#Tucson bars

[wehavehadtoday]

hi :)

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Linn Lane - The Book of Bars & Devils - Linn Lane - 1976

[mudwerks]

(via Arizona Daily Star)

The Legal Tender bar in Tucson over the years 🍻

[cheekyblunders]

Road Trip!

From San Diego --> Arizona--> New Mexico -->

Stopped for gas in Tucson, Arizona and then headed to a retro dive bar.

Shelter Bar

Then went down a few blocks to fill up on Noodles at Noodleholics.

Then I drove all night to New Mexico. At midnight I found a campground and slept in my car.

Next stop: Gila National Wilderness

I visited the old cliff dwellings and hiked through the canyon to spend a night at the Jordan Hot Springs.

[aleksracing]

Strut Bar, Front Lower Bar and Rear Lower Bar for Hyundai Tucson 4th gen NX4.

Strut Bar, Front Lower Bar and Rear Lower Bar for Hyundai Tucson 4th gen NX4. Great products!

[harvestheart]

Dancers in a bar. Tucson, Arizona, Photo © Thomas Hoepker, 1963

Dancers in a bar. Tucson, Arizona, Photo © Thomas Hoepker, 1963

[the-night-picture-collector]

/ Thomas Hoepker, Dancers in a Bar, Tucson, Arizona, 1963

[backwardswalks]

the passenger - screening and q&a with carter smith | horrorigins fest 9/28/24

so there was a screening of the passenger at horrorigins fest in tucson, az over this weekend that had a theater screening of the passenger and then a live q&a with carter smith afterward!

there were some really good questions and there's some video on horrorigins instagram (here and here, they haven't posted a full but i know there were several people recording and the festival is ongoing through today so they may post full video later) but some highlights:

he reiterated a lot of things that he's said in interviews about the script (so i won't go into detail about that)

he talked about his background at FIT and how benson's wardrobe was extremely intentionally chosen, and that the costume designer wanted to kill him bc the exact shade of his cardigan took three times to dye to get it right, it's also acrylic and very itchy (he has one too lmao)

he said that he gave johnny and kyle freedom to improvise on the script as much as they needed/wanted but that for the most part they stuck to it

burgers burgers burgers was a convenience store that they cleaned out and the stuffed animal place was in an actual empty mall that was "abandoned" (he mentioned there were like 7 empty malls they could have used, this one was completely empty so they didn't have to shut it down but idk if it was abandoned in the traditional sense)

he talked about the close ups and how much he loved kyle and johnny's faces and how he could shoot the whole thing in close up

the script was originally called "Randolph Bradley" which he did like but marketing didn't think would grab people and he also likes The Passenger for the movie they ended up making

i wish they had given the audience members mics when they asked their questions bc i'm watching the recording back to make sure i don't misquote something so i can't really hear some of the questions :( they also didn't upload the whole thing as of yet so the rest of this isn't verbatim but:

he agrees that at its core its a love story! when i asked my question i said "i wanted to touch on the love story comment from earlier" (bc someone else briefly mentioned it before asking a diff question) and he was like "i ALSO want to talk about the love story more!!" and was very excited that i brought up that "there's obviously a queer undertone to the film" and he just talked about what he saw in the script and how that came about, again said that jack stanley was like there's no romance but carter was like ummm anyway

he said that "this was the best thing to happen to either of them" (randy and benson) and agreed with someone who had described them as two sides of the same coin

he said that blumhouse also wanted them to lean into the weird romance aspect of it (or were okay with it), kyle was incredibly down to lean into the weird romance and was like "can we make it MORE gay"

afterward the fest went to a bar and mostly everyone went! so we actually got to hang out with carter just me and my friend and we talked a little bit more about the film and just other movies that he's enjoyed, we talked about his weekly newsletter, just random stuff like that. some highlights of that:

he said that kyle was all in on the queer undertone and was like can i touch johnny MORE

he said that there is a scene where benson touches randy again in a way that is similar in vibe to the scene in the mall parking lot where he touches his neck/wipes his tears but that they ended up cutting it because he (Carter) felt like it would undermine the emotional impact of that particular touch! he didn't expand on what the touch was or where exactly it went (he said it was after the teacher but didn't specify if it was after shepherd or mrs beard but i imagine he meant shepherd)

carter said that he would absolutely do a full up and down queer movie with kyle (if it was ever the right fit rather than writing a role for that reason)

it was really great and so interesting to hear his thoughts on the film and on filmmaking as a whole! he is really friendly and super nice and really knowledgeable. he had so much good stuff to say about the industry and he couldn't get enough of praising johnny and kyle both for their performances (rightly so) and what a good time he had making the movie.

bonus:

carter was kind enough to sign my poster (which he reposted the picture of on instagram). (i go into more detail about this event and stuff here) he also gleefully took photos of the saint randy and saint benson candles i made (because i am insane) and said he was going to send them to johnny and kyle because they would love them. kyle also reposted the picture of me and my friend the festival posted of us with the candles so now i am just dryheaving in my room. <3

anyway! support your local film festivals!! without horrorigns this wouldn't have been possible so support local and indie filmmakers and local and independent film festivals! <33

[bullet-prooflove]

Free for all

23. I like the way you kiss me, I can tell you miss me.

For John Winchester, supernatural

Tagging: @kmc1989

John’s missed you, you can tell. It’s in the way his gaze fixates on you as he sits at that table, nursing a whisky as you clean down one of the other seats that have just been vacated.

