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ladylooch · 10 months

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Omgg bless your heart. Okok I literally don’t know if I want something where Woody has to physically defend his girlfriend orrr if we do something like a slow/lazy rainy Sunday where the reader and woody are at home watching movies together or the reader is reading a book and it’s just full of fluff or they could be cooking like pasta and have some slow jazz music playing in the background, the vibe could still be the slow rainy Sunday. Idk I’ll let you decide, my heart is so broken I can’t think straight 😭

Days Like This with Miles Wood

A/N: Here @ Lady Looch, I like to provide, so I’m gonna do both for ya 😘 Especially in these dire times where our Miles is now on the Avs. How will we live without him?!

Also, I want Miles Wood to punch someone in the face for me.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: smutty themes but not actual smut, fighting, swearing, drinking, most of this is so fluffy you might get butterflies in your stomach.

It’s a wild Saturday out in Hoboken. You and your boyfriend, Miles, are out at a bumping bar in the early morning hours. You have no idea how you’re still awake considering you worked long, overtime hours this week. You wanted to go home after the Devils win, but literally every single player and their S.O. was heading to the bar. You didn’t feel like you could bail.

You’re glad you came out though. The scene is fun and light. The boys are letting loose and Miles can barely keep his hands off you long enough to take a pull from his beer. His hands stroke the skin under the hem of your shirt, above the waistband of your jeans.

“I’m going to get a drink.” You say close to his ear. Your lips brush against his lobe teasingly. He turns his face to press your mouths together. A coy smile pushes your lips up, making it hard to stay connected. His hand drifts lower and lower, giving your butt a discreet squeeze that makes you hot. “Are you good?”

“I’m incredible in bed. Thanks for asking. ” He retorts.

“Well, that I know. I meant your beer.”

“Nah, I’m good. Bratter just got me one.”

“Okay.” You press a final, quick peck to his cheek,

As you walk, you can feel your body buzzing from both the alcohol and Miles. You can barely wait to get him home with how grabby he is tonight. You maneuver your way around a large group of guys who are so loud it makes your eye twitch.

All of a sudden, one of them grabs you. He forces your momentum back like he is going to dip kiss you. His hand grips your wrist as he forces your momentum back towards the floor. You can feel your skin throbbing under his grasp.

“Dude what the fuck!” You shout, shoving at his face until he brings you back up. He releases you, laughing with the rest of his buddies like it’s such a funny joke.

“I need a smooch to complete my initiation bingo card! Please! You’re so hot!”

“No.” You scowl at him.

“Damn, I’ve always wanted to fuck a WAG tho.” The way he looks at you sends a chill down your spine.

“You picked the wrong WAG to fuck with, bud.” Miles fist comes out of nowhere, straight into the guys face. His nose cracks open from the solid punch. Miles immediately reaches down for the guy's polo shirt, bringing him up to his face by his collar. “I should fucking kill you for touching her.”

“Babe.” Your voice is small, but Miles lets him go when he hears it.

“Your brothers here should teach you how to be a real man.”

Miles turns to you, cupping your cheeks, “are you okay?” You nod, gripping his wrists tightly for reassurance of his presence.

“I’m pressing charges.” The guy wails when he gets to his feet. “You’re going to hear from my dad’s lawyer.” Miles lets you go to turn back to the punk.

“Go ahead you fucking prick. You assaulted my girlfriend first. I’ve got 50 witnesses here who will back me up.” The bar cheers loudly in solidarity with Miles. He stays standing between you and the group until he is sure they have all left the bar, escorted by security. Miles’ arms are around your body, enveloping you in his warmth. You feel relief course through your veins at his touch. Everything is okay now. Miles will keep you safe.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, chest heaving with adrenaline.

“Yeah.” Your voice is shaky as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“We should go home.”

“No, I’m not going to let that guy ruin our night.”

“Stay close. Don’t go anywhere without me.” You nod that you won’t. “Do you still want a drink?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s grab one.” Miles motions to the bartender who whips up another one that’s on the house.

You’re shaken up the rest of the night, which ends about 30 minutes later as the team begins to disperse. You and Miles take a cab back to your apartment. You get into the shower to scrub your make up off and the feeling of that guy’s hands on you.

Then you join Miles in bed where he wraps you in his arms, soothing away the ick on your skin the scalding water couldn’t.

- - -

The heat of Miles radiates up your back the next morning. He has you spooned so deep into his big body that you are crunched into the mattress, barely able to breathe. You wheeze in a breath, wiggling until his grip on you loosens a smidge.

Rain patters against the window. Your bedroom is dark with the gloomy clouds hanging over the city while your body aches from last night. A headache is pulsing along your temples and your feet hurt from standing in boots for so long yesterday.

Miles’ hand on your hip begins to move, tracing quick, light circles along your bone. You reach for his forearm, trailing your nails along his exposed skin. His nose comes along the back of your neck before his lips plump in a good morning kiss against your skin.

“Wanna stay here all day with you.” He murmurs.

“Me too.” You wind your hand back to grip his curls in your hand. He moves from the back of your neck to the side, sucking your skin into his mouth. He doesn’t stop until he marks you just beneath the collar of your t-shirt.

“How are you?” You know he’s checking in again about last night.”

“I’m good. I know I’m always safe with you.”

“It took me a second too long to get to you.” His voice is harsh at himself.

“Your timing was perfect, Miles. Any second earlier and you would have taken me down with him.”

“Cannot believe he touched you. Gonna have to tattoo my hands on you or something.”

“That might be too far.”

“No.” He mumbles, squeezing you deeper into him again.

You both lay in bed for another few hours. You share kisses, dozing in and out of sleep wrapped up in each other. Miles’ hands explore your body, working you into a needy state so he can take you slow and sensually.

“I want coffee.” You mumble against his lips when you are both happy and naked.

“I can go get some. I think we are out.”

“Yes, please.”

His naked butt is in its fully beautiful glory as he struts to the closet. He pulls on fresh clothes and a hat, then comes back to you in bed, dropping a lingering kiss.

“Mmm. Today is gonna be a good day. Just me and you at home.” His nose nuzzles yours before he begrudgingly leaves for the store.

When he returns, he has much more than coffee.

“So many goodies.” You murmur as you come into the kitchen in his t-shirt and a pair of leggings. Miles looks at you like you’re walking a red carpet.

“Baby, how are you so beautiful?” He whines, tucking you into his side.

“Oh my god, stop.”

“No I’m serious. How are you real? How do I get to keep you?”

“Because you buy me things… and punch little shits in the face for me.” Miles’ explosive laugh fills the kitchen.

“Can’t wait to hear from his daddy’s lawyer.”

“Show me what you got.” You say changing the subject back to lighter topics.

“Okay. So much. I got the tea you like.” He shakes the box at you. “I got orange juice and sparkling wine for mimosas. We have a box of cake mix and frosting. Honestly, I really just want to lick frosting off your body though, so we don’t even have to make the cake.” You snort, laughing into his side. “And I got all the ingredients to make you a special dinner we used to have growing up.” You take in the remaining ingredients.

“Chicken soup?”

“Close. Chicken Pot Pie.”

“Wow!” You give him a squeeze. “You’re going all Chef Woody for me today.”

“Mhm, my baby deserves all the comforts today. Lazy Sunday commence!” He yells as he pops the cork off the sparkling wine bottle.

“Wait, babe, where is the coffee?”

“Son of a bitch.”

- - -

The steaming pile of food on your fork is deceivingly bland looking. You hold it up to your lips, blowing it as Miles waits impatiently. He is a great cook, but it’s hard for him to have enough time to make dishes he wants to during the season. Quick, 30 minute meals are too simple and boring for his skillset.

You bring the bite between your lips, then chew slowly. Your eyes close and Miles starts chuckling.

“I love when I can get your eyes to close. Is it good?” He leans forward, surprising you with his lips on yours.

“It’s amazing, baby. Thank you so much.” You kiss him again. “Wow. He’s hot.. he plays hockey.. he can cook. Where are your flaws?”

“I’m hiding them from you.”

“In the closet? Is it like all your nail clippings?” You shudder.

“Ah, I was thinking more like I don’t actually know how to clean a bathroom…”

“I already knew that.” You chuckle, taking another bite of your dinner. It’s somehow better than the first. “And as long as you keep cooking like this, I’m fine with that.”

After dinner, you both work together in the kitchen, listening to music and cleaning up. You tried to clean up yourself because he spent so much time shopping, preparing and cooking, but he wouldn’t let you do it alone.

“Come here.” He murmurs suddenly as Love You Anyway by Luke Combs comes through your bluetooth speaker. “Wanna dance with you.”

You step into his embrace, curling your head to rest against this jaw. One hand grips his and the other spread across his wide shoulders. He’s so muscular this year and you have to spread your fingers wide to touch as much of him as possible.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I’m so happy. Today has been so good.”

You nod in agreement. It’s one of those days you’ll look back on after a rough day and it will bring you home to each other.

The song ends, but you and Miles keep dancing in the kitchen for another few minutes, not wanting to let the other go.

“I’ve got the rest of this.” He finally says against your lips. “Go get a bath ready for us.”

You oblige. You work meticulously to get the bath to the right temperature with the perfect amount of bubbles. You turn the towel warmer on, gather all the candles you can into the room and strategically place them for a romanic glow. The speaker plays soft, country love songs.

