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marvel-redemption-omega · 4 years ago

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Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter Five: Rodeo Queen, Awakened

A/N: This is nothing but a random mission I decided might be fun; a way Scarlet can show Dutch that she can help bring in money, even if it seems silly to him. Just some general fluff and good times with Scarlet, her son, James, and some great fluff between Scarlet and Arthur! Buckle up cause it’s a loooooooong chapter! There’s lots of stuff goin on in this one.

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence, mentions of drinking, sexual references/innuendos, general dangers of rodeos (bull riding, bronco riding, etc), mentions of pick-pocketing, betting, mentions of bush whacking

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620331349279145984/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 14, 837

“Dutch!” Scarlet jumps off Shamrock and runs into camp with a piece of paper in her hand. Dutch steps out of his tent, cigar in hand as he raises a brow at her. “Dutch, oh, Dutch! You gotta see this!” She slows as she nearly runs into him, his free hand on her shoulder to steady her. He nods to the paper.

“What’s got you so excited? Find a treasure map?”

“What? Nah, something even better!” She shakes her head at his silly question. “No. Rhodes is hosting a rodeo!” She squeals, opening the folded paper, revealing a flyer for a rodeo.

“Darlin’, not to be a downer, but I just ain’t seeing why you think going to this is a good idea. Hosea and I are wanted men, we can’t just drop everything we’re working on to play rancher in front of people,” he scans the paper, taking it from her. Her happy demeanor deflates a bit before she’s smiling again.

“I get that. Look, I’m not sayin that ya gotta come out and be there, but there’s loads of opportunity for money! There’s cash prizes for fastest horse in a few categories, then there’s prizes for perfect scores, and even longest rides. At least for the bronco and bull ridin events it’s the longest time,” she quickly explains, trying to reason with the stubborn leader. He wipes a hand over his mustache, glancing between Scarlet’s puppy pleading green eyes and the flyer in his hand. He sighs.

“Stop with that kicked puppy look,” he reads over the flyer again.

“Dutch,” she calls, waiting for him to look back at her. When he does she smiles, “I know I can win several of the listed events. I’ve been ridin nearly my whole life. Bulls ain’t so different from broncs, just a bit wider and not as tall. I promise it’s worth it. Just let me go and enter an send your best pick pockets with me. There’s always loads of people at rodeos. Loads of rich, stupid, drunk people,” she persuades, watching his body language for signs of defeat. When he relaxes his shoulders she knows she’s won.

“Talk to the guys and see if anyone would be interested in any of the other events,” Dutch orders, holding up the flyer. “Mind if I have this to look over?”

“No, no, not at all! Take it, Dutch. I’m gonna go ask them now. Oh. Is, uhh, is Arthur here?” She asks, the excitement now drained from her voice. Dutch’s lips quirk a bit, knowing they were sweet on each other, even if they hadn’t noticed it themselves yet.

“No, Pearson asked if he could go hunting. We’re getting low on food,” he answers with a smile, pointing towards the back of the camp.

Scarlet takes his leave as dismissal and heads over to the cliff, looking into the valley below. Sure enough, Arthur’s got his bow out, creeping up on a small herd of deer. She scoffs as he draws the string back and lets it go. He quickly notches another arrow and manages to drop two deer back to back. “Show off,” she mutters to herself.

Scarlet’s in the middle of switching saddles and horses when James runs up to her, arms wrapping tight around her legs. “Mama! Can I go to the rodeo with you too? Please? I wanna see you ride the horses and a bull!” He begs, green eyes bright and pleading. She rubs his head, playing with his hair.

“Who told you bout that?” She asks, looking down at him. He grins and lets go of her to pet Fancy.

“Uncle John and Uncle Javier were talkin about goin an they mentioned you was,” he innocently replies, hugging the mare’s neck. Scarlet crosses her arms and rests her weight on her right foot, chewing her bottom lip.

“Maybe. It depends on who is going to be there, Sweetheart,” she finally answers, leaning over to ruffle his hair. He yelps in surprise and swats at his mother’s hands, running away from her. She laughs and finishes putting Fancy’s old saddle on her; leather worn and tattered from years of wear and rough riding. Fancy, knowing which saddle she was now wearing, tosses her head and paws the ground anxiously. “Easy girl, we’re headin out later,” she settles the old mare. James runs back up to her, Arthur following behind him. The cowboy gives Scarlet a curious look as he approaches, looking at Fancy’s saddle change.

“What’s with the get up? You running away already?” He jokes, gesturing to Fancy.

“Hah, as if. You an ol’ Dutch ain’t gonna just let me up an go,” she snorts at him. He wants to say something against her, but he knows she’s right. “Anyway, there’s a rodeo bein held in Rhodes. I figure since it’s in a few days, I’ll just head that way now an get a room, just stay at the hotel there so I’m not ridin any of the horses the day of,” she explains and walks with them back into camp. James runs off to Abigail and John’s tent, asking for Jack. Scarlet smiles at that, happy he has someone to play with, even if Jack is four years younger.

“M’kay, ya got us there. What’s a rodeo though?” He asks as she sits down at one of the tables, pulling a can of peaches from her bag. She slices the top and pries it up, stabbing a peach slice before answering.

“It’s a big event where people, usually cowboys and ranchers, gather to show their skills. There’s steer ropin, team ropin, bronc bustin, bull ridin, an a lot of other different activities. My Ma used to take Fancy to the barrel races. We ain’t had a horse beat her record yet. Least, not that I’ve heard. But she’s gettin old an I know Shamrock is a lot faster than she is, he’s just not as skilled. Where Fancy is elegant, Shamrock is clumsy. He takes his turns too wide. But he’s still faster than her time, even bein as such,” she explains, eating the peach from her knife. Arthur tenses a moment, fearful she’ll cut herself. She hums and offers him a slice, which he refuses.

“So what events are you going to be in, Miss O’Hara?” He inquires, watching her carefully so she doesn’t cut herself.

“Probably my usual; bronc bustin, bull ridin, barrels, an pole bendin,” She states matter-of-factly. Arthur hums out a positive affirmation. “Broncs have two categories, saddles an bareback. Saddled is easier because, well, you’re in a saddle. Bareback is obviously harder, like if you’re breaking a horse out in the country, no lead or nothing. They give you a riggin to hold on to, but that’s it. It’s basically a heavy rein. That’s all you get. The goal is to stay on for minimum of eight seconds; for broncs an bulls, but if you can go longer, the better your score an points.”

“So it’s a gatherin for stupid people, who pretend to be cowboys an ranchers, to watch other stupid people pretend to be cowboys an ranchers?” Arthur summarizes, smiling at her.

“Well now, I didn’t know you thought I was stupid, Morgan. Here I thought we made a pretty decent team!” She feigns hurt, stabbing another peach from the can. She maintains eyes contact as she bites the fruit from her knife, letting out a soft moan at the sweet taste. Arthur’s skin flushes a light pink and he coughs to clear his throat.

“I’d never! Weren’t talkin bout you, Darlin’. But that’s just how it sounds for the majority. I’ve seen you work, you’re the real deal,” he chuckles as she nods at his praise; she leans the open can towards him, holding her knife by the blade in offering. He rolls his eyes but takes both, eating a few slices before passing them back to her.

“Well in that case, will you ride with me? I don’t know if I wanna bring James but if you’ll be there I’ll feel better ‘bout him taggin along,” she admits, playing with her knife before taking out a green handkerchief to clean it. He studies her a moment, weighing his options.

“What’s Dutch think of you runnin off to do this?”

“Dutch? Aha, I swayed him. There’s good money in it if you win events. Ample opportunity to pick pocket old, rich, drunk bastards too,” she shrugs and tips the can to drink the juice. “So, Arthur, will you ride with me?”

“When you plan on leavin?”

“Probably this afternoon. I gotta go get Shasta. He’s good at the pole bendin. If you’re decent, we can sign up for the team ropin! We both ride our horse in the pen they have set up and have to rope a steer. One of us ropes the horns and the other it’s back legs, then we face each other and back our horses up so the ropes are nice and tight and it can’t get away,” she explains, slipping her knife back in its holster.

“You got me. I’ll go. Not sure if you want me in the competition, but I’ll ride wit’chu,” he agrees and nods. “Besides, I wanna see what this bronc bustin is. Seems like you’re real excited for it.”

“Oh I am, Cowboy. Bronco bustin is a favorite of mine. The wild, young stallions with too much spirit are my favorites,” she winks at him, getting up from the table. “You’ll need a new saddle if you do plan to enter any events,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads for her wagon to finish getting ready.

Dutch helps Scarlet onto her wagon, handing her back the flyer. She watches him silently, studying his expression. He looks up at her, taking hold of her hand.

“You do well to keep my boys in line, ya hear? Don’t let them go makin fools of themselves out there,” he prompts her, watching as she laughs.

“Keep’em in check and show’em how a real hustler works their magic, aye. I’ll do my best, but remember I’m actually in most the events. I wouldn’t worry too much though, I’ve got Arthur and that Silver Fox of yours, Hosea. I think with those two I can handle the rest. The girls shouldn’t be an issue, but I’ll keep an eye on them,” she squeezes his hand reassuringly as they lock eyes. “You have my word, Dutch.”

“Alright. You do well then too. Keep me updated on how things go. We’ll be waiting for your return,” he gives his approval as he lets her go.

Everyone ready?” She turns to the group in the back. Her eyes roam over the small group: John, Abigail, Jack, James, Javier, Tilly, Sean, and Mary-Beth.

“I think so, everyone’s here,” Abigail sends Scarlet a smile, arms secure over both boys’ shoulders. “They’re settled in for the ride.” The others nod their confirmation and Scarlet turns back to Dutch, tipping her hat to him.

“We ready?” Arthur joins her in the front of the wagon, taking the reins.

“Yeah, Daddy Dutch just gave us his blessing,” she winks teasingly at Dutch who crosses his arms.

“Very funny, Miss O’Hara,” Dutch calls as he steps back from the wagon, scoffing at her audacity. Molly gets up from his cot, moving to stand by him just outside his tent.

“You know you love me,” she hums, scooting closer to Arthur on the bench as she removes her revolver from her belt and sets it between their feet on the footrest.

“You be safe, Miss O’Hara,” Molly waves as Arthur cracks the reins. Shasta and Shamrock toss their heads and pull the wagon around the camp, weaving around the other tents and set up.

“Always, Miss O’Shea!” Scarlet hollers back, throwing a hand up in a wave as they head into the trees. She whistles and Fancy and the blood bay follow them from the hitching posts, both saddled up and ready to ride. Arthur slows them as they pass Sadie and Charles, Sadie turning over guard duty.

“Where y’all off too?” She pets Fancy who nickers at her, prancing in place.

“Rodeo is Rhodes. Ever been to one?” Scarlet leans over the side, one hand on Arthur’s leg to keep her tethered to the wagon.

“Acourse I’ve been to a rodeo. Need another rider for anythin?” Sadie asks, shouldering her rifle.

“You any good at Steer Ropin? Javier could use a good partner. I’m not bad but I’m not great either,” the red head admits. Sadie’s eyes light up as she nods.

“Yeah, I reckon I’m as decent as any man,” she claims, brushing the mustang’s mane with her hands.

“Run tell Dutch you’re coming with and hop on the blood bay there,” she invites the blonde, leaning back into the seat. The others whistle for their horses while they wait for Sadie.

The ride to Rhodes is a long one, even with a wagon. Scarlet enlightens everyone on all the activities and events at a rodeo, Sadie and Javier jumping in for clarification or to add something she forgot.

Sadie keeps an eye out for any raiders and makes sure Fancy, Boaz, Smoke, Ennis, and Old Boy are keeping up with the wagon. She keeps them calm and whistles for them if they ever are falling behind, slowing the thoroughbred to make sure they can find their way and to make sure the horses aren’t ambushed and stolen.

Scarlet makes sure she’s always touching Arthur in some way, be it her leg pressed up against his, her hand on his leg, her arm looped through his, or even leaning on him for a nap. He doesn’t mind, allowing it after a questioning glance the first time he noticed she was doing it.

“Here we are. Rhodes. You think they’ll be enough rooms for the lot of us?” Arthur glances at Scarlet then back to the small town.

“Dunno. I can run in an ask real quick. Wait out here,” she orders as she starts climbing down the wagon before he has it stopped. He yells after her, something about waiting for him to stop the horses before jumping off recklessly. She just grins as she lands in Fancy’s saddle. They wait patiently in the wagon until she rides back up, having to pull up hard on Fancy so she almost bucks to a stop.

“So what’d they say?” Arthur leans over the side, hand outstretched for her to take. She grabs his forearm, locking her hand around it as he does the same and pulls her up with a grunt.

“Said they got two rooms. I went ahead an rented one for the boys; Jack and James, and the other for John and Abigail. The rest of us can camp just outside of town here. That is, if that set up works for y’all?” She raises a brow at the group. They share looks as John and Abigail look at each other. She tilts her head to the left and her brows furrow.

“That’s fine, thank you, Scarlet. Jack can stay with us if you want the other room with James,” Abigail speaks up, running her fingers through her son’s hair. James looks up at his mother expectantly.

“You sure?” The red head inquires, motioning for James to move up to the front with her. He does so and sits on the side of her so she’s between him and Arthur.

“Yeah. We are a family after all,” Abigail confirms with a nod of her head. Scarlet nods and turns back to the front, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. She points to the clearing back by one entrance of the small town, instructing Arthur to pull the wagon up there.

They all unload the wagon and pitch the small tents Scarlet pre-purchased, when she went to pick up Shasta, and brought along. Tilly and Mary-Beth take a tent, Sean and Javier take another, Hosea and Arthur in one, and Sadie gets her own.