You feel his presence when you turn your back, those dark eyes making your skin smoulder as you recall the last time the two of you were together. His mouth covering yours, his firm body moving in hard relentless strokes as he fucked you into the mattress. That man is raw, passionate which is why you keep letting him into your bed despite the fact you’re out of that life.

“Come here.” He says at the end of the night when all the other patrons are gone and there’s just you, him and the jukebox playing Johnny Cash.

“No.” You say as you lean back, both elbows coming to rest upon the bar. “You come here.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges as he drains his glass and raises to his feet. He’s purposeful with his strides, moving like a predator as he stalks towards you, his gaze unflinching. His large hands come to rest on your hips, grounding you, holding you in place as his lips chase up the side of your throat, leaving a heated trail of kisses that sets every single one of your nerve endings ablaze.

“Did you miss me?” He asks in that rough, husky voice of his, his palm slipping down from your waist, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your skirt, the one you wear because it gets you better tips. “I missed you.”

“You missed my pussy.” You say, your fingers carding through his hair as his fingers trace over you lightly through your panties. He laughs against your skin, a curt huff that vibrates through his chest as he continues to caress you.

“It feels like she missed me too.” He murmurs as his fingers hook on the damp fabric, shifting it aside. “You wanna fuck my hand or can I get my mouth on you?”

“You know what I like.” You mutter and John, he gets down on his knees to worship at your alter.

“Oh honey I’ve been craving the taste of you since Tucson.” He mumbles, shoving your skirt up your hips and tugging your panties down before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans. His thumb traces over your clit, smearing your slickness over it. “She’s still as pretty as a fucking peach.”

You lean back against the bar, your head tipping back as his breath ghosts over you.

“Show me.” You whisper as he swipes his thumb back and forth, from your clit to core and then back again. “Show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

“Oh honey.” He murmurs, his lips brushing lightly over your clit as he kisses you. “That’s gonna take us all damn night.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[seat-safety-switch]

There's this super fancy steakhouse near my home, and I've always wanted to eat there. Their salad bar is beyond excellent, a friend informs me, and their grated cheese is actually from Italy. Expense aside, you'd think this would be an easy trip for me. You're wrong.

You see, this steakhouse is so fancy that they have a special employee whose job it is to park my car. As far as I can tell by watching their parking lot with high-powered binoculars, their "valet" will take your car from you at the entrance, park it for you, and retrieve it for you when you're done eating. This, presumably, saves you the dinner-ruining stress of gently turning your vehicle to place it into a parking space.

Personally, I don't mind parking. My own backyard is full of cars packed helter-skelter, with mere millimetres of space between them. I could probably park a bus in here, if I really had to, but it would take me a couple of hours to get it back out. That's not the problem. The problem is that the valet would have to drive my car, which means I'd have to explain how to drive my car to them.

In case you think that's not a problem, allow me to explain. Most carbureted cars have a single choke, which you pull out when the car is cold in order to help it breathe a little better. Mine has sixteen, which must be pulled, bagpipe-like, in a specific order as the engine is running in order to keep it from dying at the lights. Could I fix it? Not until they create a bottle of head-gasket fix that also cures giant holes in the block.

Sure, I could park a few blocks away and walk there, but the valet will smell the desperation on me. If I have a rusty, propane-spurting 1970s Chrysler product, maybe I'm an eccentric. There's fewer of those left than Ferrari 458s, which makes me a "vintage collector," at least in the eyes of the super-rich-people yacht-owning magazine I tricked into doing an interview with me last year. All that goes out the window if I show up on foot. Same goes for letting my dinner date drive me there: her Hyundai Tucson is, well, a Hyundai Tucson. Not eccentric at all. Practical. They hate that there.

Ultimately, I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do things the hard way. I've already applied for a job as their assistant valet. There's an employee discount, and I'm pretty sure that I'll be head valet once the bossman sees that I can fit like 700% as many cars in there as the old guy. It's just going to take a few weeks to get them back out again, which is even better for business.

[joshsindigostreak]

Moonburn

Chapter One

Nine of Swords, Upright: sleepless nights, worry and anxiety.

Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter in Jake’s story! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! If you need to catch up on the Prologue, do so here.

*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Not very many just some swearing.

