#Vermonter sandwich

[wensdaiambrose]

Went to the Vermont Tea House for Jon's mother's birthday.

Had a really nice time.

Now I am exhausted, so I don't have a lot to say other than the food was good, the tea was delicious, and the people were good company.

[yourfrankiethings]

Hero's Welcome General Store, North Hero, VT, 10/19/22

Hero’s Welcome General Store, North Hero, VT, 10/19/22

entrance – 3537 US 2, North Hero, VT., 05474 Hero’s Welcome General Store serves sandwiches on wonderful housemade rolls along with having a huge country store of Vermont products.  Other buildings house the bakery and marina – where you can gas up or rent a canoe/kayak.  The main building is over 100 years old and packed with items from wine, cooking supplies, toys, clothing to interesting gift…

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 1

Summary:

Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.

But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.

Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...

Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner. 

Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days. 

Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her. 

Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal. 

Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return. 

Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello. 

Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face. 

The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.

And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her. 

By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. 

Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained. 

He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her. 

Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold. 

Predatory. 

“Hey there…can I get a table?” 

Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede. 

Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.

Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.

He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements. 

Even sitting down, he was huge. 

Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting. 

But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her. 

He looked even more handsome when he smiled—

“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was? 

Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”

“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice. 

To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze. 

“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”

Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.

She quite liked it. 

“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”

“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?” 

“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”

“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Call me Cooper.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”

She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic. 

“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”

“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”

“Ice, please.”

Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”

She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.

“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked. 

“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.

The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills. 

Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.

Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”

Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?” 

Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”

Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment. 

Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals. 

Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners. 

“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip. 

Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” 

There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.

Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.

As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave. 

Like she could do anything. 

“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”

Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit. 

He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.

She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking. 

When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually. 

But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities. 

Perhaps he was in remission. 

He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.

Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him. 

Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all. 

When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father. 

But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.

She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe. 

And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.  

Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde. 

Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—

With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.

Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.

And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—

“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.

Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”

The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.   

Good girl. She found him attractive. 

His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—

“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful. 

His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth. 

The urge. 

Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.

He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.

She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.

He could fuck her within an inch of her life—

Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now. 

She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough. 

He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease. 

Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed. 

“Just the check please, sweetheart.”

Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

🥞 Lucifer's Pancakes 🥞

FIRST OFF. . . He would bring you breakfast in bed after a night of him showing you how much he loves you. . . If you're catching my drift — and what better to be on that tray other than PANCAKES!?

He has a perfected recipe — the box stuff is good, but he doesn't use it unless it's an absolute emergency. It's not as good as his, so he avoids it the way Alastor avoids teeth whitening strips. AND THAT'S OKAY!

He would do shapes based on his mood, your mood, the holiday/anniversary.

His favorite to do for your birthday, anniversary, and Valentines Day was heart shaped pancakes.

He'd do duck shapes when he felt like doing it, or if you specifically requested them. He perfected almost any shaped pancake you could ask for.

If you're sad, he makes smiley faces with chocolate chips or whipped cream on top (or both if you're super sad).

HE'S ALL FOR PANCAKE ART!

Sometimes he'd throw fruit like blueberries or strawberries if it was the vibe of the day.

Sometimes he'd throw something like m&ms in the pancake mix if that ended up being the vibe.

Maybe even something like banana nut pancakes? 👀

He wouldn't be opposed to making pancake breakfast tacos/sandwiches. He thinks they're yummy and it's the best of all breakfast worlds.

But of course, I can't forget just the classic round pancakes, perfectly brown on both sides with a pad of butter and a perfect drizzle of maple syrup.

I like to believe that he goes up to the living world a couple times a year just to get some good ol' Vermont maple syrup because it's just BETTER. . . You know?

He's not opposed to other syrup, but he has a specific taste for making the pancakes the best they could possibly be.

He's prone to making pancakes at MINIMUM twice a week on specific mornings neither of you are busy.

They're his safe, go-to food when nothing else sounds good.

He loves you just a little more than he loves pancakes.