“Hey, wanna do a face mask?” He asks when he comes in, pulling his shirt off his body. You pause him there, leaning forward to take a nibble on his pec.

“Yes.” You finally answer, rummaging through the different options you have. You’re giddy because he never lets you do this to him even when you beg. For him to offer is so exciting! It’s been a dry winter, so you grab a hydrating one for you both. Miles makes funny faces at you as you brush it on him while sitting on his lap over the closed toilet. He’s too tall to not be sitting during this application. His fingers tease along your calves making it hard to focus.

“Gonna poke you in the eye if you go any higher.” You murmur when his hands get to your mid thigh.

“Worth it.” He grins, eyes closed as you apply the mask to his nose.

You both get into the bath, Miles holds you close against his body, stroking at your hips under the water. His eyes are closed as he hums along to Thank God by Kane and Katelyn Brown. You bring your hands to his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

“I needed this.” Miles murmurs. “I’ve been missing you so much on the road.”

“Me too, babe. This year feels like you’re always gone.”

“I know. I hate it.” He sighs, bringing your interlaced hands to your breasts. He grips them tight making you wiggle against him. His thumbs brush across the stiff beaks of your nipples and you moan. “Miss your pretty noises.”

The timer for the face masks goes off, halting anything further. You grab the washcloth on the side of the tub, taking your mask off, then helping Miles with his.

“Perfect.” You murmur to him, kissing his full lips so he can open his eyes.

“It’s tingly.” He says against your mouth.

“Yeah, it’s meant to be.”

“Like us.” He nips at your bottom lip. You know what he wants next.

“You gonna keep playing with your dessert or you going to fuck me in our bed?” You ask against his mouth.

Miles smiles.

He doesn’t waste any time lifting your dripping body out of the bath tub, ready to cap off your great day with you sighing his name.

#Miles Wood blurb #Miles Wood x Reader #Miles Wood Fan Fiction #My writing #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #writing request #Not tagging the Avs because we don't need that negativity right now

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

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Do Better

The second installment of my series Safe Space, where the fem!reader needs to call red during a scene with the members. A new chapter is released daily. You can find them all on my series masterlist. Enjoy 💘

Genres: smut, fluff

Tags: established relationship, sub!reader, dom!yoongi, edging, morning sex, colour system, aftercare

WC: 607

Yoongi is very lenient with you on a day-to-day basis. He lets you get away with almost anything, smiling at you and being endlessly patient.

In the bedroom however, Yoongi will tolerate no disrespect. He has made it clear since the beginning how much he likes your obedience and cute little reactions to his touch. But the thing that Yoongi will most definitely not tolerate is you trying to change who is in control and you know it.

It starts out relatively vanilla, Yoongi eating you out on a lazy Sunday morning. He lets you tug his hair, pinning your hips down to remain in control. He has two fingers inside you, lips wrapped around your clit. He always insists on eating you out to prep you, since he likes how desperate you are to come after he does it.

But then you break the rules and come without permission.

“Baby.” Yoongi says the one word with disappointment. “You know we always come together.”

You shrug, fighting back a smile at your plan. “I can give you a blowjob.” You say airily.

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “What’s that?” He asks you in a low, dangerous voice.

“You heard me.”

Yoongi scowls, reaching over to the bedside drawer and pulling out your white vibe. “If you like coming that bad, then who am I to deny you?” He mocks. You hiss as he turns the vibe on to full and presses it against your clit.

You wriggle and fight but Yoongi easily pins you down with one arm over your hips, the weight only adding to the feeling of being helpless. You like the feeling, and Yoongi knows it, which is how he works another two orgasms out of you. It’s a merciless punishment, but you love it when the sweet, soft hearted Yoongi loses his temper in bed.

But then Yoongi starts pushing you for your fourth orgasm of the morning and it becomes too much to bear. Your whines change in pitch, becoming less needy and more desperate. Yoongi interprets it incorrectly and begins to mock you. “You came three times and still need more? Shit, at this rate I should just sit back and watch you come without doing any work.”

“Y-Yoongi.” You beg but Yoongi ignores you, pushing the vibe in harder. You fight but Yoongi holds you down. Finally, tears spring from your eyes. You grip Yoongi’s arm tightly. “Yoongi, red.”

Immediately, Yoongi turns the vibe off and tosses it aside. “I’m so sorry baby. Was it too much?” Yoongi asks, crawling up to lay on top of you. You sigh to say yes, wrapping one hand in his hair. Yoongi just holds you for a moment, so delicately as if you’re made of glass. He rubs small circles on your sides and presses kisses to your neck and collarbone. “I’m so sorry Y/N.” Yoongi sounds close to tears, continuing to press kisses into your skin.

“I’m okay… just wanted to try something new.” You feel bad for upsetting him. You’ve never tried being a brat before, always Yoongi’s good girl. Now you feel like it was a mean thing to do to your kind boyfriend.

“No, don’t apologize.” Yoongi sits up, cupping your face. “It’s my fault for not checking your colour after each orgasm. I’ll do better next time, I promise. Okay?”

You nod, smiling a bit at how worried he is. Seeing you smile, Yoongi kisses you on the lips. “Let me get a cloth to clean you up. Let’s stay in bed a little longer before we shower.”

You kiss him back to reply that you’d love that.

Requests are open ❤

#bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff

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griff-us · 3 years

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Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

#james bucky barnes #james barnes #reader insert #bucky/reader #bucky/you #james bucky barnes/reader #james bucky barnes/you #mcu fic #mcu reader insert #reblogs more than welcome #actually encouraged #thank

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keichanz · 4 years

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More Than

so i was listening to the song More Than My Hometown by Morgan Wallen which is now my new obsession and i shit you not, the ending to this little drab popped into my brain so fast i knew i had to write it down. thus, this angsty little blurb was born.

now as i was writing, i realized that it was giving off sooo many One Last Ride vibes, written by the ever so talented @lemonlushff, that i decided to tweak this so it could tuck somewhere into the story itself as a sort of unofficially official glimpse of their breakup. i’m happy to report that it has Lemon’s official seal of approval and she loved it!

so now i’m gonna share it with all you fine folks and i hope you enjoy it too! :) and since it is in the OLR universe, there will be angst hahahaa.

so this is for you Lemon, my sweet and sour friend~ ❤️

one last thing--i highly recommend either having the song above playing while you read this, or at least listen to it beforehand. yes, it’s a country song, but it really is so good and the lyrics - which i’ve italicized and bolded - seem to reflect Inuyasha’s thoughts perfectly, which is why i thought it fit so well with OLR’s theme.

....shit okay one last last thing: i swear to fuck that the ending jumped out of a scene from a goddamn western harlequin romance novel with its level of cliche and drama and yes i am entirely proud of that fact ;ljadfilajflkahjsfue

She stood beside the bed, feeling empty, cold, hollow as she stared down at the pillows and blankets. It was still unmade, the sheets twisted, messy from her hasty retreat just that morning. Tears burned her eyes as she remembered why; the argument, the begging, the screaming. The heartbreak.

Her heart twinged and Kagome gasped, closing her eyes as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. Was this…was this really it? Were they really going to leave things like this, unresolved and painful between them? God, she didn’t want to. She wanted to run outside, run through the night to his house, throw open the front door and beg him to—

Her bedroom door crashed open and Kagome gasped, whirling around with wide, liquid eyes, heart in her throat. Golden eyes, furious, hard, bore into her own and suddenly a heat suffused her body, chasing away the previous chill, and her stomach swooped as he shut the door and stalked toward her.

Her breath left her in a stuttered exhale, body trembling, coming alive from the heat in his gaze.

“Inuy—”

“Shut up,” he growled, grabbing her waist, hauling her in tight against him. His lips fell over hers, swallowing her gaps, the crush of his mouth hard, unforgiving, punishing.

Hands – frantic, desperate – removed clothing, touching, grabbing, caressing. They fell on the bed in tangle of limbs, skin against skin, heart against heart, flushed, needy, desperate. Growls, moans, whispered pleas echoed throughout the darkness of the room as they rocked together, moving in a dance as old as time. Fingers grasping sweat slicked skin, hearts thundering wildly and then perfectly syncing in a moment of euphoric completion. A stuttered breath, a gasp of a name; then silence.

Tears trekked down her flushed face as she was gathered against a hard chest, as familiar arms wrapped around her stated body and held her as she cried.

Girl, our mamas are best friends and so are we The whole town's rooting for us like the home team Most likely to settle down Plant a few roots real deep and let 'em grow

Kagome stood in front of the full-length mirror and ran a brush through her still damp hair, the yellow and blue sundress she wore complimenting the blue of her eyes. Blue eyes that were dull as they stared at her reflection, but didn’t really see it.

Which was just as well. She didn’t know why she picked this dress to wear, but had felt compelled to wear it anyway, even if looking at it made the vice on her heart tighten even more.

A gentle knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked. Kagome turned her head in time to watch her mother crack open the door and poke her head inside, her smile kind, but her eyes sad. The older woman took in her daughter and her smile faded, but she didn’t comment as she stepped inside.

“Souta brought the car around,” she said softly. “And the keys are in it. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No,” Kagome answered and looked at her reflection again. “I packed most of them in the car last night. I just have my carry-on left.”

Mama nodded but said nothing as gazed at her daughter. Her heart ached at the pain she saw reflected in those dear features, in the eyes were that identical to her late husband’s—Kagome’s father.