“What are we gonna do for food?” Mary-Beth questions, clapping her hands together as Javier gets a small fire going.

“Arthur and I can go hunt. He’s not too poor a shot,” John volunteers, playfully jabbing at the older man. Arthur rolls his eyes and grins.

“Maybe we’ll run into your friends, the wolves,” he quips back, walking over to Smoke to retrieve his bow and rifle.

“On second thought-”

“Nope, you already volunteered. Let’s go,” Arthur grabs the back of John’s shirt, preventing him from trying to get out of hunting.

“You ain’t gotta worry bout wolves out this way. Just coyotes. But they’re more scared of you, usually,” Scarlet offers in partial consolation. He deadpans at her and she laughs along with the others. “Just sayin. Maybe you’ll have better luck havin a run-in with them.”

Arthur pulls John along with him until he shrugs him off to grab his own rifle from his horse. They walk through the fields, Arthur looking for tracks, scat, or fur. When they come close to the tree line they stop, several deer grazing along the woods.

“Let’s see if we can get two,” John whispers, pulling his rifle up to look through the scope. “There’s a buck scratching his antlers on a tree, you see him?”

“Yeah I see him,” Arthur sets his scope on the white coated buck John sees. “You wanna take him?”

“Nah, there’s another one a little ways down to the right. I’ll get that one. Just let me know when you’ve got a shot lined up, I don’t wanna be tracking these things all night if it’s not a solid kill,” John huffs and focuses on his buck. “I’ve got a clean shot.”

“Me too.”

Two gunshots sound, almost in sync. Sadie and Scarlet look up, eyes searching the source.

“Abigail, stay here with them. We’ll be right back,” Scarlet says and gets to her feet, Sadie on her heels. They quickly mount up, Sadie on the blood bay and Scarlet on Smoke, and head over to the field where the shots came from. Scarlet laughs as she sees John and Arthur hauling bucks over their shoulders.

“Let’s go help them,” she states, slowing Smoke from his gallop to a walk. He instantly obeys, making a bee line for Arthur when he sees him. “Good boy,” she praises him as he stops a few feet away from Arthur, neighing. He looks up at Scarlet in his saddle and raises a brow before tying the buck onto the back.

“Now where am I supposed to sit?” He chides playfully. Scarlet glances at John and Sadie, who are tying his buck on the back of the other thoroughbred, before slipping her boots from the stirrups and sliding her body almost completely onto the horn of the saddle. Arthur gapes at her a minute before chortling, putting one foot in the stirrups and pulling himself into the saddle. Once he’s settled, Scarlet sits back, sitting half on his lap and half on the saddle.

“See? There’s always room if you know how to double,” she tips her head back to look at him, green eyes bright with mirth. He shakes his head as he smiles at her, taking the reins from her hands.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters. Sadie and John have a similar set up, though Sadie is sitting on the very back of the saddle with the deer behind her.

“Lucky an cute, I ain’t. Charmin an sassy, I am,” she replies and clicks her tongue, Smoke listening to her command.

“Oh, so now my horse listens to you?”

“For the most part. He’s such a good boy. I’m sure he’d do well in barrels or pole bending,” she expresses, leaning forward to rub the dark grey thoroughbred’s neck. “Ain’t that right? Yeah, you’re a good boy,” she cooes to him before straightening herself back in the saddle as best she can without rubbing against Arthur too much. “He was the closest horse to me. I thought you were using bows, not rifles. We wanted to make sure y’all’s a’right.”

“Aww how sweet,” he leans his chest against her back, breathing on her ear as he whispers, “you was worried bout me.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes and pushes back against him. “Acourse I worry. I already told y’all, you’re my boys. Can’t let anything happen to y’all, I’m too emotionally invested. So’s the boy,” she chews her lip and holds onto the horn; she can feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she posts with him, moving in tandem with Smoke’s even strides.

Scarlet helps the two men skin and field dress the deer a bit away from camp before they bring them back to cook. Sadie pulls out oregano and mint from one of the saddlebags and helps Abigail get it cooking. They all chat idly around the fire, the boys playing in the mud.

The small group settles into a content silence as they eat, the two boys settling into the wagon to play with the dominoes, courtesy of Tilly, once they’re done eating. Sadie leans on the wagon, watching and smiling as Scarlet and Arthur sit with their boots knocking against each others.

“Hey, Scarl!”

The Irish-blooded woman looks up from her deer sandwich and tilts her head. Sadie waves her over and she frowns, wiping the bread crumbs from her pants as she stands up. She bends down, whispering something to Arthur who nods, and brings her food over to the wagon.

“You need something?” Scarlet asks the blonde woman, leaning on the wagon beside her, crossing her right ankle over her left. She pops the last bite into her mouth.

“Just wanted to ask about you and Arthur. What’s goin on there? You look like a love struck puppy,” Sadie teases, watching Scarlet cough, slightly choking on the food.

“What makes you say that?!” She starts, graciously taking the offered brandy and downing it. She stares at her friend, wide eyed and a little shocked at the bluntness of her question. “He’s a...he’s a good friend, a gentleman,” she states.

“Uh huh. That why you’ve both been sittin so close to each other an ridin together?” Sadie sasses, smile growing as Scarlet tries to find a comeback, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Look, Sadie, he’s just a friend. Nothin more,” she sighs, playing with the empty brandy bottle in her hand. She tosses it under the wagon and uncrosses her feet, letting her back lean fully on the cart. “I have my son to think about. That’s my main priority.”

Sadie nods, acknowledging Scarlet, but keeps quiet. She knows that she’s pushed a little much but she got what she needed from Scarlet. Sadie pats her shoulder and gestures to where she had been sitting. “Go on, sit and talk. I’ll watch the boys.”

“Thanks, Sadie.”

Hosea looks up as Scarlet leaves to see Sadie. He smiles and turns to Arthur, setting his beer down. “Anythin goin on between you two that I should warn Dutch about? We ain’t gonna be worryin bout any mini Morgans are we, Arthur?” The silver fox asks, nodding to Scarlet when aforementioned cowboy looks up. Arthur nearly drops his beer in shock, spitting some of it out. He stares at Hosea like he’s crazy.

“Old Man, just what you on bout now? Ain’t nothin gon’ on between us. We’re just friends, she’s a decent outlaw of a woman,” he admits, swishing around the beer in his bottle.

“You sure bout t’at, Art’ur? You two seem ta be really close. Like, really, close. Weren’t she just in yer lap when you brought t’at there deer back?” Sean chimes in, tossing his empty bottle to the side and reaching for another.

“Yeah. We work well together, what do you want me to say?” Arthur asks, directing his attention to Hosea, completely dismissing Sean’s second question.

“That you are sweet on her, even if only a little? If you won’t be honest with us, at least be honest about it with yourself,” Abigail scolds, tucked into John’s side by the camp fire. He regards them a moment, nodding to himself.

“I care about her, just like I care about any of you,” he admits, watching as Abigail and Tilly frown at his words. He laughs as they throw blades of grass at him. “Okay, so maybe I like her a little,” he freezes momentarily at the looks the group give him collectively, “okay a lot more than I let on. An yes I am sweet on her, but she don’t want no part of bein with an outlaw..”

“Oh you let on more than you think,” John chuckles.

“Apparently, if you can see it,” Arthur retorts.

“Have you tried actually talkin to her about it, Arthur?” Tilly asks, setting her coffee cup by her feet. The outlaw scratches his neck, shaking his head.

“Bout what? Me likin her? Nah. She’s got James, an I guess his father is still in the picture. No need to involve myself where I might get hurt,” he sighs and leans back. He chugs the rest of his beer and motions for Sean or Hosea to pass him another.

“Why don’t you just ask her an see? I’m sure you’ll be surprised. You don’t see how she isn’t as happy an herself without you around camp. When Dutch asked her to stay and talk to him the other day? When you went into Valentine with Uncle and the girls? She helped us just fine but she didn’t really talk to anyone unless it was necessary. Well, she talked to Sadie an Abigail, and the boys of course. Everyone else she pretty much ignored. Dutch and myself included. Didn’t even bother to instigate with that O’Driscoll boy you brought back to Colter either,” Hosea reveals and hands him another bottle.

“Just...Oh, Arthur, just think about it will you?” Abigail pleads, hugging John’s arm tight as she stares at the older man. Arthur sighs and nods his head, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Alright. I’ll think on it,” he pops the top off his bottle. He reflexively scoots over when Scarlet comes back over, taking up her spot beside him on the log again. Hosea and Tilly give Arthur a look and he rolls his eyes, sending them glares.

“Sadie said she’ll watch the boys for a little. I think I’ll take them to the hotel in a bit to get a bath before bed though, if that’s alright with y’all?” Scarlet nods to Abigail and John, offhandedly asking for permission.

“Oh, a bath sounds nice! Don’t you think, John?” Abigail croons, pressing against his side. He glances up at Scarlet who nods before he looks down at his wife.

“Uhh, yeah, sure. A bath,” John answers, scanning their group for a possible way out. He sighs and gets up, pulling his arm from Abigail’s hold before holding his hand out to her. “Shall we go take a bath, Abigail?”

Scarlet and Sean make eye contact and immediately “Ooooooh,” at the couple as they head away from camp. John turns back and drags his thumb across his neck and points to them before Abigail grabs Jack from the wagon and they disappear into the town. The Irish duo crack up and Sean hands her a whiskey bottle.

“To being free and not tied down!” He cheers and knocks back his drink. Javier, Tilly, and Mary-Beth follow suit, draining their drinks. Scarlet looks at Arthur and Hosea, offering her bottle and motioning to their own drinks in question.

“Y’all are married or were?” She speaks over the crackle of the fire, watching the shadows dance across Hosea’s face. The old man nods and leans forward so his elbows are on his knees.

“Once, a long time ago. My sweet Bessie and I were together for awhile. I stepped away from the gang for a few years, back when it was just Dutch, Arthur, and myself. Arthur, we picked him up when he was bout fourteen, fifteen. I don’t think he remembers her much, or me leaving. But as things always do, I drifted back into it. She knew what I was and how it went, but we somehow made it work. She passed away many years ago. I was drunk for about a year after,” Hosea clears his throat and takes a swig of his drink, eyes downcast. Arthur shoves up from the log and stalks over to the wagon, saying something to Sadie who joins them at the fire. Hosea sighs and pats Scarlet’s knee, motioning to Arthur with his bottle.

“Did I- is he okay?” She looks at Hosea with furrowed brows.

“He’s been through a lot. It’s not something you can just get over,” the silver fox explains. The trio watch as James leans over the side of wagon, tapping Arthur’s arm. The two seem to talk and Arthur strikes a match, lighting a cigarette. Scarlet squeezes Hosea’s hand that’s still on her knee, giving him a small nod of affirmation.

“I’ll talk to him. It’s not good to keep it bottled up...I know better than most,” she mumbles as she makes her way to her wagon.

She quietly climbs into the back with James. “Son, go sit with Mrs. Adler and Mister Hosea. I’m gon’ talk with Arthur a moment.”

“Yes, Ma. Bye, Mr. Morgan, thank you! I can’t wait to get home!” The boy cheers and clambers down from the cart, headed for Sadie. Scarlet takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, climbing to sit sideways on the front, staring at the sunset with Arthur. They’re both silent, Arthur taking slow drags from his cigarette and Scarlet staring at the horizon, deep in thought.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it? I don’t know what I said to upset you, but I’m sorry,” she apologizes, voice soft. She turns her head as he snuffs out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot. He doesn’t answer, just leans on the wagon with his hat tilted down. She picks at her jeans, worn with age and often wear. Arthur turns to her, hand gently resting on hers, stilling her fidgeting.

“It’s a long story, Darlin’. Maybe some other time. And it’s not what you said, it’s what they did,” he finally speaks, voice gruff as though he were on the verge of tears.

She immediately opens her arms as she slides down from the wagon seat. Arthur takes her up on her offer, wrapping his arms around her as she does the same. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent and trying to calm his racing heart. They stay like that, Scarlet wrapped tight in his arms with her hold on him just as tight, her breathing helping slow his as he tries to sync his frantic beating heart with her steady one.

“We have three days, and you know where I sleep,” she comments, chin resting on his sternum as she looks up at him. He pulls back a little to look down at her.

“I know. You’ll be in one of them rooms at the hotel,” he replies, dipping his head a little. “Forgive me fer askin, but what room numbers?”

“Why? Plannin on payin me a midnight visit?” She teases and steps back as he finally lets go of his hold on her. She hesitates in letting go, but her arms eventually slip from around his ribcage.

Scarlet startles awake, glancing around the room as she momentarily forgets her bearings. She sits up as the same sound repeats, a trio of knocks on the door. She grabs her hunting knife from her belt that’s draped over the dresser. Sleepily, she makes her way to the door, trying to stifle a yawn. She unlocks the door and opens it, knife poised in her left hand, hidden behind the door.

“Arthur?” She yawns, relaxing and ushering him inside. He ducks his head in embarrassment as he steps into the room, minding to be quiet when he sees James asleep on the bed.

“I uhh, I was wonderin if you wanted to talk?” He asked shyly, taking a hesitant seat on the bed when she gestures to it, slipping her knife back in its holster.

“Come, come. Lay with us an we’ll talk,” she offers, climbing back into the bed, scooting close to James, leaving enough room for Arthur to lie down to her left. He goes to protest but her sleepy glare has him taking his boots and jacket off.

“You said it’s not good to hold these things in so I figured that I’d tell you,” he starts, slowly crawling up the bed, lying on his side to face her. She pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking it under her left arm as she faces him.

“It’s not, and I’m not pushin you, Arthur. If you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have too. I’ll sit here with you in silence if ya want. No promises I won’t fall asleep on you though,” she yawns again as she curls her legs up. He nods and relaxes back against the wall, holding his arm up for her to scoot in and cuddle.