Who can blame him? They're fluffy, buttery, warm, sweet, and they're customizable. There's a pancake for everyone!

And now I want pancakes 😃

[chuckle-clips]

Charlie: Where I’m from, not smog world, we have compost, right? So we all, everyone has a compost bin up in Vermont, among the cattle. 

Schlatt: What the fuck is going on?

Charlie: And we don’t be wasteful, we aren’t wasteful with our food. So unlike Schlatt here, just going on gameshows—

Schlatt: They lit the ocean on fire, bro. 

Charlie: —Throwing them everywhere. 

Schlatt: Your compost pile is doing jack shit. 

Charlie: I’m eating my…

Schlatt: Your compost is doing jack shit. Eating the butt end of the bread first and enjoying it.

Charlie: I’m eating my butt loaf watching the world burn. That’s what I do.

Schlatt: I’m saving the world by having a little snack before my breakfast. 

Charlie: Yeah. 

Arin: Do they always do this?

Ted: Very frequently. 

Schlatt: This is bullshit, this is absolute bullshit. They lit the ocean on fire. They lit the ocean on fire, Charlie. 

Charlie: You’re not gonna toast it, it’s just gonna be a little thing before—

Schlatt: And then, I gotta recycle, I gotta fucking recycle. 

Charlie: And you want to bust out the straws, you want to kill every single turtle—

Arin: I want to go home!

Charlie: You are home now. This is it.

Ted: Boys, please, calm down. [Coughs] Welcome everyone to Chuckle Sandwich. This is a very special episode. 

Charlie: Yeah, you’re the butt loaf now, buddy. 

Arin: Did you push him?

Charlie: I didn’t actually think that…

Arin: I think this is a bit. 

Ted: Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Chuckle Sandwich this is a… this is…

[Schlatt cries]

Charlie: He loves doing this bit, it’s a good bit he does. 

Ted: Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Chuckle Sandwich, this is a very special episode because we have Mr. Arin Hanson of Game Grumps and of Egoraptor fame here with us today. Welcome, welcome to the— welcome to the show. 

Arin: Thank you. 

Ted: We’re here in your building. 

Arin: That’s right, yeah. 

Schlatt: Help me up. 

Ted: You basically—

Arin: Don’t help him up. It’s a bit. 

Charlie: It’s a bit? Let go. Stop— stop getting up. It’s a bit—

Arin: Oh, now he’s part of the bit. 

Charlie: It’s a— we’re doing a bit! We’re doing a bit!

Ted: Oh my god. 

Arin: You realize this is my office, right?

Charlie: Yeah, it’s a bit. 

Ted: Yeah. Okay. So they’re all rolling around on the floor right now. For our audio listeners, love you to death, Schlatt and Charlie are literally wrestling on the floor. 

Charlie: You gotta help me. You gotta help me. 

Arin: I hope it sounds like it’s like really far in the distance. 

Ted: I hope so too. 

[Schlatt and Charlie moan]

Ted: So, Arin…

Arin: I would help you, but I’m trapped in this corner. 

Ted: Don’t listen to them, just look at me. 

Arin: Okay, sorry. 

Ted: Welcome to the podcast. 

Arin: Thanks, man. 

Ted: How are you doing today?

Arin: You know it’s funny, we had this nice like, very cordial conversation beforehand and now this nonsense is going on. I feel like I was lied to a little bit. 

Ted: Once I sort of introduced the podcast, they sort of went into content mode. 

Arin: Did you switch spots?

Charlie: He’s doing a bit. 

Ted: They’re struggling a little bit. 

Arin: He just wanted to be closer to me. 

Schlatt: Sorry I got hard there. 

Arin: It’s just a long-winded way to get closer to me. 

Ted: That was just him trying to get close to your heart. 

Schlatt: I didn’t think I swung that way. 