“Kagome…” she started, but then sighed as those sad, sad eyes turned toward her once again. Mama shook her head. “Are you going to say goodbye?”

Kagome’s breath hitched. She didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the butterflies that took flight in her belly.

“I…I’m going to try,” she whispered and god help her, but she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes. “But Mama, I don’t…he probably doesn’t want to see…”

Her throat tightened and she pressed her lips tightly together to stifle the sob that welled up. Immediately arms, warm and familiar, surrounded her. Kagome buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as the tears spilled from her eyes.

“I’ll talk to Izayoi,” Mama murmured and kissed her daughter’s head, her heart aching for her little girl as she felt her own eyes getting hot with the threat of tears. “If anyone can talk some sense into that boy, it’s his mother.”

Kagome sniffled and nodded, grateful that her mother would help her in this endeavor. It was unlikely he’d want to see her, but she had to at least try…

Closing her eyes as her mother rubbed her back and smoothed her hair, Kagome clung to her mother and let herself remember, the memories flashing before her mind’s eye and then fading away just as quickly, only to be replaced by another one, fresher, more precious, more painful than the one before.

But we can't stop this real world from spinnin' us Your bright lights called, I don't blame you for pickin' up Your big dream bags are all packed up and ready to go But I just need you to know

“Shhh! Quit laughing or they’ll hear us!”

Another badly stifled giggle echoed in the night as he drew her into the darkness of the trees, toward their secret spot they’d found years ago. One hand held a six pack while the other held tight to her hand, fingers laced, and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face before an exhilarated chuckle of his own burst from his lips.

Darkness gave way to the orange glow of a fire, the soft crackling of wood breaking the stillness of the night.

“Why is this so good?”

“Because we’re seventeen.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Shut up and maybe we won’t be.”

“Hey, this was your idea—”

The rest of the words were stolen in a kiss, a hand coming up to cradle her jaw as a ragged sigh whispered against her lips. He tasted like beer and spearmint gum. She smiled. A strange combination, but it was him, and she loved it.

“You should have seen it, Inuyasha,” Kagome gushed a year later, sitting on her bed as she excitedly gushed about her time in LA to her best friend. “The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, like nothing you’ve ever seen before! God, I wish you were there with me. I just know you’d love it.”

Inuyasha smiled and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt I can love anything more than you.”

Blue eyes widened as a flush spread across her cheeks; her breath hitched, lips forming his name and eyes drifting closed as he leaned forward and took her mouth in a warm, lazy kiss.

“Would you ever wanna go?”

“Go where?” Fingers racked through dark hair and her sigh was blissful, a soft melody in his ears.

“California.”

“…You mean like…visit?”

“Well, maybe longer than a visit…like an extended trip, or something…lots of opportunities out that way…”

A brief pause before the fingers continued. “No. …Do you?”

“Mmm…dunno. Maybe after graduation? I had so much fun last time, but…”

“But what?”

A pause. Then, “Nothing. Kiss me.”

A husky chuckle before a pair of lips covered her own and any thoughts about the Golden State far, far from her mind as she returned his kiss.

That I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls 'round, Hallelujah bound

“Ewww, get that away from me!”

“C’mon Kagome, it’s just a worm! It ain’t gonna bite ya!”

“Eeee! Inuyasha, don’t you dare—!”

Laughter as he chased her around with a baited hook, the sound of water splashing as bare feet waded into the lake.

“Wait, I think I got something!”

The crank of a fishing rod as he reeled it in, the water splashing as whatever was caught struggled against the pull. Grunting, muttered curses, and soft giggling before with a splash the bass burst from the water, dangling from the hook.

“You got it!”

“Damn, ain’t nothing more satisfying than that feeling when the bass hits the hook!”

“I can think of one thing…”

Soft lips, warm and smiling, pressed against his own and Inuyasha abruptly decided that yeah, this was definitely better.

“California?”

“Yeah! Can’t you just imagine it, Inuyasha? The lights, the nightlife, the ocean, and no more snow! You always complain about the snow.”

“Yeah, but…Kagome, I don’t know…”

“Just think about it, okay? I’m not asking for you to decide right now. But this is something I’ve thought about for a while now, Inuyasha, and I just…I want to experience it with you. Please?”

A pause, and then heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

A brilliant smile, soft lips pressing to his cheek in a warm kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

“…I know, Kagome. Me, too.”

“I can’t believe you’re reading that crap.”

“It’s not crap, it’s romantic. You could probably learn something or two from these books, you uncultured dog.”

“Uncultured? Really?”

“Besides, I like it when the guy gets the girl at the end. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“I can make you feel all warm and fuzzy, too.”

Her gasp was cut off as lips pressed against her neck and hands slipped beneath her shirt to roam across soft skin. The book fell from her fingers to dive into silver hair, eyes closing as her head fell back with a breathy sigh.

“Yes.”

The blood was rushing so loudly in his ears he barely heard her and the thundering of his heart against his chest was so forceful, it was a wonder it didn’t leap out into her waiting hands.

“Y-yes?” he echoed, voice naught but a disbelieving rasp as he stared at her with wide, shocked - and cautiously hopeful - golden eyes.

A half-sob, half-laugh burst from her lips and her eyes were bright from more than just the unshed tears brimming the beautiful depths. Lips trembled as she smiled, hand trembling even more as she held it out before her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Inuyasha, I’ll marry you. I—”

What she felt next wasn’t the cool metal of his grandmother’s ring as it found a new home on her finger, but instead the warmth of her beloved’s hand as it wrapped around hers and yanked her forward into his arms. They tumbled to the ground, laughing, crying, exchanging endless kisses and promises of forever as the ring, forgotten on the ground but still nestled within the velvet box, glittered merrily in the warm glow of the fire.

Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

“Come with me.”

Silence; thick, stony. Cold.

Desperation made her voice high, the words falling from her lips fast. “Inuyasha, please, come back with me—we’d have such an amazing time together, learning, living and—you can enroll in my school, Inuyasha! It’s not too late, there are so many programs to choose from, and I just think you can do so much more with your life than—”

“Than what, Kagome?” The words were snapped, harsh, biting as he whirled around to peg her with a hard stare. “Than taking on the valued responsibility of the ranch that’s been in my family for fucking generations? Than building our fucking house? You know, the one we'll live in after we’re married? I can’t do that, Kagome. I won’t.”

“But that’s just it, Inuyasha, you have no room to grow here! You’re stifled by the responsibility you feel to take over the ranch when leaving could relieve you of that burden! The world is so big, Yash, and there’s so much more beyond this little town, so if you would just trust me—”

“You’re asking me to drop and leave everything I know behind, Kagome!” His voice was loud, thunderous in his anger, his frustration, his pain. “This my home, our home, and you just want me to leave like it don’t even matter! Like the fucking life I’m trying to build for us don’t even matter!”

“That’s why I’m asking you to come with me!” Tears, hot, salty ran unchecked down her face, blue eyes big and pleading and flashing with undisguised panic. “I want to be with you, Inuyasha, I do, but I need you to understand—!”

“Then be with me here, dammit!” A note of desperation, amber eyes pleading, frantic, angry.

A choked sob, a muffled whimper. “I can’t…”

An anguished sound, a shattered cry, and then a door slamming shut, loud, devastating, final.

The words slammed into him harder than any blow he’d ever received, the shock greater than hitting the unforgiving ground after falling off a horse, and the pain far, far worse than he ever could have imagined.

Fuck, it would have hurt less if she’d just outright slapped him in the face.

She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze focused on the ground, dark hair hiding her expression. He swallowed once, twice; his mouth felt like a desert, his tongue heavy, thick, useless. His throat worked but no sound came out. Ice replaced the blood in his veins, freezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Wh…what did you s…” He shook his head, swayed on his feet as he blinked hard. He couldn't have heard her right. She couldn't have just told him—

“…I cheated on you. Inuyasha, I—”

He didn’t hear the rest of what she said. His legs abruptly gave out and he stumbled back, sitting down hard onto the fallen log behind him. The log he’d proposed to her on. The log they’d kissed on—

He shook his head again, a frown pulling his brows down low over his eyes as he tried to register the words spilling from her mouth a mile a minute. Two days…two days ago. That—that didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t—he couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t detect any sort of incriminating evidence that suggested she’d been unfaithful.

Amber eyes lifted, flashing with tentative hope. She’d been drunk—she didn’t remember, so maybe if he told her—

The sight of his grandmother’s ring, nestled in the middle of her palm, might as well have been his heart because it sure as sure shit felt like she’d just ripped it out of his chest. His stomach clenched, the breath seized in his lungs, and a curious numbness spread throughout his entire body. The realization hit him even harder than the pain had, and that in and of itself would have brought him to his knees had he not already been sitting.

Honeyed eyes, agonized, pleading, lifted to her face. Again she would not meet his gaze, eyes closed against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. He suddenly tasted salt and with a start he realized he was crying too, the tears warm as they streaked down his pale face but he gave them no mind.

“K…Kagome…” It was the only thing he could get through a throat tight from anguish. A plea, a prayer, a question all in one as he stared at her, heedless of the tears that continued to fall.

Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head; a clenched sob broke from her lips as she reached forward, grabbed his hand, closed his fingers around the ring, giving it back, giving back his heart that she no longer wanted. Pain, sharp and intense, pierced through him and he gasped, unable to do a damned thing as she backed away from him, arms folded around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, shaking her head, over and over, backing away. “I just…I can’t…”

A sob, borne of a sorrow so deep, of regret and fear and pain so sharp it felt it in the very marrow of his bones, broke free of her lips right before she whirled around and dashed away, through the night, through the trees, away from the fire, away from him.

Inuyasha could do nothing but sit there, his rejected grandmother’s ring clutched in his fist and his vision blurry from hot tears as he watched her run. Curious, that instead of the crushing pain he expected to feel in his chest, there was a hollow ache that resonated, like an echo of a mournful howl for the one who had just run away with his heart.

What hurt more than the pain of watching her go, however, and more than the diamond cutting into his palm, was the jarring realization that the woman he loved more than his own life would rather fabricate a lie of infidelity than be with him.

And because he loved her more than his own happiness…he’d let her.

I ain't the runaway kind, I can't change that My heart's stuck in these streets like the train tracks City sky ain't the same black Ain't that a map dot shame, man, to think that

Sitting on his bed, freshly showered and donned in simple jeans and a t-shirt, Inuyasha’s head was bowed between his shoulders and his arms were propped on his knees. His hands, clenched into tight fists, gradually relaxed and a breath he hadn’t’ even realized he’d been holding rushed from his lungs, escaping his mouth in a harsh exhale that did absolutely nothing to absolve the torment wreaking his mind.

As the last vestiges of the memory faded away, far more painful than all the ones before, he opened his eyes and stared down at the hardwood floor, scuffed and scratched and worn. He frowned, his chest feeling tight, his stomach in knots, his muscles tensing and relaxing with a restless energy that was hard to ignore. He wanted to punch something, to run, to fight, fight for her to stay, fight for them.

But he remained where he was, hands flexing, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight against the pain that was determined to bring him to his knees. God, why, why did she have to—

Gentle rapping on the door before it was cracked open. He didn’t look up but he didn’t need to; he knew why she was here. The ache in his chest intensified, sharped, traveled up to knot in his throat and make it harder to breathe.

She didn’t say anything at first, simply stared. Then, “…She wants to see you.”

Inuyasha turned his head, looked out the window.

A pause. Then a sigh, resigned, sad. “Asako called. Before she showed up at the door, I mean. Asked me to talk to you. Said I would, but didn’t make any promises.” Pause. “You already know how I feel about her doing this, but…you should at least say goodbye. You’ll regret it if you don’t. You know you will.”

A tightening of his jaw and a deep furrowing of his brow was her response.

“…I’m sorry, my love.”

The door closed with a soft click.

A minute passed. Two. Three.

Inuyasha exploded to his feet, grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, and hurled it against the wall with a roar that was equal parts rage, frustration, and deep, intense anguish that reverberated throughout the entire house; echoing, thunderous, shattering.

Deafening silence followed his outburst; he sank to his knees and wept.

I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls around, Hallelujah bound Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

It was impossible not to hear it. As the color drained from Kagome’s face and her heart clenched in her chest, Izayoi stared at her with eyes hardened from the ache she was feeling for her son, the sorrow she felt at his heartbreak twisted into bitter, resentful anger at the woman standing before her.

Kagome closed her eyes, bit her lip to stifle the sob that welled in her throat, sucked in a shaky breath meant to harden her resolve. It didn’t and she fought not to fall apart on the front porch, locking knees that threatened to give out on her.

“Go,” Izayoi muttered in a voice like flint and ignored the younger woman’s flinch. “You’ve done enough damage here. And I’m not talking about whatever he just destroyed.”

Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened, preventing any words, protests, to spill from her mouth. She stared at the older woman with wide eyes, someone who she, for the longest time, had looked upon as a second mother, someone to confide in, to trust.

She found none of the warmth that she was used to seeing. No fondness, no compassion, no understanding. Coldness spread through Kagome’s veins, turning her blood to ice, knotting in her stomach, heavy, uncomfortable.

Izayoi stared back, cold, unforgiving, unregretful.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered.

The older woman pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, arms tight across her chest.

Rejected, heartbroken, Kagome turned, her feet feeling heavy as they carried her back to her car. The tears ran unchecked down her face now, streaming down pale cheeks. She tasted salt and she got in the vehicle, closed the door. Her body felt like it was on autopilot as she revved the engine and started down the long dirt driveway.

It wasn’t until she had gone halfway that she broke down, great, gasping sobs erupting from her throat. Her vision was blurry from the unending tears and her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Without even realizing it her foot had slipped from the accelerator and she was merely coasting now, too distraught, too tormented to think about anything else but the pain ravaging her heart. Unbidden one last memory, the most recent, flashed before her mind’s eye, twisting the knife keeper, crushing her, killing her…

“Don’t do this.”

He froze at the softly uttered words, spoken in a tone so raw with pain that it trembled. He swallowed hard and turned his head just the slightest bit, but said nothing.

Silence. Thick, tense, deafening.

Then he tightened his jaw, hardened his eyes, and continued putting his boots on.

A choked sob, the rustle of cloth. “Inuyasha, please—”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood up from the side of the bed and refused to look at her as he collected his jacket, still sitting in a heap on the floor from where it was hastily thrown the night before.

A stuttered breath, followed by the salty scent of tears. His lips drew into a tight line and his hands fisted tightly at his sides as he forced himself to head toward the door. But, goddamn him, he paused right in front of it, hand on the knob, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Please,” she begged and the word was a raspy plea, vision blurry from tears. “If you would just—we can talk about this—”

“I love you, Kagome,” Inuyasha said and he heard her sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t turn around. He swallowed once, twice, and closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and forced the words past a throat tight with emotion.

“Inu—”

“But I can’t…love you more than this. I just…I can’t.”

Another sob, a hitched breath, and his chest ached. He bowed his head.

“See you around, Kagome,” he whispered and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway and down the stairs until the slam of the front door echoed in the dark house.

Kagome dropped her face into her hands and wept.

The front door burst open and Inuyasha was desperation personified as he rushed past his alarmed mother, sprinting as fast as he could toward the barn that held the horses. Not even a full minute later a white blur sped from the barn and bolted through the open gate of the pasture, following the car that was leaving with his love, his soul, his very heart.

Standing on the porch, Izayoi pressed a hand to her heart while the other covered her mouth, muffling the sob that burst from her lips as teary eyes watched her son chase after the woman who broke his heart.

'Cause I love you more than a California sunset I love you more in a twenty-dollar sundress Hate that loaded down car you got your keys in Girl, but I hate even more that you're leavin'

Urging his mount to go faster, harder, the thundering of her hooves against the ground rivaled that of the thundering of his heart in his chest. Hands gripping the coarse hair of her mane, Inuyasha grit his teeth against the harsh wind, his eyes wild, desperate and bright with unshed tears as he kicked the mare’s flanks to go faster, dammit, faster!

The distance between them was closing, the rumble of the engine, of gravel crunching beneath tires becoming louder until he was riding alongside her, along the fence that enclosed the front pasture. His hands fisted his mount’s mane in a while-knuckled grip as he leaned over her neck, legs tight to her sides.

He turned his head and wild, despairing golden eyes collided with wide, tear-filled blue.

Kagome’s heart lurched in her chest, making her gasp as goosebumps erupted on her skin. She sobbed, shaking her head, mouthing his name and forcing her eyes to look straight ahead. What—what was he doing?! Why?! God, he was making this even harder than it already was, taking her heart and stomping on it, cruel, cold, conniving.

But it made sense, didn’t it.

She had broken his heart, and now he was doing the same to her.

'Cause I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But that ain't you and me so I guess I'll see you around 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

Inuyasha didn’t let up, not even when she looked away, gritting his teeth, kicking his mount to keep up when she accelerated. She was crying, and although he couldn’t hear her, he could see the way she shook, shoulders jerking, chest heaving, face wet from her tears and fuck she was wearing the sundress—

The end of the drive was in sight. Kagome slowed down, so did he, but she didn’t stop as she once again turned her head and caught his gaze. Inuyasha was already staring at her, heart in his eyes, a silent plea falling from his lips, willing her to hear….

“Don’t go.”

A sob, raw, choked, anguished.

“I’m sorry.”

Without even realizing, he let up on his mount, the mare slowing to a trot, a walk, and then stood still, recovering from the hard gallop. Golden eyes, awash with ears, watched the car reach the end of the drive and turn, driving away, going, going, getting smaller, fading.

Gone.

Something inside Inuyasha shattered and he didn’t think it could ever, ever be repaired.

Love you more than my hometown Love you more than my hometown Love you more, baby, love you more

#more than #inukag #inuyasha #inukag fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #One Last Ride #keizfanfiction #oneshot

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galacticidiots · 4 years

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ok. the result of the worldwide referendum has just come in and the people want more of your fave adam driver pics please. the population is parched.

I don’t know who you’ve been polling, but if it’s the will of the people, who am I to deny it to them? Again, this is a scientific analysis for educational purposes only. Academia is my passion.

He looks like a hotshot lawyer who knows he’s gonna win the case and has the audacity to wink at his opponent from across the room before they read out the verdict. If this were an AU, he’d walk up to the hot, fiesty defense attorney with whom he has ~history, flash them that smirk and say “If loving you is a crime, I’d be looking at a life sentence.” Litigate me, please.

