#I want to run away and live in the desert with an RV and my cat

[tumblybumblyisafool]

♻️

[charliehoennam]

home again.

A/N: request made here by @juniebugg and a nonny made here so i decided to mash these two together

Pairing: John Kinley x F!reader

Warnings: Language and smut. No minors, please!

Word count: 2,675

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The dusty gravel of your driveway crunched under the tires of Declan’s truck. You didn’t need to look out the window to know who it was, but you wanted to see him. Make sure he’s alright.

You’d refused to pick John up at the military base. You didn’t want to be anywhere near it. It’d been months since he’d been away and you hated every single second he was gone.

You missed him more than anything in the world. Deep inside, you were thrilled he was finally home and, most importantly, safe. Part of you wanted to race out the door and throw yourself in his arms. The other part, however, wanted to slap him across the face.

Months of his absence – provided only via letters and shitty connections through phone calls or video chats that could never replace his presence – drove you insane.

The only thing that was worse was zero contact. Not knowing if he was dead or alive; that every car that drove by the house would deliver that dreaded folded flag. Sometimes, you questioned why he would want to be in the army in the first place, fighting a war that he has no fault in. How could he just leave you?

You’d thought it would get easier to live with after you got married. Turned out, it wasn’t.

John called out for you and spotted you by the window where he’d caught you staring out of just before you moved away to hide. He read your resistance right off the bat.

“Hey, honey” he smiled as he set his army green bag on the floor in the hallway. “Don’t I get a kiss huh?”He tried to joke to loosen you up.

There was definitely tension in the air that he’d detected even before walking in, but he wanted to avoid conflict on his first day home. He’d missed you just as much as you’d missed him; there was no doubt the distance was hard on both sides. Yet you felt he was to blame since it was his choice to reenlist. You were there. You’d always be there.

You pulled away as he tried to pull you into his arms and marched back into the kitchen where you’d been making his favorite: Fettucine alfredo with crispy bits of Italian sausage. 

“Something smells real good.” His attempts were getting nowhere. “Come on, baby. Is this how it’s gonna be every time I come home?”

“You could just stay home.” You shrugged as you continued stirring the pot of white sauce before dipping a spoon to taste-test the flavor.

“We’re really gonna do this? Again?” He scoffed running a hand over his tired face.

“Do you really expect me to be all bright smiles when you were literally gone for 9 months in the middle of God knows where? After 11 days of sheer silence, I just found 6 days ago that you weren’t dead, John.”

“I thought that would be something to be happy about.” His brows furrowed.

“I am happy you’re alive, John. But I did also spend 11 days thinking you might have been dead!”

“That wasn’t my fault! We got ambushed by an IED in the middle of nowhere. We lost the RV and had to trek through the goddamn desert. You think I wanted that happen?!”

“Then you shouldn’t have relisted! I just don’t get it! Why would you want to go back to that?!”

“You don’t have to get anything! You’re acting like this is all new to you! You knew I was in the Army before, that it wouldn’t change when we got married!”

“Maybe I’d hope it would! So crucify me for thinking that maybe my husband would want to actually be home with me after getting married!” 

Your argument only escalated after that. John was angry and you were furious. A blur of loud voices, searing tears and fists pounding on walls and countertops. At some point, he had decided to blow off some steam and slammed the front door shut as he left to have a drink at the bar. He didn’t want to get drunk or talk to anybody. He just wanted to get out of there before you’d both said things that couldn’t be taken back.

Sat on a tall stool with a beer bottle cradled in his hands, he stared into nothingness wanting to forget everything. However, his mind found itself returning to you. To your scent that lingered on his clothes after his hug. To your warmth against his chest and arms. Fuck, he missed you badly and he hated that he couldn’t fucking forget it.

After pushing himself off the stool, he drove home in silence and cautiously stepped over the threshold. His eyes scanned the house as he made his way in, searching for any indication that could explain your current state. But he found only silence. A daunting calmness in the shadows of the home as the streets casted their lights in attempt to chase the gloom. But when his eyes landed on a pillow stacked upon of a folded-up blanket, he shook his head and ignored your punishment.

That was his limit. The final drop to overflow the flood he’d spent hours trying to contain.

You tossed and turned in bed, wondering if you had gone too far. You reflected on his words. He wasn’t wrong. You knew the Army was important to him going into the relationship. You knew that when you said yes when he asked you to marry him. You knew that when you said “I do” at the altar.

He felt his blood boil again as he marched up the stairs with his pillow under his arm. The door flew up open and he strode into the room, avoiding your bewildered gaze as you propped yourself up on your elbow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You questioned angrily. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“The hell I am. I spent nine months away. I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

You could hear the tinge of impatience in his voice. He sat at the edge of his side on the bed to untie his boots and set them aside with a thud muffled by the carpet.

“You’re not sleeping here, John.”

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, but I’m sleeping right here.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”

“Oh, I am huh? How about you? You’re the one that’s acting like a fucking child.”

You sat up in disbelief, ready for round two of your argument.

“Just don’t. I’m tired and I wanna sleep.” He stated as he laid back against his pillow, back turned to you.

“You think it’s fucking easy? You think it’s easy having you miles away, with no notice if you’re even alive? I thought you were dead, John!”

He was ready to snap back with his defense, but the tears building in your eyes warned him not to. Instead, his jaw clenched as he held his gaze on you.

“I spent night crying my fucking eyes out thinking you weren’t coming home this time! Just to get up the next day and pretend like everything was alright! Do you know how emotionally exhausting this has been for me?!”

He hadn’t thought about that. Guilt settled in his chest and started to build in his throat as he listened to your rant, which soon brought you to sob.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m home…” he whispered pulling you into his strong arms, wrapping them around you.

Any resistance you had melted away against his warmth. You gave in and buried your face into his neck.

“I’m home. I’m with you and everything’s alright. Everything’s alright now.” he repeated as he soothed you with gentle kisses on the crown of your head. His palm rubbed circles against your back.

Your body was yearning for him. He could tell from the way your nails clung onto his shirt. His fingers lifted your chin to catch your gaze.

“Look at me. I’m right here. I’m with you and I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he whispered with a thumb wiping your tears away.

“I got you, hm?”

Sealing his promise with a kiss, your body softened and accepted his kiss. Then his tongue. You could feel it building in your core. That familiar lust that had haunted you during his absence. That craving that couldn’t be quenched.

Like magnets, your bodies had lost against the invisible pull. His hands slipped down to your thighs, guiding them as you straddled his lap.  The heated kiss was unbroken until your hands tugged at his olive-green shirt to release it from the tuck of his camouflaged pants. You helped him pull it off over his head as he helped you remove the Pink Floyd t-shirt that once belonged to him before becoming your favorite nightgown.

 As your lips collided once again – more feverish than before –, your hands roamed down to unbuckle his belt. The metal clinked as it hit the floor. John wasted no time to lay you down against the mattress. You needed him and there he finally was to take care of you. God, how he’d missed your taste.

He whispered continuous praises as his bushy beard brushed against your delicate skin, peppering kisses down to your breasts. His mouth closed around your hardening nipples, suckling them with eyes closed to relish their fullness and warmth.

“My beautiful wife. Missed you so fucking much.”

His hand kneaded each of them as he squeezed your flesh to his face. He could’ve stayed there forever, but he was eager to please you.

He forced himself up as he stood back on his knees, sat against his heels. His gaze on you was loving as if admiring a sculpture he’d carved from his own dreams. “I love you” fell from his lips over and over again, like a prayer in between the tender kisses he pressed against your legs, lifting them to rest against his broad shoulders. He hooked his fingers into your panties and slid them up your legs and tosses them to the floor. His eyes locked on yours was more than enough to cause your core to puddle. You could feel the slick building with every kiss.

He wasted no time settling between your thighs, trailing his kisses over your outer labia. This was about making you feel good. Making it sink into your brain that he was finally fucking home.

With your legs bent up over his shoulders, he moaned as he buried his mouth against your plush slick flush. One hand slid up to your breast as the other locked its fingers with your own. You moaned and wiggled against him.

He devoured you and smiled to himself as he watched the way your body arched in pleasure. The salty sweet taste of you liquefied his insides. He could feel him twitching as his cock hardened on the bed. After months of bottling in all his desires and having to satisfy himself with his hand and a photo of you in lingerie, his thirst for you was erupting beyond control. He had to remind himself that this was going to be about you.

His hips began rocking against the bed at the sounds your body was making. He was so eager to fuck you, but he had to contain himself to make it last. Yet his hunger for you had his hips grinding against the mattress, aching for any type of friction he could get as he battled with his self-control. His cock spasmed in his pants with every gentle tug on his hair or scrape of your nails on his scalp.  

With his tongue building up your orgasm, it lapped over your folds and concentrated on the overly sensitive nub. He swiped and swiveled over it; the pressure in your depths grew into hot white pleasure. You weren’t going to last much longer.

The hand on your breast slid down your scorching skin to hold your hips firmly in place as you wriggled, wrestling against the implosion and failing terrible to resist until you finally caved in. Your body trembled as your legs shut on either side of his head. He smiled as he proudly admired your reaction, enjoying how quickly your chest rose and fell. The leaking precum from his dick was beginning to sink through his boxers and pants; he was almost certain he’d left a wet spot on the bedsheet.

He lifted himself off and was unable to wait any longer. He needed to feel you on his cock. Kicking his pants off provided you a moment to regain yourself and admired the way his muscles contracted under his skin. This big burly man was yours, all yours.

As he crawled back between your legs and aligned himself to penetrate, you both watched his head slowly push in through your soaking pussy in burning anticipation lathered with only the spit on his fingertips.

His eyes closed tightly shut as he bottomed out and held himself there for a moment, controlling his own increasing implosion.

You could tell he was struggling a bit between satisfying you both and giving into his own carnal needs. You cradled the sides of his face and gently guided him down to kiss him in an attempt to distract him from the wonderful hug of your cunt on his cock.

With an arm propped on the side of your head, he kissed you hungrily as his hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh and pushed your hips against his. His groin brushing on your swollen nub sent fireworks bursting through your nerves, forcing a shy moan from your throat. He smiled and pulled his head back to look down at you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As his lips latched onto your neck, his hips pulled back and slowly thrusted forward to begin his pace. Slow and gentle, but so deliciously full and stretched. You held your breath with every push and pull of his cock, clenching around it to hold him inside. You’d never let him go if you could. His cock in you made you feel so completed like this is where you both were meant to be.

His pace started to quicken. A sheen coat of sweat glazed your bodies in the cool blue light of the moon that rained in from the tall windows of your bedroom. The searing heat had begun to bubble from the inside out, oozing from your desperate desire to feel each other deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed out the open door and into the hallway. His balls slammed against your perineum as your wetness began coating the bedsheet underneath, staining it with remnants of love and lust.

With labored breaths, he hugged you tightly against him with his other arm. It was building up in you for the second time and you could tell it was building in him as well. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your toes curled against his hips. The tight embrace of your pussy as you came again had him frantically hammering into you as praises flooded out from his lips.

“Feel so fucking good for me. I-I fucking love you, baby. L-love you so much.”

Releasing you to lock your fingers together, he shuddered with a deep moan and slowed to a stop. You milked every drop. The hot load filled you with an incomparable warmth in your depths. Your walls were coated in his pearly white seed.

He panted as he held himself in your cunt for a moment longer until he finally pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him. His hands reached out for you and pulled you into his arms. Perfectly nestled against his hairy chest, you smiled to yourself. His heart beating against your ear was the final reminder that he was home. He was here and he was all yours.

[shbubble]

Harvest Town Easter Eggs

Deserted Factory

At Midnight on a Sunday, you’re able to see Foxy outside the Deserted Factory. Little did you know, you can actually enter the factory through the little door on the right. Head to the door under the ‘_art’ sign.

Entering in the Deserted Factory

You cannot go far in the deserted factory but you are able to access 2 fishing spots. In this fishing spots, you are able to catch piranhas and oysters in your fishing traps. I suggest you put 2 traps here and check back every few days. 

North Mount

At the top of the ranch, you’ll see this wall connecting to the other side of this mountain. If you run towards it, you’ll be teleported to the south mount where the huge rats are. 

South Mount

There’s not particular reason why they put this shortcut since the long road to this side is not exactly long. Maybe to let you have a sense of what it feels like to go through platform 9 3/4 ? 

Teleporting Well- Front of  Residence

This is a useful teleportation Easter egg. Right below the residence, you’ll see an abandoned well. Click on it to be teleported to the back of the Taoist Temple.

Teleporting Well - Back of Taoist Temple

When you are at the back of the taoist temple, you’ll be caught between 2 trees. Go right, down till you hit the temple and finally left till you come out from the side. You can also cut down those trees if you need more wood.

The Ring reference near the RV

Aside from the huge bumble bee from Transformer, you are able to see a reference to The Ring if you click on the abandoned televisions beside the transformer.

Unseen headstone at the cemetery

Next to the river at the cemetery, you’ll interact with an invisible icon. 

If you interact with it, it seems that it is an invisible tombstone. 

Shabby Hot Spring - Abu and Barl Apperances

Abu and Barl will only appear in the winter on fridays between 22:00 - 0:00. As they will overlap each other in the hot spring, it is recommended that you camp at the closed off area and interact with them as soon as the clock turns 22:00.

Since they only show up at such a limited time period it is advice that you give them courtesy letters to speed up the friendship level. The courtesy letters can only be used if your friendship with the NPC have not reached level 3. 

Barl

Barl likes Ornament so get any and give it to him.. I give him the blue necklace in a box.

Abu

Abu likes insects. I give him the brown beetle. 

Picnic in front of Cottage

Sometimes you see Jessie and Lulu having a picnic with the teddy bear in front of Jessie’s house. It is sweet for Lulu seems defensive and kind of embarrassed by it but she will do it week after week for Jessie’s happiness.

Every clear morning next to the wishing tree, you’ll see the female town folks dancing while the male and children stand around to watch. In a way, it’s a bit creepy that the male town folks are staring at the females dancing but it makes completing the quest so much easier since almost everyone is in the same area.

Hotpot Party near Smithy

Every clear Saturday night 18:00 - 22:00,you are able to enjoy a hotpot party at the pond near the smithy. This party is filled with young towns folk from children to young adults. The older folks will be at the bar. You can click on the huge pot and eat until you are full. Food helps with your health and vitality. 

Beach Party - Hidden Story 

Every year on the 7th during Summer, you will be invited to a Beach Party by the Mayor. You are required to bring a gift for the gift exchange. If you click on this sign next to the water, you will unlock a hidden story about Barton the town fool.

Gary Cruz and David Hanks in front of Bar

At the bottom of the main town area, in front of the bar you are able to overhear various conversations by various townsman. From Adam trying to convince John to sell the town to him to Gary and David’s high school reunion. Gary and David’s discussion seemed normal enough since they were childhood friends and were often seen together as a trio with Steve at the bar. However, what’s suspicious is Gary’s wife standing a fair distance away observing them.

Elaine Terry next to Resort Villa

Elaine seem like a loving wife in a happy marriage with Gary but is she really? Her staring at her husband suspiciously from a distance makes one thinks otherwise. Maybe she is jealous about her husband spending more time with his friends than with her? What is she staring at them for?

Elaine Terry beside Fishing Shop

Another area that Elaine stands in a suspicious manner is on the beach. If you talk to her, her dialogue make her seemed like she is stressed or spaced out. What is she thinking about and why is she staring straight to the left?

Lulu Lopez flirting

Lulu Lopez is a typical tsundere where she seemed like she hate everyone but Jessi. Her conversations with you seemed mean at first but the more you talk to her, the less sarcastic she becomes or at least sarcastic in a different manner.

Lulu and Jessie trying to find the butterfly in the forest

One of Jessi’s friend is a huge butterfly where only Jessi can see and talk to her. Lulu being Jessi’s loyal friend will accompany Jessi in the forest at a certain time of the day for her to find the butterfly. Even if the forest became a field.

Allen family at the Horse Farm 

Have you ever wonder why is the mother of the Allen’s family close to her family? Aside from her blaming the father for not giving her the life she wants, she do not attempt to socialize with her children too, staying in the room watching television while the father and the kids stayed outside around the chess set.

John Gray at the Bulletin Board at 7am

At 7am, you can see John Gray checking or putting notices at the Bulletin Board. 

Chris Trump at the Resort Villa

Sometimes Chris Trump think of unusual things that sets him apart from his father.

May bringing the kids to the Horse Farm

At certain time of the day, you can see May and the kids outside the fence of the horse farm. If you are lucky, she will warn you not to touch the horse butts.

Lee Yeung and Lee Yau talking at Vine Cottage

Although the two brothers do not live together, the mother and Lee Yau will visit the secluded Lee Yeung to check in on him or bring him food.

Foxy in the Forest

At the same area of where fisher was, you can find Foxy in the forest. Foxy appears at mysterious places without much explanation as to why she was there.

David Hanks and Gary Cruz at my farm

At one of the cut scene of David Hanks/Gary Cruz quest, you can see these characters at your customized farms. This was an interesting inculcation in the game for your farm always seemed secluded from the NPCs and town.

Adam Ford fainted in Occult Cave

Lastly, at one of the quest, you will find Adam Ford fainted in Occult Cave. Rumours are he was finding things he should not be finding (money, diamonds, mermadid) that lead him to that state. You’ll activate a quest after you see that cut scene. But do note that you will still see the regular Adam Ford with his usual normal dialogue as if nothing of such had ever happened at his scheduled places so that will bring some confusion.

If you like this list of Easter Eggs, check out my other Harvest Town posts: 

Fisher’s location

Jim & Justin Oritz Easter Egg

Harvest Town Easter Egg

What will happen if you wake the residences up in Harvest Town?

Mythical Creatures in Harvest Town

If you prefer videos, watch my Harvest Town gameplays here:

Beach Party, Dance Festival + Hotpot Party

Hunting for Christmas Gifts at the Christmas Event

Harvest Town Full Gameplay (Whale Island)

Is Harvest Town merely a Chinese Stardew Valley?

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ain’t Sayin’ She’s a Gold Digger: Part 4

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Negan x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: Sugar baby relationship, swearing

Word Count: 7,963

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the four months between getting the tickets, and heading to Burning Man, Jeff added seventeen countries and almost double that in states to deal with hotels that were going through the summer with bad ratings and numbers to your travel list. And while he worked, you worked with your new, temporary Burning Man assistant and your friends to organize everything you would need. It was chosen by the group, that now included Matt and Stacy, to join Kenzie and Stacy’s usual camp, which was actually a collection of make your own camps, to get the full Burner experience, and despite the fact that you felt like you were going crazy with Kenzie, who was the other natural organizer in the group, the trip came up before you knew it.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Jeff laughed as he finally drove his RV into Black Rock City behind the 26 foot U Haul filled with your contribution to camp- thousands of dollars worth of water, Gatorade, mini and regular sized liquor bottles, beer, snacks, granola and power bars, and a thrift store find stand up piano, that Matt was driving for you.

“Oh, it’ll be fun.” You giggled as you waved at someone Kenzie had been yelling out the U Haul window at.

“Did you forget, I’m an old man, sweetheart?” He asked with a glance over at you before turning to the right to head down to where your camp, Island Time was located.

“Did you forget that we decided you are seasoned, not old?” Kara asked as she held two of six boxes of decorations in place on the dinning room table.

“We definitely agreed on seasoned, your Majesty.” Dana called out from the back bedroom, where she was responsible for keeping the dozen solar powered coolers of ice in place. Your boyfriend groaned as your smile grew even more.

“Oh, I’m never going to let you live this down.” You giggled as you reached over and pat his thigh.

“Yea, and you’re just making me wanna call an Uber.”

“They have an airport!” Chelsea called out as she sat up from the couch, where she was holding a rope that connected the three massive shade tents, also named Costco Barns, that would make up your themed camp.

“Don’t encourage him.” You scolded as you turned in your seat to look back at her. “He will leave.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” She laughed as she sat up completely, as Jeff parked the RV on the left side of your camp site, and beside the U Haul that would turn into a ‘fishing pond’ for all the snacks it held. “Alright, let’s get unpacked.” You pat Jeff’s thigh once more as the girls in the back got out to start setting up.

“Just let go, sweetheart.” You told him as he set the emergency brake. “You are allowed to take a vacation and the company won’t crumble in your absence.”

“You are the only person I would agree to this for.” He said honestly as he dropped the keys in his cup holder and picked up your hand. “I love you, (Y/N). I need you to know that.”

“I love you, too, Jeff. So, so much.”

“Are you two gunna help, or are you just gunna sit there all day?” Dana asked as she grabbed one of the decorations boxes to carry out. You muttered ‘shut up’ and gave Jeff a chaste kiss before getting out to begin the long day of work. Kate, who was the mastermind behind your camp’s theme, started directing instantly, transforming the square of desert into a tropical wonderland. 

Your group had thought of everything, from a had painted directional sign that pointed fellow Burners to coffee, the Playa, the Deep Playa, City Center, the bathrooms, and of course, the Burning Man center piece and The Temple, to a bunch of tropical themed pool rafts to be used by whomever as seats. You had a blue tarp on the ground and the dyed canvas covers above you that Chelsea had painted to look like waves, and dozens of starfish, jellyfish, and fish toys zip tied anywhere they could go so they didn’t become missiles in a dust storm. 

There were four fishing poles laid against the U Haul, which had giant handmade banners on each side to promote your camp, and they were set up for ‘fishing’ with baskets on the end of the 100 pound test line that Jeff swore would hold up for what you needed it to. And the piece de le resistance of your camp was an inflatable palm tree cooler, that would have ice cold drinks for anyone passing by that needed one, that would sit directly in front of the piano you had brought to play as yet another contribution to the Burning Man community.

“It’s perfect.” Dana said with a proud smile as you on Jeff’s shoulders, and Chelsea on Matt’s strung up the last strings of blue lights in the canopy.

“I would hope so.” Kate said with a nod. “I busted my ass to figure out this design.”

“Hey! Beach girls!” A guy called out as he rode by your camp on his bike. “Nice idea!” You all yelled thanks as Jeff kneeled down so you could climb off.

“Damn, it’s hot.” He sighed as he sat down on one of the couple chairs you had brought. You nodded in agreement and used your already dust covered shirt to wipe off your face.

“I need a shower.”

“Get used to being dirty.” Kenzie said as she just took off her shirt and tossed it on a chair on her way over to grab a the reusable water bottle with her name on it so she could fill it up from the sink on the outside of the RV.

“So are we getting ready to open here or what?” Matt asked as he helped Chelsea dump ice from one of the solar power coolers into the palm tree cooler.

“Yea, someone throw up the fishing sign.” You said as you two pulled off your shirt and headed inside to get dressed. “I’ll go get ready.”

——

“Oh, do you know ‘Piano Man’?” A girl asked as she skipped up to your piano with a champagne slushy from a few camps down. You glanced up at her and nodded as you set down your mermaid patterned water bottle, that was currently filled with rum and coke and adjusted your shell patterned bikini top.

“I wouldn’t be a piano playing mermaid if I didn’t!” You cried as your fingers moved from playing a random melody to the newest request. You started playing over the cheers of a man, who had gotten a mini bottle of Jäger and a bag of Goldfish in his fishing pole bucket, as the girl in front of you cheered and started singing with you, and the group that had collected in your tent at some point since the sun went down. You glanced over at Jeff, who had decided months ago that he was going to be on whatever shift you were on, and gave him a slightly knowing smile, since his only job was to make sure ice was being made in the ice genies you had filling your freezer, and that the ice that was melting was draining into a new one to make more ice as needed. 