[moonshynecybin]

if you could typecast the grid as stereotypical americans who would be who? (idk if i'm making any sense) but for example bezz gives very cali stoner energy.

god this one is hard because they are all so stunningly european. truly. american men do not act like that. the jean tightness alone. ummm. okay let’s start with the easy ones

pecco: pecco is from a suburb like three hours from chicago and he tells everyone he’s from chicago. framed bulls jerseys on the wall etc

pedro acosta: someone said baseball player from north carolina and yeah. i can imagine bumping into this guy at cookout. like he’s giving charlotte/macklenberg county. serving gastonia. he went to nc state with my friend thomas and he has strong basketball opinions.

bez: califoniaaaaa you’re right. of the surfer or skater variety… either way he’s in baggy as fuck clothes skulking around outside kicking it whenever he can. eating a sandwich

vale: new jersey. my trashy italian american clown princess

mav: screams boston 2 me

aleix: too european im being real. insane amounts of european. kind of breaking my brain sooo im not assigning him one

enea: gay ass san fran guy with his lil dog. walkin around the castro the dog gets hot. he picks up the dog. gay pride flag in the background. i cheer. he’s drinking espresso that costs fourteen american dollars. that’s like 12.50 euro google is telling me

casey stoner: this bitch is from vermont

luca: right across the river from vale in new york citayyyy… i think he would thrive in an environment where he doesn’t look insane wearing something very elegant and a lil dressier. like you can’t really do that in idk. most of the south or midwest or southwest or— anyways we’re sending him to nyc

jorge martin: i COULD see him hanging out in florida but like slutty florida not trashy florida. just on a beach in miami in the tiniest shorts imaginable with aleix comma also there europeanly. idk

joan mir: LOUSIANA. need to take his pissy ass to the bayou.

jack miller: attended the university of alabama and was perhaps too invested in SEC football culture. i would end this by saying roll tide for comedy but that would make me gag here in real life. anyways

marc and alex. hmmmmmmm. i could see outside austin texas as that seems 2 be hallowed ground for marc lol. alternatively. kentucky. horse boys. this is another hard one i’m open to suggestions here cuz nothin is jumping out at me tbh

franky: seems into mindfulness in a way that is giving seattle. runs a bookstore with REALLY good staff picks. big ass armchairs HUGE used book section that smells good. sitting there petting the store cat in a flannel with the sleeves rolled up. sipping his coffee. works nights at the local bar sometimes. who said that.

brad binder: denver.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 29

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Tori and I met up on my lunch break the following afternoon. I filled her in about the mishap with James the night before and she visibly cringed.

“Ouch.” She made a face. “That was a bold way to shoot his shot.”

“I felt so bad,” I admitted, “I still feel bad.” I twirled a French fry in ketchup and popped it into my mouth.

“Did you tell Joel?”

I nodded. “The night before I had gotten a card that was left on my car with no name. I thought it was this creepy guy Trevor from class.”

“Who’s creepy Trevor?”

“He's just this brown noser type of guy. I saw him lurking behind the building one night when I left and then he, like, popped out of the library stacks at me out of the blue.”

“Red flag, red flag.” Tori made invisible check marks in the air with her finger. “What if he's the lady killer?” That's what the papers and news outlets had branded the person responsible for the two dead women.

“Lately, I think everyone is the lady killer.” I huffed a laugh and shook my head. I changed the subject. “Are you and Derek doing anything for Valentine's Day tonight?”

“We’re going to see an early movie and then going out for cocktails and some apps.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Where’s Mr. Gold Coins taking you?” She asked with a laugh as she forked a bite of chicken from her salad, “Paris?”

I laughed. “We’re going to a place called Lake Kora.”

“Where's that?”

I shrugged and reached for the second half of my turkey wrap and took a hearty bite.

“You didn't Google it?”

I shook my head and continued to chew.

“Do I have to teach you everything?” Tori eyed me and began typing away on her phone. “How do you spell it?”

“L-a-k-e,” I began, smirking at her as she flicked my hand.

“Smartass, I know how to spell ‘lake'. What about the second part?”

“K-o-r-a.”