“Like I said, it’s a long story. Might as well be comfortable,” he informs her when she gives him a puzzled look. She laughs lightly and nods, moving closer to him, resting her head on his chest, left arm resting on his shoulder. He pulls her left leg over his waist, fixing the blanket after he does so, letting his hands rest on her lower back and on her left calf, holding her leg in place over him.

“Take your time,” she encourages, moving her left hand to cradle his head, scratching at his scalp with her nails. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to figure out where to start his story.

“Like Hosea said, he and Dutch ran into me when I was young. I was a delinquent, rough and wild as they come. They took me in and taught me what they knew, even taught me to read. I’ve been with them for nearly twenty years, maybe more. But I had a girl once, we weren’t married but I did get her pregnant. A nice waitress I met, Eliza. She gave me a little boy, Isaac. I told her I couldn’t promise her a good life, she seemed to understand. I’d send money and every few months I’d stop in for a few days to see them, spend some time with them, yanno?” He lets out a shaky breath. Scarlet nods against him, her hand in his hair slowly tracing patterns on his scalp to try and calm him.

“If it’s too much, you ain’t gotta talk ‘bout it,” she whispers, tilting her head to look up at him. He looks down at her, green eyes filled with concern for him. He shakes his head and squeezes her calf.

“One day when I rode up, I saw two crosses outside the house, one smaller than the other. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were robbed. All for ten dollars,” his tone is laced with venom as he spits out the last sentence, face scrunching in anger momentarily. Scarlet stays silent as she tries to think of what to say. She knows loosing someone you love, or even just care for deeply, isn’t easy. She tells him as much.

“Look, we can’t keep living in the past, wishin things were different. They’re over an it’s not like we can change them, no matter how bad we wanna. I know. I’ve tried. Ran myself into the ground for years while riddled with guilt that wasn’t mine to bear,” she soothes, her right arm curling about his own under her. “Be sad an mourn them, yes, but don’t allow that to cloud yer judgement an prevent you from doin things. Especially if it’s somethin ya really wanna do.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to be quiet, letting her perspective sink in. He nods and rubs up and down her calf soothingly, meeting her eyes once again. She’s smiling and he can’t help but smile too as they stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments.

“I guess you’re right. Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. Just stormin off like that; it wasn’t fair to you. It’s not your fault they brought it up. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine me even having the chance to have that again,” his voice cracks as he holds her a little tighter, a little closer to him. She pauses scratching his scalp and sighs, nuzzling against his chest.

“To have that closeness with someone again? Yeah, me too,” she softly admits between yawns. Arthur moves his hand from her hip to her head, holding it against his chest as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. She lets her eyes flutter close as he gently starts to rub her back.

Scarlet doesn’t remember falling asleep, or waking up at four in the morning either. So the surprise of waking up in Arthur’s warm embrace shocks her a little. She’s up before James, which is another surprise to her; she immediately turns over and gently shakes Arthur, whispering softly to him to prevent startling him.

“Come on, Arthur, get up,” she croons, gently shaking his shoulder. He turns his head and grumbles under his breath in his sleep, arm moving to wrap her up. His eyes flutter open as something blocks his arm from his cuddle buddy.

“What the?” His voice is rough, riddled thick with sleep. Scarlet subconsciously licks her lips as she hears it, eyes darting to his lips before back to his face. She huffs out a quiet laugh at his slightly confused expression.

“Mornin, Cowboy. I think it’s best you go get ready for the day, James’ll be up soon and then we won’t hear the end of how you were ‘sharin a bed with Ma at the rodeo’,” she muses in delight, hand tracing lightly over his chest. She’s made no effort to even dislodge herself from his hold, despite her claim for him to get up.

It’s about ten minutes of them idly talking before Arthur finally slips from the bed and pulls his boots back on, telling her that he was going to check on the others. He’s closing the door as quiet as he can, trying not to wake James, when a gasp behind him startles him.

“Arthur Morgan!” Abigail scolds lightly, quietly; eyes wide as she glances down at Jack. Arthur’s gaze meets hers and he half shrugs at her.

“What?”

“I know I did not just see you coming out of Scarlet’s room,” she grits out as she stares at him hard, eyes cutting through him. “Not with James in there.”

“Jesus, Abigail! No. I came by to talk to her, ‘at’s all. I, the others...Last night a few of them drank to “being free and not tied down”,” he explains as he shuffles awkwardly under Abigail’s scrutinizing gaze. She nods and opens the bedroom door for Jack to go back in to wake up John.

“It brought up Eliza and Isaac, didn’t it?” She lowers her voice, tone softening greatly. Arthur nods and brings his hat to his head, adjusting it to his liking.

“Yeah. Yeah it did. I told her. I told her about them, about it all,” he voice is barely a whisper, gruff, the start of almost tears evident. Abigail nods and moves to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I’m proud of you. I know that’s not easy to talk about. Just stay honest with her. Did she say anything about James’ father and his role?” She changes the melancholy subject, stepping back a couple steps.

“No. We just talked a bit bout Eliza an Isaac. She didn’t bring him up,” he replies softly, eyes warm as he meets Abigail’s. “I’ll ask her later, she’s getting ready. I’m gon’ make sure everyone else is up and ready for the day.”

John steps out of the room, pulling his coat on. “Let’s go then.”

By the time John and Arthur make it back to the tents, everyone is up and they all share glances before smirking at them. Arthur groans and points at Hosea.

“Not one word. I was talking with Scarlet and Abigail,” he states before anyone can ask him anything. They shrug and make room for him around the fire, passing the coffee pot around.

Scarlet, Abigail, and the boys join the rest of them not too long after, both boys running towards Hosea. They show him their books and sit on either side of him as he offers to sit and read with them. Scarlet’s heart melts at the sight, wishing James’ father was willing to be as accepting as this gang. She’s done her fair amount of research on Dutch and his gang. As far as she was concerned, they were nothing like what the papers and people were saying. She trusts them with her life.

“What’s the plan for today?” Javier asks as he passes Scarlet the pot for coffee. She thanks him and pours herself a cup before taking up the only available seat, beside Arthur.

“Mm they should have everything set up by tonight. Which means they might start the events tonight or tomorrow. Regardless, I figured we could go take a look at the bulls and broncos they have for the events. If I remember correctly the townsfolk said that they were bringin in bout five different broncs and at least three different bulls,” she replies and looks around at the people she’s slowly started calling her family. She smiles, her eyes lingering on Hosea with the boys, their laughter drifting over to her.

“Have you signed up yet?” Sadie sits down at Scarlet’s feet, leaning back on her legs. Scarlet looks down at her and shakes her head.

“No, not yet. They won’t let us sign up this early, and from my experience I have to have a man with me vouchin that he’s my guardian or partner and he expresses his permission for me to participate,” she rolls her eyes and cradles her coffee mug in front of her face, blowing on the steaming liquid.

“What?” Scarlet turns to Arthur, John, and Javier at their outburst; they’re all looking at her in disbelief.

“You didn’t tell us that,” Arthur raises a brow as he sets his now empty coffee on the ground. “Why?”

“Didn’t think it necessary. If y’all wouldn’t’ve come with me I’d’ve just done what I always do. Pinned my hair up and pretended I was my brother,” she smirks, shrugging at him. “No need to bug anyone if y’all woulda had better things to do.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, if you’d ask I bet any of the men at camp would have gone with you even if Dutch had told you no,” Abigail laughs. The men all look at each other then away, rubbing their necks at being called out. The females giggle at them and Scarlet nudges Arthur’s knee.

“I know at least two would, the others I’m not sure about,” she teases back, stealing a glance at Arthur who quickly looks away when their eyes meet. He clears his throat and claps his hands on his knees.

“Well, are we going to go see how far they’re set up?” He suggests as he pushes up from the log, holding a hand to Scarlet. He pulls her up and the rest of them follow suit, Jack and James jumping up when they see everyone else heading towards them.

Scarlet leaves them a little bit after they’ve checked out the last pen, excusing herself by stating she needed to get dressed for the event. James gives her a hug before she goes, telling her to wear his favorite of her outfits; she smiles and agrees, giving the others a wink as she heads back to the hotel.

By dusk, everyone is ready to watch Scarlet compete. They are cheering her name as the announcer calls out all the competitors, hers being the last one since she was the last to sign up for each event. In the end, Hosea had been the one who went with her to register, saying she was his daughter to compete for him since he was too old.

Arthur has James on his shoulders, Jack on John’s, as they make their way over to the fence, letting the boys sit on the top post. Abigail and the other women head off to try their luck at pick-pocketing people, not too interested in the competition until it’s Scarlet’s turn. Hosea leaves the two men with the boys, going to place bets on Scarlet for the bronc and bull riding, with the money she gave him to do so.

James whoops and throws his hands up as Scarlet rides out on Shasta, the stallion bucking a little with the other competitors. Jack cheers and claps along with Arthur and John. They competitors ride around the pen, waving to everyone before being huddled in a circle.

She’s dressed in a black, long sleeve top with red fringe down the arms and along the sides and on the front, across her chest with matching black chaps, also with red fringe down the outside seam of the legs. She’s wearing the hat Arthur bought for her too, black boots with silver spurs completing her look. Arthur stares.

“Alright! Is everyone ready?” The rodeo announcer yells loud enough to silence the crowd. They all move closer to listen. “We’re gonna be startin off with the Broncs! Saddled then unsaddled! Then bull ridin followed by steer ropin! We have our bronc riders here, so give them all a warm welcome!” He cheers and runs from the small platform he’s on to discuss rules and terms with the bronc riders.

Afterwards, the group of eight, Scarlet included, turn their horses and trot out of the pen. Scarlet walks Shasta over to her group and slides from the saddle, hitching him to a nearby tree. She braces herself as James and Jack barrel into her. She laughs as they hug her legs and James mumbles something about not ever saying ‘I love you’ enough. She silences him with a hug and kiss to his temple. She ushers them back over to the fence and joins them on the top post, Arthur leaning on it and towards her as they wait her turn.

“Oh! There goes O’Malley, at five seconds in! Not long enough to make the cut, unfortunately!” Arthur tunes out the announcer and clears his throat, nudging Scarlet’s thigh with his shoulder.

“Nice getup,” he comments, side-eyeing her. She tips her hat back and looks down at him, hands resting firmly on the post to steady herself.

“Thanks. It was my mother’s; back when she used to race Fancy. Red and black are our lucky colors,” she replies, turning back to the ring to watch the next competitor. He’s thrown, right out of the gate, and they laugh.

“When are you up?” Arthur asks, hand playing with some of her fringe. She glances at him, her dark wash jeans peeking through the sides of the chaps.

“I’ll be last since I was the last to sign up. I’ll need to go to the other side after the next couple of guys get tossed though,” she explains, pointing out the small area where they rodeo hands where locking the horse back in. “They’re doing unsaddled first, which is good and bad. Good that it’s out of the way, bad because they’ll know they’ll have somethin to hold on to other than just the riggin.”

“Which is easier for you?”

“Unsaddled or saddled? They’re both pretty easy if you know what you’re doin. Breaking horses is easy, you saw my skill when we broke those thoroughbreds,” she smiles and pushes against his arm with her leg. “Just watch, relax, an enjoy yourself here. Hosea go make bets?”

“Yeah, I think he said he was going to place some on you,” John answers, helping Jack off the fence. “We’ll be back, Jack’s gotta piss.” Scarlet waves at them, fringe dancing as her arm moves, turning back to Arthur and James.

“James, wanna go see the bull I’ll be riding later?” She asks, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. He eagerly nods up at her and grins, eyes bright.

“Can I?”

“Sure. We’ll go once I’m done with these two events, alright?” She kisses his forehead and hops off the fence. “I reckon I best get over there before I get called out.” She starts to head back to the other side of the fence. She doesn’t get far.

“Wait, Scarlet!” Arthur grabs her hand and tugs her back into his chest. He grins sheepishly down at her and pulls out a red neckerchief that coincidentally matches her outfit. He ties it around her neck and nods. “For good luck,” he prompts. Her fingers brush over the soft fabric and she smiles up at him.

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll keep it as a reminder that we, together as one, broke six horses in a matter of twelve hours,” she chuckles as she starts walking backwards, her spurs jingling with each step. Arthur watches her as she spins on her heel and gets ushered to the other side of the corral by some rodeo hands.

“Ma likes you, ya know, Mister? I haven’t seen her smile like that in a few years,” James hums as he glances at Arthur.

“Yeah? You think?”

“I know. I overheard her one day, talkin to Papa Dennis, sayin she didn’t want to bring any new guys ‘round me,” he lowers his voice as the next rider climbs over the small fence to get on the horse. “She’s gets sad when I go stay with Pa; I see it in her eyes. They fought once; I remember it scared me. I hid under the table with Frank, my Pa’s dog. Pa said somethin bout me livin with him an Ma said no, that if he wanted that he would grow a pair an stop listenin to his family an what they say bout her; come live with us if he really wanted that. Pa left that night, I don’t know where. He made Ma cry before he left though. I found her in her bedroom, cryin on the floor. I don’t know what Pa did, but it made Momma cry. You’re not gon make Ma cry, are ya?” He looks up at Arthur, same green eyes as Scarlet’s staring back at him. The man sighs and clears his throat, patting James on the back.

“Son, I don’t wanna make your momma cry. That’s the last thing I wanna do,” he assures the boy. He lifts James back onto his shoulders when the boy asks, holding his knees. “You see your Ma?”