Description: When a young affluent hunter finds himself taking an unexpected detour in Tucson, Arizona, he finds himself drawn to a local dive bar with a rather ecclectic clientele, situated on an equally intriguing location adjacent to a cemetery. Cemeteries are neutral ground, so even if he found a Vampire to snuff out, he couldn’t. Especially with the owner of the bar being a Witch and watching him like a hawk.

Jake’s dreams were always distinctly under two categories: either he’d find his dream self walking down an empty city street, head on a swivel for any Vampiric activity, trailing one he had found earlier that kept evading him. Or, he’d wake up in his childhood bedroom, realize that he was seven years old again, hearing footsteps in the hallway growing closer.

His mind would not let go of the night that Vampire broke in and found the twins’ room first on the upper floor. The Vampire’s appearance had morphed over the years, steadily gaining more grotesque. But the feeling of its mangled and dirty fingers tangling in his hair and violently pulling upwards, sending white hot pain into the boys’ scalp as his feet lifted off the ground, was always the same.

This night was no exception, and unfortunately for the young hunter it was the latter scenario.

A distant creak of the hardwood floors down the hallway always startles him awake. His large and curious brown eyes would always pop open at the sound, and he’d strain his ears to try to figure out who was walking towards his shared room with Josh. It couldn’t have been his little brother Sam; he was too light to make the floorboards move like that. Josh was snoring above him, oblivious to everything, so that ruled out him. Maybe his parents? But he could hear the heavy thuds of shoes as the sound got closer, and why would his parents have their shoes on in the middle of the night? The realization that it was someone else in the house besides his family made his blood run cold and had him pulling his covers up to his chin as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the bottom bunk.

A few agonizing minutes later, the footsteps were right outside his door, and his younger self was stiff as a board, bracing himself for whomever would enter. Sure enough, the doorknob would slowly twist and a stream of light from the hallway would stream in as the door opened. All he saw before he screwed his eyes shut was a large, intimidating silhouette peering into his room. Jake tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to give it away that he was awake. The intruder made his way into their room, kicking a few toys out of the way in the process. He could feel their presence near his bed, and it took everything in him to not flinch at the putrid breath that was being exhaled into his face.

But Jake was a frightened child, and his instinct was to get to his brother as quickly as possible. When the creature whispered, “jackpot…” his eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to yell for his twin, all while trying to scramble down his bed and make it to the ladder leading up to Josh’s bunk. His tiny hand had just reached one of the bottom bars when the all too familiar sensation of fingers in his hair and being yanked backwards and upwards rattled his system. Distantly he would hear his brother startle awake and barely touching the ladder as he flew down to come to his rescue.

The creature paid Josh no mind while he lifted up the younger boy to his eye level, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile and revealing the long jagged fangs that extended from his gums.

A Vampire had somehow broken into their extensively guarded house.

Jake kicked and squirmed midair, trying to get the Vampire to drop him, but it was no use. The creature stared into his eyes, hunger clearly on his mind. The young boy couldn’t take it anymore and as he clawed at the Vampire’s wrist he took a deep breath and released a shrill, high pitched shriek that rattled the-

The now adult Jake shot up in bed, silver knife white knuckled in his fist. Through his own personal training, he had taught himself how to sleep with his hand curled around a knife under his pillow, and not letting go of it until he was awake.

His skin was damp and clammy, feeling especially chilled from the ceiling fan spinning above. In spite of this sweat gathered on his hairline, threatening to spill down his face. His eyes darted around the room for any threats, as if he was ready to face off with the Vampire from his memory. But the hunter was alone in the tiny motel room, and when he deduced this he rolled out of bed, still holding the knife. He padded over to the sink in the miniscule kitchenette and poured a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down but it took two more glasses to finally get some relief in his dry throat.

After setting the glass down and abandoning it next to the sink he went around the room to check his security measures. His crossbow lay still on the other side of the bed, with a wooden arrow locked and loaded, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. With Josh off doing whatever it was he was doing, the weapon was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime.

The solitary window was covered by curtains, and Jake carefully pulled back one of the panels to look out onto the parking lot. The sun was freshly risen, giving him solace in the fact that his ultimate threats were locked inside and away from the light. Sunrises had always been Jake’s favorite for this reason. His shoulders relaxed as he opened the curtains as far as he could, letting in as much natural light as possible. Now that he was awake and definitely not going back to sleep any time soon, he turned his attention to getting a shower and washing off nightmares as best he could.

~!~

It had been over four days now, and Jake still could not get his night at The Tipsy Tumbleweed out of his head. He went to other bars around town to kill time, but all of them were so basic to him. They were too loud, or the drinks sucked, or the TV’s weren’t on anything interesting, or the bartenders would try way too hard to flirt with him for better tips. He wanted to go back, he wanted to see her, he wanted to at least get her name.

But Jake was full of an unfamiliar feeling of intimidation he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked into a situation where he wasn’t the top dog, even when surrounded by Damned corpses who were decades older than him. His exposure to other supernatural creatures was limited. Growing up the focus was so heavily on Vampire’s that he rarely took the time to learn much about others. He usually just relied on Sam to info dump about whatever creature he was obsessed with that month and he’d tuck any useful information into the back of his mind and kept on moving.