Tori eyed her tiny screen and began flicking her finger until she seemed satisfied. “Hmm..”

“What?” I arched my neck and she turned her phone part way.

“Looks nice.” She scrolled through photos. “Is he going to put, like, rose petals all over the bed? Feed you chocolate covered strawberries?”

I nearly spit the bite of my sandwich out and the two of us began laughing, drawing looks from other customers in the little sandwich shop.

“Sorry,” Tori whispered with a hand up, still chuckling as she took a sip of her iced tea to compose herself.

“Maybe we can double date some time soon,” I suggested.

“I gotta get a feel for this guy,” she nodded in agreement and poked around through her lettuce in search of a crouton. “What's going on next weekend?”

“His sister is getting married. We’re going to Vermont for the long weekend.”

Tori raised her eyebrows. “Wow.”

I nodded. “I was nervous to go but I met her recently and we hit it off, so..” I shrugged.

My friend pointed her fork in my direction. “If this guy ends up breaking your heart, I'll break his neck.” Tori paused, “Well, I’ll get someone to do it because I probably wouldn't be able to.”

I have a closed-mouth smile. “I hope this is all what it seems; because I'm totally caught up.”

“I know you are.” She nodded, “I've never seen you like this.”

“I know.” I ate another French fry and sipped on my Diet Dr. Pepper. “It's a little scary.”

Tori gave a genuine smile. “I guess life should be about taking chances.. and following your heart.” She raised her styrofoam cup, “To the next step?”

I tapped my cup against hers. “To the next step.”

The ride to ‘up-upstate’ with Dr. Miller late that afternoon had me excited for the weekend ahead. We took the truck, loaded up with snacks and even stopped at a little hockey store to purchase two pairs of ice skates. I couldn’t wait to go ice skating. It had been so long since I’d been but I was sure I’d pick it up again - like second nature.

“Want a coffee?” Dr. Miller motioned to a little shop beside the hockey store, “Or hot chocolate?” He grinned and took my hand when I nodded. We wandered into the shop and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hit me like a wave.

My eyes scanned a chalkboard with an endless array of choices. There were your typical French Vanilla flavors and Hazelnuts. And then the list trickled down to pistachio, white chocolate almond, blueberry and peppermint mocha.

“I’ll do a medium black coffee with a shot of espresso,” Dr. Miller ordered. “And a package of the chocolate covered espresso beans.”

When I spotted a banana mocha chocolate espresso, I was sold. Half hot chocolate, half coffee with the sweetness of the banana. Sign me up.

Dr. Miller smiled at me and gently squeezed the back of my neck as I ordered. I leaned into him and our hands found one another’s again after getting our orders and walking out.

“I can’t wait to get up there,” I told him when we got back in the car. I sipped my drink after giving the entrance to the cup a gentle blow and then set it in the cup holder. When Dr. Miller reached for my hand again, I squeezed his. I loved how he had to touch me at all times - whether holding my hand, squeezing my neck, or resting a hand on my knee as he drove.

He popped open the little bag of espresso beans and then reached over, prepared to place one in mouth.

I accepted, purposely sucking the pad of thumb for an extra second and Dr. Miller smiled at me. I almost giggled, thinking about Tori’s comment about the chocolate covered strawberries but I just grinned and looked out the window, relinking my hand with his.

Honestly, I didn't want the car ride to end. Until it did, and the A-frame lake house we would be staying in came into view.

Okay, I'm ready for the car ride to end.

The frozen lake stretched out, what looked like, for miles as he pulled down the long, rocky driveway.

Dr. Miller pulled the truck up beside the house and I got a glimpse of a hot tub on the front deck. He turned to glance at me and I couldn't help but smile.

“Come on.” He nodded his head toward the cabin and opened his door.

I eagerly trailed him up to the rental property. Neither of us bothered to grab our belongings yet. The sting of the cold weather felt refreshing on my cheeks on the short walk to the front door.

Dr. Miller punched a code into a little black box beside the door and a silver key popped out as the front of it opened.