“Yeah! She’s climbin the gate now! Look!” James squeals in excitement, tapping Arthur’s hat lightly and pointing across the pen to where Scarlet was slinging herself over the top post, her red fringe and neckerchief standing out in the moonlight. She scans the crowd on the other side of the corral and smiles as she meets her son’s green eyes staring back at her. She lets her gaze travel lower to lock eyes with Arthur, his face scrunched in slight disdain before he notices she’s staring at him. He grins then, waving with one hand.

James holds one of his hands up, signaling his mother to do the same. She grips the rigging tight in her left hand and throws her right hand up just as they open the small gate. The bronco jumps out of the gate, agitated and bucking high. Scarlet grips tight to the rigging, shifting her weight with the stallion. He rears before starting to run, then quickly turning in small circles in hopes of throwing her off. Scarlet laughs and coos to the horse as he continues to thrash.

“Eight! Ten! Twelve!”

Scarlet looses her grip on the rigging and gets bucked onto the bronco’s neck. She curses as he immediately rears and she hits the ground. She jumps up and runs over to one of the two men on horses and he pulls her up, bringing her over to the far side of the pen, letting her climb onto the fence and out of harm’s way. She nods to him and walks over to her group. “That’s seventeen seconds folks! Miss O’Hara takes the unsaddled bronco event!”

“Are you alright?”

“That looked like it hurt!”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Momma! You did great!”

“You’re not hurt are you?”

Scarlet motions at them to calm down, rolling her shoulders and neck. James taps on Arthur’s shoulders, signaling he wants to be put down. He obliges and the boy runs to Scarlet; she kneels down and catches him in a hug that has her stumbling back a bit. Their laughter sparks happiness in the rest and they relax, joining in the affair.

“I’m alright. I’ve been bucked harder. Still don’t think there’s anythin worse than bein treed or fenced though,” she scoffs, letting James go.

“Treed? Fenced?” Hosea asks, warm smile on his face. “What’s that?”

“Oh uh, basically where the horse can’t get you off by bucking so their dumbass runs into a tree or fence; headfirst, skids and slides you into it, or anythin like that,” she explains and brushes the dirt off her outfit.

“Sounds painful,” Arthur muses. She nods and tips her head up at him.

“Well, congratulations. I just won the bet on you for this. I said you would at least stay on for ten seconds,” Hosea smugly states, patting his chest where he has the money hidden. Scarlet chuckles and shakes her head, nodding to the pen.

“You’re welcome? I didn’t expect them to use the same horse for all eight of us. Normally they let us see which horses are in the line ups and change from each rider or after a coupe.” James tugs on her sleeve, looking between her and Arthur.

“Momma you said we could go see the bulls!” He reminds, bouncing in his boots. Her nose scrunches in thought for a moment before she clicks her tongue.

“You’re right, I did. Come on, we can stop by the barn and check on Fancy and Shamrock,” she suggests and leads the small herd of people through the crowd that’s slowly gathering, people calling out congratulations and some throwing slurs. She brushes them off.

Scarlet takes a deep breath before she climbs up the fence to get on the saddled bronco, a mare this time she notes. She exhales and slings herself over the railing and into the saddle in one quick movement, gripping the heavy, lead lead she’s passed.

Her heartbeat is in her ears, the sound of the crowd -some cheering and booing- slowly fades as her heartbeat slows with time. The gate opens and she hangs tight to the lead, moving and adjusting quickly in the saddle. Her eyes focus on mare’s ears, pinned back as she grunts and snorts below her.

Everything rushes back to her as the mare rears and yanks her head back, nearly smacking Scarlet in the face. Luckily she snatches the reins to the left and quickly adjusts her position in the saddle. The mare spins quickly, attempting to bite at Scarlet’s foot, though she just pulls them back.

The mare finally charges the fence, slamming her side into it. Scarlet lets out a whimper as pain shoots through her right foot as the mare leaps to the left, away from the fence. Scarlet’s pulled from the saddle, her foot caught in the busted fence post. She can hear the announcer saying her time, but it’s fuzzy and she doesn’t catch how long she was actually on for. One of the men on horses’s pulls up beside her, leaning over to help lift her up. She holds herself on the back of the saddle as the man and a few audience members lift the post. She lets out her breath, not realizing she’s holding it, and slips from the horse, laughing as she’s helped through the fencing to Arthur and John.

“Christ, you okay? Sit down,” Arthur barks, forcing her to sit on the ground as he lifts her right leg, gently poking and prodding. She raises a brow at him and laughs, grabbing his hand. She moves it to her thigh where she can already feel a bruise forming.

“My foot is fine, my boot was just caught in the angle. It’s my upper thigh here she caught on the actual post. Fuckin mare, fenced me,” she swears, breaking out into a giggle fit as she leans back, lying on the ground. Hosea walks over and drops her hat on her chest, shaking his head.

“Twenty two seconds, you fool. You could have been severely hurt, why didn’t you get off before she ran you into the post?” He scolds, fear and concern heavy in his tone. Scarlet pushes up to rest back on her elbows, looking up at him.

“Didn’t know she was gon’ fence me. My adrenaline was up and I lost touch with reality,” she admits with a shrug. Arthur helps her to her feet and walks with her back to the gang, John and Hosea trailing behind. She can barely make out John telling Hosea that he couldn’t be too mad because she won yet another round.

Sean’s somehow manages to convince almost everyone to drink with him. Scarlet refuses, saying she needs to be fully focused on staying on the bucking bull since they’re unpredictable. Abigail declines and reminds him she has a son to watch, which in turn makes Arthur refuse as well, motioning to James. Hosea suggests he hold onto the money and things they rest of them have pick-pocketed before they get drunk. They readily agree. Sadie and Javier agree to one drink, reminding them of their steer roping event.

Arthur stops Scarlet before she can begin to climb the gate to get on the bull. She turns in his arms as she holds up a hand to signal she needs a moment, thinking something was wrong with James. He leans down, hands resting on her hips, and brushes his lips against her ear, whispering softly. “Good luck and please be safe. This one looks awful mean.” His warm breath fans down her neck and she shivers, hands subconsciously moving to rest on his forearms.

“Yeah, a’course. Always,” she smiles brightly at him, pulling away when the hands tell her she can either get on the bull or forfeit. She pauses as she’s straddling the top rail, sending a wink to Arthur before dropping down onto the dark bull. Arthur can hear the snorts and heavy hooves beating the ground as the bull tosses its head, its horns waving wildly.

Before he can yell at her to not to go through with this, he sees the gate open one last time. The bull jumps straight up before trying to use his horns to knock her off. She looks like she’s struggling and falls to the side of the bull. She yelps in surprise and yanks herself back up, enraging the bull. He bucks and whips his body to the right, throwing her over his left shoulder. She grunts as she hits the semi-packed dirt.

The bull bellows angrily at her and stamps the ground, kicking dirt up under his stomach and tossing it to the side. She rolls to her feet, snatching her hat, and makes a beeline for the fence as the bull charges. Three men in bright, silly looking outfits yell and distract the bull just long enough for Scarlet to slip out through the fence rails, rolling onto her back at Arthur’s feet.

Her chest heaves as she tries to calm her racing heart and even her breathing, her lungs trying to recover from the spasm of being thrown so hard. Arthur kneels over her, back of his hand running along her cheek gently.

“You good?” He inquires and scoops her up in his arms. She nods, her breathing slowly evening out. He sets her on her feet as they approach their friends. They have their bedrolls, Scarlet presumes from their tents, and are sprawled all out on them; the only sober ones being Abigail, John, Javier, Sadie, and Hosea. She giggles and takes an opened bottle John offers her, chugging the last bit and tossing the bottle to the side. Jack and James are curled up together in the middle of the group, both fast asleep.

“That’s the last event for me of the night. Tomorrow will be the others. If y’all don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go get a bath and go to bed. Hosea, did you get my time for this one?”

“Eleven seconds,” the silver fox replies, nodding to her. “You placed third this go round. I still won some money from betting. Some people were counting you out, I told them you’d be in at least the top three,” he preens as she congratulates him on being able to press his luck on her skill.

“That’s fine, I’ve won two. The barrels will be another victory, pole bendin maybe. I haven’t worked Shasta on it in awhile, but he’s really raring to go, or he was when he saw them earlier,” she comments, leaning on Arthur as she yawns. “But I think it’s bed time. Make sure they all make it back to their tents, could ya? They might get looted just laying about out here like that,” she gestures to the slumped group of people, all in one big cuddle pile.

Arthur lets her go as he picks up James for her, despite her protests. John grabs Jack and they all head back to the hotel, Hosea staying behind to wake the others and have them move to their temporary camp.

The duo couples say goodnight to each other and Arthur helps Scarlet get James into bed. She watches as he tucks her son in, something in her stomach fluttering. She clears her throat as he walks up to her, resting his forehead on hers. She watches his face, his expression.

“Stay?” She breathes as his hand comes up to cradle her cheek in his warm palm. She grips the front of his shirt and pleads, the need to be comforted a little too much for her at the moment. Arthur opens his eyes to stare at her, nodding and gesturing to the wardrobe against the wall. Scarlet releases his shirt, going to change from her rodeo clothes and into a soft, cotton night gown. She climbs into the bed by James as Arthur takes off his gun belt, bandolier, boots, and hat, back still turned to her from when she was changing, before joining her. He sits against the headboard, rubbing her back as she cradles the pillow under her head.

When Arthur believes Scarlet is fully asleep, he slips from the bed, pulling his boots and gear back on. He glances back at them, Scarlet rolling over to face where he just was lying. He smiles when she pulls the pillow close to her as she settles back down, closing the door quietly behind him. John’s leaning on the wall in the hall, lighting a cigarette; he offers Arthur one. They step outside and glance towards the group camp, each taking slow drags, neither speaking.

Arthur snuffs our his cigarette when it’s short and nods to John who glances back at the hotel. He heads to the camp while Marston makes his way back inside to his and Abigail’s room. Arthur crouches and flops down on his bedroll, letting out a low groan. Hosea turns to face him, sitting up slightly.

“You’re not stayin the night again?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a real question in his words, watching the man he considers a son. Arthur shakes his head and undoes his gun belt and removes it and his bandolier again, setting them off to the side. He lies on his back and rests his hat over his eyes, a sign he doesn’t want to talk about it. Hosea respects his choice and lies back down as well. “Goodnight, Son.”

“Night, Hosea,” he mumbles from under his hat. He rests his hands on his chest, fingers laced together as he crosses his right ankle over his left.

Scarlet sends James into Arthur’s tent, talking softly with Hosea. They watch as the boy attempts to sneak into the tent, successfully tossing the gun belt and bandolier out of it and also out of Arthur’s reach. They hear Arthur yell as James presumably jumps on the poor, unsuspecting man. Scarlet laughs as her son walks out of the tent triumphantly, Arthur’s hat on his head. It’s too big and falls into his eyes but he merely upturns his face and beams at his mother.

“I got it, Ma! He missed when he tried to get it back. He tripped on the bedrolls,” the boy laughs, running behind Scarlet as Arthur emerges from the tent. Hosea smiles and pats Scarlet’s shoulder as he goes to get coffee.

“Mornin, Arthur,” she greets as he gets closer, she’s dressed in her rodeo gear again. She’s even got the neckerchief around her neck. His lips quirk up at that.

“Was that your idea or his? Sending your spawn to wake me?” His question is playful, sending a faux glare to James who only laughs louder and hides completely behind Scarlet.

“Both? Mine was to steal your hat, the waking you up was just a bonus,” she smiles at him, hand going behind her to rest on James’ shoulder, pulling him to her side and out from behind her.

“Well, he’s lucky I like him, his Momma too,” he teases, winking at the boy. James puts a hand on the top of the hat as Arthur lunges for him. Scarlet sidesteps as the man wraps his arm around her son and tickles him. She watches in amusement as James’ squealing laughter resounds around their small camp, making everyone stop and turn to them. Jack runs over and pulls on Arthur’s arm.

“No, no, stop tickling James, Uncle Arthur!” The younger boy cries, tugging harder on his arm. Arthur stops his assault on James and picks Jack up with his other arm, tickling him instead. James tries to catch his breath as Jack takes his place. “Not me! Uncle Arthur!” Jack squeals, laughter falling from him in waves. Arthur cedes his actions and sets the boy down, crouching and ruffling Jack’s hair before the boy runs over to Abigail, smiling.

The mothers share a look and Scarlet turns to James, nodding her head to Arthur. James takes the hat from his head and holds it out to the man. “He’s so good with children,” she comments. Abigail nods, eyes shifting from Scarlet to Arthur, smiling.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Here’s your hat back, Sir,” James says as Arthur straightens from his crouch. He takes his hat and smiles down at him, patting his shoulder with his free hand. He puts his hat back on and walks with James back to the rest of the group.

“We’re down to the last two events of the rodeo! First up we have pole bending! In this event, a horse and rider must run the length of the six posted poles, weavin between them, turn sharply around, run the length back weavin back through them,” the announcer calls as a non participant demonstrates how it’s supposed to be done correctly, though not as quickly as it’s to be done..

Scarlet is in the barn, triple checking Shasta’s saddle is tight enough so it, nor she will fall or slip off. The Buckskin nickers at her, bobbing his head in anticipation. She ties the excess strip of leather through the ring on the saddle and makes sure it’s tight. He paws the stall door as she turns and reaches into her side bag. She pulls out a carrot and Shasta’s ears prick forward, snorting at her as he sniffs at it.

“Ready, Shasta boy? I know I ain’t ridden you in awhile but let’s see if we can’t beat our time of eighteen seconds!” She encourages the large animal. He nibbles the end of the carrot and she rolls it so he can have the whole thing, palm flat as he takes it from her hand. “Good boy. Let’s go,” she takes his reins in hand and leads him out the stall and out to the corral with an opening.