He’d spent most of his evening simply watching you, and holding up polite conversations with people that had come in to your tent and had some how slipped past Matt, and Stacy, who were on an entertainment shift with you in the main part of your camp, while Dana played ‘fish’ in the fan filled U Haul, and the other girls rode around to check out some of the rest of the camps. You couldn’t help but fall even more in love with him like you had every day for the past couple months. He was just entirely too good for you, and you didn’t ever want to be away from him.

“Alright, guys, I’m gunna take a break for a few hours.” You said when you saw Kenzie and Kara on their bikes. “Put requests in the fish bowl!”

“We’re switching out?” Matt asked as grabbed a beer from the palm tree.

“Yea, we’re gunna go burn a while.” You said as you adjusted your mermaid scales bottoms on your way over to the U Haul. You yelled your intentions to Dana, who was going to switch places with Kenzie for the second shift of fishing, and grabbed your heavily decorated with bright neon blue LED battery power lights beach cruiser.

“You know, I don’t know if I remember how to ride a bike.” Jeff said softly as he grabbed his matching, mixed color bike from next to yours.

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall or embarrass yourself, my love.” He leaned over and kissed your temple as you grabbed your alcohol filled bottle and a water filled one as well and stuck them in your basket. “Alright, let’s…”

“Hey wait!” The girl that asked you to play Piano Man said as she came running out to the road. She smiled at you and held out a pair of pills. “Thank you. For my song.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to…”

“Take them.” She giggled as she grabbed your hand and put the two pills in your palm. “Happy Burn.” You nodded at her and looked over at Jeff with a smile.

“Just don’t think.” You said as you put a pill on your tongue, grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him roughly. You could feel him tense up the slightest bit as you pushed the pill between his lips with your tongue, but after a moment, he loosened up, and let you give him the ecstasy. 

“What kinda bad influence are you?” He laughed as you popped your pill in your mouth and followed it with a swig of your drink.

“One that you love.” You cooed as you straddled your bike and put your feet on the pedals. “You coming?”

“I guess I am.” He sighed as he got on his bike and briefly wobbled after you before he gained his confidence and pulled up to your side. “Thank you for not letting me back out.”

“Well look at it this way now.” You said as you grabbed your head lamp from the basket, switched it on, and put it on your head. “I just did ecstasy and am headed out to la Playa at prime time in Burning Man time in a bathing suit.”

“Yea, and if you walk more than five feet away from me at any point in time, I’ll take you to Europe, steal all of your things, and leave you there for a week to fend for yourself.”

“Oh, that sounds dangerous.” You teased as you pulled into the center of Black Rock City. You rode over to where a group of bikes and parked yours in the line with the rest, making sure to lock the wheel to the frame just in case someone drunkenly confused your bike with theirs.

“I don’t dance.” Jeff yelled at you over the music.

“You don’t have to.” You laughed as you laced your arm with his and pointed the farthest camp on the edge. “How about we start there and work our way down the line until the E kicks on?” With a nod, he reached out for your hand and laced his fingers with yours to walk with you. It only took about an hour for the drugs to kick in, and in that time you had been gifted a rubber bracelet for the event because you had pretty hair, a few glow stick bracelets and necklaces which made you realize you forgot yours in the RV, and more than a few shots and drinks. And as you were talking to someone about your time in Juilliard, and disagreeing with them on why your Burning Man nickname should not be ‘Keys’, you realized that Jeff was lost in his roll and the softness of your skin on the back of your neck.

“You OK?” You laughed at him when you had a moment break in the conversation.

“Why is your skin so soft?”

“Because you’re high, baby.” You laughed before saying a quick ‘see you later, come see us’ so you could hunt down your bikes before you got lost in the sensation, too.

“You’re back quick.” Dana said as you pulled up to the campsite and got off your bike.

“Yep.” Kenzie, who was sitting right next to her took one look at you before sitting up and turning to the group.

“OK, someone needs to turn the music up right now so we don’t have to hear them fuck!”

“God, you’re impossible.” You laughed as you headed in to the RV with Jeff’s hand in yours, while the people under your tent cheered for you. The second the door closed behind you, you kissed your boyfriend and walked him back to the king sized bed, closing the door only a couple seconds before your clothes hit the floor.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jeff sighed when he got you completely undressed, and laid out on the blankets. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I’m honestly surprised you lasted the entire week.” You admitted to Jeff, as he held the door to room one of four suites so you and your friends could shower off and have a good night sleep before you flew home. He huffed at you as your friends all tiredly headed into their rooms beside and across the hall from you to shower and wash off the six layers of dirt and catch up the dozens of hours of missed sleep.

“That is only because I wasn’t leaving my gorgeous girlfriend alone in the desert with that many drugs, and that many naked people.” You snorted a laugh through your nose, dropped your purse on the floor just inside the door, and kicked off your shoes in opposite directions on the way to the shower. “Hey, who said you could go first?”

“I will kill you if you think you are getting in before me.” You growled as you pulled off your clothes and got into the shower. “Get in here and help me.” You whined as you stood out of the way of the shower spray and turned the water on.

“So needy.” He huffed as he stripped out of his clothes and stepped in the shower in front of you. With a content sigh, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest.

“This is all I need in life anymore.” You told him as you watched dirty water wash through and around the soft hairs on his chest. You adjusted your cheek and sighed once more as he grabbed a bar of soap and washed you off in lazy circles.

“Move in with me.” Those four words made your stomach flip as you looked up at the first man that had ever made you feel worth while, and nodded your head without needing to give the proposition any thought otherwise. 

“I’m taking a long nap first.” You replied with a smirk as you laid your head back down on his chest.

“I think that can be arranged, baby girl.”

The next two weeks of your life was a complete whirlwind as you packed up all your belongings, moved across Central Park to Jeff’s Upper East Side home, and helped Chelsea move out of the four bedroom hell hole she lived in with 3 total wack jobs and a horrible landlord since she spent half the time sleeping on your couch as is, and into your old room. But just as you were getting everything settled, you caught some kind of stomach bug that turned out to be something way more serious.

Jeff stood pin straight still, and dead silent, as you both stared at the door of the hospital room you were in- a trip you made because he couldn’t take one more night of you throwing up and writhing on the bathroom floor in pain. You had no idea what he was thinking, but then again, neither did he. You were both just absolutely terrified.

“Are they OK?” You both asked the second the doctor walked into the room.

“Let’s just take a look, OK?” He said with a reassuring smile. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him as every single drug you took in Black Rock City ran like a bad movie in your head. You reached out for Jeff at the same moment he took a step toward you, as the doc grabbed the ultrasound wand. You actually held your breath as he located the two side by side blobs and nodded his head.

“They look fine.” You exhaled forcefully and burst into fear and joy fill tears, as Jeff sat down in the chair next to you in relief. “Two healthy babies.”

“We did a lot of drugs.” Jeff said as he worried your hand between his as he stared at the monitor. “And a lot of drinking at Burning Man...” 

“And all I can say on that is get in touch with an OBGYN, and disclose everything. I won’t lie to you, there could be some consequences, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I’ve seen drug addicts who used everyday of their pregnancy and had perfectly functioning, otherwise healthy babies. I’d just refrain from any and all alcohol consumption and drug use.”

“Oh absolutely.” You said with a nod as you took the two photos he handed you and held the delicately in your hands. “I’ll do everything by the book.”

“Just don’t worry to much about what you did. Focus on what you can do for them now.” You nodded your head and took the paper script from him, which Jeff took from you right after. “Something to help with the nausea. And I’ll have the nurse bring in a list of some OBGYN’s in town for you as well.”

“Thank you, doc.” Jeff said with a nod as he stood up and shook the man’s hand. “We appreciate it.” With another nod, the doctor left the room to go about his day, and you looked up at the father of your children and started to cry.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” He shushed you softly and shook his head as he leaned down to wrap you in a hug.

“It’s ok, baby girl.” He whispered as he held you to his shoulder with his hand on the back of your head. “I’m not mad. It’s OK now. We’ll all be OK.” You nodded for a second before your stomach rolled, and you practically shoved him away to grab the vomit bag the nurse had given you to get sick in. “It’s OK.” He repeated as he gently rubbed your back and picked up the ultrasounds from your lap to look at them in complete disbelief. “We’re all gunna be alright.”

——

Jeff didn’t speak to you for three days after you got home, other than to check to see how you were feeling, and to remind you he loved you every night as you walked out of the living room to the master bedroom without him, which was unusual for him, since you usually went to bed together. On the fourth night, you got fed up with laying in his bed, waiting for the man that you had fallen head over heels in love with, the father of your children, and grabbed your pillow and the blanket to head down to the guest bedroom. You made it almost all the way to the door, when it opened toward you. Jeff stopped for a moment and looked at you with eyes full of concern, as you hiked the blankets and your pillow up a little more. 

“No.” He said simply with a shake of his head, as if it were the answer to all of your problems.

“No, you no!” You snapped back as tears welled in your eyes. “I’m going…”

“I always wanted kids.” He sighed as he stepped in front of you and pulled the blanket out of your arms to put it back on the bed. “Hillarie couldn’t conceive. And the few times she did, we miscarried before the end of the first trimester.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know that fear doesn’t go away?” He asked as he walked you around to your side of the bed. “Fear that you’re going to blink and everything is going to be ripped away from you, that doesn’t just go away.” He sighed as he pulled off his shoes and carefully laid you down on the bed so he could get in behind you. As if you were China doll about to break, he scooted up behind you as close as he could, and gently wrapped his arm under yours across your chest. 

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry I’ve pulled away from you. It is absolutely not your fault, or the fact that you are pregnant. I love you so fucking much and I need you with me every fucking day for the rest of my life. And now I need our kids just as much, but I’m fucking terrified. I can’t… I can’t…”

“I’m scared too.” You whispered as you pulled his arm even closer to you. “What if I fucked them up?”

“Then we will figure it out together, baby.” He sighed as he hugged you a little tighter. “I’m sorry I pulled away. I needed a minute and I never should have taken it silently without telling you what I was doing. That was not fair to you. I’ve just never been good at handling hard life shit.” You shook your head in agreement and sniffled as your tears fell on his arms and your pillow. “I’m sorry. Forgive me…” You nodded your head and rolled over to face him, and he held you to his chest as his own tears welled in his eyes.

“Just tell me it’s gunna be OK.” You sobbed as you held on to his shirt so he wouldn’t leave when you voiced your insecurities. “Tell me I didn’t kill our babies at stupid fucking Burning Man or that they aren’t going to end up blind, or with only one limb between them….”

“No, shhh…” He tried with a shake of his head as he realized that you were dealing with different versions of his same fears about the situation. “Our babies are going to be just fine. Unless they’re boys… then we’re both screwed.”

“No, I want boys!” You whined as he leaned back enough to kiss your forehead and wipe away your tears for you.

“Then we are going to have two, healthy boys, that have all ten fingers and all ten toes each, in their right places, on the right babies. And they’re gunna be smart, and handsome, and funny, and…”

“Perfect?” He nodded his head as he moved his hand to your stomach with as big of smile as his nervous self could handle.

“They will be perfect.”

——

“OK, you understand that I’m supposed to be peacefully resting at home, right? Not looking at new houses…”

“You’ve taken over my closet.” Jeff laughed as he held the elevator door open on the fourth floor of the millionth condo you had seen in the past six week. “And it’ll only be a matter of time before you start taking over the one in the guest bedroom. Besides my place is more of a bachelor pad still. It’s not really kid friendly…”

“I know what you’re doing.” You said as you stopped in front of 4B and turned around to look at him as you put your hand on your back and cocked your eyebrow at him. You pointed at the bump that officially stuck out past your boobs and shook your head. “We made it to the second trimester. You don’t need to distract yourself...”

“But we still need a bigger house.” He chuckled as he leaned towards you to knock at the door. “One that you can decorate for our family and not my assistant for my tastes.”

“Whatever.” You huffed as you turned toward Jeff’s real estate agent, Mark. “So? Let’s hear it.”

“Four beds, three and a half baths.” Mark started as he walked backwards into the living room. “Thirty five hundred square feet, and washer and dryer in the unit.”

“Big kitchen?” You asked as you curled your lip at the hideous purple painted book shelf in the study to your left off the living room. “Eww…”

“Big kitchen.” Mark agreed as Jeff followed you around, taking mental notes about the things he would need to change for you to make this the house you wanted to start your family in since he didn’t mind one bit where he lived as long as you were there with him.

“God, who designed this place?” You asked as you turned around and looked at weird, bell shaped light on the far side of the open concept room in what had to be the dining room. “Schools?”

“7, 2, and 8 out of 10.” He said as he looked at his notebook to get the answers to the questions he knew you were going to ask since he had been working with you for a few weeks. “The building was built in 1906 and was last coded in 2019. Been on the market five days and it’s already seen three people.” You shook your head as you peaked into the half bath and the walk in pantry across the way, before heading into the absolutely gorgeous white and grey kitchen, thats only blemish was the colored cushions on the bench in the breakfast nook in the corner, and more of the same strange gold bell lamp shades. 

“This could be a play room.” Jeff said as he looked at the den that backed the kitchen.

“You have another closet back there. And the laundry room with a sink is over there.” You nodded your head and glanced down the hall that lead to the bedrooms, as Jeff came up behind you with a smirk.

“You are poker facing awful hard, baby girl.”

“Other than paint, and changing light fixtures, I love it, but I’m not telling him that.” Your love huffed and nodded his head as you walked over to look at the actual laundry room with a sink, cabinets, and counter space, and the large walk in closet.

“It also has 3-zone central AC, a humidification system, and radiant-heated floors in the bathrooms. And it has a part time doorman, a live-in super, more added storage, and a bike room. The walk score is 98, and transit is 100. Now I think is the cutest part of the house is this room right here. I know Mr. Morgan said you were having twins, and this is perfect already if they are girls, or it can be painted for boys…”

“Oh, wow.” You said as your facade slipped for only a moment when you saw the built in bookshelves on one wall, and the already built in bunk beds next to the long closet on the other. You glanced up at Jeff with a smirk you couldn’t control, and he kissed your forehead in silent confirmation.

“What are they asking?”

“$5,375,000.” Jeff whistled as you looked at the similar room across the hall, that had the same bookshelves on one wall but a small ensuite on the other wall. 

“HOA?”

“It’s a little higher than the rest.” Mark said as he followed you and Jeff through the second to last bedroom, and the bath that it shared with the room with the bunk beds. “$5,018”

“Can you give us a minute?” Jeff asked as you stepped into the last room, the master bedroom.

“You may not have enough room in this closet either, baby.”

“Finally found one you like?” You finally let your smile show, and nodded your head as you turned on the wood floors that ran through all of the bedrooms toward him. He sighed and put his hands on your hips with a small smile that made your heart melt and your stomach flip. “Do you want it?”

“Do you?” He nodded his head and searched your eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“I’m gunna say the same thing I said to Hillarie when I bought our first house. This house will be our house, until the day comes when you don’t want me here anymore, which hopefully is never. But if that day comes, this house will still be yours, and our kids, for the rest their lives… unless you cheat on me, or if you attempt to steal money from me, which yes, it is possible, because I watched my ex-wife try to do it. Not saying you would, but I still need to lay the rules out…”

“Wait… you’re giving me a house?”

“No.” He chuckled as he moved his hands to the small of your back to hug you. “I’m buying us a house, that I’m going to put your name on as well, so that we both know that you and our children will always be taken care of. Because you are the real love of my life… and I need to know that you are safe.” You couldn’t help yourself but to start crying, and his smile simply grew more as he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Wanna walk through it one more time to make sure you really love it?”

“Yes…”

“Well go on then.” He chuckled before giving you a chaste kiss. “I’m going to talk price and see if I can get them to do a short sale so we can get in here and get that purple book shelf painted…”

“Eww and change those horrid light shades, please!”

“We can find some new light shades, sweetheart.”

“Hey baby!” You called out before he could walk out of the room. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby girl.” You blew him a kiss and turned to look at the small white and bronze accented bathroom, that would have to have to be redone in some actual color, before heading back over to the bedroom with the bunk beds.

“This is gunna be your room one day, babies.” You whispered as you rubbed your bump and looked down at your babies as the reality that they would never have to live the life you did growing up caught up with you. You started to cry again as you looked up at a giant giraffe stuffed animal the owners kids owned, and choked on your tears with a laugh. “God, and I promise I will never buy you two something so tacky.”

——

“OK, this is just not fucking fair.” Dana said as she walked into your new, freshly painted, co-decorated, slightly remodeled home for your gender reveal. “This place could fit my house like ten times over!”

“She looked at about a million and one to find this one.” Jeff teased as he took the giant basket she was carrying from her.

“What’s in the basket?” You asked as you pushed the front door closed and took a step toward your boyfriend, only to have him turn away and Dana step in front of you.

“You can open it later.” She laughed as she turned you around and pushed you into your living room. “Now show me around. Be a good hostess before everyone else gets here.”

“Oh, Jesus I can’t even… You’re so needy!”

“Oh, I know! It’s so hard to be a good host.” She laughed back as she followed you to the kitchen, where you had dozens of finger foods and desserts in pink and blue.

“OK, wait. You have to place your vote.” You said as you pointed to the dry erase board you had borrowed from her office. “Two boys, two girls, or one of each. And then you have to wear the beads.”

“Oh, I like it!” She said as she lifted the two strands of blue beads from around your neck. “You want boys?”

“Oh, I need boys.” You said as you held out a few dry erase markers for her to choose. “Dana, we’re girls. Do you remember how much trouble we got in to?”

“Yea, but so do boys.” She pointed out as she drew a mark under the one boy, one girl column and picked up one of each necklace.

“Yes, but boys listen to their mothers.” You reminded her as you want over and grabbed a glass of blue raspberry lemonade and a blue straw from the table of the breakfast nook. “Come on, you have to see the boy’s room.”

“What if it’s one and one?”

“Then I guess I’m just going to have to recreate the room on the other side? I don’t know. I do know that I’ve grown to hate this purplish pinkish bleck shade they had in here…”

“Oh, that’s really cool. But I see about the color, this is awful.”

“So this one shares a bathroom with the one next door. And the one across the hall has an ensuite so it’s the guest room. And our room is next to that…”

“Oh, let me see the remodel you did with that. You changed the bathroom, right?”

“OK, so first, you have to see the final product so I can show you how we changed it because the way they set this up is just asinine.”

“What did they…”

“Who makes a master bathroom five feet wide and thinks that’s OK?” You asked as you stepped into the master suite and pushed open the bathroom door. “So this wall stopped here and we pushed it out into one of the two closets the undecided room had and doubled the size. And then I added the tub because I needed it.”

“I like this color.” She said as she touched the dark teal accent wall behind the mirror.

“I used the same one on the bookshelf in the study because I liked it so much.” You said with a nod. “We also pushed this wall into the walk in because Jeff still has his closet space out here and I didn’t need that much space, so that few feet gave us just the amount of room we needed.” Dana nodded and turned toward you with a smile.

“Are you happy, (Y/N)? Like not because of the physical possessions… does he make you happy?” You smiled and nodded your head as you put your hand on your 20 week along bump.

“Dana, I’m pretty sure I would die without him in my life. I have never loved someone the way I love Jeff.” Her smile grew as she stepped forward and put her hands on either side of your stomach.

“Then I know I made the right choice in calling you back that day.” You nodded your head as Jeff called your name from outside the door, and you looked over at him with a smile.

“My mom just got here. Are you done touring?”

“Where did your beads go, mister?” You asked as you turned toward him and followed him out of your room. 

“Mom votes with me that they are both girls so I gave them to her.” He laughed as he reached out for your hand just long enough to pull you to the side to put his hand on the small of your back.

“And you know I’m going to keep giving you shit until you put them back on, Daddy.” You cooed as you grabbed two pink bead necklaces and held them out to him. “Or you can sleep on the couch, far far away from Mommy and the boys.”

“See, I like her already.”

“Thanks Mom.” Jeff laughed as he put his necklaces on and turned you around to the food covered island. “Sweetheart, this is my mom, Sandy. Mom, the love of my life, mother of daughters…”

“Sons.” You laughed as you stepped forward to the grandmother of your children. “(Y/N). It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sandy.”

“Oh, please. It’s Mom.” She said sweetly as she gestured to your bump. “May I?”

“Absolutely!” You laughed as you reached out for her hands and pulled her a step closer. “You’ve got the soccer player down here, and the long jumper that uses my ribs as a jumping board up here. I say they have to be boys because like two nights ago, they got into what felt like a slap fight against my bladder and I feel like only boys would be that rude to their mother in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She laughed as she rubbed your bump through the knee length blue and pink splattered, off the shoulder dress that was tight against your body and had a long, loose ruffle around the top. “If they are boys, I hope for your sake they are nothing like their father because he was a wild child.”

“Oh, really!” You squealed as you refilled your cup and picked up a pink chocolate covered strawberry, while Jeff whined ‘Mom’ on his way to go get the door. “Please, I am begging you to tell me more.”

“Oh, honey I will never run out of stories about my Jeffrey. Like this one time…”

“Mom!” Jeff said as he walked back into the kitchen behind Chelsea and Kate, and couple of Jeff’s friends that you had only meet a few times before. “Don’t start!”

“Oh, I’ll start alright.” She laughed with a shake of her head. “I have to pre-warn her what she’s getting into with Morgan boys.” You laughed with her as Jeff simply shook his head and went to get the door again, and Dana quickly jumped on the train to get more stories about the father of your child with you. Since you had no representation of family, you shared your own embarrassing childhood stories as your friends and his came together to celebrate the lives you created. You played cheesy games, and ate probably way to many sweets, until Jeff’s assistant, Rebecca got there a little late with two large black balloons for Baby A and Baby B.

“OK, let’s see what the final vote is before we pop these suckers.” Jeff called out over the slight hum of voices in the living room and kitchen as he pointed to the two balloons Rebecca was putting in the arch way between the living and dining room. One of the men that worked in Jeff’s New York office, Jason, grabbed the white board for you and carried it out to the dinner table, where the presents that people had brought to make the last couple months of your pregnancy a little more enjoyable were.

“So we have eight for boy boy.” You said as you looked at all the tallies on the board. “Which is the right team, by the way…”

“Thirteen for girl girl, the winning team.” Jeff interrupted with a playful glare.

“You are are just mistaken.” You giggled. “And fourteen for both. So Baby B is the one up by my ribs, and Baby A is right now down by my left hip. So we’ll obviously start with A. Thanks, Bex.” You said as you took the balloon and a sewing needle from her. “You wanna?”

“No, pop away, my love.” Jeff said as he moved the balloon between you so that you could both be in the photos Kenzie had been taking for you all afternoon. You and your party guests counted down from three, and hesitated for only a second before hitting the black latex with the sharp tip. You cheered excitedly as blue confetti rained down on your head and floated down on your hardwood floors.

“Ok, so this one better be a girl.” Jeff mockingly complained as he took the string from you and traded it for the next balloon.

“If it is a girl, she’s a badass with the way she’s beating up on her brother.” You laughed as you handed him the pin. “But it’s gunna be another boy.”

“Wrong.” He laughed before starting the next count down. You actually held your breath, hoping in that moment that it was a girl for his sake, and you shrieked happily when the destroyed latex released its pink confetti over the blue.

“We got one of both.” You said with a smile as Jeff cupped your jaw with his hands.

“A Daddy’s girl and a Mama’s boy.” He said with a nod. “We’re both screwed.”