Sam’s best friend happened to be a Werewolf, which was a secret that all three Kiszka boys kept to themselves out of respect for Danny, who always seemed like a good kid regardless of his DNA. The twins were just glad that their little brother had finally made a true friend, which was something they always worried about given Sam’s nerdy and introverted nature. The change in Sam after that first summer with Danny was like night and day, and his confidence and ego hadn’t stopped growing since. It was a gift and a curse, Josh would say in exasperation.

Witches however? Jake hadn’t truly met one in person before. He knew of them, and had gotten a few lectures on how to watch out for them. His mother in particular emphasized that they were simply untrustworthy and never expounded beyond that. Once again his brother would fill in the blanks sometimes. He mentioned a few who had gone to his university but he wasn’t particularly close to them. That hadn’t stopped Josh from making cracks about Sam going to Hogwarts whenever he got the chance, or asking if he had any classes with Hermione. This usually resulted in the nearest object thrown in the oldest sibling's direction.

The most Jake knew about them was that they were definitely not human, and most had innate abilities that were passed down via genetics. Covens were a thing but not a requirement, and most were very secretive as to what they got up to. One thing Jake would never openly admit is when he was out of his depth on something, but he couldn’t just accept defeat like this and twiddle his thumbs until he could get out of town.

Which was why he was sitting in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tumbleweed, staring at the entrance from the drivers side of his shitty rental. He mulled over the vague threat she had given him days prior. She didn’t say he couldn’t come back…just that he couldn’t come back and pull any shit. He could do that. He could just walk in, sit down and be good. He could potentially apologize.

The hunter repeated these affirmations to himself as he walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar music, the glow of the various neon signs, and the scowl of the owner of the bar he was standing in.

She was behind the bar, writing something in a notebook of hers on the bar top when those big hazel eyes looked up and locked onto him. It took a conscious effort on Jake’s part to not trip over his own feet under her gaze.

He settled on the bar stool directly in front of her without a word, and the two stared at each other wondering who would flinch first. Her hazel irises were all he could focus on, and he took the opportunity to map out the different ways the green blended into light brown.

“Are you going to behave tonight?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Her right eyebrow slowly raised, “not in my bar there isn’t.”

The hunter nodded at the Witch, falling back into silence.

She reached to her left and brought a low ball glass in front of her on the bar and her other hand grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured about two fingers worth into the glass. It was the same order from that first night, this time untampered with.

“We’re going to try this again, but if you even look at Lou for too long I’ll physically toss you out myself.”

The hunter's eyes swiveled slightly to the right, his peripheral catching sight of the Vampire who was focused on the TV. Jake quickly snapped his eyes back to the bar owner’s,

“Got it,” he replied in an obedient tone that he rarely spoke in.

She nodded and replied, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some regulars to greet.”

The Witch turned on her heel and walked out from around the bar, passing behind Jake and making her way to one of the two-top tables towards the front of the bar. As she passed, a sweet yet earthy scent wafted around him. Was that her perfume? He pondered. Or was that just her?

He racked his brain as he tore his eyes away from the swing of her hips and turned back to his glass. Whiskey was always his go-to at bars, because no one could truly fuck it up, but in truth, he was a Pinot Noir guy. It started when he was a teenager and the only alcohol he could get his hands on was the wine in the basement. His parents collected bottles from their travels and had so many at this point that they never actually drank that Jake sneaking a bottle or two every so often went unnoticed. He quickly figured out what he liked so by the time he was actually of age it became his private staple.

Jake continued to fire off questions in his head as he outwardly minded his own business.

He was brought back to reality when a familiar young voice answered, “her name is Cecilia, by the way.”

Jake looked up and saw the young bartender named Stacey standing in front of him.

“How did you-”

Her eyes went wide once again, just like that first night, “oh shit I’m so sorry! Sometimes it's hard to differentiate people’s inner voices from their outer voices and it sounds like someone asked me something out loud and-”

Jake raised his hands slightly off the bar, palms facing outwards to show he wasn’t mad, “hey, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s ok.”

Her face relaxed slightly, but she was still clearly embarrassed, “Cecilia’s been helping me get better at it but I still fuck up some times.”

Jake looked at her with warm eyes, “I’m assuming that you heard me thinking about him,” he cocked his head in Lou’s direction, “and went off and told her the other night?”

She looked down at the bar top and fiddled with her fingers, “yeah…we’ve just never had any trouble in here before and Lou is just really special to us and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

Stacey kept her voice low, as to not let Lou hear her saying that he was special to her. However, it didn’t work and the Vampire kept facing the TV and he suppressed a small smile while his face turned pink.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I'm not going to mess with him.”

“I guess that truth serum worked,” she looked up, trying not to smile.

Now it was Jake’s turn to look embarrassed, “yeah…yeah it did.”