That shirt looks soft as fuck, but not nearly as soft as the way this photo makes me feel. If this photo were a mood, it would be a lazy sunday morning when you have nowehere to be but in the arms of someone you kiss on the regular. This photo is asking you if you’re warm enough and offering you their jacket; this photo is giving you a kiss on the forehead as they leave in the morning; this photo is cooking you dinner after a long day at work. I’d marry this photo, if such things were, like, legal.

He looks like an Academy Award nominated actor mingling with important, influencial industry people at a posh award show after-party. Someone should really write that AU, uh? *sweats* The wealth and power this exudes, laid eaaaase.

Those fingers were made to strum, pick and brush strings - cello, violin, the fucking harp, I don’t care. Or he could be the first refrigerator-sized Maestro in the classical music scene. The black on black.The grumpy face. Tell me you don’t feel inspired to pick up a french horn and blow a few notes in his honour. Tchaikovsky is quaking, luv.

The jean shirt.The crater-sized dimples. The general vibe and attitude of a famous author of contemporary romance novels with a huge female following, at his book launch, being cooed at by an audience of adoring fans. He’s wearing 50 shades of blue and I feel obliged to stan.

Are you a disillusioned 20-something who’s down on their luck and doesn’t believe in love anymore? Well, this man is heir to the throne of a small but rich European country between France and Liechtenstein and he’s about to make all your Netflix holiday movie dreams come true. Venice fed us so good I’m still trying to burn the calories.

#ask #this has been an essay #adam driver #txt

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sope-and-shine · 4 years

Text

SONG RECS

@btsaudge I have so many songs it’s a problem!

I’ve Got You Under My Skin by Ella Fitzgerald // This is a jazz song that I just love listening to! It makes me think of my lover from war that I want to dance with and hold close. It’s upbeat, but it still makes you soft. One of those. I wanna learn to swing because of songs like this.

Days With You by The Asterisks // This is a song that feels like someone is singing it to you. Like-I found the singer on TikTok and the guy was like “please give it a chance”😭 and i was like “BET”😤 and then I fell in love and downloaded the entire album. Lazy Sunday Morning/Late Friday Night Mood Music.

Why Do You Love Me by Charlotte Lawrence // This song gives edge. Feeling petty? Angsty? You don’t know how you feel? It’s perfect! This is a song that my brain just relaxes to for some strange reason. Maybe it’s just a mood, but hey, what isn’t?

ANY SONG BY AJR // They make all of their music from scratch in their living room. They have a trumpet player who plays live...must I really say MORE?! They cover the same topics as BTS(depression, politics, love, etc.) and in their concerts they have the C R A Z I E S T visuals! No joke! They had light up tracksuits at a concert I went to! They’re also really funny and very talented.

Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood // I’ve always been a huge Carrie Underwood fan, but this song... *chef’s kiss* G O R G E O U S. The beat is nice and gives me the confidence of a toddler wearing lipstick and heels. It just scrams men are trash, but it also points out all of my flaws when it comes to falling for boys.(although, now that I’m writing this, it makes me think of a fic based around this where one of the boys is the cowboy👀...don’t tell Belle!)

Thinkin’ Bout You by Ciara // This is a song that you strut down the halls with. But its also the song that reminds me of a movie montage where the teenage protagonist is falling in love with her love interest. You feel me? This song 12/10 makes me feel lovesick.

I’ll Try by Day6 // Oh...this song. It’s so soft. So perfect. So peaceful. I love this song for it’s musicality and it’s gorgeous harmonies. The instrumental is done so well - but that’s to be expected when they’re a band lol - I’d listen to this song for the rest of my life whether I was forced to or not.

Can I Call You Tonight by Dayglow // THIS SONG. This is the song that you’d hear in a movie during the emotional moving scene or where the protagonist is moving on. This is a road trip song BABY! Windows down and head resting on hands watching the world pass by. THAT kind of vibe.

Mi Gente by J Balvin and Willy William // My cousin showed me this song and I just love it to bits. It’s one of those songs that makes you want to dance and just puts you in a good mood. Like, invite the bros over and crack open a cold one it’s going to be a good night bois.

Fallin’ by Kim Feel // Oh. My. GOD. This song is just like I’ll Try. It’s so beautiful and it makes me feel so calm and serene and I just wanna listen to it forever. It’s just such a good song and the harmonies are beautiful and perfect and everything is just- WHAT ARE WORDS?!?!?

Sad Forever by Lauv // This song hit close to home. It’s a song that’s kind of upbeat when you listen to it, but you hear the lyrics and you’re like “big mood” But that’s what makes the upbeat feel make it even better because it’s kinda like a fight song but laid back. It puts confidence on my wavelength and I feel more comfortable being me and accepting the world for what it is.

Moonchild by M83 // This song is a cinemtic piece of genius. It needs to be in a movie or a show, because it is perfect for that. But it’s also a really good writing song for angst scenes or hardcore scenes and you need to set a tone. I love the instrumental of this song so much.

Welcome To My Playground by NCT 127 // This song doesn’t get enough L O V E. It has such a nice upbeat tune to it and it just makes you want to dance. It’s so happy and carefree and it’s honestly a BOP!

Walk You Home by NCT DREAM // THIS SONG IS ALSO SLEPT ON AND DESERVES ALL OF THE LOVE! So pure. So cute. It is precious and I love it.

Wait For It by The Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton // This song is a little deeper than some people will give it credit for. It kinda puts a lot of things into perspective when you break down into the lyrics. That, and like a lot of the other songs, I’m a sucker for the instrumental and the harmonies.

I’m Not A Loser by The Original Cast of Spongebob The Musical // Now hear me out on this one- This song is actually a show stopper and easily one of the best songs of the entire show with the best dance number as well! This song hits deeper than it should for being directed towards kids, but what isn’t? Just- Give it a chance, I beg you.

Stay by PENTAGON(vocal unit) // Another song with AMAZING vocals and G O R G E O U S harmonies😍 Honestly, I can’t believe some of these people are human with how gorgeous these vocals are.

Lost In Japan by Shawn Mendes // This song makes me want a love so bad! To experience what is expressed in this song? I’m jealous. Honestly, this is a feel good song with the cutest intentions. I love this song so much.

Alright, I will leave these here.

Much longer than this probably should’ve been, but I gotta fight for my babies 😤 Hope you - and whoever else reads this - enjoy at least one of them!

~ Fae

#fae recs #song rec #mootie moots <3 #AJR #musicals #hamilton #pentagon #day6 #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #kim feel #music rec

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jellybeanforest-a-go-go · 4 years

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Fic Summary: After both forget their four-year anniversary, Tony Stark is insecure about the state of his relationship to Steve Rogers. Adding insult to injury, Steve has been acting strangely all week, so when he takes his boyfriend to dinner, Tony just knows he’s planning to break up with him in a public space to prevent him from causing a scene. Well, if the asshole thinks that (1) Tony is prone to post-breakup dramatics, (2) witnesses are a full-proof way to prevent said dramatics, and (3) Tony isn’t going to beat him to the punch, then maybe Steve never really knew Tony that well to begin with.

For the Cap-IronMan Bingo 2019 Round 2 – Strange Vibes.

Fic Snip:

Steve and Tony are in the kitchen, having a lazy Sunday afternoon with Steve doing the morning crossword in pen while Tony reviews new specs for yet another Iron Man upgrade, when Clint ambles in looking sleepy and disheveled.

He yawns and stretches, arching his back like a cat. “Happy anniversary, you two,” he says, smacking his lips and massaging his slack jawline down his neck to his chest to shake the remains of lethargy from his body. “I can’t believe it’s been four years, you know.”

Steve looks up from his crossword, his eyes wide with surprise and a touch of fear. “Oh um, yes. Our anniversary. It has been four years, hasn’t it?” The pen in his hand snaps, spurting ink over his unfinished grid. He doesn’t notice.

But neither does Clint. “Yep,” he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Thought you guys wouldn’t last four months, but that just goes to show what I know, huh?” He takes a sip before leaving to crawl back whence he came, having unwittingly wreaked havoc on his fellow residents.

Steve and Tony stare at each other, completely bewildered, apprehensive.

Tony is the first to speak. “Okay, so judging by the look on your face… if both of us forgot, which one of us is in trouble?”

#Stevetony #Stony #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Fanfiction #Misunderstandings #Insecurity #Cap-Ironman Bingo #Established Relationship #Happy Ending

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wikitopx · 5 years

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Looking for farm-fresh cuisine in Vermont? Make a beeline for these brilliant Burlington restaurants.

If hearing the phrase "Burlington cuisine" conjures up thoughts of sprouted grains and hemp seeds, you’re not entirely off-course. Groovy natural food co-ops and funky coffee shops fill this scenic Vermont city (which was also home to the first Ben & Jerry’s). That said, the food scene here extends far beyond hippie fare from the ’70s, with menus ranging from Middle Eastern and modern Chinese to classic Italian and French. Here are top 10 best restaurants in Burlington Vt.

1. Honey Road

What is it? This new Mediterranean restaurant quickly garnered national attention when Chef Cara Chigazola Tobin was announced a 2018 James Beard Award semifinalist for "Best Chef Northeast" (the restaurant itself was also in the running for "Best New Restaurant"). The menu is made up entirely of mezze, dips, and breads, inviting guests to share. Bring a group to maximize tastes - you'll want to try everything.