“Yea we are.” You laughed as you stood up on your tip toes and kissed him softly. “A boy and a girl… sorry baby, we gotta do even more painting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, God, is this really necessary?” You whined as you stepped in to a white and black polka dot sleeveless, halter gown to go to a charity event for one of the foundations Jeff was a part of.

“I’m sorry, but it is.” Jeff said with a nod as he pulled your dress up to your hips where you could reach it without bending over around your substantial 32 week along bump. “It’s a once a year dinner that I have to go to, and you said you wanted to go…”

“Yea, I know.” You sighed as you turned around so he could zip you up. “But I was obviously delirious, running on more sleep, and probably half the size I am now.”

“And you still look just as beautiful to me, baby.” He said sweetly to keep you calm like he usually did as he turned you around toward him with a smile. “I love you… and I know Jett and Jace are both thankful you are carrying them…”

“Yea, I know you think that.” You huffed as a small smile pulled at your cheeks. “But I think these two are ungrateful, hate monsters that can’t keep their arms and legs inside the moving vehicle.” Jeff laughed whole heartedly as he knelt down and slipped your wedge sandals on your feet for you.

“You’re almost there, baby girl. 36 weeks was your goal…”

“Just make it go faster.” You sighed as you put your cell phone on silent and handed it to him to carry so you didn’t have to bring a purse. He put it in his inside jacket pocket with your tissues (because everything made you cry now a days), your lip gloss, and a bag of goldfish in case you got hungry before dinner was served.

“Make it through dinner, and we’re one more day closer.” He said in a sing song voice as he turned you toward the door and gave you a gentle push in that direction. You grumbled at him under your breath as you adjusted your belly band under your dress, and headed down stairs. “It’ll be over before you know it, sweetheart.” He placated over your continued grumbling when your car pulled up in front the Ritz in Manhattan. With one last grumble, you lost the pout and forced a smile on your face as he and his driver, Jonathan, helped you out of the car.

“Oh, you look so big!” “When are you due?!” “Twin’s, that sounds like a lot of work!” “Oh, you have to use cloth diapers, they are so much better for the babies.” “A tiny thing like you is going to have a lot of fun pushing those babies out.”

“OK!” Jeff said quickly before you knocked the woman that was reaching out for your bump on her ass. “Let’s go find our seats and get you off your feet.”

“Why do people think it’s acceptable to touch me?”

“Because people are weird.” He laughed as he guided you around a chair that had been left pulled out.

“Jeffrey Dean!” You stopped walking as a woman stood up on the far side of the table in front of you, and Jeff’s hand gripped the back of your dress when she started walking toward you.

“Hillarie.”

“The Hillarie?” You asked with a glance back up at him. He nodded his head and rubbed your back as he cleared his throat.

“What can I do for you, Hillarie?”

“Oh, nothing, I just… oh! You’re… pregnant.” You nodded your head and put your hand on your bump as she smirked between you and her ex. “You finally caved and went with a sperm donor…”

“Good night, Hillarie…” Jeff tried as he gave you a gentle push to the right, but his ex side stepped and blocked your path.

“No, I’m sorry. That’s rude of me.” She giggled with the fakest smile you had ever seen. “You seem like a nice young thing. I bet you found a man to knock you up and went after Jeff for the money, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?!”

“That’s enough, Hillarie!”

“I mean you are huge and, let’s face it, we both know Jeff’s sperm are way to old to be a viable option…”

“I’m sorry.” You interrupted as your whole body started to shake. “I think I missed the memo saying that your opinion about my children and their father mattered to anyone but yourself.” She cocked her eyebrow at you as you reached back for Jeff’s hand with a very forced smile. “And I’m even more sorry that you decided to cheat on him and pass up on mind blowing sex. Not that it’s any of your business, but I can promise you that he is responsible for my huge stomach. He’s responsible for making me happy, and he’s responsible for making me forget my own name every night.” Hillarie looked shocked at your retort as you stepped back the other way and up to her side with a smile. “Oh, and thank you for talking to him. Now I know I’ll go to bed wore out as we both attempt to forget you are still in Manhattan and so he can welcomingly remind me the seasoned man he is and exactly who fathered my babies.” You took a step back and smiled at her once more as the exhausted vindictiveness washed over you.

“And I’m sorry that you weren’t capable of getting pregnant. But obviously… that’s not Jeff’s fault.”

“OK, let’s go find our seats, baby girl.” Jeff said quickly as he stepped between you and his ex with an uncontrollable satisfied smirk on his face. “Good night, Hillarie.” You heard her growl behind you as you were led away, and you glanced up at Jeff for a moment. “You did fine.” He chuckled before you could even ask.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place… really, they’re starting with salad.”

“Just start with the salad so you don’t rip anyone else’s head off.” He laughed as he pulled your chair out at the first table in the middle row of the room.

“And for that, I’m eating yours too.” You huffed with a smile as you put your napkin on your lap, and turned your attention to the rest of the people at the table, who were thankfully people that you knew from Jeff’s New York office that had attended your gender reveal, or would be attending your baby shower the next day. “Growing babies is tough work. Can’t be done on just greens.”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part nineteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part nineteen: The Flagstaff Horse Fair is about to kick off, but not without a hitch. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Fortunate Son’ - Creedence Clearwater Revival, ‘Backwoods Company’ - The Wild Feathers.  Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​​, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​, @manawhaat​​ and @winchest09​​ for helping me. I especially want to thank Kay, who has beta’d Ride from the very beginning, but needs to take a break from Tumblr to focus on school. I will miss her dearly, but I’m super thankful that Mana is willing to take over. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With a black bumper-pull trailer in the rearview mirror, Dean’s beloved ‘67 El Camino rolls up Interstate 17. The windows are down, allowing the wind to wash in, like waves crashing onto the beach on a hot summer day, the cool air welcome and refreshing. 

     The Gold Canyon Ranch caravan left around three o’clock, the column of three pickups and trailers now heading towards Flagstaff, Arizona. Bobby and Jo lead the company in his powerful Ford with an impressive gooseneck in tow, which currently accommodates five horses. Benny follows in his four by four, with three horses on board another large trailer, facilitated with a small living quarters. Dean is the last wagon of the train, Meadow and one of his calmer geldings in the back, and Y/N beside him in the passenger seat.

     The cowgirl is soaking up the scenery, the hills that flow next to the highway, the mountains in the distance, the blue sky above them. The tall saguaros that dominate the landscape at home are swapped for ponderosa pines, dusty desert for green grasslands. The forest is already beginning to change color, autumn painting deciduous trees in shades of yellow and orange. It’s remarkable how different her current surroundings are from the Phoenix area, only two and a half hours south. 

     With Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival playing on the old cassette deck of the classic car, Dean drums against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. He absently hums along, mouthing a few words every now and then. When he glances aside, a small smile forms on his lips. The woman, who managed to calm him after the disturbing news Bobby delivered, is breathtaking without even trying. Loose strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and dance in the playful wind, her maya blue blouse fluttering against her Arizona sun-kissed skin. She looks at the world through her shaded Ray Bans, lost in thought and wonder.

     He returns his gaze to the road as he reaches for her, laying his hand on her knee to get her attention, softly rubbing his thumb over the denim. Awoken from her daydream, she glances over, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she lays her hand over his, warmed by the touch.

     “Nervous?” he wonders, dropping her hand just long enough to turn down the stereo before he laces their fingers together once again.      “A little bit,” she confesses.      “Don’t be. You’re gonna do fine,” he reassures. “Besides, your class ain’t till tomorrow.”      “I’m not nervous about riding.”      The wrangler moves his focus from the asphalt to his girlfriend. “What about then?”      She’s quiet for a second. Shy, just like she was the first time they met. “Just… This is your scene. People know you, and I don’t know anyone.”      He smirks, lightly. “Concerned about former flings?”       The cowgirl shrugs, half admitting her insecurity.      “Yankee, you have nothing to worry about. Hey…” He squeezes her hand, glancing over again. “I’m with you, okay?”

     A smile breaks through the surface as Y/N glances at the handsome wrangler she gets to call hers, his green eyes making a silent promise. For a guy who claims not to be good with words, he’s doing a pretty great job. She takes a breath when he concentrates on the road again.      “So, how are you going to introduce me?” she wonders.      “As my girlfriend,” he returns, matter-of-factly, cool confidence sitting on the edge of his mouth. He honestly can’t wait to introduce her as his.

     Y/N is unable to hide her contentment, the corners of her mouth creeping up further as she gets lost in the sight of him. There it is again; that tingly feeling, his confirmation breaking down the doubt bit by bit.      “What about Bobby?” Y/N checks. “He still doesn’t know.”      “Believe me, Bobby will be too busy strikin’ deals and sellin’ horses. He’s not gonna notice us,” Dean states, not concerned about his uncle. “It’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna have a blast, trust me.”

     After shooting her that grin she’s loved from day one, he glances past the trucks and trailers in front of them. They drive by a large sign made from stone and wood, that says ‘1882 - Flagstaff, Arizona’, the city up ahead and Humphreys Peak in the backdrop. The caravan turns onto I-40 going west, before taking the exit a couple of miles later.

      When they come over the hill, the competition grounds come into view. Flags reach skyward and wave proudly in the Western breeze, the stars and stripes alternating with the state flag of Arizona, the American Reining Horse Association, and many others. There’s the main arena, several training areas, stables, and amusement rides, complete with hundreds of trucks,  trailers, and RV campers filling the fairgrounds. Observing the scene, it becomes clear to Y/N that this isn’t just a local show.

     Dean was right, this is the perfect practice run for her and Meadow, but the sight of the large event has her stomach in knots. Right, those lovely performance nerves that never fail to torment her. She hopes she can survive tomorrow and still be able to eat without throwing up, because it wouldn’t be the first time that the highly strung feeling she experiences right before a ride has her physically sick. 

     The Gold Canyon Ranch caravan enters the show grounds, Bobby following the directions of the parking officer. After a short drive, they park the trailers next to each other on a large field, adding to the rows and rows of pickups, trailers, and even semi trucks with pop out living units.       “I’ll check in with the stable manager,” Jo announces when they get out of the cars, heading over to the stable office to check which boxes are assigned to them.

     Y/N picks her hat off the seat and pushes it on her head, leaving her shades on the dash now that she doesn’t need them anymore. She opens the hatch of the black trailer behind Dean’s Chevy, peeking inside. Meadow greets her with a slightly nervous neigh, eager to get out now that they’ve stopped moving. Lovingly, her rider pets her nose, trying to calm her a little, but the spirited mare begins to scrape her hoof on the rubber coated floor, nonetheless.      “She okay?” Dean asks.      “Yeah, she just wants to get off the trailer. I’m going to unload her, let her graze a little,” she says, attaching the leadrope to her halter. “Could you get the lid?”

     The wrangler nods and walks around to the back, opening the latches as Y/N unties her horse. The cowgirl pushes the divider away and gently leads Meadow down the ramp. The beautiful bay Quarter Horse takes in her surroundings with large eyes, alert and ready for action, belting out another loud neigh to announce her arrival. She circles around her owner, who can’t help but laugh at her cocky attitude; she could have sworn her granddad bought her a mare, and not a stallion, even though Meadow behaves like one at times. Eventually she drops her head and cuts a few bites of grass, before pulling up her head again while chewing, staring at another animal in the distance.

     “She really is a character, ain’t she?” Dean laughs, watching the pair.      “Sure is,” her owner chuckles, rubbing the mare’s withers. “She knows it’s showtime. She can feel it.”      Y/N crouches down to remove Meadow’s travel leg protection while Dean holds the feisty horse, glancing in the direction of the stable office, from which Jo returns.      “Tent B. Box sixty-four to seventy-three,” the ranch owner’s daughter informs. “Let’s unload.”

     Within thirty minutes the ten stables are ready, the heavy trunks installed, the tack rooms decorated and the horses unloaded. Y/N does her bit, rolling the wheel barrow from the truck to the stables with hay bails and wood shaving bedding, but it’s clear the Gold Canyon crew has taken this many horses to a competition before. Benny, Jo, Dean, and Bobby operate like a well-oiled machine, although the head of the ranch is moving a little bit slower these days. 

     Y/N tapes a form to the stable with Meadow’s name and an emergency phone number when Dean comes back from the water point, a full bucket in each hand. He and Benny have been going back and forth a couple of times now, supplying the ten horses. When the head wrangler walks by carrying the water, she’s distracted from the task at hand. Watching his shoulders work under his plaid shirt, she can’t help but get a little lost in the view. His biceps flex against the fabric, back strong and firm while he transports the heavy buckets with steady steps. God, he is good on the eyes.

     “Are you gonna continue to drool over my cousin or are you gonna come with me to the show office to pay our fees?”      Y/N’s eyes shift to Jo, who’s leaning against the stable door with her arms crossed in front of her chest and an amused smirk on her lips. Without a doubt, the blush that fires up her face is hard to miss.       “Let me get my bag,” she says, straightening her back and turning to the head wrangler. “Dean, is the car still un--”

     Before she can finish her sentence, her boyfriend has dug up the keys to the El Camino from his pocket and tosses them to her. Y/N catches them skillfully.      “Awww, so you can read each other’s mind now, too?” Jo comments, earning a glare from Dean, causing her to shrug. “What? It’s dead cute!”      “I’m not cute!” Dean counters, his face contorting as if she just called him something foul.       “No, you’re a tough, manly man. We get it, Cowboy.” She passes him, patting his shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”      “You keep tellin’ yourself… somethin’,” he stammers, struggling to stand up to the reputation Jo is undermining.

     She walks on, laughing, not even granting him another look. Bothered with his own unimpressive reply, the wrangler watches his cousin catch up with her father. God, sometimes he wishes he could shut her up without having to deal with her sassy attitude.      Annoyed, he turns back to Y/N, who can’t hide her amusement as she steps closer. He eyes her, which only causes her to chuckle.      “I’m not cute,” he underlines.

     The cowgirl smirks and pushes him into the tack room, out of sight and safe from Bobby’s judgement. She takes his hat from his head and leans in, connecting her lips with his. The kiss is short and sweet, but it’s long enough to make Dean’s head spin. When she parts from him, he opens his eyes again, taking her in as she places his Stetson back over his tousled hair.       “You’re adorable,” she says.      Dean half pouts while furrowing his brow, still trying to establish that he is neither cute or adorable, but breaks character when his girlfriend smiles widely before she spins around. Fine, maybe he is turning a bit soft, but it’s all her doing. 

     Jo joins Y/N with her father’s wallet in hand, the two friends almost skipping to the exit of the stable, joking and laughing as they go. Dean watches the pair and shakes his head, not missing Benny’s wide grin coming his direction. The lovebirds might have stayed out of the ranch owner’s line of sight, however, Benny had a clear view of the endearing interaction. He’s leaning against a tack trunk, arms crossed in front of his broad chest, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and playful judgement that’s impossible to miss.       “Get it over with,” the head wrangler mutters. “Got anything to add to that?”      “Nah, I reckon the gals made their point,” the Southerner chuckles.

     “So, you two are still doin’ good, huh?”      Jo glances at Y/N from the corner of her eye while pushing her father’s wallet into her back pocket. She leans against Dean’s car, careful not to scratch it, knowing that all hell is going to break loose if she does.      “Surprised?” her friend counters, picking up her bag from the front seat, before closing the door.      “Just checkin’ if the woman-oholic isn’t suffering from tremors, hallucinations, insomnia,” the cowgirl states.       Y/N grins at that, pushing the strap of her bag on her shoulder, ready for her friend to lead the way to the show office. 

     “He’s not, don’t worry,” she claims, very much aware that Jo is just toying with her. “He’s been really wonderful, actually. I honestly didn’t expect him to be so attentive and sweet.”      “No one did. Hell, I don’t think even Dean knew he had it in ’im. Guess you bring out the best in my notorious cousin.” She hooks her arm around Y/N’s neck, pulling her in for a side hug.

     On their way over to the show office, Jo is greeted by multiple familiar faces, asking her how she's doing and the ranch owner’s daughter returning the question in a quick exchange. It becomes clear to Y/N that this isn’t just Dean’s scene, but Jo’s as well. 

     She soaks up her surroundings, glancing left and right as they walk up a two story building, a little further up the slightly hilly property. Stalls are lined up along the boulevard, selling all sorts of things, from horse gear to fashion and interior design. It’s not incredibly busy yet, the people waiting in the short lines for the food stands mostly riders, trainers, and horse owners. The organisation is probably expecting a bigger crowd on the weekend.

     A ferrier is hammering a loose shoe under a horse’s hoof, the large animal waiting patiently until the job is done, while a promoter tries to sell a new tractor to an interested party. Cheers roar from one of the arenas, excitement heard in the voice of the commentator, who echoes over the terrain through the speakers. The smell of cotton candy when they pass a concessions truck reaches the cowgirl’s nose as she watches children having fun riding a Shetland pony from the local riding school.

     Content, Y/N smiles, because apart from the temperature, the atmosphere on this show isn’t different from the events she’s been to when she was still living in Freeport. The nerves she felt in the car earlier seep away with the familiarity, excitement taking its place. Before she came to Gold Canyon Ranch, she was buried under pressure and books, working on her thesis around the clock. The last competition she rode was the State Championships. God, she missed this circus. This life. This is where she belongs, not behind some desk, no matter how good the salary.

     “Jo Singer, it’s good to see you again, my dear,” the woman behind the counter in the show office says, recognizing the blonde cowgirl instantly. “How are you and your family doing?”      Reading glasses balance on the tip of the nose of the kind secretary, who smiles at both the girls. Her ash blonde hair is short, and worn in a fashion you would expect for a lady in her sixties.      “Good to see you too, Mildred,” Jo returns, pulling Bobby’s wallet from her pocket. “We’re okay. How are the boys?”

     Y/N glances at her friend from the corner of her eye as the two acquaintances make small talk. She noticed the hint of doubt in her claim that everything was fine with the Singer family, followed by the quick counter question to avert the attention back to the woman on the other side of the desk. Aware that the information Dean shared with her is confidential, she didn’t discuss it with Jo, even though she wanted to. While she didn’t want to get the head wrangler in trouble, she was also unaware of how up to date the youngest Singer actually is. Now that she heard the slight hesitation, however, she’s getting the idea Jo knows more about the ranch’s financial struggles than her bubbly and carefree personality leads on. 

     “How many horses are you competing, hon?” Mildred asks, pushing her glasses up her nose as she searches for Jo’s name on the competitors’ list.       “Two. I’d like to pay for Dean as well, and one entry for my friend here. She’s riding one of ours.”      “Winchester, right?” the secretary checks, crossing off names.      Jo nods, picking at her father’s credit card. “Yeah.”      Mildred flips the page until she finds the one on which the riders filed under the letter ‘W’ are listed.      “Four horses for Dean? Your cousin has a busy weekend ahead of him,” she chuckles, warmly, and looks up at the young woman that accompanied Jo. “What’s your name, sweety?”      “It’s Y/N L/N,” the intern answers. “I’m competing two horses, one of my own. I’d like to pay for Meadowsweet separately.”      “Not a problem.” Mildred focuses on the blonde cowgirl again. “So that's an entry fee for seven horses, plus the stable fee for nine. Y’all brought two horses for auction, am I right? I remember because I had your father on the phone just this morning.”      “Yeah, we do. Do we have to pay to enter the auction too?” Jo wonders, nervousness lacing her tone.      “Yes, the auction entry is 200 dollars for each. After the sale the amount will be settled, together with the commission,” the elder woman informs. “Entry fee is three bucks per horse, stable fee is fifty each, so that will be 877 dollars in total.”

     Jo takes a breath and offers Mildred the card. The normally confident cowgirl seems on edge all of a sudden as she watches the secretary swipe it. Several seconds tick by while they wait for the machine to accept payment, and apparently it’s getting on Jo’s nerves. Y/N’s friend fiddles with her father’s wallet, tension coming off her in waves. Then the machine bleeps, a long high tone cutting through the heavy silence.

     Mildred looks up at the blonde rancher, sympathetically. It’s in her eyes and Jo’s heart drops to her gut before she even speaks. “I’m sorry. It’s declined.”       “W - what? No, that - that can’t be,” Jo stammers. “Can you try again?”      The kind lady swipes the credit card a second time, even though they know it’s not going to make a difference. The same message appears on the small screen, followed by the monotone beep. The sound is interrupted by the door opening and closing, two other competitors now entering the show office, getting in line to pay as well. Jo curses under her breath.

     “Any other way you can pay, darling?” the secretary asks, kindly.      “Uh - I have…” She leafs through the banknotes with trembling fingers, counting the money, her face turning red. “I have 300 dollars. I’ll check if there’s more in the truck--”      “I got it.” Y/N steps closer to the counter, pulling her wallet from her purse.      “What? No, c’mon,” Jo objects.       But her friend isn’t taking no for an answer. “It’s not a problem. I’ll sort it out with your dad later,” she assures, handing over her own card. She returns her attention to Mildred again. “Could you add my fees as well?”      “I sure can. That will be 930 dollars,” the elder woman states, changing the number on the terminal before swiping the credit card. 

     This time it beeps three times, confirming payment without a hitch.      “Alright, all good to go. Good luck on your runs, ladies,” Mildred says, cheery, trying to clear the awkwardness with her warm smile.      “Thank you,” Y/N returns genuinely as Jo gives the woman behind the desk a nod.

     The girls exit the show office, Jo pulling her hat over her eyes a little deeper to mask her flustered face. The redness slowly starts to leave her cheeks again after a minute, as they walk down the boulevard in silence. Y/N isn’t sure if she should say something, and so decides to give her friend some space. Her mind is going over the incident, however. A maxed out credit card; that can’t be good. The writing on the wall is applied with a paintbrush, the black letter getting bolder the more she learns about the suffocating situation. Her mind hasn’t stopped reeling since her talk with Dean in the cafeteria earlier this morning. There has to be ways to tip the scale. 

     Jo eventually speaks up, voice clipped with embarrassment. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. My dad will pay you back.”       “I know,” Y/N responds, not doubting it for a second. “It’s no big deal, seriously. No reason to apologize.”      “Still... Thanks,” the blonde cowgirl utters, embarrassed nonetheless.      It’s now Y/N’s turn to wrap her arm around her friend’s shoulder, hoping the gesture will ease Jo a bit.      “That’s what friends are for, right?” she comforts her. “Come on. Let’s head back. What’s your starting time?”      Jo glances at her watch. “Eight thirty. Thirty minutes after the opening. So that gives me an hour and a half.”      “Better ready your horse then,” Y/N smiles. “You’ve got barrels to race.”

     “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on this Friday night to the eighteenth annual Flagstaff Horse Fair!”

     With Y/N’s hand in his, Dean walks up the bleachers, as if he’s afraid to lose her in the crowd. Plenty of people have settled down in their seats already, only a few spots left now that the opening ceremony is about to begin. She’s glad he’s keeping a hold on her, though, because once again she feels slightly overwhelmed by the number of strangers who all seem to be very much aware who her boyfriend is. 

     Several times Dean was held up on their way over to the main arena, by acquaintances, former and current clients, old friends and forgotten faces. She could tell he was doing everything he could to ease her nerves, his hand on the small of her back, engaging her into the conversation by introducing her. Yet she felt relieved when the ring came into view, hoping to find a time to take a breather from keeping up appearances and pretending she’s comfortable amongst new company. 