“Do you own this house, too?” I had to ask, but he smiled and shook his head.

“I know as much about it as you do.” He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door, pulling me inside by the hand as he flipped on the main lights. It was like something from Pinterest or “hashtag cabin” on any number of social media outlets.

An oversized television sat above a stone fireplace to the right. A small collection of couches and chairs faced it, only split up by a shag throw rug. Above it hung a giant rustic chandelier. Overlooking the living room area was a loft that was accessible by a winding staircase and beneath the loft, straight ahead, was a cozy, modern kitchen with low ceilings.

“What do you think?” Dr. Miller put his hands on my shoulders from behind, and I reached up and placed one hand over his.

“I think we should stay here for a week.”

“Or two,” he added.

“Or two.” I nodded in agreement and looked over my shoulder at him. “Thank you. This is amazing.. again.”

“Let's get our bags.”

I followed him back to the car and he carried as much as he could, leaving me with just the ice skates that I set down on the couch in the living room area. We unloaded the little bit of food we’d brought up for the short stay and then towed the suitcases up the windy stairs to the lofty bedroom.

“Feel like some dusk ice skating?” Dr. Miller asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Is it safe?”

“I've been checking the weather all week,” he explained, “It's been in the teens and twenties.” Dr. Miller nodded, “There were some people out there when we drove up. Should be frozen solid.”

“Well, then, I can't wait.” My hands fell down into his and I bent at the hip to kiss him firmly on the lips. When I slowly dropped to my knees in front of him, working at the buckle of his belt, Dr. Miller looked down at me with a half, closed-mouth grin.

He sighed and arched his hips so I could shove his pants down to his ankles before closing his eyes as he stood back up. “Alright,” he agreed with a second deep breath.

“Unless you want to get right out onto the ice..” I teased.

Dr. Miller opened his eyes again and looked down at me. “It'll still be there in five minutes.”

“Five?” My hand wrapped around him now and I took him partway into my mouth. I guessed longer.

He groaned and smiled with his eyes closed. “Maybe three.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

[stardestroyer81]

🥪 Introducing... Door2Door! 🥪

Door2Door stars twenty year old possum Gigi Dempster, who lives in a rather ramshackle, podunk town in Vermont called Bendersville. After sending numerous job applications all over town with no word back, she finally lands herself a delivery driver position at an unassuming locally-owned sandwich restaurant named Dine 'n Dash. With no prior experience in the art of crafting a mighty fine sandwich or running a delivery route, Gigi is strapped in to experience the whirlwind of a first time food service job firsthand, and in an unpredictable town like Bendersville, quite literally anything can happen.

(For more information on what Door2Door is— as well as a handful of progress images— please consider checking underneath the cut!)

At last, witness unveiling of my latest project I've spent the last month conceptualizing, Door2Door! What once came about as a silly idea of basing a project after an inner-city delivery driver inspired after a certain gameplay section in Spongebob Squarepants: Revenge of the Flying Dutchman, it has since blossomed into one of my dearest passion projects yet!

Though, before I get into any further detail behind Door2Door and its creation, I must stress— none of the above five images hail from a lost late nineties/early 2000s Cartoon Network show, and if by chance any of them were enough to fool you into thinking they were, then that just means I achieved what I set out for! 💙✨

Now, about a month ago, I'd been watching a retrospective on the critically un-acclaimed Spongebob Squarepants: Revenge of the Flying Dutchman, a game I had growing up. It's important for me to mention that I had seen and personally played the aforementioned gameplay section before, though for some reason seeing it again struck me with a brilliant project idea.

Anyone who's been following me for at least a year knows that I've designed a cavalcade of candied characters for my own arcade game concept, Rascal, and initially my idea for Door2Door— which I also called Project JJ (In reference to the sandwich chain Jimmy John's)— was to give it a plot simple enough to translate into an arcade game.

The idea was that you played as a plucky delivery driver who rides through the streets of a seedy city to deliver a food order to the... er, order-ee. But your progress would be impeded by a fiendish gang of mobster alley cats who are after your sandwiches, so there would have definitely been a large cartoony element to the gameplay loop.