Why Go? To sample vibrant Mediterranean small plates at the hottest ticket in town.

Price: Average

2. Hen of the Wood

What is it? Hen of the Wood's daily-changing menu offers rustic, seasonal dishes that allow local ingredients to shine. A homey hardwood theme extends throughout, with stacks upon stacks of firewood hinting at the kitchen's penchant for cooking meat, seafood, and vegetables via wood-fired oven. Try snagging a spot at the counter, where the open kitchen allows a glimpse of the chefs at work.

Why Go? For a taste of Burlington’s most celebrated farm-to-table cooking.

Price: Pricey

3. Penny Cluse Café

What is it? Ask someone from Burlington where to go for brunch, and they're likely to point you towards Penny Cluse. Enduring the long line that's guaranteed to form on weekends at this sunny daytime eatery is considered a rite of passage, and even if you're there for lunch, don't leave without getting the famous gingerbread pancakes for the table.

Why Go? For Burlington’s favorite brunch spot of twenty years serving up the freshest morning eats in town.

Price: Average

4. Pizzeria Verità

What is it? Burlington has no shortage of pizza spots, but none quite match the level of quality Pizzeria Verità is known for. It's not the raucous slice shop you'd bring a kids' soccer team to after practice; rather, its cozy digs are ideal for an intimate date night or small group gathering. Come for the Neapolitan-style pies, and stay for the expertly-made craft cocktails.

Why Go? For the wood-fired oven churning out over twenty varieties of pizzas to sample.

Price: Average

5. Pho Hong

What is it? Like a lot of great Asian restaurants, Pho Hong ain't fancy, but packs a real punch where it matters: the dishes. The big steaming bowls of pho, flavorful stir-fries and curries, and affordable prices are the main things that attract the locals and loca students alike. That and the BYOB policy. For the warmer months, there's plenty of seating outside.

Why Go? Not even the colourfully painted walls could outshine this Vietnamese food.

Price: Average

6. A Single Pebble

What is it? It's no secret that A Single Pebble serves the freshest Chinese food in Burlington – possibly in the entire Green Mountain State. The modern Chinese restaurant has received national praise, most notably from Alton Brown on the Food Network show, "The Best Thing I Ever Ate." Portions are huge, and sharing is encouraged courtesy of the Lazy Susans donning each table.

Why Go? It’s not every day you find life-affirming Chinese food served in an old Victorian house.

Price: Average

7. Istanbul Kebab House

What is it? Opened by Turkish immigrants, Istanbul Kebab House is casual enough for a spontaneous weekday dinner that still feels special. True to its name, the menu features an abundance of meat and seafood kebabs, along with assorted mezze dishes for sharing. One advantage to visiting during Burlington’s warmer, off-peak season is being able to dine on the canopy-covered rooftop.

Why Go? To feast on soul-warming Turkish food in an inviting atmosphere.

Price: Average

8. Duino Duende

What is it? With the bookshelves (full of books), cosy lampshades and multcoloured lights strung up all over the place, Duino Duende gives off a more homely, pub vibe than a restaurant serving international cuisine. But if you're after something adventurous, then thisis the place to come. Start with Korean tacos from LA, followed by chicken and waffles from the South and wash it all down with a Modelo Especial Mexican lager.

Why Go? Take a culinary journey around the world wthout leaving your table.

Price: Average

9. Trattoria Delia

What is it? Imagine exposed old stone walls, chunky wooden ceiling beams and romantically low lighting and you'll likely have a picture of Trattoria Delia in mind. All its ageing charm comes from the fact that the restaurant is housed in an early-nineteenth century building. The menu is just as classic as the decor, with traditional Italian fare on offer. Expect typical dishes like ragu and lasagne, alongside the likes of pollo al mattone ('chicken under a brick' – a brick of potatoes) and acqua pazza ('crazy water' AKA mixed seafood soup).

Why Go? Perfect pasta in a cosy venue that'd make for a great date.

Price: Average

10. Leunig’s Bistro

What is it? Located on bustling Church Street, Leunig's exudes Parisian glamour (think: twinkling lights and Art Deco design elements) with convivial warmth. Live jazz often accompanies the traditional French dishes, and insiders know that skipping out on the otherworldly desserts here should be considered criminal. On Sundays, enjoy the epic brunch menu on the outdoor patio for the ultimate people-watching experience.

Why Go? The upscale French food has been delighting Vermonters since 1980.

Price: Pricey

RECOMMEND: Top 10 things to do in Burlington, Vermont

From : https://wikitopx.com/food/top-10-best-restaurants-in-burlington-vt-700464.html

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philmytummy · 6 years

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Nothing is like spending the summertime by the beach and from Philadelphia it is only a short trip to the Jersey Shore. This August we enjoyed heading down to Wildwood, NJ to check out the largest seaside amusement park in the Western Hemisphere. Morey’s Piers & Beachfront Water Parks is a classic seaside amusement park located on the Wildwood boardwalk with more than 100 rides and attractions along three action packed amusement piers and two beachfront waterparks.

Summer of 2018 marks the 50th season for Morey’s Piers. It all started back in 1968 when two brothers, Will and Bill Morey, spotted a 12 lane fiberglass slide in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. They took a risk buying this slide and setting up on the Wildwood boardwalk in 1969. This began their journey into the world of amusement parks and boardwalk veterans were skeptical at first. The Morey brothers pushed ahead acquiring more land in the area by paying twice the going rate. In 1976 they acquired their second pier and continued to grow. By 1979 they had established a full waterslide complex that would later grow into two waterparks. In 1986 the family purchased their third amusement pier and the mid 80-90s brought roller coaster to Morey’s Piers.

Starlux Boutique Hotel

We checked in for the weekend at the retro Starlux Boutique Hotel, owned by Morey’s Piers. Only blocks from the boardwalk and Wildwood Convention Center, this hotel is very conveniently located and features classic Americana architecture you won’t often find at the Jersey Shore. The all-glass lobby and lounge area opens onto the pool promenade where there is a heated pool, hot tub (open year round), and barbecue grills. Guests are also provided with free parking (1 car per room), free wireless internet, guest laundry, complimentary beach cruiser bicycles and beach gear in addition to complimentary Continental Breakfast (May 1st to Oct. 15).

Hotels guests also receive a special discount next door at the Starlux Mini Golf Course, where the wild things par! This mini golf is a unique two level course with three themes (beach, ocean, and boardwalk) and a total of 27 holes! We couldn’t resist playing the course which is open late on the weekends and even has its own Kohr Brothers ice cream booth.

Just like their rides and attractions, Morey’s Piers offers the widest selection of food and beverages with over 20 food outlets and eateries where guests can indulge in their boardwalk favorites and more. One of our favorite staples are the famous Curley’s Fries, introduced in 1974 and still remains a boardwalk staple today. With the growth and evolution of the piers, so did their food and beverage offerings.

Jumbo’s Seafood restaurant at Mariner’s Pier was the first Morey’s Piers sit-down restaurant and eatery to open in 1999. Today Jumbo’s offers extra large pizza pies and seafood options in a casual atmosphere with both indoor and outdoor seating. Executive Chef Walter “Wally” Jurusz joined the Morey’s Piers team in 2009 bringing his passion and culinary experience for elevated boardwalk food with a gourmet flair to the piers.

We started our Saturday morning with a visit to the Ocean Oasis Waterpark & Beach Club. Take a walk to the end of Surfside Pier, lies a tropical island getaway with an exciting collection of waterslides like the Cliff Dive slide where you’ll drop 5 stories in 3 seconds! The newest slide is the six-lane WipeOut where you can race family and friends. Bonsai Beach allows kids and parents to enjoy the interactive play area with water jets, climbing ropes and slides especially for the little ones. And of course you’re always welcome to lie back and relax as you float through the Lazy River or indulge in a cocktail at the swim up bar.

Stubborn Brothers Beach Bar & Grille

We took a lunch break at Stubborn Brothers Beach Bar & Grille (also accessible without waterpark admission). The restaurant is named for the two brothers who started it all, Will and Bill Morey. Sit back and enjoy something refreshing, they offer over 10 specialty cocktails featuring tropical ingredients and fresh fruit in original combinations- plus a variety of craft and local beers! We loved the healthy option of the Quinoa Bowl loaded with shaved Brussels sprouts, arugula, candied walnuts, avocado and orange vinaigrette. You’re sure to enjoy this dish with the option to add protein like salmon, grilled or crispy chicken. We also enjoyed the Steamed Pork Potstickers served with an Asian dipping sauce as an appetizer and the Crabby Cake Sandwich, a jumbo lump house-made crab cake with lemon Dijon mustard, is another very popular menu item. The outdoor restaurant has live music daily from 1:00pm to 5:00pm. Open daily during season from 10:00am to 6:00pm.

Joe’s Fish Co.

Opened in Summer 2010, Joe’s Fish Co. is the second full restaurant opened by Morey’s Piers. We enjoyed the outside seating at this casual, contemporary family restaurant amidst the action of the rides on the pier. What is also special, and great for the older crowd is that Joe’s Fish Co. features a lively second floor bar overlooking all the action and featuring live musicians on weekends. We started off our meal with the delicious Crabby Pretzel, jumbo pretzel topped with our crab dip and melted cheddar baked bubbly! Their menu also offers a variety of fresh seafood options like local oysters, platters, fish and chips, grilled local fish, and whole steamed 1.5 lb. whole Maine lobster or 1 lb. snow crab legs.