     “Dean!”      Y/N almost flinches at the female voice calling out for the cowboy. For a brief second Y/N shuts her eyes and takes a breath; guess she needs to keep her mask on a bit longer. She turns to face two women, who greet the wrangler, the one with dark, boy cut hair the first to embrace him.      “It’s so good to see you again,” she says, warmly.      “Hey, Jody.” Dean returns the embrace, genuinely pleased to see her too, before he directs his attention to the happily smiling blonde. “Donna, it’s been a while. How are you doing these days?”      “Hiya, handsome. I’m doing just fine, thanks.” The woman with a strong Minnesota accent pulls him into a tight hug as well, pressing her dimpled cheek against his. She backs away, her delighted eyes bouncing from him to the girl behind the cowboy. “Are ya gonna introduce us to this lovely lady?”

     Dean adjusts his hat and reaches for Y/N, his hand slipping behind her back when he nods at the brunette. “That’s Jody Mills - she takes horses off our hands regularly and finds us buyers - and her business partner Donna Hanscum. Good friends of mine, good friends of the Ranch.”       He then gently pulls her a little closer, the pads of his fingers lingering on her hip.      “Jody, Donna, this is my girlfriend Y/N,” Dean responds, unable to hide his proud smile. 

     Both women share the exact same reaction, their jaws dropping to the floor. If Y/N wasn’t so nervous, she would have found it comical.      “Shut the front door!” Donna exclaims. “Are you tellin’ me that Dean Winchester is off the market?”      Dean nods, his grin not faltering. “I’m spoken for.”      Delighted, Jody laughs. “Well, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”      “Took you long enough,” Donna jokes, teasingly pushing his shoulder, before she winks at the cowgirl next to him. “You must be one heck of a gal if you managed to tie this one down. C’mere!”

     Before Y/N can escape, the woman with the vibrant personality pulls her in and gives her a warm hug as well. She can’t help but to chuckle, because both Donna and Jody seem like sincerely kind people. The warm welcome eases her, helping her to feel more comfortable amongst these new friends.      “Why don’t you sit with us?” Jody suggests, after Donna lets go. “Because I wanna hear all about this miracle woman.”

     They take a seat and Y/N soon engages in conversation with Dean’s friends. Contently, he watches his girl, listening to her enthusiastic voice as she tells them about their meet cute. Dean chuckles at the memory himself; never in a million years could he have guessed he would be where he’s standing now, together with the then so timid and slightly prissy intern. She opened up like a wildflower in spring, blossoming into the carefree spirit that years of studying and discipline hid away. 

     Damn, he fell hard for her, didn’t he? She isn’t the only one who developed; because Jody wasn’t wrong. He too never expected to be able to commit, to be faithful to one woman, yet he can’t even imagine being with anyone else but her now. She taught him to look further than tomorrow. He has to admit, he has been thinking about the future more in the past week than he has in all the prior years combined.       His thoughts are interrupted by the commentator, who’s voice echoes through the speakers, mentioning the sponsors of the event.

     “We thank you for comin’ out here this weekend. Folks, right now I would like to ask Alex Jones to enter our arena floor with the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America.”

     Dean glances at Jody, who proudly watches her adopted daughter trot into the ring on a palomino. She’s dressed in a red shirt, blue and white fringe on her sleeves and chaps playfully dancing in the breeze. The end of the flagpole rests on her stirrup, the American colors fluttering in their wake. The crowd rises to their feet as the flag is carried in, respectfully doffing their hats. 

     “As we gather in the spirit of the Old West, let us be reminded of the part that the horses we cherish have played. They offered our forefathers safe travel, partnership, and the freedom to roam this great land. The same unbreakable bond between man and horse still remains today, as we ride for our country. We ask you to remain standing for the playing of the national anthem.”

     Y/N holds her hat by the brim and squares her shoulders, following Dean’s example when he places his right hand over his heart. A calm falls over the bleachers, every single soul watching the flag with the same steady reverence that only blue-collars truly can. The riders in the warm up area are standing side by side, facing the Stars and Stripes, and even the younger inexperienced horses seem to pay their respect.

     “Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light      What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?      Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,      O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?”

     The hairs on her arms rise up as Y/N softly sings along. She knows every word, taught in school of course, but it’s more than that. She believes them. And since she was a little girl, she has dreamed about the Star-Spangled Banner. She imagined it would play while she was standing on the highest step of the podium at the major events: Congress, the Derby, and who knows, maybe one day at the World Equestrian Games. It’s a long shot, maybe, but a goal nonetheless, one she will continue to chase until the day comes that she fulfills that dream. 

     “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,      Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.      Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave      O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

     The cowgirl and her horse began circling as the end of the anthem neared, speed increasing. Alex is galloping along the boarding of the arena, the Stars and Stripes flaunting proudly, standing tall. After the last note, the crowd cheers and claps, rallying the rider on as she takes the flag out of the arena at high speed. 

     “Give it up for Alex Jones!” the commentator encourages. “Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, get comfortable, take a load off your feet, take a seat, and get ready. We’re gonna kick off the competition with Barrel Racing for three year old horses. Let’s ride!”

     “Jo is sixth, right?” Y/N checks as they sit down.      Dean nods, leaning his elbows on his knees, watching his cousin in the warm up pen. “Yeah, after the drag.”      “Smooth footing. Could work in her advantage,” Y/N notes, linking her arm with his. “I was wondering; why don’t you teach Jo?”      The wrangler snorts. “Because she would claw my eyes out.”      His girlfriend laughs now, leaning into him and sweetly resting her cheek against his shoulder.      “Hey, we’ve tried, but we just fight like cats and dogs. It ain’t a good fit,” he chuckles.

     The first horse and rider combination shoots from the holding box and the audience’s motivating cheers rise from the stands into the Arizona air. Being a good sport, Dean claps too.       “Ever raced barrel, sweetcheeks?” Donna wonders, leaning forward to make eye contact with Y/N.      “Once or twice when I was a kid,” she admits. “You?”      “Oh, you betcha!” the cheery blonde states. 

     The rules to the game are quite simple. Three barrels are set up in a cloverleaf in the arena and the horse and rider pair need to cleanly negotiate the pattern. The cowgirl who’s the fastest without knocking over any barrels wins. It’s a thrilling sport to watch, perfect for a horse’s speed and agility when the rider knows how to bring it out in them.

     The second rider kicks off, setting a better time that pushes her up the board. The third follows, knocking over the second barrel, landing the poor girl a five second time penalty.

     Y/N keeps an eye on Jo, who gets instructions from Bobby. The ranch owner’s daughter is riding a mare called Sundance, who she started up about eight months ago, being the first person to ever ride her. The young horse had her first practise run a couple of weeks ago, but today is her show debut. The atmosphere of a big competition like this can be quite daunting for an inexperienced horse, but Jo prepared her well.

     The fourth goes wide around the first barrel and swerves to the third, wasting valuable time. Number five has a clean run and betters the leading result; 17.13 seconds is the time to beat.      A tractor enters the arena and the crew removes the barrels, white spray paint indicating where they need to be put back once the sand around it is dragged. When the footing is smooth again, the barrels are placed back.

     “Next up is Joanna Beth Singer with Sundance. Now, this young lady knows how to ride, with multiple wins under her belt, so let’s see what she will do with this youngster today.”

     Y/N moves to the edge of her seat, her heartbeat picking up. She might not be the one competing, but sometimes being the person on the sidelines is more nerve-wracking than actually being the one in the saddle.      Bobby walks with his daughter to the entrance of the arena, the young mare next to him already bouncing with excitement. Rousing music only adds to the exhilarating atmosphere surrounding them, the spectators waiting for the thrilling ride that is about to start. The second Jo’s father lets go of the rein, Sundance bolts away, locking on the first barrel like she has been doing this all her life.

     “And she’s off! Look at that speed, people!”

     “C’mon, Jo!” Y/N encourages, joined by Dean, who has gotten on his feet in anticipation.      The crowd cheers when the fast horse turns sharply. Focused, Jo pushes her heels into the bay’s flanks, hands towards the mare’s ears, guiding the youngster through the pattern to the second barrel. They are making good time.      “Smoke them, Jo! You got this!” Dean shouts, voice lost to the crowd that seems to favor Jo and Sundance.

     The clock ticks; eight seconds, nine, ten. Sand clatters against the metal as the eager horse cuts the third obstacle, so tight that you could barely fit a piece of paper between her boot and the barrel. It starts to tip, and Y/N grabs Dean’s arm when the drum almost tumbles over, but Jo pushes it back with her reins in hand so that it stays upright and the audience erupts. 

     “Yeah! Bring it home!” Y/N squeals, excitedly.      At full gallop the two shoot back to the gate, Jo flat on the Sundance’s neck, the energetic horse accelerating until they pass the finish line. The clock stops at 16.35.

     “Folks, if that ain’t horsemanship, I don’t know what is. What a ride and what a horse! Jo Singer and Sundance are in the lead!”

     Dean grins proudly and whistles on his fingers, glancing down at his girlfriend, who is still applauding excitedly.       “Dean, is that mare for sale?” Jody checks, the trader clearly interested now that she has witnessed the talent.       He chuckles. “Depends on your offer.”      “Fair enough. I’ll go have a talk with Bobby then,” she returns, aware that for a horse like that, she needs to raise the stakes.      “We’ll walk with ya,” Dean states, glancing aside when Jody’s friend doesn’t follow. “Donna, you comin’?”      “I’ll meetcha guys later. I’m gonna watch some more runs with Alex.” She nods at Jody’s surrogate daughter, who just sat down in one of the first rows. 

     They say goodbye and the wrangler places his hand on Y/N’s lower back as they walk to the stairs and get down from the bleachers. She can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but she senses his relief. Jo delivered and just secured more than just a place on the podium with that solid ride. The buyers are going to be lining up for Sundance, which means they can keep the price high. It’s a win Gold Canyon Ranch so desperately needs. The cowgirl bumps her shoulder against his, drawing his attention. The smiles they exchange say enough, she knows what’s on his mind, and he knows she understands.      “I’m gonna see if I can catch Jo. It was really nice to meet you, Jody,” she announces, shaking Jody’s hand before turning to Dean. “See you in a bit?”      He nods and meets her in a sweet, short kiss, before she runs off to the stables. His gaze stays fixed on her, lovingly, until he loses track of her in the crowd. Only then does Dean notice Jody’s knowing smirk.      “What?”      “You got it bad,” she comments, an earnest laugh falling from her lips.      He tilts his head, nodding; there’s no denying it. He’s known Jody for a while, and even though they only see eachother every now and then, he considers her a dear friend. 

     “She’s amazing, really. It’s all still kinda new, though,” he admits, comfortable enough to let some of that softness show. “Oh, which reminds me... Bobby doesn’t know yet. So could you not mention it?”      The raised eyebrow and judgemental look she sends him says enough. Jody stares him down as if she’s about to use her mom-voice, causing Dean to slightly cower.      “She’s the intern and it’s kind of a touchy subject. I wanna time it well so that he doesn’t bite my head off,” the cowboy excuses.       The woman who is tough when she needs to be, turns soft now, rolling her eyes slightly.      “Fine, I won’t tell him. Don’t wait too long, though. It’s Bobby, he wasn’t born yesterday. He’s going to find out sooner than later,” she reminds him.      “I’ll tell him soon,” he promises.      “This is a big first for you, ain’t it?” The female ranch owner smiles at him warmly, apparently amused with the somewhat uneasy behavior of the cowboy.       “It is,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s good. Never thought I’d say it, but I could get used to this.”      “I’m glad you’ve met someone, Dean. You deserve a slice of that apple pie life.” 

     Dean smiles at his boots, knowing she means more with those words than would seem so at the surface. From a young age, even before Dean moved in with the Singer family, she has kept a watchful eye on him and his little brother whenever they were at the same shows and rodeos. Even though she’s only a few years older than him, she was always taking care of others, protecting those who needed it, and apparently she sensed the Winchester boys could use some support. To be honest, she wasn’t wrong. She has seen a few things, picked up on the tell signs. That knowledge adds to the weight of her kind message.

     “And if you ever are in the need of advice only a woman can offer,” she continues, “may it be suitable birthday gifts for the lady, or choosing an engagement ring, you know who to call.”

     Dean’s eyes widen, glancing aside at the fierce woman, walking beside him. He thought about what is to come, but he didn’t think that far ahead. Especially with her internship ending March next year, he’s slightly careful to presume she is going to want to stay with him. Yes, he will fight for her, but he can’t predict the future. Who knows what will happen when she’s due to leave.      “Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” he laughs. “We only just started dating, y’know?”      “Yeah, I know, but she’s a keeper, I can tell,” Jody counters, sure of herself. “Give it some time, I’ll remind you of this conversation at your wedding.”

     The cowboy chuckles, but doesn’t contradict her. Jody Mills is a smart woman, one who usually is right. She can read people, and despite the small age difference between the two of them, his caring friend often mothers him with her wisdom. He can’t believe the thought crosses his mind, but it flashes through his conscience nonetheless. I hope she’s right.

     He doesn’t want to dwell on it too long, though, because the glimpse of what he secretly hopes one day will come true, takes him by surprise. Somewhat daunted, the wrangler redirects the focus.       “I’ve haven’t spoken to Gabe in a bit. How’s he doin’ these days?” 

     There’s a hint of guilt in his voice, even though he tries to suppress it. Gabriel had worked at Gold Canyon since 2005, until Bobby had to let him go last year. The head wrangler felt horrible, especially since he taught Gabe the ropes when it came down to training horses, and getting fired was the last thing his friend ever expected. Just like with Ash, he would have done anything to prevent the lay off, but their boss didn’t have much of a choice.       Thankfully, Gabe got a job as a horse trainer at Jody’s ranch. They kept in touch, but over time the calls came and went less frequent. Lately, it’s been quiet, though, and the woman next to him looks up at him stunned, a mixture of remorse and empathy in her eyes.

     “You haven’t heard?” she asks, appalled.      Dean shakes his head. “Heard what?”      “Oh, honey, I’m not sure how to tell you this,” she starts, averting her gaze to the ground, as if she’s trying to find solace in the dirt underneath her feet. “He had an accident earlier this week. He’s in hospital.”      The wrangler snaps his eyes at her in shock, a frown puckered between his brows. “W-what?”       “Yeah, he--” she pauses, shaking her head as if she still can’t believe it, “- he was working with a stallion, quite a special case. He turned aggressive and Gabe got trampled. He suffered multiple fractures in the vertebrae.”      The head wrangler stops dead in his tracks, causing his company to turn to face him. In shock he stares at Jody before his gaze drifts off, the unpleasant surprise still evident, though. Not sure what to say, he moves his hand to his face, tracing his stubble as he tries to digest the news.      “Fuck…” he stammers. “Is he - he’s gonna be ok, right?”

     “The doctors haven’t given us much yet. From what I’ve heard, the first tests showed very little reflexes, but there was still a lot of bruising and swelling. They hope to be able to get better imaging soon, but right now it’s not looking good. He most likely damaged his spinal cord; he can’t move his legs,” Jody explains, observing the disoriented man before her with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know he is a friend of yours. Honestly, I expected you would’ve gotten a call from his brothers.” 

     The cowboy still stares at nothing in particular, unable to grasp what he just learned. “We - uh, we didn’t talk as much as we used to. Kinda fell out of touch after he left Gold Canyon.”       Jody nods at that, the endearing smile that was there when they were talking about his newfound relationship now gone. The corners of her mouth are drawn down, the worry and guilt aging her in a matter of moments.      “It’s really tragic. Honestly, I feel awful. It happened on my land, the horse was my client’s.”      “Hey, this is not your fault, you hear?” Dean replies, gently gripping her upper arm. “These accidents can happen. We forget sometimes, but we still work with thousand pound animals who have minds of their own. It’s dangerous, and he knew that.”

     Jody swallows down the guilt and turns to slowly stroll to the warm up area, not walking away from it entirely, but giving herself something to do. Dean adjusts to her pace, shoulder to shoulder with the rancher.      “I found him in the pen. He was screaming in pain,” she tells. “Of course I happened to be the only other person on the premises. Donna was delivering a horse to a new owner.”

     Shaking his head, Dean glances aside. Damn it, he wishes she didn’t have to go through that. Waiting on an ambulance must have been horrible. Dean knows Jody treats her staff like family, their bond much like the dynamic between the Singer family and their personnel. Dean cares about those he works with deeply, he would never forgive himself if an accident like that would happen to a member of the crew.       “He’s gonna bounce back. Gabe’s a tough one,” he soothes, hoping to offer at least a little comfort.      “Yeah, I hope so.” She sighs as they reach Bobby, who is having a conversation with two older men on the sideline, without a doubt doing business. “I’m gonna talk to your uncle. See if we can come to an agreement on that horse.”      “Better get in there fast, before he sells her to someone else,” Dean advises, after which he turns around. “See you at the party tonight?”      “Depends on how much money I spend at the auction, but I’m certain Donna will drag me there anyway,” she says, doing her best to pull together a playful grin.

     Dean watches Jody step up, politely interrupting the negotiation, not even a bit intimidated by the possible buyers who have already named a price. She’s tough, something that he has always admired. The woman stands her ground in a man’s world of horse traders, runs her own ranch and built her own network. An extraordinary person, who always has his back. He carries nothing but respect for her.

     As he makes his way to the stables, tipping his head to the people he knows on his way over, his thoughts go to Gabriel. Jody is not the only one who feels guilty about his current condition. He just told her she shouldn’t blame herself, so why is it that he wishes he would never have let his good friend go? Maybe if Gabe had stayed, he wouldn’t have broken his back. Maybe if he had taught him better, he would’ve still been able to walk. 

     He shakes his head, trying to dismiss the notion. But like a mosquito the mental picture keeps patronising him, buzzing into his ear, draining him and stealing the wrangler’s peace. When he nears the stable tent B, he picks up pace, however. Because he knows that the one person who will calm his mind and make him feel better with just her smile is right around the corner.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty here

[crazyboy92758]

Dream journal: Kaiju Apocalypse

Overall dream mood: apocalyptic doom. Fear but the action-y kind.

This dream was a combination of the legend of Zelda: breath of the wild and a Godzilla-type kaiju flick.

So first thing to point out is that, like in a video game like Zelda, there was a world map menu screen that I kept constantly referring to. In this case, it looked like a virtual globe. There were at least two continents, a northern one and a southern one, separated by ocean. I lived on the northern continent, which also had some kind of castle thing.

The earliest thing I distinctly remember, I was with a group of people - my family? My friends? Maybe you? - in an rv in the middle of the desert in the southern continent. There was a violent sandstorm whipping around the desert. We were there looking for something. I don’t know what, but it was something important. The whole desert looked like a wasteland. I know this was happening very shortly before or right after the apocalypse had started. I don’t really know.

Evidently we found whatever we were looking for, because I was suddenly in the northern continent in some kind of huge brownstone castle sitting right on a circular beach with huge, brown, sharp rocks right around the water’s edge. The castle was simultaneously at the center of the northern continent while also sitting at its most southern edge, right at the edge of the ocean separating the northern and Souter bay continents. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s a dream. That’s just the way it crumbles.

Ok so here’s an important thing about this castle: I was definitely there far earlier in the dream, evacuating people from nearby into it in preparation for the coming kaiju apocalypse. Like I was there before the desert stuff, and I had flashbacks to evacuating people into this castle, but I don’t remember that part of the dream.

Anyway, now I’m on the beach, running around as these huge black jagged rock-eggs fall from the sky and release these enormous insect kaiju. Each one is glossy jet black with six spider legs attached to a monstrous humanoid torso that looked like a leaner, more muscular Godzilla but without spine. They were terrifying and awful, but I somehow had a way to defeat them if I could reach these ancient and powerful computer terminals in various places in the world. The two most obvious ones I knew or were on the beach...right where the kaiju kept dropping. I was DESPERATELY trying to reach the terminals, but the kaiju kept killing me or stopping me (don’t worry though; it was like video game dying where I’d respawn somewhere and try again). I managed to stop a couple of these kaiju, but they also had a special ability: whenever they died, a similarly sized spider creature would tear out of their armored bodies and keep fighting, making it really hard to catch a break against them.

Eventually, I ended up getting chased by one into the water. I’m swimming backwards, desperately trying to keep space between myself in this monster while it swings big at me trying to end my life. I open up my world map and try to teleport away to somewhere on the southern continent (something you can do in the legend of Zelda: breath of the wild). Unfortunately, I had just borrow my ancient teleport iPad from my friend Ivana from college (who I haven’t seen or thought of in YEARS), and she unfortunately didn’t have any location unlocked. I had to keep swimming until we reached the southern continent. And I say “we” because halfway through, the monster stopped attacking me, and suddenly the monster wasn’t a monster, it was this younger black dude around my age. He was the son of the man who had worked with the monsters to bring about this apocalypse. He and I end up on the Southern continent and then somehow together teleport to the northern one. We ended up talking, and I asked him, does he really want this end of the world?

“Yes,” he replied.

“Really?” I asked. “You want to go with your father on this? You’ve seen movies and read books right? You’re here with him until the monsters ask him to sacrifice you, or ask him to fight you. Is that really what you want?”

He didn’t really answer; he just kind of stormed off to find his father. I stopped him to say one more thing: “please. Just help me. I can stop this.” He looked conflicted as he walked away.

Meanwhile, my friend from high school, Wei-Ting Huang, decided now was a good time to walk out on to the beach. I ran after him and was like “wei-ting, you have to get inside NOW!” He turns and runs back in, across some short small bridge back inside. I had a brief flashback to when I was evacuating people right across this bridge, causing me to freeze up. Wei-ting came back out to grab me and pull me across - just in time because the bridge got destroyed by a kaiju-blast of air.

Then I woke up.

[365days365movies]

January 29, 2021: Mad Max (1979)

I’ve made it no secret how much I love the movie Mad Max Fury Road.

It’s a chase movie through the dystopian Australian desert featuring guys in souped-up, tricked out cars and motorcycles, and Charlize Theron has one metal arm and is a bad-ass, and also this shit.

Look, I’m not exactly a testosterone-fueled basic bro, but...COME ON MAN THIS MOVIE ROCKS. I just love it SO MUCH. So, why the hell haven’t I seen the other movies in this franchise, all of whom are directed by the same person? Well, my answer to that is the same as it always is.

I genuinely don’t know. I just never have. BUT THIS IS ACTION JANUARY! What better time to fill in this missing blank than RIGHT GODDAMN NOW?

LET’S GO. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

So, it’s “a few years from now,” in Australia. Given the past year, this has become slightly more realistic, but anyway. A cop-killer named Nightrider (Vincent Gil) is on the loose, and the cops are on the case. Soon, an entire platoon appears to be chasing the Nightrider and his girlfriend. All the while, we get a glimpse of another policeman, gearing up to join the chase.

We get some car chase action, crashes included, with a couple of cars destroyed, a phone booth tipped over, half of an RV demolished, and one cop possibly dead. All the while, a car labeled Interceptor pulls onto the road, ready to join the case.

The driver of the Interceptor is none other than Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson), who, uh...intercepts. Also...Rockatansky? Is...is that silly or the best last name I’ve ever heard? I genuinely do not know, and that disturbs me. 

They drive right into a construction zone, with Max right behind, and Nightrider’s car explodes, and Max stops in time, and we get our first full look at him as he stares on, surprised.

Max goes home to his wife and son, who are totally gonna be alive by the end of this movie, probably throughout the whole franchise. He heads to work the next morning to meet with a colleague, Goose (Steve Bisley), a motorcycle cop who broke his leg in the chase. With a friend, they’ve put together a new car, a Pursuit Special.