I drew concept art for Door2Door's protagonist, then known as Marcy, though I really wasn't vibing with either drawing. For one, making the protagonist a cat seemed a bit overdone, and I already have a cat character who's name rhymes with Marcy, so that had to go. More so, I also couldn't settle on a good spriting style, which prompted me to rethink the whole project.

Well, there is a general aura of cartooniness to Door2Door, I thought, why not just embrace that vibe whole-heartedly and reshape the project into a long-lost late nineties cartoon?

I did like the idea of having an excuse to drawing more animation cels, though if I was going to make Door2Door into something resembling a cel-animated cartoon, I was prepared to go the full distance in nailing that aesthetic, in the form of how characters are designed and the way I go about drawing each screenshot.

For those unfamiliar with cel animation, essentially it can be described as a traditional form of animation and involves objects— usually characters— being hand-inked and painted on clear celluloid sheets and placed over painted backgrounds.

Above, I've provided a visual for what a standalone 'cel' from Door2Door would look like, coupled with a hand-painted background. When overlaid on top of one another...

... you would get this! This is exactly how cartoons were animated up until the era of digital inking and coloring... but that begs the question. How am I achieving a hand-drawn and painted aesthetic if everything I've shown so far has been drawn digitally?

I have my ways! It involves a lot of studying how individual cels of animation look, and taking note of recurring hallmarks; grainy textures, paint blemishes, drop shadows, etc. Above, I've assembled a small gif of my process in composing a screenshot for Door2Door, from lineart to final product!

So, that all should loosely explain it; Door2Door is what would happen if I were in charge of a late nineties Cartoon Network show, and what you've seen here is merely the beginning. Going forward, I will be posting art of Door2Door's main cast with some additional character information and concept art for each one, though for the time being, enjoy all five art pieces I've supplied for this post— they are perhaps the biggest works of mine yet this year! 💙🏳️‍⚧️✨

[hong--zhi--zhu]

Miguel wrapped in a cozy blanket and ready to dig into a "Parker Pick Me Up" sandwich.

This sandwich is based on a scene from tarotthrawn's amazing punk band AU Spiderdads fanfic "I’m Half Doomed and you’re Semi-Sweet".

Chive and onion lactose-free cream cheese was spread on a toasted everything bagel. Filled with a fried egg, 2 pieces of bacon, 3 Vermont maple sausages, and a toasted waffle. The spider web waffle was made with JIFFY baking mix.

Miguel plushie is from newspapertaxiis on twitter.

[becomingkatie]

Eclipse Trip 2024 || Burlington, VT

Burlington is one of the few places I think Ken and I could agree to move to. (I love Atlanta and would move back in a heartbeat but Ken won’t go south of here; I don’t really want to move time zones and go west.) My uncle and his husband live here (I always say “my uncles” but then people think it’s a big chunk of my family, but no it’s just the one couple) and we visited them once pre-pandemic. They showed us around and I talked for ages about moving up there. I still love it.

We originally planned to go to Ohio and do Cedar Point, but it’s not open this early in the year. So last April, a year out, we paid like $300 a night for a holiday inn express in south Burlington. It was completely booked, along with everywhere else. It was hands-down the busiest I’ve ever seen a hotel breakfast. Every seat at every table full!

I convinced Ken to agree to a glass blowing class and it was a highlight for sure! We made cups! It’s one of those crafts that I just don’t know how anyone gets into unless they have a family member who does it. Like, the entry into it just seems so tough. But a one-hour class was a really good insight into it.

On Sunday we scoped out potential viewing spots. We picked a park on the lake 3 miles from our hotel so we could walk there and back and not deal with parking. We were there around 4:30, so later than the eclipse would be the next day, but could still get an idea of where the sun would be in the sky when thinking of potential spots to sit and watch. It was funny, us and everyone else walking around, whispering because we didn’t want to share our thoughts about where we planned to be.