The next summer, Morey’s Piers began offering “Breakfast in the Sky” where guests can enjoy a gourmet breakfast while they ride the Giant Ferris Wheel. This unique dining concept was the idea of Will Morey Sr. back in the late 90’s. A decade later Breakfast in the Sky was brought to life and has sold out many seasons so be sure to get your tickets at the start of the season! You’ll enjoy your breakfast with views 150 feet above sea level complete with white linens, china, and a signature menu.

Pig Dog Beach Bar

Brand new for Summer 2018, Pig Dog Beach Bar allows families to bring their furry friends to join them at this new breed of beach bar is serving up tasty barbecue classics, cocktails and local beers. Stop by and enjoy hammocks, picnic tables, and beach games while you enjoy your sips and snacks. We loved the slow-cooked smokey goodness of summer barbecue like the Loaded BBQ Fries topped with pulled pork, Texas western sauce, cheddar sauce, chilis, and scallions. We loved the lighter option of the Grilled Summer Shrimp Salad with field greens, watercress, hearts of palm, cucumbers, grapefruit, red peppers and mango-pineapple vinaigrette.

Another favorite is The Pig Big, a sourdough loaf stuffed with smoked pulled pork, covered in Monterey Jack cheese, and topped with pickled jalapeños and scallions. We also enjoyed the variety of sandwich and platter options. We loved the Smoked 1/2 Half Chicken served with parkerhouse rolls and cole slaw. Rubbed and smoked this dark meat chicken is glazed with Texas western barbecue sauce. PigDog Beach Bar invites pooches and guests of all ages to kick-back and enjoy the laidback atmosphere accessible via Raging Waters Water Park, the beach, and the boardwalk. Open post-labor day weekend, Friday – Sunday 11 am – 7 pm.

Jersey Girl

One of our favorite meals of the weekend was having dinner at Jersey Girl. Only a block from the boardwalk, this modern American restaurant features classic vibes of the shore. The menu provides guests with gourmet Mediterranean cuisine.

We loved all the fresh seafood options at Jersey Girl. The Jumbo Lump Crab & Avocado Mango’tini’ and local Cape May Oysters chilled on the half shell. What could be a more refreshing way to start your evening at the jersey shore? We also enjoyed the Feta & Summer Watermelon Salad with a delicious mix of grapes, cucumbers, fresh mint, walnuts and honey drizzle. The Fried Calamari appetizer was offered for the evening as a salad special and easily large enough to enjoy as an entree.

For the main course you cannot go wrong with either the surf or turf. We enjoyed the Blackened Tuna with mango cucumber salsa, rice pilaf and grilled asparagus. The Filet Mignon was also delicious served over top of grilled asparagus in a cabernet demi place with crispy bacon and a little bleu cheese on top.

George Mallous, General Manager says, ”I’ve been working in the culinary industry alongside my brother and Executive Chef, Argie Mallous, for over 30 years. We make a great team and are passionate about the food we cook and the customers we serve. Our goal is to exceed expectations, making every dining experience with us truly memorable and delicious. “

No matter what your choice, you are sure to find some exquisite dining at the jersey shore. Wildwood is filled with a beautiful beach and lots of entertainment, but we can attest to the fact that the dining scene is vibrant on its own. And the fun doesn’t just wrap up Labor Day Weekend! Be sure to check out the local festivals showcasing beachside into the Fall. Morey’s Piers Oktoberfest is taking place September 21-23, 27-29, and October 5-7. The Annual Wildwood Irish Fall Festival is September 21-23. Wildwood Seafood & Music Festival is October 6th. Plus the Wildwood Downtown Farmer’s Market is being held every Saturday!

Getaway: Morey’s Piers Nothing is like spending the summertime by the beach and from Philadelphia it is only a short trip to the Jersey Shore.

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ringokhan · 7 years

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Star Spangled F*cktards

... Or Why I Hate the 4th of July

I hate the 4th of July more than any other holiday. Hell, I hate it more than I hate tax day, and I'm a self-employed writer who never manages to set aside enough dough to pay the IRS or remember to apply for an extension. Yes, Independence Day sucks worse than the tax man.

What's to like about a day that celebrates our nation's birth (via the anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence by the Second Continental Congress), but does so via the detonation of explosives that follows drinking in the hot sun All. Damn. Day.? At least that's how the day plays out down here on the Redneck Riviera of the Florida Gulf Coast. Each year I pray for rain, and this year that asshole on the television promised me we'd get some—and we did—but my 4th of July still turned out to be the worst one yet.

It all started on the eve of the big day while I was driving home from work—in the rain—when I suddenly felt the telltale bump-bumpity-thump of a flat tire. The rubber on the Fiero had been balder than my editor's head since Memorial Day, but this being tough times for freelance journalists of my ilk and political leanings, I couldn't put together quite enough scratch to spring for a new set.

I pulled over into the Amscot parking lot on Manatee Avenue to inspect the situation. It wasn't good. The steel belted radial looked as though a grenade had gone off inside of it. I had no umbrella or even plastic poncho to speak of, so I embraced the warm, sticky rain as it soaked my clothes and pulled the spare out of the trunk. It wasn't in much better shape than the other three but would have to suffice.

For the next 40 minutes, sweating like a whore in church despite the rain, I filthied myself up while proving that I would never work in a NASCAR pit crew—and not just because of my snobbish aversion to motorsports and the people who watch them (particularly those who advertise their favorite drivers on ball caps and window stickers).

Just as I was finishing up, a man whose clothing suggested homelessness emerged from the Amscot to ask if I had a dollar he could borrow in order to get something to eat. Everyone knows that Ringo is down with supporting the less fortunate, but I was nonetheless unable to manage anything more than an angry look meant to say, Do I, the sweat-soaked gent in the pouring down rain who’s changing the blown out tire on a piece of shit (if classic) '86 Fiero, and changing it with a bald spare, no less, look like I'm well heeled enough to spare a generous thought let alone a buck? He shook his head and mumbled, “fucking cheapskate,” as he walked off.

Properly shamed by the (possibly) homeless man—though it had by this time occurred to me that you usually come out of Amscot with money—I made for home. On the way, I stopped for a sixer of my new favorite beer, Motorworks Pulp Friction Grapefruit IPA—the perfect antidote to this blistering summer heatwave—but only after I'd checked the balance in my checking account on my phone to ensure that there would be enough left for the bargain basement tires that the Walmart oil, lube and tire clerk had just told me they could put on the next day, being the only tire center open on the 4th.

Hoping to settle in for the night, catch a buzz, drink a couple of tasty, refreshing beers and binge watch some Silicon Valley on the HBO Now account my roommate’s ex-girlfriend had forgotten she'd programmed into our Smart TV, I was halfway there only to be awoken by the sound of what seemed to be large-caliber gunfire or possibly anti-aircraft missiles raining down from above. It had started already. Actually, the first signs of Redneck Christmas had presented themselves as early as Sunday, but the festivities had indeed begun in earnest by 10:45 p.m. on the 3rd.

To make matters worse, my roommate, who was out of town with his new girlfriend, had coaxed me into dog-sitting said girlfriend's boxer, Rufus, who, I shall make it known, has no affinity for fireworks and had pissed on the hardwood flooring (is there softwood flooring?) of the house we rent on three occasions by this point. He and the other dogs on the block—which often seem to outnumber the humans—were barking, whimpering and I suspect pissing more or less in unison through much of the night, giving us all a preview of what the 4th would bring, which is to say utter redneck misery.

Rufus whose best trick is impersonating a thoroughbred horse, while taking a piss.

Actual Redneck Christmas started off the way the usual mornings in my neighborhood begin, which is to say to a chorus of barking dogs that their lazy asshole owners let out as early as 5:45 in the a.m., as to not have to put the beasts on a leash and walk them to the corner.

Being self-employed, I give myself the day off for all Federal and Jewish holidays (I'm not kosher or even Jewish for that matter, but they have a lot of holidays, which often seem to fall on weekdays, so I figure observance is the least I can do, given their historic plight). My disdain for dealing with the muckety-muck on Redneck Christmas notwithstanding, I had decided to go to the beach, as I do on most holidays. I knew I'd have to get there early, well ahead of the parade of morons who typically tend to spoil our national holiday by 2 p.m. when the island falls prey to a large assembly of low-brow, lite beer-drinking fucktards with expensively-modified pickup trucks emblazoned with fishing, NASCAR and/or “Salt Life” regalia.

Having successfully fought the urge to hit snooze a seventh time, I rose from bed by 8:20, pressed the handle on the cold-pressed coffee and cruised into the public parking lot at 9 a.m., easily scoring a choice spot and setting up my gear far enough from the maddening crowd to safely pull out my Pulp Friction and enjoy a cold brew—its pinkish can can easily mistaken for flavored water or a sports drink. For five glorious hours, I enjoyed one of the only fair-weathered, rain-free beach days this summer.

By noon, however, the crowds had swelled and the beer was being imbibed more liberally and openly, despite the signs warning of illegality and threats of steep fines. It was already a menacingly-hot 94 degrees, topped with staggering humidity. Beach-goers had long since ran out of bottled water and were drinking their hooch more for the sake of hydration than to chill out—never a good recipe at this devil latitude of just 27 degrees north of the equator.