This, however, appears to be some kind of plot by two high-ups, Commissioner Laboutache (Jonathan Hardy) and “Fifi” Macaffee (Roger Ward). Seems like they’ve provided the car to keep Max on the force, as he’s their top cop, and yearns to quit the force. I can only assume that it’s because of his wife and kids, who will definitely be alive by the end of this movie. The proof of that just KEEPS PILING UP.

Max appears high in demand today, though, as a group of motorcycling nomads ride into a small town, looking for the body of Nightrider. They’re led by the TOTALLY SANE Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne), and they wreak havoc on the town and its citizens. A young couple try to escape the town, but they soon find themselves chased by the gang, their car is destroyed, and they are...well, they aren’t killed, but it’s not good.

Their fate is soon discovered by Max and Goose. The young man is seen running away, the girl is rescued, and a drugged-up gang member is discovered screaming “Nightrider!” Max and Goose now have an idea of what’s going on.

The gang member, Johnny the Boy (Tim Burns), is arrested and brought back to HQ. Toecutter’s right-hand man, Bubba Zanetti (Geoff Parry), is sent back to get him. To be specific, he sends his attorneys to fetch Johnny. On the day of his trial, nobody shows up, including the young couple. Therefore, Johnny’s allowed to walk. Goose is NOT OK with that outcome, and assaults Johnny and his attorneys.

Back with Toecutter, Johnny Boy is almost killed, as the group find some surveillance devices planted on a...manakin? Yeah, they have this weird sexual fascination with a realistic shop manakin, and the cops bugged it. Not sure what else to tell you, that’s just what happens.

The next day, Goose leaves home, and we see that Johnny Boy’s figured out where he lives, as he’s waiting outside. Goose rides to work, but the wheels of his motorcycle look up, and he FLIES off the highway.

He’s...completely OK? Yeah, like, he’s totally fine. No idea how the hell THAT happened, and the guy that picks him up shares my sentiments. Goose borrows the man’s truck, and heads out, but Johnny Boi intercepts him with a well-thrown brake drum. HA! He stops him with brakes.

The truck crashes, and Goose is still surprisingly alright as Toecutter arrives. Toecutter, violently ant-cop, orders Johnny Boy to set the truck and Goose on fire, as it’s leaking fuel. Johnny doesn’t want to, but Toecutter gets it done anyway. Geez, what is it with action movies and guys named Goose? LEAVE GEESE ALONE, MOVIES!

At the hospital, Max arrives to see his critically injured partner, who’s badly burned and on a respirator. Max is VERY affected by his old friend’s massive injuries, and heads home. He quits, for good this time, although Fifi insists otherwise. Max insists that he’s scared that he’ll begin to enjoy the danger of it too much, and would rather stay rational for the sake of his family. Fifi convinces him to simply take a few weeks off, and think about it further.

So, Max takes the time off, going on vacation with his family. He talks to his wife Jess (Joanne Samuel) about his father, and his feelings for her, and they’re toooootally gonna live until the end of the movie.

They stop in a town, and stop at a shop to fix the car. Jess takes her son to a beach get some ice cream. And also staying at the beach is...Toecutter and his gang…yup. Yup, here we go. They obviously assault, since ME WANT WOMAN OONGA BOONGA, and she escapes with their son. She picks up Max, and they take off. 

Feeling unsafe, the family heads to a friend’ s farm to stay safe and fix up their car. Jess goes down to the beach near the farm...and so does Toecutter and his gang. On her way back through the forest (how much property do these people OWN), she finds herself followed by the gang. And then, she…

...makes it back to Max. Huh. I was sure she was a goner. Anyway, Max gets their friend to take her back to the house, and he goes hunting for them. However...their son is still out there. Shit.

Jess, a devoted mother, goes to find him, only to find him in the hands of Toecutter and his men. But damn, they’re SAVED by their friend, May Swaisey (Shiela Florence), who comes with a gun in tow. She fires it, alerting Max to the trouble, then grabs the baby alongside Shields. They flee, with Toecutter’s gang eventually escaping.

Unfortunately, Max never finished fixing the car, and it dies on the highway, with the gang in hot pursuit. Despite May’s best efforts…

Fuck.

Sprog’s dead. And Jess is in a coma, and they say that she’s going to recover. But, uh...yeah, that doesn’t matter to Max. After Goose, Jess, and HIS SON? Toecutter’s DEAD. And Max goes and gets his car at the police station. First stop is the mechanic from earlier, who told Toecutter where they were. And Max ain’t playing around at this point.

Turns out that the group hangs by the beaches in order to intercept fuel trucks, and siphon off their fuel. With that intel, Max goes hunting. And OH BOY, he’s out for blood.

He runs four of them off a bridge, then heads to find more.  He goes after more, then sees someone downed in a field. Unfortunately, it’s an ambush, and Johnny, Bubba, and Toecutter shoot him in the leg and run over his hand. Bubba tries to run him over, but gets shot in the process. Johnny and Toecutter take off, as a...falcon begins to eat Bubba?

Yeah...yeah ABSOLUTELY not how falcons work, but OK then.

Max runs Toecutter down in his car, then causes him to ram into an oncoming truck. We get some CRAZY ASS EYE SHOTS (they are weird), and Toecutter bites it...in a really unceremonious fashion, considering that he was the one to kill your son. Anticlimactic, but OK.

Still gotta find Johnny, though, and Max drives all night in search of him, only to find him having killed a man and driven his car off the road. Max meets him at gunpoint, and cuffs him to the downed car as be begs for his life, claiming his own innocence. Doesn’t matter at this point, though.

And that...is Mad Max. Huh. That was...interesting. And somehow, very different than I expected! But here’s the deal...

No Epilogue.

Yup, I’m tackling ALL of the Mad Max films at the same time! See you tomorrow for the next one!

January 30, 2021: Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (1981)

[universallywriting]

Drive Home

Steven's breath puffed in the air as he came to sit beside her, feet crunching in the frost and pine needles. He was glad they'd planned it the way they did, just cold enough so the Rocky Mountains were dusted with snow. Specks of brown and green covered the mounds that swallowed up the horizon, towering and beautiful, almost touchably close and endlessly far at the same time. Pine trees circled close around them, boulders jutting up from the earth, and he came to sit down on one beside Connie with a smile.

It was odd up in the mountains. Occasionally hikers would pass them by, or a family of tourists, but off the more well-worn trails that was rare. It was still odd for Steven, who so rarely traveled, to see so many people pass him by that he didn’t know the names of. So often he felt like he should see Buck’s familiar deadpan face, or hear Jenny’s laugh from one of the people that passed him by.

But the only familiar face was Connie’s. The thermos of tea he had brought her was hot in the metal flask. When they drove lower, he would switch back to her favorite black teas, carefully measured with swirls of honey and just the right kind of milk to make her smile. But high up in the mountains, the water didn’t boil hot enough.

Just thinking of her face the first morning she’d tried to make them both tea at 10,000 feet was enough to make him smile. The weak brew had made her nose wrinkle up in confusion, baffled at her perfectly measured cup failing, before she burst into giggles and explained the correlation between how water boiled and the altitude.

She was so brilliant. He handed it to her, enjoying the feel of being stupidly in love and out in the world alone with her before murmuring, “How do you feel?”

"Small. But in a good way. You?" She took a deep breath of mountain air, looking over the landscape. He wondered if she felt the same as him, or if we-moved-a-lot Connie never felt that same warm loneliness.

"Same." He smiled and looked back out. Questions about wanting to see familiar faces could be saved for the road home when they were barefoot and bored. “Wish I had come to places like this more often. Oceans are beautiful but... Nothing makes you feel more like a speck than a mountain. It's comforting."

"Just another little person, running across a big marble." She nudged him softly with her free hand. "Gets a little too much when you really see the marble though. I think going out in space can make Earth feel a little too small."

Steven nodded. "Yeah. This is a good middle ground. Earth feels big. I feel small. I like it this way.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Connie asked lightly. “Drive around forever.”

“I could be happy getting lost in these woods,” he agreed, but there was no weight to it. There was no weight to her words either. They swept away in the breeze, tumbling down stone and needles and babbling brooks to the world beneath.

"Me too." Her fingers wrapped tight around the sketchbook in her lap, the cover digging into her skin just at the brink of hurting. "I'm, um... I'm done with it, by the way. With my portfolio. I’ll submit it in the morning."

"That's great!" Steven said, throwing his arm around her shoulders with an eager squeeze. His lips found her temple in a reassuring kiss, seeing the nerves in the stiff lines of her body. "I'm so proud of you. Did the landscapes turn out the way you wanted?"

She opened her sketchbook and Steven eagerly looked over her shoulder, never tiring of the contents. It started with the temple. The morning they left Steven had found her on the beach, wrapped up in a hoodie in the early dawn chill, sketching his home and occasionally sipping at a coffee that had gone cold, and though she had insisted it wasn’t important, he had happily delayed their start until she finished.

Connie flipped to fields of grain. Traveling the midwest had been much less exciting than he expected. Keystone had rolled by and their eyes had glazed over as everything seemed to be the same three trees and two rocks. They had burst into Buckeye and passed through Kansas and had mumbled incoherently about corn while the radio tried to keep them alive and driving. That night they had stared at Connie’s grain drawing with a ghostly horror, neither of them remembering when she had drawn the stuff.

She moved past a drawing of rolling grassy hills. In Nebraska, he had floated to the top of the RV with her. While she drew, he had read about the Great Plains on his phone. They had taken a moment, in warm breeze and isolation, to let tears hit their eyes and cries choke their lungs as they read about what happened to buffalo who had roamed there once. They had whispered about colonies of all kinds, and there was no one around to reassure them, so they took the time to mourn things that might have been.

They had done the same in sand dunes, or close to it. The sketch she passed held more memory than a picture, the grays of her pencil capturing more than just the desert, but him breaking down over Kindergartens sucking life from the earth. Another sketch just after, with a lovely pink flower blossoming on top of a cactus, and he could hear her voice reassuring, “Nothing’s as lifeless as you’d think.”

Connie paused on his favorite, the polar bear she had sketched from the San Diego Zoo. They had spent such a long day there, but when they got to the polar bears she had stopped and gushed about them. The Spirit Morph saga had inspired her to do research, and she rambled facts. Polar bears had terrible success rates, with only two percent of their hunts being successful, did he know? 

He really liked that idea. The largest bear of all, living in such a harsh environment, failed almost all the time. It fumbled and watched as victory slipped away, but it came back to try another day. It survived.

She finished on a sweeping mountain landscape, not too different from the one they sat in now. Connie set her phone next to it, a copy of her finished project next to the rougher draft. "That's the last one," she said quietly, pointing to the screen. "I think it turned out okay."

"It makes Earth look beautiful. I’d put it in a gem brochure," he reassured. “You chose a lot of amazing stuff.”

She bit her lower lip. “I hope so. I tried to choose what a school would think is best, not just the stuff I think is great. The stuff that shows skill, you know?

He kissed her cheek this time, saying, "Any school is going to be lucky to have you. You're amazing, Connie."

"I'm okay," she said, voice very practical about her own skills. Connie looked at him with a little laugh. "I don't know what's scarier - getting rejected or getting in. Mom was mad enough about the world US road trip gap year."

"She got over it! You know, after the meltdown." Steven said, wincing a little at the memory. He had sat behind her, trying to support her as quietly as possible while Priyanka and Connie growled and snapped at one another, each insisting on how the next year should be spent. And, at the end, the tearful apologies, the confessions of fear over the future… He had to admit that it was a relatable feeling, even if no one had fought with him.

"She'll get over this too. Come on. This is what you've always wanted. You're going to be an animator, Connie,” he said, and just saying the word made her eyes go a little wide with hope. 

He remembered her earliest drawings with him, rougher but already so much nicer than his own. He remembered her working through how to draw anime books, silly cat-eared characters with huge eyes. Steven remembered her fumbling beyond that, hours of Tubetube tutorials, crying at the tablet he got her for her birthday, the countless gifts of fanart for his favorite shows. He remembered trembling hands the first time she showed him a comic, with characters he had never seen, because she had snatched them from the air the way he grabbed music.

Steven knew he was tearing up again like he did every time he told her, but he could never hold it back. “It’s what you live for, Connie. It’s what makes you happy. You're going to tell stories."

Connie breathed again, taking in pine and chill and rocks older than even the Crystal Gems by orders of magnitude. The world was big and wide and old, the universe even more so, and usually that made her problems feel small. But nothing could swallow up the fear and doubt today. She took his hand tight in her own.

"This has been amazing. Driving across the country, seeing all these different parts of the world, pitstops to warps so we can see everything Earth has to offer. Steven, I..."  She looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past ten months have been the best months of my life. Everyone said we were going to get sick of each other. Your dad gave us that speech about how it was okay to bail. Everyone thought we were going to mess this up but... I'd do this for another year if it wasn't for college."

He was careful not to jostle her phone or sketchbook from her lap as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I loved this. I love you. No expectations. No scary future. No responsibilities. Just a big journey together.”

“I’m glad you loved it as much as I did,” she said with a smile.

“More than that. I needed it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Connie, I never could have asked for anything better than this. Everything at home was a mess. I’m so tired of all the work and responsibility and wondering what I’m going to do with my life. But this past year I just got to be with you and not be afraid."

"But now we have to go home," she whispered looking at the RV parked behind them. The place where they slept and ate. The place where they made stupid jokes and listened to terrible radio and podcasts. The place where they’d cried and kissed and worked through things they never thought they’d work through. But that was over now, and it loomed like a hearse. “We have to get in there and drive all the way back to Beach City. And then I... I have to wait to see if I get accepted.”

She laughed, cold and bitter, and took a hand to wipe at her eyes. He couldn’t see any tears falling, but Connie felt them stinging. “I’ve messed up on a lot of stuff, Steven. I know I seem smart, but most of it is from studying so hard. I’m not… special. I’m not talented. The odds are good they’re not gonna want me. And if they don't, I guess I'll go be a doctor or something. And, if they do, I..."

I’m screwed either way.

Steven shook his head hard. "You'll be an animator," he insisted. He took the thermos and set it aside, untouched, just so he could take both her hands in his. "You'll do exactly what you've been doing ever since I met you - telling stories. You'll finally get to be who you've always wanted to be."

She winced. "But my mom-"

"Who cares?" Steven said, barely holding back his temper. "We spent a year, just the two of us! You don’t need her to agree."

"Ten months," she corrected softly. "But, you're right. We did."

Steven didn’t like his temper. He didn’t like how angry he got. He didn’t like how easily he could drag Connie into it, drown her in it when they fused. He felt guilty about that. He worried about that a lot, that maybe his anger meant he wasn’t as good of a person as he liked to try to be. He loved Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, didn’t he? His anger shouldn’t be so burning and flaring when all they wanted was for Connie to be safe.

But his feelings for her parents got tangled in his own, and when he started down that path he felt that little voice hissing that they should leave them alone, and that they could do things on their own, and for once they wanted to live their own lives and forge their own paths, and was it really so much to ask for unconditional support in that?

Steven took a steady breath to calm himself. "She should be in your life. The gems should be in my life. But nobody... Nobody gets to tell you what to do with it. It took me so long to figure that out. I didn't get that making other people happy and hurting yourself to meet their expectations aren't the same thing. I spent my whole life trying to be my mom. I didn't know what to do when I wasn't."

Connie nodded weakly. "I know."

He took her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to hers. "You're not your mom. You never have been. You don’t love rules and coloring inside the lines. You sneak candy into movies and find loopholes in the law and climb giant robots and... And you love books. And comics. And television. You love survival." 

Steven flipped back to the polar bear, gently tapping the page. "You drew this because of the warrior bears in the Spirit Morph Saga, because those books meant everything to you, and you want to make something like that for other people. That’s who you are. You want to inspire people like people who have inspired you."

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I know. But I’m… I don’t know if I…”

“I’ve seen you capture Pearl on a page, and I can see all her determination and all her fear at the same time,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you draw your dad as a superhero, with a goofy flashlight and a big smile, because that’s who he was when you were small. You… You drew me, Connie.”

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks as he took a shuddering breath. “You drew me the way you love me. It was just me, sleepy in our RV, and I looked peaceful and happy and I was looking outside and… and I could feel the way I love our stupid little rock. I was human and not human and I loved it, Connie. You made me feel so much.”

“I know, Steven. I know you feel the things I make but…” She whimpered, the tears he hadn’t seen before finally rolling. “What if I'm not good enough? What if I reach for Kansas and burn out halfway there?"

Steven hugged her tight, and let her bury her face in his shoulder. They were all alone up there, softly rustling trees holing them up from the terrifying landscape ahead. But there were such beautiful things below, pressed into the pages of Connie’s sketchbook, and it was time to face them all.

“I’ll pick you up.” His face buried in her hair, thoughts of their families fresh in his mind, and there was only one thing to promise, "I'll drive you home. And we'll all love you anyway."

[iguessishouldbethankful]

Sly Cooper 1 Review:

As in, I recently completed the game and since I was asked to, I will give my review on it. I’m a little nervous because this is the first time I’m doing this, so hopefully I’ll get this right.

KEEP IN MIND: I did not grow up with this series, and I am going in after @oroanillado gifted me the entire series for the PS3. I am a new fan who basically grew up on Nintendo products, so my views might come off differently.

ALSO: SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Onto the review.

0. Initial Reaction:::::::::::::::::::::::::

I was pretty surprised how the game collection required no download or installation. So that was a good little bonus as I could immediately sit down and play it without much of a wait. As for the starting point on top of the roof... lemmie say that Sly is adorable at first glance. His movements are fluid and it’s very satisfying to control him--especially the fact that he has a bass sound to his steps that is beyond addictive. I love it.

Not to mention the music is nice. Not exactly as memorable, but I can listen to it and it does give the area a feel.

And then Bentley opened his mouth. Whew boy. Okay. Rok heard my live commentary every time he opened his mouth, so it’ll be a theme. It wasn’t that bad at first though so it’s mostly me wanting to explore the Police Station. It’s mostly a tutorial level so it’s nothing impressive, just giving the feels.

When Carmelita showed up, like expected, I was stunned by two things: she owns an extra fancy taser gun, and that slow as fuck taser gun is able to cause the destruction of public and private property as a massive scale. Ma’am, can we talk? Can you not blow up the cars?? LADY-

As for the comic style animation? Yes, perfect. I was looking forward to it and was not disappointed. I love the cartoony look it gives to the whole world. Which is something else I noticed--the feel and look of the game is very much like the love child of Banjo Kazooie and Psychonauts. The colors and collectathon.

Also the character motivations for Sly, Bentley and Murray are believable. All are orphans, and Sly saw his family get killed but the bad guys and the family book of thieves stolen. Carmelita? Eh, wish I had more context to her but good cop trying to catch the robber is good enough.

Note: I had no idea Carmelita was actually someone that worked for Interpol. My dumbass thought she was just a French cop. The more you know.

As for the hub safehouse area, it’s simple and direct to the point.

Okay. We good? Now onto the levels.

1. Tide of Terror:::::::::::::::::::

Sly dies in one shot.

Sly dies in one shot.

Sly dies in one shot.

No. This was okay. I was determined to find out how I could get around this. I explored the initial open area, collecting the coins and trying to get the bottles because I knew that the point of the games was to collect all pages, right? So I needed the bottles to get the clues so Bentley could give me the code. Thing is, I ran into a few problems on the get go. BESIDES SLY BEING A ONE HIT WONDERBOY.

I didn’t know I could pimp whack enemies with the cane. So I see this walrus looking mofo just hammering away on a boat and I’m like... How do I not aggro this dude. Keep to myself, reach areas I new I could jump to, and... OH FUCK THERE ARE BOTTLES ON THAT BOAT GOD DAMN IT! Fine. Let’s sneak in. By sneak I mean run around the walrus and realize that the guy just sees me and hammers harder. What? Okay then he doesn’t chase me. Get the bottles, realize after 5 minutes that Sly’s pimp ass cane can in fact obliterate the ship’s pole to get the last bottle, before trying to confront the walrus.

So I died the first time. Then I smacked him. You know, for a one hit wonder as Sly is, I appreciate that the enemies are the same as well. That balanced everything out and not made it a colorful furry version of Dark Souls. So off I go. Up the ladder and jumping right into the second area where there are search lights. I’m like okay, let me go around these and--

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ROSE BUSH KILLED SLY?!

GOD DAMN IT!!

Yes, a lot of this happened. It has been a while since I played a colorful game like this and I a lot of this is simple designing that is obvious, but I am also someone that enjoys finding other ways to get around them. So many choices in the game seems nonsensical. A raccoon unable to brush by some thorn bushes was rather hilarious. I was basically fussing at full volume while Rok was laughing at me. Which was good, I meant to be hilarious.

I discovered the wonders that were the search lights and that they are easily turned off in the small sections. That I could in fact dodge most attacks from the minor enemy characters. Realized that this damn raccoon cannot swim to save his damn life. LITERALLY.

kjsdbkjsd And then I realized that I was missing quite a few bottles once I got to the end. I was frustrated. I wanted to get them all already. So I went back and tried figuring out how to get them and I SWEAR TO GOD I CANNOT EVEN LOOK AT THE SAFE WITHOUT BENTLEY GOING “YOU DON’T HAVE THE BOTTLES NEEDED TO OPEN IT U-”

Bro. Bro I know. Bro please.

Shut the fuck up.

Got the bottles and moved on. Found out that I absolutely adore Sly being in a barrel and wanted to take that barrel with me everywhere but I couldn’t. Realized that Sly puts come paper cuts outs of his emblem in opened up safes and--can we talk about this? Does Sly just sit in his room with colored craft paper and cuts these out every night? Does he redo them if one comes out funky? Does he get glittery paper or is it like the kiddy kind? Does he do them in the van? Is it with scissors or an x-acto knife?! How do you make these bro you don’t simply walk into a FedEx’s Kinkos to print these out!

Anyway, I’m learning more tricks as I go along, getting all of the keys and bottles and I do go back to each stage to get all of the damn bottles because I am not leaving one behind because I really want all of the pages. I am also seeing all of the death animations Sly does and honestly, the humor in each of them is not lost on me at all. I adore them. The first time I saw him just realizing he’s gonna fall to his death and he just-

I busted laughing so hard and Rok got to hear me lmao oh my god-- But for real, most of his death animations are strangely adorable in my opinion. Especially when he just falls and his little leg twitches. They never made animations like that for other games I played so far (not even for Banjo Kazooie). And the lightness of everything makes it less frustration in my opinion. As though I had no problem if Sly died along the way. Whereas I would get way more frustrated with how Mario or Banjo would die.

Anyway those are my tidbits. But lemmie tell you something.Once I got to the last stage where I needed to get the 7 keys to access the final boss? There’s a treasure chest with crabs mini games.

FUCK. THAT. GAME.

The only reason I got through it was because I’m stubborn and I distracted my frustrations in my chat with Rok as I had this damn raccoon swim around in a submarine, killing about 100 crustaceans just for 40 chests!! 40! Not a normal number like 20 or 25. No. 40. That drove me nuts for some reason.

Anyway, finally got to the final boss after I collected all the horseshoes and lives around the main hub of the level, and then yeeted Sly from the canon ALA Wind Waker style.

Raleigh is freaking gross. Not in voice, but his animation made me feel really nasty with looking at him, which in my opinion was a good visual design and motivator to get rid of him faster. It was also easy to sort of find out what the boss fight was requiring from me in the end--making it so much easier as well. I guess for a kid it’s a bit more difficult and I can understand that. I just enjoyed the fights for having a repetitive nature that was satisfying. Like even if I died many times, the game didn’t throw me all the way out of the level at all. It restarted the fight from the beginning and that, to me, was a good way to introduce me to the entire function of a Sly Cooper 1 boss fight.