“Well she’s still letting you sit here so she can’t be too mad still.”

“I’m on thin ice but I promise I’m just here cause I like the place, that's all.”

Stacey looked down and saw that Jake’s glass was empty, “do you want another drink?”

Jake looked down at the glass, but decided to do something different tonight, “do you have a good Pinot here?”

She looked at him blankly, “wine?”

“Yes…”

“Umm…I think we have a few bottles in the back.” She turned and disappeared behind the Employee door.

Jake sat there softly tapping his thumbs on the edge of the bar, inwardly hating that he was making a fuss over something as arbitrary as a drink. It was another reason why he always fell back on his “usual.” He hated being “that guy” in situations.

After a few minutes the young bartender busted through the Employee door and nearly jogged over to Jake’s spot at the bar. It was clear she wasn’t used to using a corkscrew, but after cussing a little under her breath the cork popped from the bottle. She threw Jake a triumphant smile as she poured him a glass.

“Thank you, Stacey,” he said warmly.

“Any time,” she replied before leaving the bar area to ask if anyone else needed refills or new drinks around the bar.

He studied the glass closely, grasping it by the stem and tilting it to the side and then back again to see what kind of legs it had before bringing it to his nose to see what flavors he could pick up. The alcohol itself was pretty strong, but he had had worse. It was medium bodied, with tannins that weren’t too overpowering due to the bright acidity from the-

“Are you detecting the grapes?”

A silky voice startled him and his eyes left the glass to look in front of him. It was Cecilia. His face reddened slightly, again, but her face broke into a smile as she wrote some figures down in the notebook she had placed on the bar.

“Oh umm-”

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” her smile stayed fixed on her face and Jake felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense they had been. “You’re the first customer to order any of the wine we have, by the way.”

“I imagine people aren’t really thirsty for wine right off the highway,” the hunter said as he took his first sip. Oh, that’s not too bad, he thought, surprised at the texture and flavor of the wine.

The Witch nodded, “yeah people are more interested in their usual beers or liquor. You know the whole, ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ mentality.”

The corners of Jake’s mouth almost turned into a smile, “my brother likes to say that a lot.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, “you have a brother?”

Jake nodded, “three, actually. Two are biologically siblings and the other one we all kind of adopted over the years. He’s a good kid.”

She smiled, “oh that’s nice. Are they all hunters too?”

“Only one of them is; Josh.”

“Is he older or-?”

Jake grimaced slightly, “well…older…by five minutes. The other two are younger than me.”

Her lips formed an O, “so you’re a middle child? I can see that with you.”

Had it been anyone else, Jake would’ve gotten offended by that, but he let it slide for Cecilia.

“Only technically.”

“I can’t relate, I just have a little sister, Astrid. Or Ass-strid as I called her growing up.”

At this point they were both smiling softly at each other.

“What’s she like?” Jake asked before taking another sip of wine.

The Witch started to roll her eyes but stopped, “oh she’s the picture perfect Witch my mother always wanted, except that neither one of us inherited Moms psychic abilities. Astrid can enter people’s dreams, which was so fun growing up.” This time Cecilia let herself complete the eyeroll.

Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the question clear in his expression.

“As for me, I do this…,” her eyes swiveled down towards Lou, who was once again minding his own business. His usual glass sat idly as he paid attention to the commercial on the TV, and immediately slid down the bar towards the Witch like a hockey puck, directly into her curled hand.

Lou was unimpressed and let out a short, “hey,” towards her and she sent the glass back, not spilling a drop.

Jake had never seen a telekinetic in person before, and sat there dumbfounded.

“Wow…” was all he could say.

She shrugged, “I can also read Tarot pretty well.”

Something inside the hunter was very interested in it all. Witches were something that weren’t brought up a lot, and when they were it was never in a positive light. He was mainly taught to focus on the Undead more than any other creature.

“...and your mom?”

Cecilia leaned in towards the hunter, closer than she had been before and whispered, “my mom talks to dead people.”

Jake blinked at her.

“She heads a Necromancy coven in Northern California where I grew up,” the Witch leaned back towards her side of the bar, “it's not as exciting as you think.”

He wanted to ask more questions, but the way Cecilia’s expression soured at the mention of her mother gave him enough of a hint to drop that part of the subject.

“How did you end up in Arizona?”

This time, her eyes softened wistfully, “my dad was from here.”

The word ‘was’ stuck out to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

The two stared at each other, allowing the silence to wash over them. Jake swallowed the last of his wine, and before he could open his mouth another question was thrown his way.

“I just realized I am a terrible bar owner and have been talking to you this whole time without getting your actual name?”

Jake smirked, his eyes staring into hers, and slowly extended his hand over the bar, “Jake Kiszka, hunter of the Undead and at your service.”