“Y’all ready?” Arthur calls as Scarlet steers Shasta over to them. She nods and pats Shasta’s neck, clicking her tongue. He tosses his head and rears as she jumps into the saddle.

“Yep. This is a timed event but it’s more for how fast you can be, not how long you can stay on like the other three,” she explains as Shasta drops back down to all fours, pawing the ground restlessly. She shushes him and makes sure the knot in her reins are tight before resting it on the horn.

“Good luck, we’re cheerin fer ya, Lass!” Sean calls with a wave, headed over to the fence to watch. Jack, James, Arthur, and Abigail stay with her for a moment.

“Be safe, don’t scare us no more like yesterday!” Abigail scolds lightly, joking underlining her tone. Scarlet just tips her hat with a grin.

“No promises,” she replies and clicks her tongue, urging Shasta towards the opening where the other riders are waiting on their horses. James and Arthur follow beside her. “Happy birthday, James,” She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek before sitting back up, gripping Arthur’s forearm before letting go as Shasta starts prancing in place. “Okay, Boy! Easy,” she soothes and spins him a few times before he trots closer to the group of five other riders.

They share stories of previous rodeos, their horses, and how for a couple of them, it’s their first time participating in this event. The other veteran riders try to give tips and tricks to get a faster time, Scarlet listens but doesn’t comment. She knows exactly how she and Shasta need to run this to get a good time. It helps that he’s got excess energy he needs to burn off.

Before Scarlet knows it, she’s the last one up. She walks Shasta to the opening, hesitating a moment. Her body language shifts and Shasta pins his ears forward, letting out a loud whinny as he rears. When he pulls his front feet down, he shoots with the power from his hind legs, jumping from the rear to propel himself forward. She holds his reins tight, restricting his head movements. “Faster, Boy! Faster! There ya go! Wait until we turn!” She cheers him on, timing her turn just right. Shasta spins on his front hooves, quickly spinning and weaving back through the six poles. Scarlet lets him have his head, the reins slack. He kicks up sand as he crosses the opening again, tossing his head with a neigh.

“Sixteen seconds!” The announcer shouts in disbelief, double taking at his platinum pocket watch. Shasta holds his tail and head high, snorting as he passes by the rest. Scarlet pats his neck, rubbing him down.

“That’s my boy!” She praises, letting him celebrate with the light trotting he’s doing. She laughs at his personality, shaking her head good-naturedly. “I gotta go get Fancy saddled, Shas. Let’s go.” The stallion prances his way back to the barn, heading straight for Fancy’s stall. The mare gets to her feet. She nickers and takes in the prancing Shasta, tail flicking around.

Scarlet slides off the Bucksin and ties his reins to the post by Fancy’s stall, quickly undoing the buckle and pulling off his saddle, setting it on his stall door. Fancy straightens her head when she sees the old brown saddle Scarlet reaches for on the hitching post.

“Ready for some barrels, Fancy?” She inquires, unbolting the stall. Fancy pushes it open and walks out, turning so her left side is facing Scarlet, watching her rider intently. Scarlet laughs and grabs her halter, pulling her head down to give her a kiss on her nose. “You’re more than ready, ain’tcha?” She lays a black and silver blanket down on her back before hefting the saddle over the mare’s back. Fancy stands patiently as she gets saddled, nipping lightly at Scarlet’s arm when the saddle is a little tight. Scarlet immediately loosens it and adjusts her stirrups up a little more.

She grabs the matching bit set and slips it over her ears and into her mouth, over her tongue without issue. “Let’s go girl,” she coos and walks the mare out to the group who have packed up their camp and are waiting with the wagon by an empty spot off to the side of the corral, Smoke and Shamrock harnessed in it.

Hosea approaches her on Silver Dollar, informing her that they’re ready to leave when she’s done with the event and collects her winnings from the previous day’s events and if she has any after the barrels. She agrees and climbs into the saddle, having to immediately hold back on the reins when Fancy tries to dart into the corral. She apologizes to Hosea and watches as the second rider runs into the corral and starts around the barrels. They’ve all gone to the left side first, she notes.

She’s waiting with Fancy at the opening when the fifth rider runs out, cheering his Thoroughbred. Scarlet pets Fancy’s neck and murmurs encouragement, giving out all the slack on the reins for Fancy.

The mustang darts up the middle and cuts to the right barrel first, whipping herself around it so close that Scarlet’s knee knocks into it. Just as soon as she’s there, she’s crossing to the left barrel, cutting diagonal slightly to round the farther side and turn left. She’s as close as on the first barrel, Scarlet cursing as she feels her knee make contact again, though the barrel doesn’t move. Fancy dashes back to the center and up to the farthest barrel, cutting around it from the right to the left, spinning her weight on her front hooves, shoving off and booking it back out the corral, snorting.

“Folks! That concludes the Rhodes rodeo! Please standby for a few moments while we tally the times here for the barrels, as well as the overall score from yesterday and today! Feel free to look around at the broncos and bulls we brought and talk with the participants,” the announcer states, the man leaving his post to go meet with the timers.

“Yes! Who is my good girl? You are, Fancy!” Scarlet cheers and drops from the saddle, leaving the reins on her neck as she grabs her horse’s halter. Fancy tosses her head as best she can without yanking away from her rider then nuzzles her face into Scarlet’s chest, nickering in delight. She leads the mare to her wagon, tying her to the back and thanking her friends as they congratulate her on her time as well as giving praise to Fancy, their excitement warming her heart.

“You didn’t knock over any barrels! It looked like you almost hit them,” Javier states, helping her into the back of the wagon to join the party. She leans against the side, one leg hanging off the back as she sits up.

“Oh my knee knocked them, no doubt. But the closer you get, the faster you can turn. It also helps that Fancy knows how to throw her weight to her front legs and whip her rear around. I’ve found that makes us turn a lot easier and a lot faster,” she replies, ruffling said mare’s mane. She snorts and turns to look at Shasta, who Arthur’s leading over. His saddle just resting on his back, not tied. “Well look at you, Cowboy. Didn’t think he liked anyone else save for James. How’d you manage to untie him without him bitin you?”

“A couple of the other riders were in the barn. I heard them sayin somethin about your horse and I found them plannin to make off with him. Or try to anyway. He didn’t like them more than he doesn’t like me I reckon. Ain’t that right, Shasta?” The stallion tosses his head and nudges Arthur, a silent request for him to walk closer so he can stand by Fancy. Arthur obliges the horse and ties him next to Fancy, climbing onto the other side of the wagon, mirroring Scarlet’s seated position. “Apparently they were mad you won the bronc events. By the sound of it you have the last two in the bag too.”

“Here’s to hopin then. My poor boy, those mean people wanted to steal you?” She croons to her stallion. He nickers and rests his head on her leg, nibbling at the boot of her bent foot. She giggles and brushes a hand down the piece of mane on his forehead, scratching behind his ears with her other hand. “Wanna go see with me?”

Arthur nods and slips off the wagon, holding a hand to help her down. She clicks her tongue twice and Shasta takes a few steps back, pulling his head from her lap. James crawls over Sean and Javier, much to their dismay, and jumps down, grabbing his mom’s hand.

“I wanna come too! Where we going?” He looks up between the adults, smile wide and eyes bright. Scarlet nods, happily agreeing, happy her son wants to go with her. Arthur sweeps his arm in front of him, smiling at James.

“After you,” he states, falling into step with the mother and son. They walk back to the corral, joining the small crowd that’s gathering around the far end where the announcer and timers are.

“Alright, is everyone here? Can everyone hear me?” There’s screaming and yelling from all around before it goes quiet, not even the crickets being heard. “Alright! For the fastest pole bendin and barrel racer, we have Scarlet O’Hara!” The announcement causes cheers to break out among the women and some men, the rest grumble or flat out boo the result. “Alright, alright! That’s enough. The winner for overall best time for all events is...Scarlet as well! Mrs. O’Hara, please come up here!” Scarlet and Arthur glance at each other at the mention of ‘Mrs’ but she shrugs it off and makes her way up to the front, James trailing behind, still holding her hand. Arthur hangs back a little before following and standing near the front, deciding it’d be best to be close if something breaks out.

“Is there anything you’d like to say? How did you stay on the broncs so long? How’s that mare of yours so fast?” The announcer floods her with questions, the crowd yelling they want to know as well. She smiles and shrugs, gently pulling James close to her.

“My mare, Fancy was my Ma’s horse. My Ma used to barrel race her too, so she knows how to race. The broncs were easy, it’s just like breaking a horse; a very angry an agitated horse. If you’re new to rodeos, you want to try your hand at breakin a couple horses, be they young ones you raise or wild ones you catch. Time yourself,” she suggests as she accepts the money stacks from the announcer, thanking him. “Thank you, Rhodes! It’s been fun,” she concludes and steps away with James. Arthur’s at her side in a heartbeat, hand on her elbow as he leans in.

“They’re watchin us. Let’s leave on the horses so they don’t follow the wagon back. We’ll put James on the wagon,” he whispers to her, draping his arm over her so to the onlookers it looks like he was praising her. She nods and puts James in front of them, telling him he’s going to ride back with Uncle John, Aunt Abigail, Jack, and the others.

When they reach the wagon, Scarlet quickly unties Shasta and Fancy while Arthur hoists James into the back, ordering him to stay down and close to the front. He explains the situation to the others who nod in agreement. Hosea, John, Javier, and Sean are to keep lookout; John and Abigail to drive back to Horseshoe Overlook while he and Scarlet lead any followers away from them. Javier and Sean climb on their respective horses, guns on their backs and loaded. Scarlet quickly saddles Shasta with the help of Sadie, using Arthur’s saddle, putting her saddle in the wagon. Sadie climbs onto the blood bay and rides on the left with Hosea. Scarlet turns Shasta for Arthur.

“Climb up-”

“You want me to ride Shasta?”

“Well, Fancy’s not one to listen to males, but if you wanna ride her, be my guest. Smoke is harnessed in with Shamrock, so it’s not like we can take them. We don’t have the time to switch Smoke for Shasta,” she sasses and throws the reins over both horses. Arthur sighs but nods, pulling himself onto Shasta’s back. She climbs on Fancy and leans close to Hosea, slipping him the last of the prize money she received. “Hold on to that til we get back?”

Before he can answer she’s pulling Shasta where the rein meets his halter, making him walk despite wanting to run and buck the unusual weight off his back. They watch and wait patiently until the wagon is out of sight, Scarlet turning to Arthur.

“Ya sure he’s not gon’ buck me?” He asks as he notes Shasta’s pinned back ears and light prancing.

“No, he won’t,” the stern reply is meant for Shasta, who flicks his ears forward before pinning them back again. “Don’t make me ask Fancy to have you behave, Shas,” she warns. Fancy lifts her head and stares at Shasta, almost as if waiting for him to disobey. The standardbred snorts in defeat and flicks his ears forward. “Good boy. Get used to Arthur an his weight. He might be ridin you for awhile dependin on this situation,” she adds, letting her horses know they might be needing to run. They both neigh in response and paw the ground, awaiting orders.

“We good?”

“Yeah, should be. Try an give him a command. Get him walkin,” she suggests and leans her forearms on the metal horn. Arthur squeezes his thighs against Shasta, clicking his tongue as he’s watched Scarlet do numerous times. Shasta snorts in annoyance but walks around Fancy for him. Scarlet praises her stubborn horse and reaches over to pat him as reward.

“Keep being good to Arthur an I’ll get you somethin nice,” she promises, turning Fancy to ride out the other side of town and around. “Arthur, keep close. There’s raiders in Lemoyne here and they don’t care who or what you are. An be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That’s all the chance we might have if ambushed. Shasta knows to go to Valentine if anythin happens. Fancy will go to camp first to see if anyone’s there then Valentine. She’ll cause a ruckus an get attention drawn to her if anythin happens to me. I also have a special whistle I use for her if I can’t speak. If I go down, get back to camp. Don’t try to rescue me, leave an come back with reinforcements,” she whispers as they ride through the town, both observing their surroundings.

“I’m not leaving you,” he grunts at her, looking at her to see her staring at him. She sighs and nods.

“Fine. Fire fight it’ll be if anythin does go wrong. But I warned you,” she points a finger at him before urging Fancy to a gallop. Shasta prances to the side a moment before riding beside Fancy at her pace, tossing his head.

The duo are just about at the Lemoyne line when two riders come on either side of them, riding too close for comfort. Fancy nickers in warning and Shasta snorts, kicking a little as the rider forces them to ride closer, Arthur and Scarlet’s knees rubbing as they ride.

“What are you two doin out here? You lost?”

“Hey, ain’t you that pretty lady who won a few of the events at our rodeo?” One of the two riders questions, leaning over close to her. She shakes her head and frowns, shifting her weight just enough for Fancy to catch her unspoken command.

“No? There was a woman who won events? That’s new,” she feigns innocence, stealing a glance to Arthur who clenches his jaw. She taps Shasta’s shoulder with her knee, a silent order for him to follow Fancy’s lead.

“Nice try, but there’s not a lot of ladies wearing black chaps and shirts with red fringe,” the second rider sneers, both raiders drawing their guns.

“How’s ‘bout you just give us your winnings for protection in Lemoyne?” The first rider offers, switching his reins to hold in his left, the same hand he’s holding his gun with. Scarlet nods and reaches into her shirt, pausing momentarily as shock and fear passes across her face.

“It appears I’ve already been robbed, fellers,” She lies and squeezes Fancy’s sides twice and the mare kicks out to her left, hitting the horse and making it collapse, causing the raider to fall and be rolled over. Shasta kicks to the right at the same time Fancy goes left, hitting the second raider off his horse completely.