I felt happy when I defeated Raleigh. And of course, Sly isn’t a “killer” so froggo dude is still alive, just in prison after “HOT LATIN FOX LADY” caught him. Of course. Can someone tell me where Carmelita is from? Is she Spanish or Mexican or..? Like was that defined by the games or was it thrown up in the air?

Anyway, onto the next level.

2. Sunset Snake Eyes:::::::::::::::::::::

Lemmie just say that I actually enjoyed Mugshot’s backstory? It made me feel really sympathetic towards him in a way.... Despite him being a murderer but you know. It was a nice touch.

Okay so, are any of you familiar with the whole “Mickey Mouse is taking his dog Pluto for a walk” dilemma? Well, I had a moment like that as well in this section. Why? Because Mugshot has feral dogs all over his turf and that messes me up a lot for some reason. Like I always wondered how, evolutionary wise, can an anthro dog and a feral dog look so similar? I had a moment like that as well when reading Farewell, Beloved Falco. There was a feral pig in that comic and it bother the fuck out of me. But it didn’t impede me from playing the game.

The look was very much classical American desert wasteland in the middle of nowhere. Possibly southwest USA if I were to guess, and I liked the feel of the casinos and run down RVs, trailers and cars. However it made me question why this place was a junkyard almost if he kinda has a functioning casino. For Raleigh I could understand because it was a hideout, you do what you can right? Even if you have a fucking floating metal blimp over your hideout, like that won’t catch military attention at all, nooooooo--

But like, an abandoned casino suggests that it was once owned by the mafia or a mob, and just--Okay. Police regulations and gun control. Etc etc, I’m rambling on about things that have nothing to do with the game. Back to the design.

Again, collecting all the bottles like a desperate AA member that needs a hit for old times sake and running back to open up the safe. Can I just say that the names of each Cooper ancestor is rather amusing? Like some have the most dumb but adorable names. Huckleberry Cooper jfc--

And once I got into the main hub, I got my first taste of the “Murray can’t think without his stomach thus gets himself in trouble and needs to race his Moon Rover turned into a Van to win one of the keys” mini game and “Bentley told me I gotta keep you alive as you run through this area full of trigger happy criminals, Murray, plEASE STOP RUNNING IN FRONT OF MY BULLETS MURRAY-” mini game. Nice. Not as bad as the 40 treasure chests crabs.

Also, why would Mugshot or his minions just leave a red sports car running on reverse for days on end?? Anyway.

The inside of the casino was a nice section to play ngl. I enjoyed that a lot. The platforming too, despite some of the bottles being utterly difficult to get without having to die and do the entire section again to get them. And then comes the level when Carmelita decides to destroy private property because she’s after this dumbass raccoon. I wonder how she felt seeing him jump around back and forth breaking bottles and dodging her SLOW AS FUCK TASER GUN.

“Could you stand still?!”

“Nope. Not my fault you couldn’t get a license for a firearm.”

Finally I got to the Mugshot boss fight and like the first one, it was a very satisfying fight. Mugshot had me in stitches because he walked around with his long ass arms instead of his legs at first like lmao! Also once I got to the final third stage, I was all cautious and excite to jump around the wires. Yessss.

Defeated, all bottles collected, Carmelita caught this villain as well, and off we go... stealing shit from the USA before coming back to the Safehouse? Alrighty then.

3. Vicious Voodoo:::::::::::::::

Let me tell you something about myself. I have an intense love for Voodoo in video games. Started with Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Father, Princess and the Frog and I had an intense call back to one of the swamp areas of Banjo Kazooie in this level.

So basically, this is my favorite level.

I think it’s also the level where I argued the most with Bentley as well. Or at least the second one because, since the very first game, he keeps repeating the same obvious commands all the time with a constant reminder of press the O button. Sly? Sly?? SLY! PRESS THE O BUTTON! Bentley? You’re cute, but you gotta stop my dude.

The sliding effect on the long branches was a lot of fun, the tree enemies that had more than one hit kills were also satisfying to beat the shit out of. I also enjoyed the general murky color of the level in general. Just the spooky was definitely my aesthetic. You know what wasn’t my aesthetic? The first mini game I ran into, which was the candle mini game where Bentley would repeat himself all the time right at the start of if you had to restart the level. I muted the entire thing and had Sly mindlessly killing the fishes to turn on the candles while blabbing to Rok on the phone so it was easier for me not to get nervous about the time limit or the amount of candles I had to turn on. It was the same thing with the Chicken Gumbo mini game, but I didn’t mute that one. Because Bentley stayed quiet.

Also, @oroanillado​ is the biggest troll. I was on the beast section of the game and they did not describe to me what it was like. So I’m honestly not expecting much at all, just wanted to grab my bottles and go. Once I’m halfway though, and I already saw the water moving around I’m having Amnesia the Dark Descent flashbacks like OH SHIT OH FUK O Shi- But no. No. What got to me was... This intensely huge serpent coming out of the water and chasing me and my camera kept pointing BACK instead of pointing forward so I could navigate Sly out of that mess while also getting the fucking bottles along the way!!

I was shrieking!! I have an acute fear of things that are larger than normal (it’s connected to my Agoraphobia). I have that with whales and sharks and fish, so I usually avoid big mobs if possible in any game. Yes, including the 3 mythical dragons from Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. @thekursedone-lylat​ was present when I was freaking out about saving Naydra and how huge it was. But at the same time I have a big fear of these sorts of creatures, I was laughing and cursing at the end of the level because honestly, Rok was having a good time and so was I.

Oh yes, also the other mini game where I had to navigate the same speed boat thingy and shoot down the on coming ghosts and flaming rocks was pretty annoying until I figured out I needed to destroy the pillars where the ghosts came from. Then it was easy.

But my absolute favorite section of this whole level was the Green Water Full of Body Parts and Bones. Bentley was losing his shit at the beginning of the level and I would accidentally yeet Sly into the water of decomposing bodies like yeah, yeah the turtle won’t like the smell of this. It was just a well designed level, so I had no problems having to redo it to get all the bottles again and again.

Now, the boss fight? I was warned about this ahead of time so I had to unfortunately put Mz. Ruby on mute so I would concentrate on her attacks but apparently they were supposed to go with the rhythm of the song and the Sly Cooper Collection messed that up? I think she was the only Boss I was really wanting to listen to as she talked because she was giving me good “yeah I’m bad, probably not the best one in the group, but I don’t care I’mma own up to it so try to dodge my attacks as best you can” vibes. It was also entertaining to see Sly go Neo with some of the commands.

All bottles collected and onto Winter in China.

4. Fire in the Sky::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Oh hey look, fireworks!

.....oh.

Surprisingly, this entire stage was rather meh to me? It worked like the others, felt like the others, but I really wasn’t as wowed by it. It might also be just the fact that I mostly saw white in general due to the snow, and spent most of my time looking for a few bottles on one section that really irritated me. Like I legitimately got mad in one section and didn’t want to deal with it because of the noises some of the monkeys were making.

This section. I hated it so much because I thought the bottles I was missing were in here and 2 of them were but I needed hints for it. Argh... Everything else in this section was pretty much a blur for me besides the two mini games with Murray, and the one level where Carmlita came back again, destroying more private and ancient property with her taser gun--and the main reason I remember this was because:

Carmelita saying she was going to catch criminal scum Sly and Sly just went “you really need to get woke, I’m not the bad guy here.”

I collected all the bottles but Bentley told me I had to defeat Clockwerk before I could open this damn safe, and it was the only one requiring this!!

Carmelita went down with the dragon statue, into the hypothermia levels of cold water while shaking her fist into the sky.

I will say the part of Sly and Bentley discussing the whole mechanics of Sly taking the rockets into Panda’s lair was pretty funny tho. Just,

Bentley: Hey you might be able to reach the top of the tower before these explode.

Sly: Okay but what if they explode before I get there?

Bentley: Then I guess you’ll blow up into many pieces.

Sly:

As for the Panda King boss fight, it was okay. I just kept running in circles around the arena while approaching the dude. Defeated him and was like okay, I really need to go and defeat Clockwerk now so I can open that safe.

5. The Cold Heart of Hate:::::::::::::::::::

Look.

I get Sly probably weighs next to nothing, Murray, but could you at least break once Sly gets knocked off the top of the van? Or when the rocks are falling down towards us, maybe also step on the breaks so not everyone is being driven to their ultimate death?

No?

Okay.

I will say, I headcanon that both Bentley and Sly were getting an intense case of whiplash when Murray was driving that van around at 120 MPH collecting all 60 computers because... Bentley needed those to hack into something??? It wasn’t as bad as the 40 crabs and treasure chests but man. And then of course there’s the section where, oh surprise surprise, Carmelita is in an obvious trap, slamming her fist on the glass, needing to be saved. Bentley warned Sly it was a trap. But of course Sly is like:

OH THANK GOD THE BARREL IS BACK.

Anyway, obvious trap is an obvious trap. Carm just bitches at Sly right as he gets stuck in the glass chamber and is sprayed with RAID. So Bentley has to save his ass. This is possibly the mini game I dislike the most. I just put Bentley on constantly circling mode as he shot down the targets.I died about 9000 times before I won.

Carmen is all Oh I was wrong about you the whole time Sly!

Sly: Duh.

And off we go to the next section where Sly lost his cane and he needs to recover it with Carm’s help. So I’m controlling Carm’s taser gun. Guess how many times I purposefully killed Sly? Many. For funsies. Because the gun magically got faster once I was behind the trigger.

Next section was the whole climb up the beam tower as it’s being consumed by lava! I very much enjoyed this whole climbing bit. It was fun. Again, died a lot and I actually glitched through the walls because I jumped somewhere I wasn’t supposed to and had to kill Sly along the way. But still very fun.

FINALLY.

CLOCKWERK.

Are we serious? Are we actually serious right now? Clockwerk had absolutely no motivation beyond ultimate hate? WHAT?! That’s just... not a satisfying reason ngl. Anyway, the jetpack flying section was probably the easiest thing ever and I loved it. What I didn’t like was the laser section that came after it... I kept dying. Again. FUCK. THOSE. LASERS.

Clockwerk speaking random little words while malfunctioning was super cute those. I don’t why, but I loved it. I was shrieking by the end of everything though because once I got right at the back end, where I’m supposed to jump on this mad owl, I was not expecting the head to jump on me. HHHHHHH!!!

Anyway, I killed Clockwerk dead. Back into the lava you go. Witnessed Sly give Carmelita the slip of the tongue and handcuffed her onto a railing over an active volcano before yeeting himself. Classy. Then back to his old tricks again with the gang. End credits.

NO WAIT.

The last chest. In the Panda section. Yeah I went back for that and got the extra ending.

0. MY RATING::::::::::::::::::::

Honestly, 8 trashcans out of 10. If Clockwerk actually had a believable motive besides hate, I’d give it a higher rating. But the game is satisfying and I love the mechanics of it.

Bentley just needs to chill the fuck up tho. God.

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

Another life update. Go us!

Quick Links: Ongoing Fundraiser, Needs Wishlist, Wants Wishlist, Ko-Fi, PayPal.me.

I have a PayPal (tashabot at gmail dot com), a Venmo (which is like $80 in the hole somehow?) that is the same username, and a CashApp that is also $tashabot. Also linked above are Ko-Fi and PayPal.me. These methods all come to me automatically, although PayPal takes their cut. GoFundMe takes roughly three days to get to me and they also take their cut. Thankfully someone helped me get my bank account in order so I'm no longer in the negative.

The breakdown of everything is under the cut. The TLDR is that our combined households need $4,000 minimum to keep afloat and have no idea how to raise that? And to TRULY be afloat, we'd need $10,000 and magical jobs to come land in our laps.

Here's a list of everything I and my family owe, in full, but broken down into semi-digestible chunks:

If you can signal-boost this, that would be rad. Thanks for reading.

I owe T-Mobile $600, and I furthermore owe Alyssa $240 for paying a past-due amount on her emergency credit card so we wouldn't get shut off. A lot of this is late fees and EIPs for when we had equipment failures that we can't really get out of.

I owe $240 total to Geico, my car insurer, but I owe $103 of that by the 14th. I SHOULD have it in time, and the monthly amount will go down significantly after this payment. But still...yikes.

I need a new alternator for the RV. This can run anywhere from $50 to $250, and I have to pull it out before I can find out for sure. YAY!

I need a new headlight for the car, which according to Autozone is $16 for just the bulb, which I don't know if I can put it in properly, or $122 for the full assembly. It's like...one of the only issues with the car. I still haven't named her yet. Anyway, I'll figure out if I can just swap out the lamp or if I need to swap out the whole assembly today.

My mom and sister owe $581 to the water company, $479 past due. Yaaaay, living in a desert.

$51 to Waste Management who hauls away garbage. Kinda necessary.

They also owe $1050 to rent, plus a $35 late fee.

$242 to the electric company.

$264 to Charter, their Internet company, with $174 due for them to turn our Internet back on. We use the Internet for side-work so this is kind of important. I'm actually writing this out in Notepad, and then I'll post it on Tumblr using a tiny bit of my phone's wifi hotspot data.

My sister needs $350 to fix her sedan and register it so that she can retire the gas-guzzling truck she's been using.

My mom owes $5,715 on her car total, and owes $368 currently.

We're currently staying in front of their house, technically illegal but because we're homeless the police and code enforcement look the other way because we take every possible step to be safe and clean.

I need roughly $200 to do repairs and upgrades on the RV, internally and externally.

So the minimum amount we need to get "caught up" enough for my mom (who brings home about $3,000 a month but is covering ALL of us on that) to be not drowning? Almost four grand. If we wanted to ACTUALLY be caught up? Nearly $10,000.

The bad:

I have no idea how to get all of this, still. I work part-time at Gamestop and DoorDash/Instacart when I can, but I got diagnosed with Influenza-B yesterday so I can't do either of those things rn. I'm doing proofreading at the moment.

I've hit a fuckless zen, but I know my sister, who has my niece (six years old) is terrified most of the time, and I don't blame her. My mom is incredibly stressed because she's the only one with a full-time job and is supporting the majority of things on her own.

I got denied a monthly space at the only place in town that will take my RV, at its age.

I keep applying to jobs and either not getting callbacks, or getting interviews and then never hearing from anyone again. I DO have an interview as a leasing agent on Wednesday, but I'm not holding out hope I'll get it. Hopefully I won't be sick still then. I'm pretty sure giving your interviewer the flu is a good way to not get the job.

Raven has applied to everywhere that won't set off her PTSD. One callback, no jobs.

My sister has been applying everywhere too but, nothing. She's technically been charged with several felonies. Long story, if you want the deets and I trust you, you can PM me.

I posted the fundraiser to Reddit and I'm getting a lot of "helpful" comments about searching for jobs/relocating that just aren't something we can do right now, or are things we're already doing. It's like people don't believe me when I say that I am looking, flat-out, for jobs right now, and it's really disheartening.

I am officially a "real" Gamestop employee and not a seasonal one, but it pays minimum wage and I usually work like, one day a week, maybe two, now that the slow season is back.

I'm not sure my good computer works anymore. It got physically damaged at SNAFU Con and I'm afraid to try and start it up (plus I don't really have the room to set it up) and see how bad everything is. Replacing it would be incredibly expensive. - This is left over from the last update. I haven't checked because I'm still scared of what I'll find.

The good:

Everything from the last update. Raven and I are doing good, we're slowly making the RV into a home instead of a house, the cats are healthy, I get to see my dog soon.

I know we are incredibly privileged in a lot of ways. We HAVE transportation (a necessity in the area we live in, but still). We HAVE access to phones and internet. We HAVE some money that comes in. We HAVE a space to lay our heads every night. The problem is that a lot of that is going to be falling down around our heads soon because the money we do have come in isn't enough.

Thanks for reading, and I'm so sorry to be just..rambling on. I don't want my family to be homeless, and my family includes my mom and sister. I'm willing to provide receips of every bill paid off!

[cwriteshistorysortof]

Bones - A Creepypasta

A/N: Wrote this for Mrcreeps on reddit, figured I'd post it here cuz why not.

​

When I was young I’d loved nature, camping, fishing, playing in creeks and climbing trees. Growing up in central California there was lots of great camping sites that were never too far of a drive for my family, so we went on woodland excursions often. Especially in the summer when the weather was nice.

Love of the outdoors runs in my family, and that meant we were aptly prepared for all of our trips in terms of supplies and knowledge of surrounding areas. In short, we never had a bad camping trip that was caused by our own ill-preparedness. Though we’d had a few ruined by unexpected weather, freak rainstorms in the middle of summer that kept us holed up in a tent or RV for days.

I thoroughly enjoyed trips to one place in particular, a private campground, that’s been in my family for generations, and is on the border of a Native American reservation, and used to contain cattle. It is very large and very wild, still containing patches of rusted barbed wire fence and littered with old cow bones depending on where you go. Most of the cow things of course are in the old pasture, which is also scattered with old cabin parts: gas stoves that don’t work, beds and tables rotted or half eaten by termites.

Though those fences, and a few old cabins, most no longer usable, are the most permanently human thing about the place. There are no trails, besides the rode to reach the camp. If you want to hike, you have to drive quite a bit to get to trails, otherwise you can explore the vast campground without a path. There are sprawling meadows, wet and marshy, squelching beneath your every footstep, sucking you deep into the mud. Then the creek, surrounding by willows and all sorts of little greens, crawling with insects and chock full of lively fish, snatching the bugs from the air, disappearing beneath the murky surface once more. The creek bed is deep, and isn’t full in the summer so there’s a wall of stacked granite rocks before the tree lined banks, terrible to climb.

Finally there is the true woods, densely packed, towering sequoias. My mother always told me with a childlike awe, how some of them could be thousands of years old. I was already short, still am for my age, but these trees made me feel small and insignificant, like I had been dwarfed by them in a way that nothing else ever could. Though there had been fires in this area, the large trees had recovered, sporting a shell like look near there roots where they had been damaged and regrown. It was ominous to me, yet simultaneously beautiful.

It’s also got beautiful wildflowers, so many, everywhere, i thought it was weird that they were in the pasture too, but my mom says the cow pies fertilized them. I found the idea a little gross, but I loved the flowers. There were little purple ones that looked like shooting stars, mini white ones that grew in clumps like some strange broccoli, ones with long, thin red petals that looked like feathers. And of course there were little red and yellowish orange lily’s that had black spots on them, the rarest and most beautiful that I’d spend hours hunting for, only to come up with three wilted flowers and scraped knees and elbows from trying to climb the slippery rocks of the creek bank.

This place is really, truly, special. I can’t emphasize enough the wildness of it. Maybe it’s got some kind of special eldritch enchantment that kept drawing me deeper, always revealing, even though I’d been coming there every year for almost my entire life. There was something new around every corner. Even now, especially now, as I am older, I realize how unique that place is because I’ve never been anywhere that’s come close to making me feel the same way. At once curious, enchanted, comforted, even scared.

There was only one occasion where that fear was truly justified, and the strangeness I felt of that place proven to be true.

Based on what I’ve told you, you can guess I liked to explore, to go further than I’d gone before and find something new and novel, even if it felt a tad odd. This... I don’t know what to call it. Encounter? Happened when I was ten, and it all started with those flowers.

You see the best part about exploring was that strange chilling, enchanted feeling I got, but that only ever seemed to happen when I was alone, and we always went camping as a family: me, my mom, my dad, and three older sisters. This meant in most previous trips i had a gaggle of siblings, or at least on to accompany me on adventures. Don’t get me wrong I love my siblings, and playing with them was fun, but i never got to go far on my own because of them.

But that trip, when I was ten, they were all more than thirteen, and reaching the point where they no longer wanted to play in the woods. All they wanted to do was sit in the RV and play on their phones. I still wanted to go down to the creek, or something that wasn’t being cooped up inside so I asked my mom if I could go play by myself.

Of course neither of my parents liked the idea of any of their children going into the woods alone, even if we were the only people for miles I could run into a bear or simply fall off a too-tall rock and injure myself. So I promised them I would stay close by, and said I would just be looking for flowers. I told myself it would be enough to keep me entertained.

But i wanted the red and yellowish-orange flowers with the black spots, or Tiger Lilies I think they were called, and I couldn’t seem to find any of them near me. I was on the opposite side of the creek from my campsite. I’d had to wade through the shallow part of the creek to get across, and now my jeans were wet up to my knees, the heavy denim weighing me down as I trudged alone the creek bank. Suddenly I heard chittering to my left, in the opposite direction of the campground.

I quickly whipped my head around, thinking it was a large insect and preparing to run as those were really the only thing out here that bothered me. But when I looked I saw nothing, for a moment, then I noticed one of the flowers I had been hunting for. I began hopping happily towards it

The air was warm and heavy, humid as the summer sun evaporated water in the plants and creek. Clouds of mosquitoes filled the air, and I had coated myself in bug spray to keep them from biting me. It’s strange wet-dry feeling bothering my skin as it melded with my sweat, burning the little nicks on my skin from tree branches and thistles. It’s pungent alcohol scent invaded my nostrils.

But I was elated as I plucked the flower from the ground, holding it up triumphantly, peeking the sunset sky through the trees, the same color as the flower through the trees. For a moment everything seemed cast in warm shades, red, pink, orange, brown. Everything except the needles of the evergreen trees. I closed my eyes, feeling hot sweat running onto my eyelashes, as those same warm colors appeared behind my eyelids.

When I opened my eyes I could see another Tiger Lily, some fifty feet ahead, and I dashed towards it, adding it to my collection. There was another one ahead still, just at the limit of my vision, and I went for that one too, not thinking about how far I was straying from camp as it became, three, four, five, ten flowers. I’d never found this many before. All of them roughly the same distance apart, still far but closer than i’d ever seen them.

When i finally stopped seeing the flowers the last tinges of pink were beginning to fade from the sky and I was panting but elated. I was next to a large tree with a little cave in it, hollowed out near the roots, maybe with animal help. I crawled inside to count my haul, and catch my breathe, enchanted by this little woodland hut, getting that curious chill up my spine.

From the outside it seemed just barely big enough to fit me. But when I slipped inside I tripped on something, falling further inside than should have been possible. I felt something crawling on my skin. I closed my eyes, yelping and wiping it off, shaking myself a bit. When I opened my eyes everything was dark in the little hole, except for the opening, about four feet away from the bottom. I figured I had underestimated how deep it was, pulling myself up so I could crawl out. When I noticed something.

There was a Tiger Lily, right in front of the opening. I stood, poised to pull myself up, transfixed by this flower for a moment. How could I have missed this one? It was large and vibrant, beautiful. But my eyes stung with sweat, feeling heavier with each passing second. I figured I must’ve missed this one. When I plucked it from the tender earth, I noticed something else strange.

The air outside was suddenly cool and dry, and it hit me in a sudden burst, waking me from a hot summer daze as I pulled myself out of the tree and stood up. As I took inventory of the forest around me it was...wrong. Too quiet, too dry, the trees were, they where white, not without tinges of gray and brown as though they were dirty or scraped. I looked up for their needles, they had none, only long, white slender branches. They looked like hands with too many fingers.

I felt that chill up my spine, I felt the urge to explore that came from somewhere other than my own mind. I wanted to go home, and I shivered, my clothes rustling, no longer wet with sweat or creek water. They seemed to have dried instantly. Even my mouth, my nose, my eyes felt...dry. Like I’d been living in a desert for weeks without a drop of water.