It's hard to properly describe such a day to anyone who's never been a problem drinker and/or lived in a sub-tropical environment. The heat here in July and August is nothing short of evil, a relentless blanket of bad vibes that fouls the air with the scents of dying musk and vegetative detritus. Most of us have no choice but to drink cold and stubbornly alcoholic beverages that, while refreshing, have the effect of pulverizing good sense and obliterating sound judgment. For those in this region who begin their cool, air conditioned, non-alcoholic mornings with much less common sense and sound judgment than the average high-school dropout—and by this I mean the ignorant, under-educated, possibly-inbred, red-necked hillbillies of which Florida has plenty—the results range from disappointing to disastrous.

By 2 p.m., the scene had turned ugly. A few feet from my chaise lounge, a pot-bellied man who one could only guess sustained himself with a bullshit disability claim had begun yelling at a fat lady in a confederate flag bikini whose daughter insisted on feeding grapes to the sea gulls.

“They're gonna bite her fucking finger off!” he screamed. “Whatcha gonna do then, you dumb broad? DCF will take her ass off you for sure.”

“I told her not to do it,” the woman slurred back. “What the fuck do you want from me? She don't listen! If I beat her, they'll take her from me just the same. I suppose you think she'd be better off in foster care? I fuckin' hate you!”

It took a couple of moments for me to put enough of the conversation together to surmise that they were a couple, and though they had recovered enough of their anger to be kissing sloppily by the time I had finished packing up my gear, it still seemed like bad foreshadowing of things to come.

As I crossed the parking lot at 2:15, cars were now hovering for open spots like vultures looking to descend on festering carcasses. An available space had apparently emerged, and two rednecks with aggressive trucks began fighting over their entitlement to it from their respective cabs, each revving their engine and inching toward the other's flat-black bumper.

The one whose bumper stickers ran the gamut from INFORWARS.COM to #Vaginatarian and Your Girlfriend On Board seemed to be winning the pissing match thus far, but the beefy-armed sport with the Louder Than Your Girlfriend Was Last Night sticker over his suspiciously-large exhaust pipe seemed to be making inroads, nonetheless. I waved my hand and told them that I'd be pulling out of my spot in the next row, and that they could refrain from scratching the paint on their pretty trucks, but they looked only half-happy to receive such news, since it meant the redneck mating ritual would come to an end without bloodshed or gunplay.

*************************************************************

While driving home, I wrote a haiku as I waited out a painfully-long drawbridge opening, while wishing that I'd sprung for a Freon charge for the air conditioning unit of my car. After getting back onto the mainland, I spun by Walmart and shopped for a new deodorant that could stand up to this year's particularly brutal summer heat while the crew put the “performance” discount tires on my ride (because the Fiero is nothing if not a high-performance vehicle), while the skies finally opened and the rains fell. Yes, I screamed to no one in particular, celebrating the fact that a downpour might tame, or at least mildly dampen that evening's explosives. Again, no such luck.

The skies cleared by early evening, and the mood for the night was set around dusk when a large woman with red and blue curlers in her hair and too much of herself spilling from a tank top emerged from a neighbor's (above ground) pool party with the kind of rubbery-legged sway that suggested shitfacededness of the highest order.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” she screamed at the much skinnier man that was giving chase. Her words came through the sort of slur that is generally only facilitated by a full day of drinking hard liquor in the Florida sun; that or a liberal dose of prescription opioids. Faaaaawwwwk youuuuuuu, she said again to punctuate her statement, using a slurred out oral elongation that would have made Michael Buffer proud.

Another girl emerged to successfully cajole her back into the party, which by 9 p.m. had become a full on cacophony of high-powered munitions that left my neighborhood sounding like the war-torn streets of Aleppo, crossed with Beirut in the '80s. Rufus began pissing on the floor before I got through half an episode of Silicon Valley and, after cleaning it up, I realized I was out of beer. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried … a lot. By 10 p.m. the dog had muddied the floor, and I'd had about all I could take of this absurd carousel of hillbilly horrors.

Fit to be tied, I stormed over to their bungalow and fought my way through the overgrowth of landscaping to the back patio where a decades old four-foot (above ground) pool with a tiny cylindrical filter that could not have possibly been managing all of the dirty urine these exceptions to Darwinism were spilling into the chlorinated (I hoped) water—at least judging by the pile of semi-crushed Natural Ice cans littering the landscape.

“Excuse me, my friends,” I said in the voice of an angry pacifist. “Might we have adequately awoken the dead?”

“What,” said a tall, thin peckerwood with tattooed arms, one of which held a beer, the other an e-cig. I recognized him as the man who was chasing the woman with the curlers down the street earlier.

“The fireworks,” I explained. “What say we be done now?”

“It's 4th of July,” he answered, looking at me as though I were wearing two more heads on top of my own.

“This is true,” I conceded, “but while I can't be entirely certain, I'd be willing to bet that we've met whatever quota on explosives might be required to prove that we're good, patriotic Americans.”

“You don't look American,” said a red-headed gent with freckles and bottomless eyes who was standing in the (above ground) pool while lighting firecrackers.

“Well, I have some Pakistani on my mother's side, and my dad's British, but I was born here,” I explained. “So were they, in fact.”

“So you're an immigrant?” asked the first one, suspiciously.

“And a Muslim?” asked/said the other.

“No, actually, when you're born here, you're American, particularly when you're born here to other people who were born here, I mean not more so, but it should be more clear, I would think. My citizenship is not in question. I am, as they say, a native, and a second generation one at that.”

They looked at me like I was speaking French.

“So you pray to Allah?” asked the ginger.

“No, I'm an atheist, though I did consider praying to Buddha, L. Ron Hubbard and Jesus Fucking Christ Almighty that the explosions would cease, but thought that instead I might come over here as a good and decent human being, appeal to your humanity and ask you to cool it on the fireworks so that my dog—Rufus, well, he's my roommate's new girlfriend's dog—will stop pissing on the hardwood floors.”

“What do you want us to do, light fuckin' sparklers like a bunch of fuckin' pansies?” the first one asked. “Maybe throw some snaps and light them little snake things, while we're at it?” he laughed. “That shit's for kids!”

“Look, Ace, I hate to point this out, but it's all for kids, and I feel that it's worth mentioning that I don't see any of them around (thank God), just a bunch of grown men getting their jollies on loud explosions. I'm not sure what that's all about, but I know Freud had some interesting theories.”

“You sayin' we're queers?” asked the red head, who had clearly not worn sunscreen for the afternoon leg of the party.

“No, and neither was Freud,” I answered. “He was suggesting impotence, or at least fears of inadequacy in terms of, shall we say, boudoir skills.”

They both turned their heads sideways and looked at me as though they knew they should be offended but couldn't say why.

“He's sayin' your dicks don't work, you fuckin' retards!” shouted the large woman who'd given the suggestion about leaving town on a horse earlier in the day. “And I know he's right in at least one of y’all's cases (apparently there is a such thing as softwood, and this house had some).”

Utter silence.

“Look, buddy,” said the tall fellow. “I didn't serve in the Marines for 10 years to come home and be told that—as a veteran no less—I don't have the right to celebrate our country's birthday.”

Finally, some commonality.

“Look, I served too—Coast Guard—but I ...”

“Fuckin' Coast Guard?” he managed to say through his hysterical laughter. “Are you shittin' me? What the fuck kind of pussy are you?”

At this, they all had a good laugh.

“Look, pal,” said Red. “You can call the cops, or you can come over here and try to stop us from settin' off these here fireworks, or you can go fuck yourself, for all I care. But that's about the long and short of it. So why don't you just take your pansy, Coast Guard ass home and clean up the dog piss.”

Being a devout pacifist, I put my palms in the air and walked off, shaking my head at yet a bit more lost faith in humanity.

“Yeah, go on now,” shouted the large woman who'd understood the Freudian reference. “And one more thing, FAWK you AND the horse you rode in on, AND your damned dog Rufus!” she cackled as the three of them broke out into more side-splitting laughter.

"It's my roommate's girlfriend’s dog," I muttered in dejection.

Defeated, I headed back to the house, cleaned up the newest puddle of piss and decided to make the best of a bad situation. I pulled out the last of the edibles my sister had sent me from Colorado from a shoe box under the bed and ate them greedily, though not before tossing Rufus one of the sweet gummies to help with his anxiety. Then I put in my Redux edition DVD of Apocalypse Now with the extended footage.

Somewhere around the time Captain Willard and the boys had made it halfway up the river toward the camp of Col. Kurtz, the THC began to take hold. By the USO scene, the collective fireworks were blending into sync with Coppola's masterpiece and soon I couldn't tell the firecrackers in the street from the bombs on the TV. Rufus had managed to settle into chillax mode, as well. Somewhere around the time Robert Duval was giving his famous, “Charlie don't surf!” line, I dozed off into a peaceful sleep where I remained until half a dozen dogs began the morning chorus that calls me to wake each day in this godforsaken hell hole of a neighborhood.

When I left for my morning walk with the dog—because I'm that kind of guy, the assholes in my neighborhood notwithstanding—the smell of dynamite from the quarter sticks and M-80's was still lingering in the already thick and humid air. And for once, that's all there was … that chalky, smoked out dynamite smell. It smelled like … victory.

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