with the Blue Ridge Mountains. The Shenandoah National Park sits in the North and tourists often follow the Blue Ridge Parkway down into North Carolina and on to the Great Smoky Mountains.

This area sees a lot of visitors that want to camp, explore and relax out in nature. The area is peaceful but not without its risks of fire and injuries. Wildfires can spread via man-made or natural causes, hikers can fall ill and accidents can happen on the trails.

Local firefighters in these areas need to be able to handle these emergencies with ease. Even the smallest volunteer department should be qualified in advanced rescue skills, wildland management and water rescue. They also need EMT training to help in medical calls.

At the furthest western edge of the state, you come to the coast of Chesapeake Bay and some of the larger cities in Virginia.

Norfolk and Richmond are among the major settlements out here. There is also the more remote Virginian peninsula with its own coastal communities. Here there is a range of responsibilities and challenges for all the firefighters.

The big cities need large departments with varied divisions to handle a large volume of calls. The smaller coastal communities need fire prevention strategies and support in the event of a major storm.

Water rescue skills are vital here – both on the rivers and out to see. Marine divisions can help with boat rescues, sea searches and other life-saving incidents. There is also the potential risk that these communities on the rivers could see flooding in bad weather.

Fire Academies in Virginia

Virginia has a large number of community colleges and fire academies across the state that can help with vocational training. They include:

Richmond: J Sergeant Reynolds Community College

Norfolk: Tidewater Community College

Roanoke: Virginia Western Community College

Franklin: Paul D Camp Community College

Abingdon: Virginia Highlands Community College

Hampton: Hampton University

Alberta: Southside Virginia Community College

Lynchburg: Central Virginia Community College

Wytheville: Wytheville Community College

Locust Grove: Germanna Community College

The majority of courses that are available in Virginia are community college courses. These tend to take either one or two years to complete depending on your timeline. Some people take a quick certificate to get them into their Firefighter 1 and 2 certification exams.

Others take an associate degree to earn more credits and knowledge in other areas. This is often more than enough to get into the fire service.

Another option is to take a four-year degree course. This requires a lot more commitment but gives students a wider education and even more experience to take into high-level roles.

Hampton University offers this chance with their Bachelor of Science in Public Safety. Here, students can take a concentration in Fire Administration.

The modules become more specific and advanced as the years go on. In the fourth year, students learn a lot about management skills, fire investigation, legal issues, disaster planning and more.

This education sets graduates up for roles leading divisions and means that Virginian fire departments can bring in young officers with fresh ideas. You can learn more about the course here.

Tidewater Community College is one of those many institutions that offer students a certificate or an associate degree. They provide two different options.

The first is the one-year Fire Science Supervision Career Studies Certificate. This one is open to those that are already certified firefighter but want to advance their position.

The other is the two-year Fire Science Technology Associate Degree. This one is open to anyone that wants to become certified because it teaches skills for the Firefighter I and II examinations. The course is taught at the Virginia Beach Campus and more information is available here.

Major Fire Departments in Virginia

The following is a list of major fire departments in Virginia.  While it isn’t comprehensive it’s a great place to start if you’re interested in learning more about how to become a firefighter in Virginia.

How to Become a Virginia Beach Firefighter

At least 18 years old

High school education or higher

Virginia resident with US citizenship

EMT training recommended

Good moral character

Physically fit

No substance abuse issues or current tobacco use

Those that have recently gained their education at the Virginia Beach college campus may decide to stick around the area and apply for a job.

The city is home to a large department of nearly 500 personnel over 19 stations. This is essential as they are tasked to look after all 450,000 people, their homes and their business. The size of Virginia Beach means that there are lots of calls for medical emergencies, fires and accidents.

There is also the fact that this city is popular with tourists – some of whom may get into trouble out in the water.

Therefore, the city requires lots of specialist equipment and well-trained crew members that can conduct effective rescues. They have technical rescue trucks, fireboats and a Hazmat response vehicle.

The basic requirements in this city are as you would expect when it comes to age, education, residency and physical fitness.

There is also the requirement to sign a form saying that you won’t use any tobacco products while under employment. Also, be aware that the screening process is tough, they don’t like any past bad behavior and they will catch out any lies through a polygraph test and firefighter interviews.

This includes disqualification for employment for those that have erratic work records, undetected juvenile crimes and Class 2 misdemeanor convictions related to moral turpitude. You can find out more about these rule and regulations here.

How to Become an Arlington, VA Firefighter

At least 18 years old

High school education or higher

Virginia resident with US citizenship

EMT training recommended

Good moral character

Physically fit

No substance abuse issues or current tobacco use

The fire department in Arlington may have one of the most significant roles in the whole state. There are fewer stations and personnel here than in larger cities. But, these crews cover a lot of ground and need to be prepared for major disasters.

Arlington is an area of national importance because it is home to the Pentagon and an immediate neighbor of Washington, D.C. It also contains Reagan National Airport, two university campus and will soon welcome Amazon.

That’s a lot of travelers, military personnel, students, workers and residents in one small county. It was the Arlington fire department that responded to the Pentagon attack in 2001 and they will respond again if anything were to happen in D.C.

Because of all this, Arlington County Fire Department expect their recruits to be in peak physical condition with the right training and mindset for the job. You can find out more here.

Job Prospects for Firefighters in Virginia

The prospects for employment and pay can vary depending on your region. For example, there is a higher employment rate in the north than in the south.

The metropolitan area of Washington-Arlington-Alexandria actually covers four different states, but it has a high employment rate. There were 5,800 firefighters here in 2018 with a ratio of 1.85 per 1000 jobs.  At the time, the average annual salary there was $64,930.

In Virginia Beach, the current starting salary is $42,723. This increases by 5% on graduation. Additional experience and skills can also increase the amount earned. Therefore, there can be a big pay gap.

The average salary for the state of Virginia is $51,510.

This is significantly more than its neighbors. North Carolina firefighters got $35,550 and West Virginia firefighters got $36,820.

https://www.bls.gov/oes/current/oes332011.htm#st

There are lots of challenges ahead of you if you’re interested in learning how to become a firefighter in Virginia. Some applicants will fall at the first hurdle because of their background and past or current tobacco use.

Others may struggle to meet the requirements on the fitness and personality tests. Those that pass then get to tackle tough training to learn all the necessary skills for their area.

Wherever you work in Virginia, you need the dedication to improve your skillset. This is as true when providing back-up for situations in Washington D.C as it is in the mountains or on the eastern coast. Stay committed, work hard and understand what is required of you in your chosen department.

The post How To Become A Firefighter In Virginia appeared first on FirefighterNOW.

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