As I shuffled forward it seemed light, a watery gray dawn with no sunrise colors, not even blue. A thick, heavy fog covered everything. I could only see about ten feet ahead of me and there seemed to be dead, white trees everywhere. How they hadn’t fallen down I didn’t know, still don’t.

They reminded me of dog feces that had been left in our backyard for two long, the way it shriveled and became white, and was brittle when you scooped it up to dispose of it. I tried not to think of other similarities. I thought I saw faces in the trees, cold, unforgiving faces that would curse me and my family if i crossed them. So I kept my eyes trained to the finger like branches up high, just barely visible on shorter trees. I had to step over branches and dead bushes that made me stumble more than once.

After a little while I reached a clearing. I didn’t realize how silent it had been until I heard a noise. A strange chittering or clacking you would hear from an insect or beetle, but deeper, much deeper. It reminded me of the sound I heard that lead me to the first flower. I shivered. Yet I felt some numb calming focus overcome me as I followed the treeline, until discovering it made a tightly packed circle around this clearing that must’ve been a hundred yards across.

I heard the chittering again, something that sounded like two sticks tapped together, over and over in rapid succession, but somehow heavier. And I felt eyes on me, more than one pair of eyes. It was like everywhere was watching me.

Suddenly the thick fog dropped, not a gradually thinning. It seemed to sink into the ground and vanish altogether. And I looked around, coming to a horrible realization as I stepped on something hard and long, and it snapped beneath my weight. What I thought had been tree limbs and bare bushes on the ground, were bones.

Right behind me. It didn’t touch me, didn’t move, but I could feel it. It didn’t dare turn around. I stood there for agonizing minutes, trying to convince myself to move. It wasn’t until it trilled in my left ear, revealing a brassy-brown appendage I saw in my periphery that i was finally able to run.k inside of an organism. It looked like all of these creatures has extra bones. Like reverse ostio-perosis. They were cracked in some places, scattered with teeth marks of some kind.

Any semblance of calm fled from my body as I heard the chittering again, this time sounding closer. But I didn’t move, my stupid animal brain thinking if I could just stay still enough, whatever was out there, wouldn’t see me. Wouldn’t do god knows what to me. But I heard it a third time.

Right behind me. It didn’t touch me, didn’t move, but I could feel it. It didn’t dare turn around. I stood there for agonizing minutes, trying to convince myself to move. It wasn’t until it trilled in my left ear, revealing a brassy-brown apenfage I saw in my periphery that i was finally able to run.

I’d never ran that fast and I know I will never do it again. The cold scraped against the insides of my lungs and it hurt so bad I thought I’d breathed in broken glass, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t know where I was going, the only thing I knew was that I would rather run so hard it killed me than let that thing get ahold of me.

But it wasn’t my choice. I tripped on something, stumbling long enough I had to use a tree for balance, and I heard the chittering right behind me again. This time I couldn’t help it, as I turned around and saw the worst thing I couldn’t have imagined if I spent a thousand years trying.

It was almost like a centipede, if those were eight feet tall. It was wide too, brassy-brown segmented shell, long mandibles and too many spindly limbs that were not proportionate at all. It chittered, multiple sets of beedy black eyes staring at me. Yet it didn’t come closer. And that’s when I caught sigh of the larvae.

It’s lower half was almost a chasm, full of the little things, wriggling, squirming. One of them starting coming towards me, and I took a step back, but the bigger creature used one of it’s too-long arms to hold me in place as it climbed up my shoe and up my pant leg. When it reached my waist, it burrowed into my skin and I screamed, and thrashed for minutes as it settled itself beneath a layer of my flesh.

I still had one free hand, and I managed to snap of a bit of the larger creature’s spindly arm. I screamed again, this time to rally my courage as I stabbed it in the eye. It finally released me. I turned and ran once more, barreling through the trees. Within a minute I felt a sharp pain where the creature’s larvae had burrowed into me. If this place hadn’t been so dry I would have been crying, instead I dry sobbed, feeling the shard of bone already sticking two inches out of my abdomen, twice as thick as my thumb.

I don’t know how long I ran, but I remember finding that tree, through sheer luck. I don’t know if it was the same one but it had the same hollow bottom and I shoved myself into it, hiding at the bottom as I heard the creature chittering outside.

I dry sobbed, wrapping my arms around my knees and rocking back and forth, trying not to disturb the bloodied bit of bone protruding from my abdomen. It was six inches long by the time the chattering stopped. I don’t know what possessed me, adrenaline, the knowledge I needed to get help fast, but i looked over the edge, out of the hole.

I was never so relieved to see the familiar forest. It was dark, but it was a full moon, and I heard flies buzzing and saw mosquitoes. The warm summer air I was used to had returned, though I still felt dry. The trees were normal, reddish-brown.

As soon as I was able to stand up I sprinted towards the camp ground, the humid air a blessing on my frayed lungs.

When I got to the camp ground my parents looked frustrated and worried, but once they saw the bone sticking out of me they immediately had my sisters packing the truck and they huddled around me as my dad drove us to the nearest hospital. It looked like a stick to them, now it was dirty, looking more brown and red than white. They assumed I had impaled myself, but could tell how shaken I was.

At the hospital they said it was a stick, but I know what I saw after they removed it, why they had to put me under sedation. They’d showed me the ‘stick’ It had fused to my other bones, but they didn’t know how to explain it so they probably assumed I didn’t know. I don’t know what they made of the larvae, but I know it was real. It felt so real.

As for the air, they’d pronounced me severely dehydrated, one more hour and I could have died. It was a miracle I was able to run as far, and as fast as I did.

I’m so glad I found my way out because I can’t imagine a more painful way to die. I can’t believe all that creature’s victims went through it. I saw how malformed they were, and it must’ve taken them a long time to die that slow, painful death. I shudder now, just thinking about it.

I haven’t gone back to that campground or any since, and I don’t think I will, even if that place is special.

[thismightbeaterribleidea]

Accidental Snowbirding

So I went to Florida and accidentally became a snowbird. I drove south in September with no real timeframe for anything in mind, and I ended up staying on the Gulf coast north of Tampa (Pasco County) for almost three months, minus a couple of weeks I was in Georgia.

Some friends have asked me how the new, nomadic life is going, and I tell them that it hasn’t really felt that nomadic. I’ve enjoyed being close to my friend Ron — I had a regular rotation of several campgrounds, none of them more than half an hour from his place. It reminded me of the decade-plus ago when we both lived in Denver, in old, cheap apartments within walking distance of each other. A friend calls and says “do you want to come over?” and you just go over. It’s lovely. We both got into paddleboarding (more on that later) and explored some rivers. We even took an airbnb trip to the Smokies and northern Alabama before the pandemic escalated. So it’s been interesting and good, if different from the types of images that motivated me to buy this big-ass van (wilderness, solitude, aspen groves, desert mesas).

Here’s what I remember from the last few months:

A cotton-candy-pink bird forages on a shoreline and it is so quiet that you can hear its three-clawed feet pattering in the mud. Ninety minutes later we are scarfing down fried chicken in the car in a crowded parking lot.

In the trailer park, people drive golf carts around in loops: maybe this passes for exercise, or maybe they are hoping to run into someone to talk to.

Until November, I sweat and sweat and sweat, and then it cools off enough for me to run in the morning and it’s glorious. 

During the day, there is constant traffic and the lights are always red. There are a lot of billboards, all promising different things, but the one that makes us angry is the one that says “Jesus promises stability.”

I spend the night at a trailer park and the ladies in the office are sweet and efficient and wearing masks. But the spot I’m assigned is across from a mobile home with one of those flags that is half the U.S. flag and half the Confederate flag, and although my privilege probably keeps me safe here, I keep running through the equations with slightly different variables: who would be safe in this spot, in this trailer park/this county/this state/this country, and under what circumstances? What could make all of us safer? And the people who chose to pay for and display that absurdity of a flag, why is that flag the story they tell themselves? And what is the topography of the shared responsibility for all of this bullshit?

We paddle the Hillsborough River and see no other boaters but two alligators. One is basking on a log, and when I turn my head for a second it drops into the water with a massive splash: one moment there was a six-foot alligator; the next moment there was nothing but ripples. It was that fast. My friend decides he will not paddle here alone.

I see live oaks that have Spanish moss hanging from their branches, sure — but they’re also covered in lichens, and on the horizontal branches there are carpets of multiple kinds of moss and clusters of foot-tall ferns. It’s a whole ecosystem in one tree.

I’m driving “home” (most frequent campground) late one night and I am alone on a very dark road. In my headlights, I see a human figure in the middle of my lane, facing directly at me. I think: goblin! But it is a human person. I swerve into the other lane in case he moves. But he doesn’t move a muscle. He is in a half-crouch with his hands on his knees. I catch a glimpse of him in profile as I pass: his face is set in a rictus, jaw clenched. He is still staring straight ahead, unblinking, as if he hasn’t even seen me.

I call Ron just to reassure myself that I haven’t slipped out of the real human world and into someplace else.

“Oh my God,” he says. “But no, you’re still in the real world. There’s a lot of meth around here. He’s not a demon or anything. It’s just Florida.” He is wearing a dark sweatshirt and standing in the dark on a dark road; what if he gets hit? I call the police and I hate that to this day I still wonder if that was the right decision.

We get into paddleboarding. Ron already has an inflatable paddleboard, and I buy one with money I should be saving for things like van insulation or the loose crown on my lower left molar that is already living on borrowed time. But the paddleboard is amazing. Previously, I hadn’t gotten it: why stand when you could sit? I’m lazy and I have crappy feet; I hate standing. But this isn’t regular standing. It’s walking-on-water standing. In our favorite river, the Weeki Wachee, you can see all kinds of things from a paddleboard that it’s harder to see in a kayak, just because of the angle. On a paddleboard, you look straight down and there’s a fish striped like a zebra, an old pine log submerged ten feet down in the clear water, a scurrying blue crab, a bed of rippled sand.

We start at the public park and paddle up against a stiff current. Twice, we get to the three-mile mark and there is the same black-and-white cormorant in the same tree both times. We are familiar with the fact that if you time it right, so that you get back to the park as late as possible without actually paddling in the dark, and the crowds taper off so you have the river to yourself, the deepest pools are turquoise on our way upriver and viridian on our way down.

There are sometimes manatees on the river. In this part of the world, manatees are THE charismatic megafauna. And they are charismatic as hell. Once we are out late, a couple miles up the river with no one else around, and we see a mother and baby grazing on eelgrass in shallow water. We watch for minutes, mesmerized. The baby is tiny for a manatee: about the size of a Corgi. It must be very, very new. There is another manatee that I’m pretty sure I see several times on different days: it is very plump, with three pink slash marks across its back. We get to the point where, if there is a throng of other boaters stopped near where manatees are feeding, we don’t try to stop and see the manatees. We’ve seen them before, and we’ll see them again, when we don’t have to worry about the people and their kayaks and canoes in the current.

The last time I went to the Weeki Wachee, I went alone. The leaves were turning, because the calendar’s close-to-Christmas is Florida’s fall. I hadn’t ever planned on seeing a blazing orange maple next to tropical blue water, but it happened. Close-knit formations of big, soft gray, doe-eyed fish darted under my feet, and at the appointed time the water started turning dark green. In one of the final bends just upriver from the park, there is a deep spot called Hospital Hole. As I paddled down towards it, I saw one manatee, then another break the surface to breathe. I drifted over the hole, away from the manatees near the surface, and I saw the outline of another one eight or ten feet down against the very dark blue of very deep water.

The Weeki Wachee is a very narrow river, usually not more than thirty feet across and often only twenty. It’s also shallow, four or five feet on average, twelve where the current has carved a deep groove or pocket. Hospital Hole is at one of the river’s widest points, I’d guess maybe 150 feet from bank to bank. The hole itself — technically a sinkhole, but with a couple of small springs feeding into it — is only about 30 or 40 feet wide, but 140 feet deep. It goes down so far that there are different layers of water: freshwater, saltwater, a layer that is anoxic, another layer that is so full of hydrogen sulfide that divers can smell the rotten-egg odor even though they’re breathing compressed air. I read online that the manatees often go to Hospital Hole to sleep at night. The sinkhole-spring, like a big deep pocket, gives them space to stay together and still spread out. They can sink down below where they have to worry about boat engines or curious paddle boarders or whatever else manatees worry about. Every so often, they come up to breathe, then sink down again. Respire, rest, repeat.

It’s 7:17 p.m. as I am writing this, so they’re probably there right now.

***

So that’s Florida! Other, more nuts-and-bolts things that have happened include...

I installed lights and outlets. This was a big project and a big deal, since it means that I can have things like a fan (to keep me from sweating to death in the summer), an electric cooler (a.k.a. mini-mini-fridge) for things like vegetables and hummus and cheese and cold boozy beverages, and, well, lights at night that aren’t a harsh blue-white solar lantern, which is what I was using before October, when I made these improvements. Anything electrical is always a little scary; I’m nervous every time I have to go into the breaker box and always surprised when I’m able to touch it without shocking myself. I also had an extremely minimal understanding of how to splice wires together and how to connect all these lights to each other, to the dimmer switch, and to the breaker box. This involved a lot of googling, and even though the DIY van blogs seemed to say that installing lights would take half a day, it took me the better part of two days. But it’s done, and I’m very happy with it. Fiat lux, motherf***er!

My new favorite public agency is the Southwest Florida Water Management District. Occasionally, if I’d had a few drinks at Ron’s house, I spent the night parked in his driveway. Sometimes I stayed in private RV parks. (This was mostly driven by the need to empty the van’s port-a-pot once a week or so — public dump stations are not easy to find in this area of Florida; the closest was about an hour away.) But mostly, I stayed at campground operated by the SWFWMD. These campgrounds are in big tracts of forested, marshy, watery land, and they are great primitive campgrounds that cost $0. There’s no water, no showers, no other fancy campground amenities, but there is usually one outhouse, and each campsite has a picnic table and a fire pit. They’re basic and beautiful.

My favorite campground is called the Serenova Tract. It’s about 15 minutes from Ron’s house, and the campground is in a bunch of pines and live oaks. Horses are allowed, and on one of the last weekends I spent there, several people with horses stayed overnight and hung up Christmas lights. The next morning, they were joined by a dozen other horses and riders who all went for a morning trail ride through the woods. I was insanely jealous.

The other SWFWMD campground I stayed at was called Cypress Creek. It’s a little farther from Ron’s place than Serenova, so it was my second choice when Serenova was full but my van’s shitter wasn’t. It’s a beautiful spot, with tons of big pines. But right now I’m a little wary of it because the last time I stayed there I woke up from a dead sleep at 4:51 a.m. when I heard someone singing and talking to themselves. (The campground had been totally empty when I got there and still was as far as I could see.) It was probably just someone who had come in on foot and was drinking because it was cold (40 degrees) outside, but it was still a bit unnerving. 

I also have a favorite RV park. I was thinking that my relationship with these places would be strictly utilitarian, and it still mostly is. But out of the three RV parks that I’ve stayed at, there’s one small one called Suncoast that I actually kind of enjoyed: even though I only went there occasionally, the three staff people remembered me when I called or came in, and they often gave me a discount on their regular rates because I don’t use any electricity. They (both staff and most guests) also seem to be taking pretty good pandemic precautions. (I actually saw someone get kicked out of the office when they tried to come in without a mask, something that I’ve never seen in any other business since March!) The place has nice big pine trees, and by the office there’s a table where people put free food that they aren’t using, or occasionally two-day-old bread that someone got from Publix for free. The last time I was there, some people had decorated their campers and RVs with lights and it was kind of charming. I still heavily prefer to be out in the woods by myself and not spending any money, but I’m glad I found someplace pleasant for my once-a-week-or-so sewer/water needs.

I figured out how to stay warm while sleeping. This is a bigger deal than it sounds because a) I haven’t insulated the van yet, so at night, it’s only a few degrees warmer than whatever the temperature is outside, and b) I’m a very cold sleeper. Florida is SUPER WARM compared to any other place I’ve ever lived, but in December, it started getting a little chilly at night: down into the fifties, then the forties, then, a few nights ago, 30 degrees. I’ve camped in near-freezing or slightly-below-freezing temperatures before, but sometimes it wasn’t very comfortable — even with good long underwear and socks and a hat and a zero-degree-rated sleeping bag. But I’ve figured out a system for my bed that uses four blankets, layered like a licorice allsort: a quilt, a heavy wool blanket, another quilt, and a faux-wool blanket. If it gets below 40, I can add my zero-degree down sleeping bag and be not just comfortable but actively toasty, like a baking croissant.

Unrelatedly, I’ve been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

I’ve found that my life in a van is basically like my life has been anywhere else. I work. I sleep. I stay up late reading things on the internet when I should be sleeping. Sometimes I go running or do yoga (while trying not to bump into the cabinet or kick the front console or hit the ceiling). Sometimes I do fun things, like paddleboarding or talking to friends. I make goals and plans and don’t follow through on them, except when very very occasionally I do. But when I’m looking up van stuff online, I often run across photos of people who are #selfemployed #vanlife and the photos of them working are:

A woman is seated propped up on pillows in the bed in the back of her van. The doors are open, framing a view of the cerulean sea, so that you can practically smell the gentle breeze blowing over the dunes. She has a laptop on her lap and is looking thoughtfully out to sea while a cup of tea steeps on a tray that is on the white coverlet of her bed.

Or

A man is seated at the dinette in the back of his van. He has a laptop, a French press, a mug of coffee, and a plate with two scones on it on the table. The table, and in fact the whole dinette with its two upholstered benches, would be at home on a small luxury yacht, and it’s the kind of dinette that you make into a bed at night. The astute, intent expression on the man’s face give the viewer to understand that he is competent and disciplined and never stays up two hours past his bedtime because he’s too lazy to lower the dinette table and rearrange the cushions and put on all his sheets and blankets. We are also given to understand that the electrical system in his van would have no problems handling the power drain of a bean grinder, even though he is clearly parked in the high Rockies — again, with the back doors open, the better to take in the late spring air and see the fresh green of the aspen trees — and it’s often cloudy. Lastly, we are given to understand that he baked those scones himself, because when he’s not working, hiking, lumberjacking, or otherwise living his best life, he enjoys unwinding by baking bread and pastries. (Not in the van; don’t be silly! He bakes outside, over a wood fire.)

(A tangent: Why do so many people have their van doors open in photos I see online? Do they only stay in places with no bugs? If I tried that in Florida, or even Maryland or Colorado half the year, I’d be awake half the night swatting at mosquitoes and/or flies.)

In contrast, a photo of me being self-employed in a van would look like:

A woman is sprawled in an ungainly fashion on her narrow bunk. Her laptop is braced by her lower ribs and propped up with a pillow placed over her gut. The pillow has a cat on it. The windows of the van are covered in silver bubble-wrap, so very little light gets in. Absolutely no doors are open, because the van is parked behind a Dunkin Donuts so the woman can get free wifi and not burn through all the data on her phone plan. She takes a break to heat up a can of Campbell’s soup on an alcohol stove, adding a handful of dehydrated mixed vegetables, to be healthy. As she stirs the soup, she gazes contemplatively out the windshield towards the adjacent parking lot, where there is an IHOP. #vanlife

Or

A woman is sitting in the passenger seat of her van with her feet on the dashboard and her laptop on her lap. Beside her in the cupholder is a steaming Hydroflask full of the cheapest tea she could buy at Publix. The van is parked in a grove of live oaks. Spanish moss sways gently in the morning breeze. Behind the woman, in the dark recesses of the van, sets of clothes are hanging: leggings and a shirt, still sweaty, by the side doors, a bathing suit over the sink, a t-shirt and shorts for sleeping in by the rear cabinet. Several kitchen towels are draped on the driver’s seat and on the dashboard because the cab leaks above the sun visors when it rains, and even though she’s tried caulking it three times, she still can’t get it to stop. #vanlife

The good thing, though, is that I’m still getting work and making a living. I can do it someplace that’s safe, without having to risk my life to do it. And I’m getting paid a fair hourly wage. But then the very terrible thing is that everyone should be able to say what I just said, but so many people can’t: they’re not making a real living through their work, they have to risk their lives to do it, and they’re not getting paid a fair wage.

(Brief interlude as I stare at the ceiling angrily.)

***

Here’s what I’m doing next: I left Pasco County on the 16th. I’ll be in what I think of as “traveling quarantine” until the 30th, staying in a national forest near Jacksonville. (With a couple of stops at state parks to refill water, empty the port-a-pot, and maybe take a real shower.) I’ll be in Maryland on New Year’s Eve and will stay at my parents’ while I insulate the van, build interior walls, and do a bunch of other stuff so that I can call it (mostly) finished. Then I’m thinking of going to New Mexico and spending late winter/early spring there… parked on top of a mesa… sipping a cup of French-press coffee on my white coverlet while I thoughtfully gaze out the open doors of my van… (I really would like to park on top of a mesa though.)

[therevralphbirk]

Ralph Birk Task 002 - Meet the Birks

// answering ooc...

What would your family’s Latin motto or House words be? 

Family is Hope, Protect it Always. Stolen but fitting nonetheless.

Where is your family originally from?

The San Francisco Bay area, for Ralph and his Ex-wife, Dinah. His children were born in various parts of California or out of state.

What fictional family is your family’s counterpart? 

Honestly, maybe The Proud Family?

Your character’s favorite family member, and why.

Ralph is NOT going to pick a favorite child omg that is a sure fire way of getting in trouble. He loves all his children equally of course BUT definitely, definitely spoils his daughters. Especially Mae, the youngest. They are both Daddy’s girls at heart. He’d put all of his sons in a headlock for different reasons. It’s out of love.

Is there a black sheep in the family?

His eldest, Sutton (who to be fair is in a metal band) probably thinks he’s the black sheep but in reality it might be one of the “twins” Grace or John. Grace, is such a free spirit, very much like her mother (maybe too much) which is why they’re always bumping heads. This is also why Grace is easily frustrated with searching for some kind of purpose or greater calling. John on the other hand is literally just a normal dude. He’s not cool like Grace or edgy like Sutton or particularly smooth like their youngest brother Eli or as enthusiastic and charming as Mae. He and Grace are the same age but John often feels like the middle child through and through despite his talents that Ralph tries to remind him of.

Most memorable family vacation?

One year, when his kids were young (ages infant to 10-years-old) Ralph rented an RV and they made the trip down to see the kids’ grandparents. It is, genuinely, one of the happiest memories Ralph has, even if he and his parents don’t speak anymore. It was nice to see his parents interact with his children before things got awful. It’s a reminder for Ralph that his parent’s are people. He wishes he had more good memories like that with them.

Describe your family in one word.

(His) Everything.

If you family were on a desert island and survival was of the essence, who would be the most helpful? Who is getting sacrificed?

Ok. This is how that would go down: Dinah would immediately be designated to call the shots; Ralph would handle shelter, food, and damage control; Sutton and Eli would work on finding service somewhere but otherwise would be on the table for being sacrificed because they’re divas; Grace and John would work on collecting supplies; and Mae would cheer everyone on. She’d want to help Grace and John or Sutton and Eli but they won’t let her because she’s baby so she’d stick with Dad at the camp helping cook and pouting about it.

//So you know!! All of the beans with, of course, the exception of the dogs (lol) are open!! That said, some of the information below/above is/can be subject to change if anyone is interested in playing one of Ralph’s family members! Fc's, personality, etc... I'm open to any and everything and, honestly, would love to see them on the dash. 