“Run!” Scarlet orders, spurring Fancy and giving her her head. Arthur kicks Shasta and the Buckskin bucks for a second before charging after Fancy; his strides long, catching up to the mustang in no time.

They cross from Lemoyne back into New Hanover and Scarlet sighs, urging her horses to gradually slow up when their breathing becomes labored. Arthur shakes his head and turns to her.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, patting Shasta. Scarlet blows a raspberry and turns to make sure they’re not being followed.

“Lemoyne county Raiders. Bunch of right bastards they are. Unfortunately they’re a group that, I believe, fought for the south and they won’t put the past behind them; continuing the rebellion with kids they pick up. A bad lot, though not as bad as the O’Driscolls,” she answers, petting Fancy. The two horses toss their heads and snort, Shasta trying to pull the reins from Arthur’s hands. “Oi! Cut that out,” she swats Shasta’s ear when he tries to grab a rein again, startling him slightly so he prances away.

“I’ve got him. I’m not gettin thrown by the likes of him. I’ve dealt with worse,” he shrugs as he adjusts the reins so there’s less for Shasta to potentially get a hold of. Scarlet nods and they make their way back to camp, enjoying the other’s company.

“Hey! Who goes t’ere?” Sean calls out, gun ready to fire.

“It’s just us, ya Irish twat,” Scarlet calls back, accent coming out a bit. Arthur laughs lightly, covering it as a cough. They hitch the horses to one of the hitching posts and Scarlet makes an attempt to find Hosea; Dutch stops her with a whistle. She feels her face heat up as she turns to Dutch.

“Well what do we have here? Little miss rodeo queen?” He teases, holding his arms open as though he were presenting her like a prize. She rolls her eyes and nods slightly, smiling at him.

“Somethin like that. Did Hosea already talk to you?” She tries to change the subject, hoping he doesn’t want too much detail.

“No, why? Did somethin happen?”

“Wha-? No! I uhh just gave him the money I earned from the events I won an he won the majority of the bets placed against me to win. I was just gon’ give you half, kinda as a thanks for helpin me an takin not only myself but my son in too,” she quickly reassures the leader, eyes downcast. Dutch nods -she can see his shadow on the ground in front of her- and smiles, clapping her shoulder.

“That’s my girl,” Dutch praises, taking out a cigar to smoke. Scarlet giggles and shakes her head, bringing her gaze back to meet his.

“I’m not your girl. I don’t belong to anybody,” she quips, stepping back from him. “But I would like to change so holler if you need me,” She excuses herself.

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kayrogers · 6 years ago

Text

animal ][ s. rogers

i kinda wanna be more than friends

Pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

Inspo: Animal by Neon Trees

Word Count: 1200+

Warning(s): this part is tame... but part 2 is def gonna be NSFW

Part: part one | part two | part ??

A/N: came up with this while screaming music in my friend’s car and wrote it in about an hour YEET

You never realize how much you truly need something until it’s gone.

For most, this is a need of ice cream during a diet or a need of counsel after a loved one had passed. For Steve? It was you.

By God, he needed you. He needed your laugh, your smile. Needed the way his lips and body fit so nicely curved into yours. But since the fight in the airport? He had yet to see you and you frustratingly had yet to see him.

You weren’t an Avenger, you were an ex-agent of SHIELD, turned defense operative of Stark Industries. And for a time, seemingly long ago, you were his partner. After the Avengers initiative was activated in 2012 in response to an alien attack on New York, you were assigned to help Steve Rogers adjust to modern society while also making him a better soldier for SHIELD. For a bit you did that job, at least you tried to very well but from the very beginning there was always something brewing between the two of you. It was in your blood, like a carnal need.

You were like animals.

The scent of sand and sweat swirls into your nostrils as you step through the old boxing gymnasium, there can be grunts and punches heard even from your end of the room. But only one. It was too late for any person to be there and yet the early hours of the morning were how Steve Rogers frequented this place.

You stepped into the room which housed those noises to see a glistening, shirtless Captain America wailing on a weighted bag until it’s punched across the room. Your eyes go wide and you notice that it must be the third to fly off the chain. You bit your lip, taking a second to admire the view of his impossibly perfect physique before shaking your head with a cough.

“Mr. Rogers.” He turned his head to you with clenched fists but visibly relaxed at your form.

Oh he couldn’t even use dame to describe your looks. Steve has seen a lot since the forties, but nothing has affected him like you had. Your looks were simple, bare of makeup or flashy clothes but still to him you were a beauty beyond time. And he found himself impossibly drawn to you in seconds.

“That would be me... not to be rude, Doll, but who are you?” You raised an eyebrow at his word choice, but nearly melted at the sight of his smirk.

“Your new partner-ish. [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. SHIELD has asked me to help you adjust to the modern world, as well as join you on your next missions with us. Think of me as a helping hand, I guess,” you gave him a small smile and stepped up to the super soldier with an outstretched hand.

He had a confused look in his eye but shook your hand anyways.

“Alrighty then, helping hand. Nice to meet ya. Wanna start by showing me a place with good 24-hour food? Turns out McDonalds can even make me sick.” He chuckled to himself and you nodded, making a joke in your mind about a date with Captain America.

“I can definitely find better, Mr. Rogers-“

“Steve. We’re partners now, you can call me by my first name.”

“Alrighty then, Steve. Grab your stuff and I can be your guide. You craving Ukrainian or American?” A real grin rested on your face, despite your best intentions as a SHIED agent and you watched as he mirrored it while throwing a different shirt on.

It was a gray v-neck that seemed almost too tight and yet it fit him like a glove.

“Ukrainian? Sounds interesting, as long as you pick my order. To be honest, I’ve been too scared to eat out of my comfort zone.” He stepped up to you with a duffel bag in hand and rubbed the back of his neck to hide the way his eyes moved up and down your form.

You noticed and blushed, but decided not to make a comment on it. After all, you were doing the same.

“Don’t worry, Steve. I’ll take care of you. It’s my job now.”

Steve was a perfect gentlemen that night and the two of you got on very quickly. You both talked like you had known each other for years, getting to know one another over Ukrainian foods at 3 AM. Sure, you knew surprisingly more about Steve than he knew about you, but being a SHIELD agent didn’t really allow you to open up much. And yet with his earnest and kind personality, you almost felt like you could tell him your life story. Almost.

And that was only the beginning.

You adjusted Steve to modern world and joined as a helpful sidekick on missions as SHIELD told you to do. But over time, it became much more than that. The two of you developed a strong bond, working together like clockwork and taking care of each other after every battle and operation. You cared about each other, making you one of the most unlikely duos in SHIELD’s database. But care wasn’t the only thing which set you two apart.

It was an amalgamation of things, things that other partnerships definitely did not possess. Lingering stares between the two of you. Casual flirting which at this point happened too often to be considered platonic. Personal compliments post-missions that made the both of you melt like butter. And the amount of close touches? There were too many of those to count. A drop of blood on his face that you’d unconsciously wipe away or a hair that Steve would push behind your ear, face close enough to smell the mint of his breath.

And then came Mikinos.

The two of you had just finished a stealth op in Athens and you made the daring proposal of not going home right away.

“Why don’t we take a vacation?” You questioned as the two of you packed your duffel bags, feeling your heart beat faster.

To say that your feelings for the super soldier had grown over time would be an understatement. How could you not be infatuated with him? Sure your air of secrecy had hid this attraction well in the beginning but recently looking at his golden hair and shining eyes had started becoming too much. Especially when you caught those eyes staring at you while turned away... along with the other interactions that seemed to make you wild at the tiniest touches.

“A vacation? Not sure Fury would be too happy with that.” He smirked but his joking tone told you that he was open to the idea.

“I have contacts in Mikinos... we could get a house for the weekend, some civilian clothes. Come on, we’ve been his loyal soldiers for how long? I could definitely use a break.” You stepped up to him and placed a hand on his own, the action had occurred many times before now but it felt different.

And with the way Steve’s cheeks turned red, you knew he felt it too. His eyes met your own and you felt your face heat up as well. It was strange how he could do to you. Being a SHIELD agent never offered much up for genuine affection, mainly just one night stands, in various countries, with various people of all walks of life. But ever since you started your work with Steve that passport of lovers ended. You no longer had a desire for random sexual encounters, as fun as they used to be. No, instead you found yourself craving a different sort of connection. Craving him.

“A break with you? Yeah. Fury can wait a weekend.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel

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rgr-pop · 5 years ago

Photo

LONG POST AIRING GRIEVANCES ABOUT DUMB SHIT IN BEAUTY COMMUNITY!!

oh my GOD. okay, so, small youtuber who is climbing. beloved by many small youtubers because she is a regular girl and very nice and FROM UPSTATE NEW YORK and has social justice interests, she also posts a lot of drama content and some people (including me tbh) really like the way she kind of ~~democratizes drama content. don’t @ me it’s whatever. reddit HATES her because her mother buys her a lot of makeup for her birthday (literally) and she is not into self-punishing no-buys which is the only thing people like right now very coincidentally (going on a no-buy is apparently how you end landfills).

this youtuber is fat and not conventionally pretty--I really hate even saying the latter because it is objectively not true and also an evil thing to say even nicely, but for example she is always talking about how she doesn’t really care that her lips are small and is not interested in overdrawing or “fixing” them, and getting flamed for it. in the community (the respectable arm of it, which is the rddt, where we are ostensibly not allowed to be like “she looks terrible”), where there is smoke there is fire, and “not skilled at makeup” + maybe some nebulous complaints about whininess = she is a fat girl, end her. (”rude” = black youtuber too much power, end her.)

i’m talking about sm*key gl*w whose name is hannah, hannah #1, i think it is interesting to contrast her with the other hannah that i talk about sometimes--i try not to talk about her too much because we sort of teechnically have real world social connections and, also, i just feel bad for her. i feel desperately bad for hannah #2, because she is in her thirties having lived in art communities and global urban centers but for the first time in her life having to reckon with things like--”it is not appropriate to talk about calories at dinner, etc.” that is the second hannah, and while she is sweet and interesting to many in the small youtube community precisely because she is very alien to them (has mfa), it’s very difficult to watch, and sometimes i think she is the most “toxic” youtuber i follow. she is not an originator in any way, but she found herself in the center of a so-called anticonsumerist movement in small beautube that is kind of taking over, which is related to but not exactly minimalism--you have probably heard me talk about this already, at length. a good example of this is that second hannah recently said in a video that she was thinking of doing a shopping “fast.” i don’t know how she became this person, and how she held onto this kind of personality in spite of being in lots of communities that i am also in or have friends in where i know that if you talked this way about dieting etc. at a social event, someone would probably softly scold you. she somehow insulated herself from this kind of learning, i don’t know, then she threw herself into beautube where a woman who maybe sort of likes art and writes poetry and has heard of “fair trade” before is an absolute anomaly, but that community--like literally, where people do liposuction and skinny teas!--has only encouraged this absolutely unreal nasty and BAD behavior. etc. i have a lot of feelings about this.

so first hannah is a fat girl who is not rich--we will get to that!--but spends her money primarily on makeup. people HATE her. second hannah is thin, possibly rich in family origin (i think she is) but basically your average working artist in life. she frames her so-called overconsumption not even precisely as an addiction but specifically as a lack of willpower that she also struggles with when it comes to sometimes eating sugar (really). both of these hannahs consume and talk about quite a lot of luxury makeup--second hannah is very openly committed to luxury purchase as part of her self-conception. second hannah sometimes goes on “shopping diets” though, so people praise her! it is evil.

above is the shit i hate day in and day out but the points below will have more to do with the screencap +...upstate new york, i guess. henceforth we are only talking about first hannah.

so this girl is from some kind of small town around rochester or syracuse--something up there. iirc she goes to a suny school i had never heard of (i looked it up and it is a “suny comprehensive college,” though i can’t remember if she transferred out of this school to a bigger school. but, as many of you know, sunys are cheap as hell and should be protected at all costs, this school costs well under half what my state school did, for residents anyway.) she is in her mid-twenties and not graduated yet, due to struggles she has had (and spoken openly about) as well as having gone to community college. they LOVE to bring up how she is too old to be a college student! she’s like...idk 24 or something. she is going to school to be a social worker in one of those accelerated programs, which she has found quite difficult (again, spoken openly about this) and which also requires, as many of you know!, lots of extra work, unpaid and paid. she said somewhere that she does not have student loans, but i don’t know if her parents paid for her college or just shouldered loans, or if she paid for it, or if it is all financial aid. (”not having student loans” is something that enrages people, ESPECIALLY when someone doesn’t have loans because they got need-based aid.) again, she probably had some financial catastrophes due to school failures (speaking from experience here), but: sunys is cheap as hell and there are a million reasons why someone could go to one and not be struggling with loans!

where was i...her parents. watching this has fascinated me! her dad was a school teacher and her mom is a social worker--absolutely public servant middle class. i thiiink (could be wrong) that her father retired already and ended up retiring from a principalship, so they were probably extremely comfortable by the time she was in college, but they are definitionally middle class. the biggest controversy around this youtuber is that for birthdays and christmas her mother goes fucking insane--probably spent two to four hundred dollars on her for her birthday. she talks about this all the time: her mother and her are very close and their hobby is shopping. people treat this like the bougiest fucking thing on earth and it is ba nanas. straight up, this girl has probably never even HEARD of anthropologie. listen, i can’t afford to live like her either but i recognize poor shopping when i see it. working class people like to blow their money on bullshit and to take issue with that is demonstrably racist and classist! i will not hear this conversation over again in 2019. for example, hannah made a video about her “high end bag” collection, in which she said she got a bcbg bag on sale for like $30 but had never heard of the brand before. she had once been gifted a kate spade bag and her DREAM was to purchase one on her own. she buys coach at the local coach outlet, which is a regional attraction. THIS GIRL IS NOT BOUGIE! THEY ARE JUST MAD THAT SHE OWNS CLOTHES AND IS ALSO FAT! she did a closet tour where she talked about how she has like 50 crop tops, they were ALL like forever 21. they are just mad about fat girl in crop tops. there is nothing to see here! does she have too much shit, and shop too much? sure. welcome to flyover country you dumb bitches. that is what I think about that!