The Witch held out her hand and wrapped it around his to shake. The warmth of his skin rippled up her own arm, over her shoulder and down her back, settling at the base of her spine

“I hope you don’t tell your baristas that,” she retorted with a crinkle in her nose, “Cecilia Addington, bar owner with First Born Daughter problems.”

Jake never wanted to let go of her hand. The firm grip of her fingers and the softness of her skin had his head spinning.

He wanted to know if all of her skin was just as soft.

Reluctantly, they both dropped their hands at the same time each taking a second to flex their hands under the bar out of each other's sight.

Jake was the one to speak first, “so how does-“

“No more questions until you buy another drink, Jake.”

The butterflies from sixth grade swarmed in his gut at the sound of her saying his name.

She turned her head and gave Stacey a Look and a nod towards the hunter, before giving Jake one last smile before slinking around the bar to greet a few patrons that had just walked through the door. Jake watched her the whole time, listening to the volume of her voice and appreciating the fact that she was a hugger just like he was. Fuck.

It was going to be a long night.

To be continued….

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[peachthebeast]

On the side of a bar in Tucson, Arizona.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The ultimate party pad mansion is this 1969 Spanish style home in Tucson, Arizona. 6bds, 8ba, $2.895M.

The entrance has a water feature.

Nice casual living room.

The dining room has 2 glass walls to get a view of the other rooms, plus a skylight.

Kitchen with a mirrored wall (?) and a family room off to the side.

The primary bedroom has whitewashed brick walls.

Walk-in closet.

Lots of space in here, the primary suite, including a loft.

Large room with a hot tub, shower, catwalk to who-knows-where.

Outdoors is a large fountain.

And, a patio w/a pool, kitchen, weird umbrella sticking out of the pool.

They also have a basketball court.

Then, off to the side of the patio area is an enclosed handball court.

Purple crushed velvet home theater with snack bar.

Home gym.

Outdoor pool table.

Guest casita. Note the outdoor bird cage on the right.

Interior of the casita / guest house.

Place to restore your own classic cars.

Another patio w/a fountain and pergola.

All on 1.57 acres.

[rcsilience]

name   ⏤   silver   castillo   .   label   ⏤   the  getaway  driver   .   age   ⏤   thirty1   occupation   ⏤   manager  @  heartbreak  motel   .   zodiac   sign   ⏤   sagittarius    .   gender   +   pronouns   +   orientation   ⏤   cis   woman   +   she   /   her   +   pansexual   .   inspired   characters   ⏤   gillian  owens  ,  beth  dutton  ,  amelia  shepherd  ,  phoebe  buffay  ,  faith  ,  hayley  marshall  ,  nikita  ,  bo  dennis 

TW : death !

silver  is  not  a  red  creek  native  by  any  means  …  if  anything  ,  she  was  a  routine  tourist  .  every  christmas  ,  a  month  in  the  summers  ,  maybe  a  birthday  party  if  it  was  meant  to  be  an  extra  special  one  but  she  was  a  southern  us  girl  thru  and  thru  ,  which  is  why  she  was  so  glad  that  her  dad  didn't  get  custody  of  her  when  her  parents  divorced  and  he  moved  from  their  detroit  apartment  and  her  mom  packed  the  car  ,  bound  for  dallas  ,  little  silvia  in  the  backseat  with  her  stuffed  bunny  .  she  thought  she  would  miss  her  dad  more  but  she's  always  felt  guilty  for  how  much  she  just  didn't  .  he  was  nice  but  always  just  a  bit  over  -  preoccupied  with  other  stuff  ,  like  drinking  beers  or  shooting  pool  .

so  silver  and  her  mother  were  in  dallas  for  three  years  or  so  ,  leaving  the  city  behind  for  tucson  when  mom  got  a  job  at  a  law  firm  that  her  then  boyfriend  was  working  at  .  that  lasted  two  more  years  and  then  ,  when  the  inevitable  heartbreak  hit  again  ,  she  packed  them  up  for  colorado  …  then  tennessee  ,  and  new  mexico  ,  and  louisiana  ,  and  by  the  time  silver  was  senior  in  high  school  ,  she  was  finishing  it  off  in  south  carolina  .  but  in  all  the  moving  around  ,  the  one  consistent  thing  was  christmas  with  dad's  family  and  summers  in  red  creek

she  would  babysit  her  little  cousins  ,  daniela  and  angela  ,  letting  them  drag  her  around  town  to  get  ice  cream  and  go  to  the  library  or  the  movies  .  sometimes  they'd  go  down  to  the  creek  and  swim  around  for  hours  on  end  ,  silver  dragging  them  back  home  and  braiding  their  hair  while  they  watched  tv  ,  it  was  cute  !  she  spent  more  time  with  them  than  her  dad  but  that  didn't  matter  to  her  ,  it  wasn't  exactly  even  new  .

but  she  hated  the  cold  and  would  run  to  whichever  southern  state  her  mom  was  loved  up  in  the  minute  an  errant  breeze  came  around  ,  always  looking  for  the  sun  .  however  ,  there  was  only  ever  one  person  that  could  get  her  to  stick  around  for  the  snow  …  joaquin  .