Ralph Birk, 53, The Money Dispenser

Honestly, your typical dad. Maybe is a bit of a push over with his kids (you know, if mom says no they go to him kind of thing). But I don’t need to talk about Ralph, y’all know him already.

Dinah Leon, 51, The Boss

Can strike the fear of god into you one moment then melt you with the sheer warmth of her smile the next. Neither she nor Ralph is straight but they are the most compatible co-parents you will ever come across. Think... Annalise Keating from How to Get Away with Murder or Vivian Banks from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The love is strong with this one. She’s currently backpacking Europe.

Sutton Birk-Leon, 28, The Artist

Lead of an experimental Metal-Rap band, Sutton is actually doing pretty well for himself in the music scene. He is not nearly as tough as hardcore as he puts on. As a matter of fact he’s a bit emotional, but lay a hair on any one of his siblings and there will be actual hell to pay. Even though he and Ralph go back and forth he has a good relationship with his father. They bond over music. Maybe he’s not the smartest bulb but he means well.

Grace Birk-Leon, 25, The Wild Child

Catch Grace on roller skates or pulling John into a impromptu dance sess in the living room or climbing over a fence that clearly reads ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY DO NOT ENTER.’ They use she/her or they/them pronouns and is just about the hardest person to pin down. The thought of labels gives Grace hives. When Grace loves, she loves. And don’t even get me started on when Grace dances. Grace and her mother butt heads but it’s only because Dinah knows Grace could do so many amazing things if she could just focus. Sutton thinks he’s the boss of the kids, but it’s always been Grace.

John Birk-Leon, 25, The Peace Keeper

Quiet, bookish, John will give you the jacket off of his own back if you offhandedly mention your cold. He’s a little shy, but a great listener, much like his father. Soft spoken and kind, John’s stillness is really the only thing that can ever truly balance out how restless Grace can be sometimes. He’s really brilliant, just doesn’t see it sometimes. After Mae, John is baby and must be protected.

Elijah “E” Birk-Leon, 23

E gives off the energy of this entire video. Oh my god, he’s a smooth talker. Definitely a flirt. Definitely gets into too much trouble... But he has an energy to him that endears him to anyone he meets. Personable, charming, warm... He’s a good kid at heart. Think Will from Fresh Prince, Drake from Drake and Josh, or Zack from Saved by the Bell. A pretty gifted singer like most of the other kids but NO! NO NO NO STICK TO THE STUFF YOU KNOW. HE CAN’T PLAY BASKETBALL AND SING DAD, GOD.

Mae Birk-Leon, 18-20ish, The Baby

The kindest, most enthusiastic person you’ll ever meet. Mae’s a little spit fire and you’d be hard pressed not to fall in love with her. She’s currently a student but undecided about what to major in. There’s just so many choices, you know? If she could she’d major in all of them she would! It’s cannon that she’s the person running across the courts in the Tommy Trojan mascot costume at USC games. And she loves every kitschy, sweaty moment of it. Think Number 3 from Codename: Kids Next Door or Bubbles from Power Puff Girls.

[boxdyed]

More Concept Playlists

+ You walk out of your shitty roadside motel room that you’ve been staying in since you ran away from home. It hasn’t been cleaned since the 50s but at least no one will find you out here, in the middle of the desert. You head towards the ice machine, but someone is already there. It’s the most popular girl in school, who you’ve had a crush on since 6th grade. She’s run away too.

+ You and your fed-up punk friends attempt to summon a demon at your all girls catholic boarding school, determined to wreck some wacky havoc on the oppressive staff. But the fun doesn't last long as you realize you have unleashed something far more sinister. Something that doesn't slam doors or break windows but drips deep into your psyche and reveals the meaning of pure evil.

+ The year is 1987, You’re part of a ragtag band of misfits that have been friends since childhood. All of you are gay, but no one has admitted it yet so rifts are forming in the gang. One summer morning you roller skate over to your best friend, the only other girl in the groups house to tell her you’re in love with her. Will it tear group apart once and for all or bring you back together?

+ You're 17 and in love with your manic pixie dream girl of a best friend. It's a wednesday night in early june and you can't sleep because all you can think about is her stupid perfect crooked smile and just when you think you can't stand it anymore you hear a tapping at your window. You open it and there she is, with that smile. She asks you if you want to go on an adventure. You've never wanted anything more.  

+ July is the season of rabid dogs. There's something about the constantness of the heat that drives spikes into the head. This year there's a new plague: the teenage girls. They are sick. The are restless. They are hungry. Their bare feet burn on the hot concrete but they won't stop until they have tasted the blood of every abusive man in town.

+  You and your closest friends sit on the roof of your suburban house watching the sunset. The crisp, nearly-autumn breeze blows against your oversized hoodie while you sip cheap, lukewarm beer from a paper bag. No one says anything, no one has to.

+ It’s 1:30 am and you’re driving out of the city with your girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. there are lights glowing on the highway and in the city behind you but it feels like it's just the two of you, and you wish it could last forever

+ The year is 1975. The Russians went ahead and nuked us and well, just about everyone died. But don't worry! There were a few survivors. You and your gang find yourselves with the entirety of west Hollywood all to yourselves and nothing keeping you from the thousands of mansions and all the goodies they might hold

+ You’re on the road with a crappy RV you bought somewhere sketchy with your best friend and her dog on the trip of a lifetime trying to make it as a bluegrass singer. You fall in love over crumpled maps, roadside lemonade, campfire sing alongs, and grimy dive bars where you pay for meals by washing dishes.

+ You walk into your room, satin gown flowing in your wake,You dramatically collapse into a dark velvet chair as if the cameras are rolling. You put on a record and pour your fourth glass of red wine. Your fifth husband has mysteriously died, good thing he left everything to you in the will.

+ You’re at a Halloween party in the basement of a seedy punk club, so wasted you can’t see straight. The ground starts shaking. More than it was before, are you imagining it? No. The bands screaming has gone from angry to terrified. The apocalypse is happening right now.

+ You stand in front of the house at the edge of town. The house with boarded up windows. The house with broken glass in the yard instead of flowers, like everyone else in your small misty mountain town. The house no one talks about. The house you only go when you have nowhere else to go. You have someone to find in there, someone you need to bring home.

+ Is there any place better to dissociate than a roller rink?

+ Everything is perfect here. It's a nice cabin, tucked away in the depths of the Ozarks. The lake is right out back so she can swim whenever she wants. Swimming makes her happy. And all of this is to make her happy. This morning you wake up early to watch the sun rise over the water. It's a perfect morning for a perfect place, golden light seeping through everything. Highlighting orange starting to creep into the leaves. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s almost October. Yes, this place is perfect. But it's time to go home.

+ You’re a music producer who died overdosing on cocaine at a club in the 70s. You awaken in the exact spot you died in the year 2073. You’re hungry, thirsty, and hornier than you’ve ever been. But most importantly, you look as fly as you always have and you’re surrounded by beautiful women.

+ She’s an urban witch. A drugstore sorceress, mixing potions of Xanax and gasoline. Selling them on a street corner in the east village. No one knows her name, few know her face, But they say you’ll know her when you see her. You approach her on a chilled November night and offer a pack of cigarettes for a love potion. Hands shaking with anxiety and cold. She looks you in the eye and tells you you don’t need love potion. She’ll give you everything you want for free.

+ My boyfriend Oliver. I know this isn't a concept but he's super cute and i love him so let me live......DM me if you wanna see pics

+ You're driving through the depths of the Appalachian mountains on a foggy night. You see a dark figure with glowing eyes up ahead at the edge of your headlights and your heart stops beating. No. It can't be him…. He wasn't supposed to be able to find you all the way up here I. You get closer and your shoulders relax, It's just an old man. He smiles when you pass, his milky eyes reflecting back at you like stars. probably just a friendly local out for a late night stroll. You're safe. It's fine. Only 10 miles to go. Your engine dies the moment you realize that human eyes dont glow.

+ You’re a nerd, a nobody, the kid who sits by herself at lunch. The kid who never talks and never gets noticed by anyone. Yet here you are, dressed in your big sisters clothes, standing in the coolest girl in schools living room while a party rages around you. Tonight you’re going to be cool. Tonight you’re going to be the life of the party. Tonight she’s finally going to realize you exist. This is either the bravest thing you’ve ever done or the stupidest.

+ You’ve been climbing the mountain for three days and three nights. Out of food, out of water, and utterly, painfully alone. Just when you think you can walk no farther, you hear a waterfall in the distance. With your remaining ounce of strength you launch yourself the final few yards. You collapse to your knees and peer into the clear, cool water. But Instead of seeing your face your entire life is reflected back at you.

[castyourpodtothewind]

CYPTTW Review #5 - The Ghost Radio Project

Who the hell are you?! Hi! I’m Taylor and I recently dived headfirst into podcasts! I have since binged on several of them and decided to make reviews of the ones that really stood out. These are not going to be big, professional reviews (I’m lazy) but they should hopefully contain information to help you get into some great new listens!

Where do you listen to your podcasts? My personal recommendation for listening to podcasts is the Pocket Casts app, available for Android or iPhone. It costs $3.99 to buy, but I think it's super worth it, since it has a lot of great features and zero in-app ads, which to me is worth every penny. But if you like free apps or just don't have the scratch right now, my runner up is Podcast Addict. It's free and has some (but not all) of the features Pocket Casts has, plus you have to deal with the ads. But if you don't like either of those, do some searching! There's lots of options out there.

---

Name of Podcast: The Ghost Radio Project

Creators of Podcast: Gene Jeter and Dilan Taylor

Genre(s): Dystopian Future, Drama, Humor

Start and End Date of Podcast: August 14th, 2017 - November 7th, 2017 (On Hiatus until 2019/Indefinite)

Number of Episodes: 4 (Episodes will be re-recorded for better quality and re-released when the show FULLY premieres in 2019/Indefinite)

Release Schedule: On Hiatus until 2019/Indefinite

Where Can I Find It: https://ghostradioproject.com/ or check out their official Tumblr page at @ghostradioproject

Donation/Patreon?: The donation page they had up has since stopped working, and I wasn’t able to find one that did. (If anyone knows where it is, PLEASE DM me.)

Age Rating: This show deals with violence, exile from a hostile government and has profanity. R.

Where I Am Now: Caught Up

Official Summary: Nearly a decade after the economic, social, and ecological crisis known as the Collapse, a small group of unauthorized radio broadcasters move together through a post-Capitalism era in the southwestern United States, clinging to one another for survival. Due to the hard-line segregation between civilians living in government-run cities and those who remain outside the system, the region beyond the State's boundaries has become a desolate, impoverished place now called the Outlands by most everyone who tries to make a life there. Together, these pirate radio broadcasters form Ghost Radio, a mobile station carried from one frequency to the next as they make their way through the bright, arid lands of West Texas. Tune in to one of the last propaganda-free radio stations in existence. When you can find it, that is….

Representation?: Pretty much EVERY character on this show is either LGBT (including Non-Binary) or POC, and there’s also Autistic representation too.

Transcripts?: Official transcripts are available, but only for the first two episodes.

Trigger Warnings?: Government Exile, Violence

How Long To Listen Before Giving Up?: It’s only four episodes and they’re SO GOOD. Listen to the whole thing. I mean it.

Anything Else I Should Know?: Please read this post from the creators: https://ghostradioproject.tumblr.com/post/174931529609/friends-thank-you-for-your-patience-over-the-last

If You Like This, You Might Also Like: Alice Isn’t Dead, The Strange Case of Starship Iris, King Falls AM

Pros

This show starts strong and STAYS strong. A+ pilot, immediately gets you interested and makes you crave more. I adore the concept for this show. A bunch of queer, disabled, POC liberal fugitives, exiled from the government for being ‘unwanted’ and spreading the news of the resistance through secret radio channels in an RV in the Texas desert? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!

All the characters share their unique traits in real life. Autistic character? Autistic actor. Non-Binary character? Non-Binary actor. POC character? POC actor. And this is by studio mandate, they make it explicitly clear that these characters must be these things in real life if they are to be acted that way. And these people live in a deep conservative state where actor choices can be slim, making their choice even more admirable.

The voice acting is INCREDIBLE, and for a low-budget podcast I was blown away by how great the production sounds. They rely solely on donations and money out of their own pockets, making it clear that they never want to have ads on this show. Having a podcast without ads is extremely difficult, so please donate to them when/if it becomes available!

The Ghost Radio Project doesn’t just spread news of the resistance, it also broadcasts the only music channels you can get after the government takeover. The soundtrack to this podcast is so good you won’t want to skip any of it.

Cons

None. I can’t think of a single thing I didn’t like about this podcast. It should be way more popular than it is and I hope everyone joins me in awaiting its full, updated release. 

MY RATING: 10/10 TRANSMITTERS - Holy DAMN this podcast blew me away. I devoured everything that was available and I’m still starving for more, and it breaks my heart that more people haven’t heard about this show. It’s got so much heart and has so many things going for it, and in today’s turbulent times I found it a very cathartic thing to listen to. The resistance needs this podcast. Listen. Survive. Mobilize.

[livinginlandmarketing]

Nothing moves on Ragsdale Road. Cars whiz past on the 10 Freeway about 100 yards away.

At an abandoned gas station, the pumps are stripped of their outer shells and wiring. The convenience store is covered in graffiti, its door kicked in, contents looted. Nearby restrooms are smashed and unworkable, but the stench suggests that hasn’t stopped everyone from using them. The sign over the station announces 24-hour service, a claim that hasn’t been true in years.

Desert Center doesn’t look like it’s worth $6.25 million.

That’s what Riverside resident Balwinder Singh Wraich paid at auction July 13 for the 1,034.78 acres of property in and around Desert Center. What he does with the land could radically transform a region that’s home to people who’ve spent generations in desert solitude.

Here’s what else $6 million can get you in today’s Southern California real estate market:

A 3,200-square foot Palm Springs house, designed by architect Ray Kappe, with spectacular views of the city and surrounding mountains.

A 6,000-square foot, six-bedroom, seven-bathroom “retreat” in Malibu Canyon, on an 8-acre property.

A 3,750-square foot, five-bedroom, four-bathroom house literally on the beach in Dana Point.

But Desert Center is a largely empty desert outpost in the Chuckwalla Valley, about 50 miles from either Blythe or Indio, almost exactly halfway between Los Angeles and Phoenix. The land Wraich bought includes two gas stations, a cafe, a hotel, store, school and the gravesite of a former cafe cook — all abandoned.

Desert Center has no city council or other government. But the U.S. Census Bureau lists it as a spot where people have come together, even though it’s not a formal town or city. The bureau estimates 216 people lived there in 2019, with a median age of 70.6 years old.

The Desert Center Unified School District teaches 29 students, according to the California Department of Education, ranging from kindergarten through 8th grade. The district operates just one of its former five schools. The others shut down after Kaiser Steel’s nearby Eagle Mountain mine closed in 1983. High school students travel about 50 miles each way to attend classes in Blythe. The shell of a former school, caked in graffiti, with broken glass and ceramic tile covering the floor, is visible to freeway motorists zipping past Desert Center.

Broken windows are seen at an abandoned Desert Center school Friday, July 30, 2021. The mostly deserted area in eastern Riverside County has been sold. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

An abandoned home in Desert Center is seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Drivers use an abandoned gas station in Desert Center as a rest stop Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Residents cool off in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

As the thermometer topped 100 degrees, residents take a dip in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

A resident closes her eyes while floating in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Mystik Souza, 9, runs back to shore while playing in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

A view of homes by Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center is seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Homes by Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center are seen Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

The Desert Center Cafe sits abandoned Friday, July 30, 2021. The outpost in eastern Riverside County has been sold for $6.25 million. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Show Caption

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The road behind

According to legend, in 1915, Kansas-born Stephen Ragsdale and his wife Lydia were driving to Los Angeles, before breaking down on the dirt wagon road between Blythe and Indio. Rescued by a prospector, Ragsdale saw opportunity in the other motorists crossing the Colorado Desert.

“He’d seen numerous people who had been unprepared crossing the desert, so he conceived of the idea of having a rest stop at the halfway point,” said Steve Lech, a historian and author who co-writes The Press-Enterprise’s Back in the Day local history column. “That’s why he called it Desert Center: It was kind of a marketing ploy.”

Opened in September 1921, Desert Center was a family affair.

“He would run the tow truck and pump gas. His wife would run the cafe and do the cooking,” Lech said. “He had two sons and a daughter and they would do auto repairs and work at the center.”

Ragsdale, rebranding himself “Desert Steve,” had dreams of expanding Desert Center, according to Lech. But Ragsdale believed in temperance: Even after Prohibition ended in 1933, he didn’t want tenants to serve or sell alcohol. His lawyer said Ragsdale couldn’t legally prohibit alcohol. So Desert Center stayed small.

Margit Chiriaco Rusche’s parents started the competing community and rest stop of Chiriaco Summit, 19 miles to the west, on the western rim of the Chuckwalla Valley. They spent decades as frenemies of the Ragsdales.  According to Rusche, Steve Ragsdale vowed to “run that upstart Italian out of town” when Joe and Ruth Chiriaco moved there in 1933.

“It was very remote,” Rusche said. “As little kids, we pumped gas, we made hamburgers.”

Today, she’s CEO of Chiriaco Summit. It offers food, gas and the General Patton Memorial Museum for road-weary travelers. A motel and a mobile home and RV park are planned.

After his death in 1971, Ragsdale’s son Stanley ran Desert Center until he died in 1999. He kept it small, turning down offers from fast-food chains and others who wanted to “improve” the outpost.

Stanley’s six kids couldn’t agree on how to manage the businesses, so Desert Center gradually shut down. Their battle spent two decades in probate court. It might be the longest probate case in county history, according to Paula Turner, the real estate agent whose Coachella Valley firm handled the sale.

“I haven’t sold a town before,” she said. “This is my first town!”

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Even before the auction, Rusche had tried to buy a piece of Desert Center more than once.

“When they were closing down, we were going through a contract to lease the (Desert Center) coffee shop to update it. Thousands and thousands of dollars later, one of the brothers said ‘No, not with a Chiriaco,’” she said.

Rusche then tried to buy part of the property, but the family member selling it didn’t have the clear legal right to do so.

Finally, Riverside County had enough.

“The judge said ‘It’s been 20 years, we’re putting it up for auction,’” Rusche said.

Wraich did not respond to repeated requests for comment. His family runs the Fontana-based trucking company Wraich Transport, which includes the Wraich Travel Plaza truck stop in Fontana.

The property was put up for auction for $5 million, before Wraich outbid Rusche, winning Desert Center with a $6.25 million bid. That brought an end to the Ragsdales’ ownership of the community founded by their patriarch. Members of the Ragsdale family declined to comment.

“That’s how it goes,” Rusche said. “We decided that dirt wasn’t worth that much money.”

In the end, the Chiriacos did get a bit of Desert Center, purchasing a totem pole that once stood outside the cafe. It will be going up at Chiriaco Summit soon, Rusche said.

The here and now

Trucks idle in vacant lots, curtains drawn as drivers presumably get some sleep.

The roof of the Desert Center Market is caved in, roof beams crashed down around empty ice cream and soda refrigerators. A sign in the window reads “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Someone appears to have walked away from the boarded-up cafe mid-cleaning. A bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels on a table caked in a thick layer of dust are visible through the windows.

Only the U.S. Post Office is still open. The other three shops in the tiny strip mall are long since closed. They seem to have shut down mid-renovation, with paint cans and drop clothes covered in dust visible inside.

“They let it go really bad,” said Harold Copeland, whose first job was working at Desert Center in 1977. “They should have sold something a long time ago and made something of it.”

Few live in Desert Center today. The biggest nearby population center is at Lake Tamarisk, 2 1/2 miles away. A few dozen homes cluster around a county-run nine-hole golf course. The residents are mostly “hermits,” according to one.

Copeland grew up in Eagle Mountain, moving there in 1967. He now lives in Indio, but his mother still lives at Lake Tamarisk.

“They love it out there because it’s just so quiet,” Copeland said. “The streets rolled up at 6 o’clock, but we learned to live with it.”

The lack of things to do in the Chuckwalla Valley is part of the attraction for some.

Residents cool off in Lake Tamarisk near Desert Center on Friday, July 30, 2021. (Photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

“There’s no temptations,” said Adrianna Ornales, taking a midday dip in Lake Tamarisk with other members of the Set Free church congregation. The pool at the nearby community center is dry and the center itself locked up. It was 104 degrees at midafternoon on July 30.

Ornales moved to Desert Center in 2018, along with about four dozen other members of her church, to escape the seductions of the big city.

“It’s our little safety bubble out here,” she said.

Ornales works at Lake Tamarisk’s one-room library, open three days a week, that shares a building with the small county firehouse.

She hopes Wraich can bring Desert Center back to life.

“I hope he does something with it,” Ornales said. “More job opportunities, so people can get on their feet.”

The other big population center is Lake Tamarisk Resort, a mobile home and RV park for those 55 years old and up. Many of the 150 trailers and RV spots are empty now, the snowbirds flown away to cooler climes. Once upon a time, it was a park for high-end Airstream trailers. Before that, it served the World War II era Desert Training Center first run by Major Gen. George S. Patton.

Brenda Cervantes, who with her husband has managed the resort about a year, also wants to see Desert Center revitalized.

“They need some business brought back here,” she said. “People call and say ‘Where’s your gas station?’”

The nearest one is 19 miles away, in Chiriaco Summit. Groceries mean a 50-mile trip to Blythe or Indio.

“We’re self-sufficient,” Rusche said. “That’s part of being desert people.”

Cervantes believes Desert Center can be restored without losing the quiet isolation residents enjoy.

“We’re hoping something good comes in,” Cervantes said.

But no one ends up staying in Desert Center by accident.

“We’re our own little oasis out here,” Cervantes said. “Most everyone comes here because it’s out of the way.”

The road ahead

More on the Chuckwalla Valley

Inland plants boost state to No. 1

Plan aims to turn desert water to electricity

Chiriaco Summit became popular desert outpost

Riverside County objects to desert conservation plan

30 unusual Southern California museums to visit

‘Desert Steve’ Ragsdale had the coolest view in Riverside County

These Inland Empire elementary schools have waivers to reopen

Copeland has high hopes for Wraich’s Desert Center.

“I think they’ll build a big truck stop right there and maybe houses or condos for the people who work there,” Copeland said.

Rusche is skeptical. Desert Center doesn’t have its own source of potable water, she said. And the historic buildings will need to be completely torn down.

Wraich has “got a lot of hoops to jump through,” Rusche said. “He’s got to get through the county process, which is hard.”

She thinks the land is best suited for something modest.

“Why build a truck stop in California so close to the border where they can get their gas so much cheaper than they can here?” Rusche said. “To me, it doesn’t make that much sense.”

Change has come to the desert, of course. North of Lake Tamarisk, a huge solar farm has gone in. And in cooler weather, visitors race at the Chuckwalla Valley Raceway. But most days are quiet, especially during the hottest days of summer.

Whatever else might change, Chuckwalla Valley residents say the desert’s appeal is eternal.

“It’s a really tight community still,” Copeland said.

When skeptics ask him about growing up in the Chuckwalla Valley, “I say ‘how many friends do you hang out with from your high school?’ And they say none, because there were 500 people in their graduating class. I still see everyone, because there were 35 in my graduation class.”

His graduating class still gets together annually, he said.

“It would be hard for me to live anywhere else,” Rusche said. “We have freedom and we have the mountains that are a different color every time you look at them.”

But for now, the traffic on the 10 keeps racing past.

-on August 13, 2021 at 01:23AM by Beau Yarbrough