Ultimately, it was busy but not insane. We were still quite a bit south of downtown and the university campus, which I think was much more packed. We picked up bagel sandwiches to bring with us and had little portable camp chairs. We got there a bit before noon, and totality was at 3:26. I loved seeing all the dogs. The feeling of community during totality was really cool.

Now that we’ve experienced it, we both say we’d travel under 3 hours to see it again (not the 10 hours we traveled this time), or further if it was somewhere we had family or otherwise already wanted to visit. But we wouldn’t plan more eclipse vacations just to see more eclipses. We’re both really glad we did this one though!

The drive home took 12 hours instead of 10. Since the eclipse was a Monday, travel in was spread out between some people coming in Saturday and some on Sunday, but basically everyone left Tuesday and it was bad traffic. Then we stopped at Panera and discovered they changed the menu and no longer have any of Ken’s favorite items!

Overall a fantastic trip, even with the tough journey home. I’m not allowed to send Ken Zillow links to Burlington homes for a month - he’s convinced the vacation excitement will wear off, and with it my desire to move. But I have a vision of myself in Chelsea boots boiling sap from a tree in my yard to make maple syrup and I will not let go of this imagined Vermont Katie.

[chirasul]

i love it when people you meet on the internet are like "Oh yuo've never heard of Hoopateedos??? They're this extremely unique cultural food dish only served at one restaurant (Granny Mae's Feed Trough) found here in Gumpfuck Vermont" and they show you a picture of like a grilled cheese sandwich

[kintsugibody]

baked mac n cheese, cream soda, lasagna, miso ramen, bacon triple stacked cheeseburgers, cream filled croissants, strawberry shortcake, truffle fries, pizza with all meat toppings, waffles with vermont maple syrup and salted butter, red bean mochi, strawberry frosted donuts, fried chicken, cheese danish, parmesan chex mix, chocolate cake, hashbrowns, smores, lobster mac n cheese, queso potato chips, cheesecake, french toast, auntie annies pretzels, brown sugar boba, pumpkin loaf, chicken sandwich, tortelini in cheese sauce, shaved ice, raw cookie dough, churros, brownies, orange chicken, cheddar biscuits, breakfast casserole, peanut butter fudge, country fried chicken with gravy, apple pie, elephant ears with butter and powdered sugar, apple fritters, bread pudding, egg rolls, tater tots, strawberry short cake ice cream bars, croissants, funyuns, california roll sushi, breakfast sausage, hawaiian sweet rolls, chicken quesadilla, crab and cream cheese wontons, chips and salsa, onion rings, fried fish, please someone dig me out this hell

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

What’s your favorite kind of taco? Pizza? Toppings on a burger? How bout on a chicken sandwich?

Okay the best tacos I had were in Mexico and were grilled octopus. I had them everyday.

I love a white sauce, like a white sauce with prosciutto. Or red sauce with ricotta and hamburger.

The nines has a burger I love right now that’s Cabot Vermont Cheddar cheese, caramelized onions, applewood smoked bacon and real Vermont maple mayonnaise.

Chicken sandwich either cheese and bacon or pesto and mozzarella.

[the-frog-blog]

Sitting in the grocery store parking lot in Vermont listening to this song eating my sandwich after fucking a 50 y o man >>>>

[lynati]

I finished packing up V. for her move right before midnight, so yaye for it not being 3am! I've had a turkey sandwich and a shower, and used some of the turkey to bribe one of V.'s cats into eating out of my hand, and the other one to come within two feet of me, which is more than he's been willing to do so far during this visit. I'm going to sleep now, and headed back home tomorrow.

Wish me luck for enduring a ten hour car ride from Vermont with three kitty-cats, two of whom are going to be extremely confused about what is happening. @_@

[darkwood-sleddog]

if i have to read yet ANOTHER rich 2nd homeowner complain about vermont food service on online forums i'm gonna throw hands.

what do you mean you don't pack your own sandwich or get a gas station hot dog on the way back from the mountain.