she  had  spent  her  time  after  high  school  drifting  from  town  to  town  in  the  south  ,  getting  dead  end  jobs  in  dive  bars  and  truck  stop  diners  when  her  dad  asked  her  to  come  spend  another  summer  in  red  creek  .  he  payed  for  her  flight  and  she  hopped  on  a  plane  and  the  first  person  she  saw  when  she  got  off  the  bus  from  the  airport  was  him  ,  all  smiles  and  sparkles  in  his  eyes  …  if  she  were  a  different  kinda  girl  ,  she  would've  blushed  .

they  were  convinced  it  wasn't  just  a  summer  fling  and  they  were  kind  of  right  .  she  bought  sweaters  and  wore  them  around  their  little  apartment  near  um  ,  where  she  worked  while  he  went  to  school  and  planned  a  little  future  together  .  she'd  had  boyfriends  before  ,  guys  she'd  run  into  the  ground  basically  (  like  mother  yadda  yadda  yadda  )  but  joaq  was  different  …  he  was  gonna  be  her  husband  one  day  and  they  would  actually  work  ,  unlike  her  parents  .  he  had  even  been  planning  a  birthday  something  or  other  ,  because  he  knew  she  had  a  weird  complex  about  having  a  birthday  so  close  to  christmas  but  he  was  sweet  like  that  …

when  he  died  ,  she  very  nearly  couldn't  breathe  .  the  weeks  following  felt  like  events  she  was  watching  happen  from  a  third  party  perspective  .  she  actually  even  passed  out  from  dehydration  because  as  long  as  she  was  awake  ,  she  was  crying  and  she  never  remembered  to  drink  enough  water  .  the  minute  she  got  back  to  their  apartment  from  red  creek  ,  she  sent  a  long  message  to  his  family  and  told  them  to  come  get  his  things  for  him  because  she  just  couldn't  be  there  any  longer  .  she  grabbed  two  of  his  shirts  ,  a  hoodie  ,  got  into  her  car  ,  and  drove  out  of  the  state  ,  until  she  saw  the  sun  and  no  sign  of  snow  anywhere  .

for  two  years  after  that  ,  she  drifted  in  and  out  of  bars  ,  sleeping  in  shitty  motels  ,  living  off  of  gas  station  hot  dogs  and  diet  coke  .  she  spent  her  nights  (  and  days  )  at  the  parties  of  old  friends  ,  drinking  by  their  pools  and  ignoring  any  man  that  even  thought  about  approaching  her  .  it  wasn't  until  she'd  used  all  her  savings  that  she  turned  to  yet  another  dive  bar  and  began  pouring  drinks  which  is  where  she  met  her  now  ex

he  was  nothing  like  joaquin  and  maybe  that's  exactly  what  she  was  looking  for  .  he  did  drugs  ,  he  smoked  like  a  chimney  ,  he  partied  all  night  and  slept  all  day  and  had  hushed  conversations  with  friends  while  one  of  them  took  vigorous  notes  .  their  relationship  was  built  on  a  shared  need  to  escape  their  pasts  and  question  nothing  about  that  so  they  did  well  together  .  three  years  in  ,  he  went  out  one  day  to  do  whatever  the  fuck  it  was  that  he  did  and  suddenly  ,  he's  rushing  into  their  trailer  to  tell  her  ,  while  covered  in  sweat  ,  that  the  police  are  after  him  .  the  news  had  his  face  plastered  all  over  it  -  “  four  men  rob  bank  at  gunpoint  ,  make  off  with  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars  ”  .

he  didn't  make  it  far  before  they  caught  him  and  threw  him  in  jail  .  the  minute  he  and  his  three  accomplices  were  convicted  ,  silver  had  the  keys  in  the  ignition  of  his  mustang  and  she  was  driving  again  .  again  again  again  .  life  is  cyclical  like  that  .  she  returned  to  red  creek  ,  seeking  out  her  dad  but  he  was  working  full  time  as  a  truck  driver  now  ,  only  ever  home  for  a  couple  days  a  month  .  that  was  fine  .  she  got  what  was  meant  to  be  a  short  term  job  at  the  motel  and  stayed  in  her  old  bedroom  and  made  no  eye  contact  with  anyone  other  than  her  family  members  .

right  as  she  was  about  to  leave  ,  daniela  disappears  and  silver  couldn't  leave  after  that  .  so  here  she  is  ,  promoted  to  manager  ,  keeping  an  eye  out  for  her  cousin  ,  avoiding  anyone  that  might  have  been  at  joaquin's  funeral  ,  and  hoping  no  one  asks  her  too  many  questions  about  what  she'd  been  up  to  the  past  couple  years  …

[theehorsepusssy]

GOD

The picture you posted of the GOD license plate -

That guy is a sort of cultural icon in Tucson, AZ and still drives that car around.  He goes by the name GOD. He’s in his eighties and owned a dive bar called the Meet Rack that had a sling, a stockade, and a gynecologist chair. He would brand his likeness on you with a hot iron and you’d get 20% off drinks.  It closed during covid.   https://tucsonfoodie.com/2018/

08/14/branded-at-the-meet-rack/

[deadboyfriendd]

In My Hand

This belongs to the Wild Horses universe, a culmination of blurbs between Eddie and Desert Artist!Reader. Based off of the Gutterballs fic by @dr-aculaaa , based in her Sunday Morning universe!