so, she definitely makes money on youtube, but mostly enough to sustain youtube and makeup buying (possibly some savings? unsure. i know she said this in a video but i forget.) she has lived with this boyfriend of hers for a number of years and they are building a life together that doesn’t immediately include marriage, probably largely for financial reasons. i get the sense that his jobs pay a lot of their bills, but he just finished getting a teaching MA of some kind (i think he is a math teacher? i already forgot) and is entering the regular teaching job market. based on some of the following i think his parents might be wealthier than hers but i think they might also be teachers. as you can see in the screenshot above, people are enraged at this girl for apparently being a gold digger for getting a house with him before they are married!

people are SO pissed that she was “able to buy a house” at age 25, but they did not watch the video! in which she said that they had been dealing with the death of her bf’s step grandpa all year, and the family had decided that they should take over the step grandpa’s house. (step grandpa’s family does sound “richer” because, according to her, this house had been owned by a GREAT grandparent and paid off decades ago.) her descriptions of this house are confusing to me because she keeps referring to it as both “old” and “from the eighties,”; I think it is an actually old house that had not been “updated” since the eighties. seems like the family did not “gift” it to them as much as sign it over to them in exchange for them being the ones to take out the renovation loans, which allegedly she said are $50k. unclear to me if she and her bf got approved for that loan--probably not, I think it was taken out in the family’s name. ($50k is too much to put into a house in rochester imooo but I am reserving my judgment there! rochester has a very flyover housing economy, much like ours, but with a much higher end, I think?)

so anyway, these vultures are sociopaths. “ Who gives someone a house no matter how much they like them? That seems wild to me” ...p-parents? dead grandparents? is your will gonna be like “my kid has to buy their OWN house like i did!” who are these people

YES SOMETIMES YOU STOP NEEDING YOUR HOUSE, WHEN YOU DIE

anyway I’m done. I just thought this thing would be of interest in particular to the upstate new yorkers. the whole condition of the indebted working-middle class is just like inconceivable to people who consume only ideologically pure content by wealthy west coast whites all day long

#makeupblogger fandom

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science-lings · 6 years ago

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Heart of Gold-Titanium Alloy Chapter 5: Calm Before the Storm

“So how long can you just... chill up there.” Harley was staring at Peter who was sitting upside down on the ceiling of the workshop. They had all been casually working on whatever they could think of just to pass time now that school was on hold.

“I don’t know. I’ve slept on the ceiling before. Being upside down actually helps me focus.” He shrugged and webbed himself a tool from Tony’s main workstation. He jammed it into the tiny device he was making. He didn’t tell Tony or Harley that it was going to be an arc reactor powered lightsaber. He was slightly embarrassed by his obsession with the Star Wars franchise so he toned it down so that his new family wouldn’t think less of him.

“Can you stick to anything?” Harley said as he lazily ate a slice of pizza. That was what happened when Pepper wasn’t around to monitor their eating. Tony just ordered them too many pizzas and told them to go wild. They usually did.

“Anything solid. I think I can stick to semi-solids… Unless you want to make a jello building then I’m not sure if we’ll find out any time soon.” Peter shrugged and lowered himself down on a web to grab his fifteenth slice of pizza. He wasn’t a heathen. He was unsure if his web-fluid was toxic or not and he wasn’t going to try it out by eating it off of a slice of meat-lovers. If it didn’t kill him it would definitely be pretty nasty.

“How though.” Harley asked as he looked up at his brother weirdly. Peter probably looked kinda silly just upside down on a tall ceiling.

“I can manipulate my atomic electromagnetism. I don’t have little hairs like real spiders. That would be fucking disgusting. I can stick through thin fabric like my suit. It wouldn’t work if it was too much thicker than spandex. That’s why I show off my ass, not because it’s nice, but because thick fabric restrains my whole sticking ability. And sometimes all of my limbs have to be moving while my butt does the sticking.” Peter answered through a few bites of food.

“Has that ever happened?” Harley doubted dramatically.

“Yeah, I had to kick a guy off of me while using my webs at the same time and I didn’t want to be launched in the air.” Peter said completely seriously. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, Tony let me use one of his old models of the suit. I’m trying to condense a fully formed iron man gauntlet into something pocket sized. For emergencies you know? It turns out that Tony already has ultra miniature arc reactor plans so all I have to do is the whole automated metal bit. At least in a way that won’t accidentally rip my fingers off.” Harley said casually.

“That’s always a good goal to have. Wait… Spiders can regrow limbs right? Do you think I can do that?”

“You are not going to intentionally injure yourself, Jesus Christ…” Tony ordered after focusing on jamming to his own music and playing with some prototype nanites.

“It was just theoretical!” Peter defended. “I wasn’t actually going to cut any of my limbs off!”

“Yeah, it would be a toe at most.” Harley added helpfully. “You don’t need all of those right?”

“Yes you do, don’t hurt yourself for the sake of an experiment.” Tony squinted his eyes as if he didn’t know that his kids were joking. He just wanted to make sure.

“Okay fine, I’ll probably lose a limb on patrol someday.” Peter shrugged. “Hey Tony? Are you gonna make an announcement, you know, about the adoption?”

“That’s probably a good idea, I am a bit of a public figure and people will be wondering why I’m hanging out with a couple of teenagers so much. But if you want to keep it quiet then I won’t say anything. You can’t exactly back away after deciding to be in the forefront of the media.” Tony reasoned.

“I don’t think it’s that bad… I mean it’s not like I’ve never had bad press.” Peter smiled, “There’s this newspaper, they hate Spider-Man. But, here’s the catch, no one reads newspapers and they can’t get a picture of me to save their life. I totally thought about staging pictures to sell to them but I haven’t had a good camera in ages.” Peter typed on his holoscreen and swiped on it, sending a picture of the newspaper to Harley and Tony.

Harley immediately barked out a laugh and Tony looked mildly offended for Peter. He appreciated it. At first when he saw the anti-spiderman crap, he felt horrible but after some thought, he realized that they were hilariously bad. It was like watching Alex Jones, passionate about something that makes no sense and has no proof.

“Oh my god, look, you're a menace now! ‘Evil mean spider-menace disrespecting the elderly!’ You know, by walking them across the street. How shameful.” Harley giggled.

“My favorite one is when they claim that I’m part of a Nazi terrorist organization. I mean, do I look like Wanda Maximoff?” Peter smiled. This comment made Tony snort even though it was about one of his former teammates. “Wow, are you salty Mr. Stark?”

“I just got you to stop calling me that you little asshole. Also I am pretty salty. I should be too old to be salty but no…” Tony sighed loudly.

“I’m surprised that you even know what that term is.” Harley grinned.

“I’m down with the kids.” Tony grumbled. “ I know the memes…” Both Peter and Harley burst out laughing. “Well I have to, right! I’m trying to parent a couple of teenagers!” He defended. “I don’t want to be the old fart parent that doesn’t know what an internet is!” Peter actually fell from the ceiling as he was laughing so hard. He landed unsteadily on his feet then had to use a desk for support while he laughed his lungs out. Harley was weezing by the time he could stop laughing.

“Too late…” Harley tried to catch his breath. “How the hell do you find time to look at memes?”

“What do you think I do during all those avenger meetings kid. Come on, you think I need that UN shit repeated to me a thousand times.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay it wasn’t all memes but I finished monument valley in one afternoon.”

“That’s not that impressive, but why would you need to go to those avengers meetings anyway? I mean there aren’t very many avengers left. Most of them abandoned you because, what, rules are for pussies?” Harley looked a little bit annoyed when talking about the ex-avengers. Peter agreed but slightly less passionately. What team cap did was super uncool, at least from what Peter knew anyway.

“Well, somehow I have to find them and at least get them to a judge. Or find a way to pardon them because I can’t be earths only defender. The next worldwide disaster could happen and I’d rather have more expendable team members. The UN thinks they’re dangerous and they can’t be running around doing whatever they want.” Tony explained dismissively.

“Yeah, no shit. Mr. Rogers is destructive as hell. Remember when he revealed the entirety of a secret agency without giving a heads up to the agents on the field in direct danger?” Harley pursed his lips.

“He didn’t think that through did he…” Peter muttered as he climbed up on a table, completely unlike a normal human.

“Hopefully you guys don’t hate him that much because the best I can do for our situation is bring them back under house arrest here at the compound.” Both of the teenagers froze and looked at their father.

“Uh, what? Even after all of that you’re letting them come back?” Harley shouted.

“I’ve been talking to King T’Challa as they set up home base in Wakanda and we’re trying to work something out. I’m really trying to work with the accords so that there will be comfortable with them enough��” Tony continued.

“You really shouldn’t have to change the law to make them comfortable. The law is for the safety of all of the people who were previously unheard. The avengers needed some sort of oversight. You can’t just go to other countries and kill people with the story of trying to stop a terrorist. And none of them admitted to doing anything wrong. They left all of that to you even though you weren’t even part of it. I say they don’t deserve your help.” Harley ranted. Ever since he had met Tony he had kept up pretty intensely on everything to do with him and the avengers. He was a little frustrated.

“Yeah he dropped a plane platform on me before he knew if I could handle it… I mean we were fighting but I could’ve become a spider pancake. His team seemed a little more willing to hurt our team when I was literally just there to tie them up.” Peter shrugged. He was fairly informed about everything and was completely steadfast in his views.

Superheroes should be more responsible than anyone else. They had more arguably more power than any world leader and they couldn’t just do whatever they wanted. As someone raised to value responsibility above practically all else, he knew how important it was to account for your actions. Especially when you have great power. Super or not.

“Yeah, well, I’m not happy about it either. But we don’t have much of a choice. If something really bad happens… we need to be ready and if that means bringing them back, then fine. It’s better than having nothing.” Tony sighed, struggling to hide how uncomfortable he was about the subject. Did he want Steve back? No. He never wanted to see that asshole again. But if there was something coming, he would die alone. He didn’t have much of a choice.

“I don’t see why we can’t just make a new team. I seriously doubt that I’m the only teenage superhero. Hell, Harley could probably pull off being a direct line of succession for Iron Man. Iron Boy… Iron-ling…” Peter suggested.

“Yeah no, Remember when I said expendable? That’s what you guys aren’t. No major superheroing until you get out of collage. That’s a rule in this house.” Tony looked up to silently inform Friday.

“Would you like me to inform Ms.Boss about the new family rule?” The AI echoed from the ceiling.

“Yes. And tell her that I love her.” Tony said casually while Harley and Peter made gagging noises and stuck out their tongues respectively.

“Okay let’s not go down that road. She’s not even here... “ Harley rushed. “Hey, we didn’t elaborate on that whole publicising the adoption thing. Are we actually going to do that?”

“Do you want to?” Tony sounded suspicious.

“It’s going to be hard to hide it if we go outside and the school already knows. It could already be leaked. It would be easiest to take control of it yourself.” Harley shrugged. Peter wasn’t completely sure about what he wanted. Sure, he didn’t want to hide anything but he also was kind of afraid of publicity as Peter and not just as Spider-Man. He knew the public would find out either way and he would rather avoid the whole misunderstanding phase.

“You’re right, how about you Peter?” Tony turned to his Spider son.

“I think… I’m not sure. I’m not a public person but I’d rather have that than trying to hide something that big. I’ll have to tell Ned and MJ first though. I think I already kept May’s.. Uh death from them for too long… I don’t want them finding out through the trending tag on twitter.” Peter shrugged.

“You didn’t even tell them about your aunts death?” Harley said, dumbfounded.

“In my defence, I was still in denial. And I tend to internalize my problems until I explode. I don’t exactly have healthy coping mechanisms.”

“You shouldn’t wait any longer anyway. Just call them in a minute. I can set up a press conference to reveal my new babies to the world. Do you guys want to do it today or tomorrow?” Tony asked.

“That fast? Damn… uh… the sooner the better I guess. Do I have to wear something nice?” Peter shuttered. He didn’t want to confront everything that soon. But he knew that he had to. It was one of those need-to-know kinds of things.

“Yeah but don’t worry. I’ve got that taken care of. Or I guess Pepper does. She has a better sense of style than I do and she insisted we go a little crazy on the clothes.”

“So it was Pepper that got us all matching iron man pajama pants?” Harley deadpanned.

“I think she has them too. Family has to match I guess. Is that a thing? I don’t know.” Tony didn’t look remotely surprised at his fiance's antics. “Anyway, tonight then? We still have a few hours to get ready.” He looked at his watch. He had called his fair share of press conferences without much of a heads up. Besides, by now everyone should know about the attack at the school so he would need to address that as well.

“Sure whatever. I’ll need to take a shower and Pete has to tell his friends. Cool? Cool. Bye.” Harley got up from his seat and left the lab without another word.

“Great…” Peter groaned. “I’m just going to skype them at the same time... I do not want to have the same conversation twice. I’ll tell Friday when I’m done.” Peter narated as he left the workshop and waved goodbye to Tony.

“Hey Fri? You know what to do.” Tony prepared for his own call.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So uh, I haven’t been completely honest with either of you. And before you say anything, It’s not because I don’t trust you or anything that you guys couldn’t helped.” Peter sat in his room in the Iron Suite of the avengers compound. It had the most extra rooms even from the beginning. Which was pretty convenient.

“Spit it out dork.” MJ said. She looked like she didn’t think that it was as major as it was and Peter appreciated the casualness.