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady

Seamstress for the band

Pretty-eyed, pirate smile

You'll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must've seen her

Dancing in the sand

And now she's in me, always with me

Tiny dancer in my hand

The thing they don’t mention when you hit Interstate 10 heading westward through Tucson is: there is a vast expanse of nothingness you have to clear first. It is mind-numbing. It is beige. It is open for miles and Eddie fears it may all be a mirage– or that he will drive into a painted-on hole in the side of a mountain and flatten himself. 

No one warned him about the low desert, the beige-ness is all of his utter disdain for it. He pictured red-rocked Sedona, some girl in a flat-bed pickup waiting for him with tanned skin and a backless top. Not this. Mid-february it it was already warm. He thought he could see the mirage warp on the horizon, even when it was broken by the beginnings of buildings coming into his foresight. It is late after-noon by now, sun burning hot and angry but not yet pushed towards that precipice of cooling. He felt it begin to warm his neck past comfort where the black shirt lay across the flat of his back. 

This bar was a dive, for sure. Not unlike his home bar. Reclaimed wood that was probably old fifteen years ago and waxy bar tops that stayed sticky despite the mildewy wetness of the rag that was being passed over it. The bartender was a gruff-looking man, whom Eddie assumed knew how to make two variants of drinks– pulling capped lids off of bottles, or straight liquor, over ice if you were lucky. Eddie took the former, settling himself over a barstool, his guitar in case resting against his knee. 

“No open mic night here, ‘m afraid.” 

“You know of anyone looking?” He’d asked, solemnly hoping for some semblance of tips to get him to the next town. 

“Backtrack the frontage a few miles, you’ll turn back on to a county road that takes you out towards Texas Hill. You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em. They’re about your type,” He’d said back, taking one last look at him up and down. 

He placed a few dollars on the bar top, telling him to keep the change as he headed out. 

By now, the sun leaked saturated hues into a nitrate sky. Just as the bartender had said, frontage road, county opening, and right out in the middle of the desert lay a congregation of vans, campers, and RV’S. Desert Hills. He’d said in his mind, smugly. A smattering of old, second-hand cars and the marring of people to match. The irony of this all had been incredible. A bus, painted green, was parked sideways across the front of the congregation, a drop-cloth, hand-painted sign reading, “Howl at the Moon”.

A parable of lepers-by-day, though, by night they would peel back the sore to reveal fresh skin and a strong voice. Here, the day started when the sun went down. There is a fire in the center burning hot with blue flame at the nucleus. A sun in which you orbit as a celestial body. 

You are dancing around the fire a liquid dance with no rhyme or reason. It’s fluid in motion and like ribbon in deliverance. You are brilliant, a mass of curls that sway, not as many strands, but a brilliant unit, breaking off into parts that fall over your shoulders and back again. Draped in patched together masses and adorned in turquoise– barefoot in the dune of soft sand with no fear or reverence in what hides beneath. 

“What’re you gonna do with that guitar, Mister? Ya gonna be a rockstar?” You ask, all pretty eyes with lashes that kiss at the corners. 

 He nods, smiling as you take his hand to pull him towards the mass. “That’s the plan.”

“You can be anything you want here.” 

The moon peeks out over the east mountain and you howl in punctuation. It’s a wild and unruly thing, almost like you. It pierces his ears and fills him with warmth. Something stirs in his stomach. Like champagne. You deliver a few light-hearted slaps to his chest in the midst of his, encouraging a loud, crackling howl that bellows from deep within him. It fizzles out in laughter. 

Something about the pitch of your laugh and the dusting of stars across a gradient purple sky makes something move in slow motion and, somehow, it makes him wonder how soft your hair must be at the roots. 

“Well maybe you can play that guitar for me sometime. We’ll make you into a real rockstar.” You tell him, gesturing to the guitar propped against a hay bale. Across the front reads: This Machine Slays Dragons in a hand-lettered font. 

It feels stupid to try to shake your hand, he realizes this after he offers it. You take it anyways, “My name’s Eddie, by the way.”

“Well, Eddie.” You pull your culmination of silver squash blossoms from your neck, chiming a lovely song as they move to rest around his neck, “I knight thee. This land is your land.”

You smile at him, all teeth. “Hope we don’t have any dragons come around.” 

“Or fascists.” he shrugged

“Or fascist dragons.” 

“Then we would really have a problem.”