“Okay, a little over a month ago, my Aunt May died.” Peter could practically feel the air get awkward through his laptops monitor. He continued before his friends could interrupt. “I don’t have any family left so I went into foster care for a while. I kept running away though. That’s why I looked like garbage all month, Not just physically but also emotionally.” He joked as it was his ‘uncomfortable’ coping mechanism.

“Oh my god, Peter I’m so sorry…” Ned started. He was one of the only people who understood. At least the whole coping thing. Ned had been there for him when Ben died and he knew that Peter’s solution to the problem was to internalize the fuck out of it. MJ looked a little uncomfortable as she was fully aware of how pushy she had been the past month. Peter knew that it was just her way of caring but also seeming detached.

“I know, I’m dealing with it but that’s not all. You know Harley? I actually met him through the foster system. His dad left him early on and his mother died a few years ago. That doesn’t matter, anyway, he was my foster brother. Now he’s my adopted brother. About a week ago, we got adopted.” Peter debated on whether to keep them in the dark about the whole ‘Iron Man is my dad’ thing.

“Whoa okay, let me get this straight, you got double orphaned and didn’t tell either of us?” MJ sounded respectfully sad but like she was desperately trying not to be even more depressing.

“Yeah, that’s it. But I swear it’s not you guys. It just took me too long to accept it myself. Anyway, I had to tell you before I’m on the news in a few hours. I actually have to go get ready for that.” Peter prepared to end the call before Neds eyes lit up in realization.

“Wait… DID MR. ST-” Peter interrupted him before his friend could spoil anything.

“Spoilers dude. I’ll text both of you soon.” He grinned and shut his computer to end the call. “Uh Karen? I need a tie tying tutorial…” He requested his personal AI. He had gotten attached to his suits AI so instead of Friday, Karen was embedded in his room.

“I could just ask boss. He just got off of the phone. Would you like me to request his assistance or see you struggle with it for twenty minutes?” Karen replied in her sweet teasing tone.

“Fine… in a minute though, I’ll save that for last.”

Peter was a little nervous. Maybe more than a little as he was freaking out. He fidgeted with his little spider cufflinks that Tony thought would be funny. He had to admit that the little spiders were cute. But he could imagine the blurry pictures on a fake news site with a caption of ‘Starks son is Spider-Man?’ or something just as obnoxious. Even though it was true, it would be weird to see it. It was exciting in a sense, he had never been part of a conspiracy theory.

Tony had helped him with a simple glossy red tie and Harley dealt with a flashy gold one. Neither of them were used to dressing so fancy but Peter had to admit that it was the most stylish he had ever felt. He would have to remember to thank Pepper when he sees her next. He kind of felt like he was in a magazine or on the red carpet. He had never had a stronger urge to take pictures of himself.

He may feel cool but he also felt a whole lot of anxiety. Tony had promised that all he had to do was stand there when the billionaire gave the announcement and that they didn’t have to answer any questions if they didn’t want to.

Peter wasn’t worried about any of that though. He was worried about all of the flashing lights and yelling. As a sense enhanced person, that was going to be the worst part. He just had to get through it without going into sensory overload. Easy peasy. He went through multiple fire drills so it should be fine right? He was probably just worrying too much. If the lights got too much he could just ask Tony if he could use his sunglasses.

“You kids ready?” Tony looked over at them as a woman was making him look less sleep deprived with makeup. Peter and Harley had the same treatment only minutes before and they couldn’t wait until it was all over. Again, Peter was sensitive and makeup of any kind felt extra weird. He kept wanting to rub his eye but he knew that the concealer would rub off and he had to just endure.

“Is it too cliche to say, as ready as I’ll ever be?” Harley straightened up and messed with his tie a little more than normal. The asshole was just better at hiding his nervousness than Peter was but he knew that Harley was just as uncomfortable.

“A little but it isn’t inaccurate. Remember, It’s going to be over soon and if you don’t want to answer a question, you can just give me a look and I’ll answer for you. How does that sound?” Tony was confident enough that some of his natural chill was picked up subconsciously by his kids. “Just remember that breathing is good for you. Air is a nice resource. Use it all you want.”

“Boss, It’s time.” Happy said through a slightly opened door that led to all of the chaos. Peter swore that he could see Colonel Rhodes on the platform beyond. Tony nodded and fixed Harley’s hair before showtime. They only had another second to prepare, and it went by too fast. Then they were out in the eyes of the world and everyone was watching. He really hoped that he wouldn’t regret this.

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joshua-flowers · 7 years ago

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Lowest to Highest Route April 2018

Day 1

Woke up at 4am in my cheap hotel room in Ridgecrest. I drove to Death Valley to start dropping off my water/food caches in bright orange Home Depot buckets, I duct tape the shit outta them and throw heavy rocks on top because if one of these caches gets messed with the hike is over. I get to Lone Pine at around 11am and park my car in the Chamber of Commerce parking lot. I'm finishing placing the odds and ends into my pack and realize I am shaking. Holy fuck, I'm actually doing this! it's not just a dream. I open the Uber app no luck, no cars. Same with Lyft. I go into the local outfitters on the corner and get a number for a local shuttle service. I go wait at the McDonalds for Paul to arrive.

I get dropped off at Badwater at about 3pm. I patiently wait in line to get my picture taken in front of the Badwater Basin sign. I start making my way past the tourists ducking selfie sticks and dodging children. I walk past the last set of tourists like a dishonored soldier banished to the wasteland.

I make my way north of the actual L2H route to see the actual lowest point in the western hemisphere. A small pile of rocks in the middle of the salt flat. Fun fact: it's not actually flat. It's actually quite bumpy and in certain areas I'm sinking up to my ankles in mud. Because I got such a late start I'm trying to keep a quick pace. Although I have my umbrella, the sun is beating on my legs and also bouncing off the white salt.

I am questioning my life choices. 2 hours in and I am huddled under my umbrella trying to cool off. I contemplate writing "I should have gone surfing" in the salt just so the park rangers get a chuckle when they recover my body. I feel like I could Butttchug a gallon of Gatorade.

I finally cool off enough to continue my journey. I decided to walk at a more moderate pace and eventually the sun falls behind telescope peak. The terrain gets more bumpy as i continue out of the basin. The mixture of salt and mud make me feel as if I have landed on the planet of Wank and Poo.

After another couple miles I start seeing the first shrubbery and spring flowers. It's a welcome site to see signs of life outside of the basin. I make my way to the road to Hanaupah canyon and night hike for about another hour before collapsing on the side of the road cowboy camping under a rich tapestry of stars.

Day 2

Is this a road? is it a riverbed? Will it twist my ankle? I make my way up the south fork of Hanaupah Canyon. This day sets the precedent that will repeat for the majority of the route. Will there be water there and why is this so fucking hard to walk on? That's the L2H in a nutshell.

Oh shit!! My first rattlesnake! I make a wide berth around the murder worm.

Luckily I come across a creek as I'm down to a liter of water. Hanaupah spring is pumping and I'm grateful I don't have to bushwack to get to the spring. I fill up to my 6L capacity as the park rangers couldn't tell me if Tuber Canyon springs were running or not.

I take a side road up to Shorty's Mine before realizing NOPE.You don't get an easy road walk up to telescope ridge. Time to scramble up the north side of Hanaupah canyon. Climbing up scree with 6 litters of water is totally fun! That is a total lie. It's not fun.

I make my way to the ridge above the canyon and begin making my way up towards telescope ridge. It's getting dark and I find the flattest spot I can on the ridge to crash out among the Pinyon Pines.

Day 3

Scree, scree never changes. 2 steps up slide 1 step down. I'm starting to feel the altitude at this point. I'm sucking air. No one ever makes videos about this part of the route. I wonder if I'm going the wrong way because no one ever complains about this. Well, listen to me, the climb up to telescope is maximum suckage. Finally after many breaks i make it to the ridge. I don't bother with summiting telescope as I had already accomplished that back in February. I make my way down Telescope trail down to tuber canyon, it's nice to walk on a real trail for the first time this trip if only for about a mile and a half. I also get the first glimpse of my destination from the ridge, the snowcapped Sierras.

Descending into tuber canyon things get a bit more green again. The spring is dry when i reach the bottom of the canyon but luckily filled a couple smartwater bottles with snow near telescope peak. I continue down the wash and see murder worm number 2. I don't shit my pants that bad this time, it's old hat at this point.

I come across riparian vegetation and find a 2 inch deep spring it is occupied with bees. I scoop 2 liters of murky water filled with tadpoles and pre filter it through my shirt to remove the muck and floaters.

Oh that wasn't horse shit this whole time! A wild burrow yells at me from across the wash and ascends to a perch above. This is the place where he rules over his pack plotting revenge on the grandchildren of the miners that abandoned their ilk in this god forsaken wasteland.

I make my way out of Tuber Canyon at dusk passing the ruins of an Impala that shows up in every L2H blog. A few more more miles and I collapse next to my water cache #1 chugging half a gallon and sleeping in a ditch for the night.

Day 4

I get to have a burger today. I just have to make it to Panamint springs and a restaurant awaits. I just have to make it down the entirety of Panamint valley to get there. Not much to say. it's the easiest walk of the trip so far, a 4wd road and then cutting over through a smooth flat.

A bit of cross country walking and I eventually make it to a $15 bacon burger, salad, and fries. I pay 3 dollars and am able to take a shower at the campgrounds across the street at the RV park. I almost feel human again.

I fill a couple of liters up and walk the couple miles to Darwin Falls. This is an amazing oasis in the middle of the wasteland. I don't know if I'll ever do the L2h again but I definitely will visit Darwin Falls. It's like someone dropped a G.E.C.K. here. Green trees, waterfalls and fun class 3 scrambles to the top of the canyon. I make my way up a scree field to China garden to see Iconic L2H sight #2, the goldfish. They swim up to my fingers as I fill my water bottles. Some are the size of Coi. I think about keeping one as a pet in a water bottle for the rest of the L2H but I'm not sure they would eat cliff bars.

I make way up Darwin canyon, it's getting dark and i'm looking for a flat place to crash, unfortunately King Burro told his minions to poop in every flat spot in the wash. I find a place and have a rough night sleep with the wind whipping around me. Also I hear rocks crashing in the middle of the night, Burros make terrible ninjas.

Day 5

I make my way out of Darwin canyon. Fighter jets scream overhead. Besides that it's non eventful. I make my way to cache #2. as I'm filling my bottles for a 20 mile water carry a CHP sees me from the road. He shouts out his loud speaker "ARE YOU OKAY?" I try shouting back "IM JUST A HIKER" He returns with "IF YOU ARE OKAY, WAVE YOUR HANDS!" I wave them and he kicks bricks. I think if i was in trouble I would be waving my hands anyways and he just wanted to avoid paper work.

This is a long boring 4wd roadwalk through a Joshua Tree forest. it seems like it's gonna be easy but the L2H decides I should walk into 20MPH winds. I don't really take pics here I just hold hands with Ms. Misery and set up my tent for the first time 3 miles outside of Cerro Gordo ghost town. It's actually nice to put in some bigger miles for the day.

Day 6

UPHILL BAAAYBEEE!! I get to Cerro Gordo where the caretaker Robert is supposed to have 2 gallons of water waiting for me. I wander the scattering of buildings looking for jugs andd yell out a "HELOOOO" Robert emerges from a building and says "Hell son it's 26 degrees out, come in for a coffee and sit by the fire." This small act of kindness makes me wanna cry. I sit there for 2 hours listening to his tales of the shady world of the mining industry. As I leave he tells me to make sure to take the middle road out because the air force has an installation on the high road and I might catch a stinger missile.

I make my way out of Cerro Gordo passing mining ruins. I'm determined to make it to Lone Pine tonight. I WANT PIZZA!! I walk along a 4wd track along the spine of the Inyo mountain range. The salt tram ruins are cool. The fact salt was so valuable at the time that they would build a tram over a mountain is mindblowing.

Descending down long john canyon towards Lone pine is frustrating. It's supposed to be marked by cairns but I think a 6 yr old just came along and stacked rocks randomly, or maybe it was the Burro King. I think this is the part in the thru where my mind starts slipping. I believe that maybe I'm just a simulation. Like Sim City or Roller Coaster Tycoon. There's a game called Thru Hiker Sim and I'm just an avatar getting lost along the route destined to fall in a pool with no ladder. I curse Brett Tucker Player #1.

I make my way out of Long John Canyon after sunset and follow more 4wd roads into Lone Pine. I have been salivating over the thought of pizza for the past 6 hours but Lone Pine is small and closes early. It's 11:30 pm by the time I roll into town. I settle for Pepperoni Hot Pockets from a gas station and check into a motel.

Day 7

I actually sleep in late. It's hard to get out of an actual bed. I feel like if I leave I'll never be comfortable again. I pack up my gear, take another shower and get my Whitney gear out of my trunk. I drive to the visitors center to pick up my Whitney permits. The plan is to take the regular route and bypass the switchbacks with snowshoes as I have read about others doing in an April L2H finish. I return my car to the Chamber of Commerce and begin the walk up to Whitney.

Whitney is imposing in the distance. The mountain gets larger and more formidable with every step. I cant believe I'm so close to the finish. Cars keep stopping asking me if I need a ride to the portal, I say thanks and keep walking soaking in the new alpine environment.

I finally make my way to the portal and run into a couple of guys setting up camp near the store. I ask if they are summiting tomorrow and they tell me the hikers route is completely snowed in and impassable. They say they talked to a couple of people that came down from the regular route and one guy had snapped his snowshoe postholing and in some places the powder was chest high. I'm too close to the finish to turn around now.

I guess I'm doing the goddamn Mountaineers Route.

Day 8

I wake up at 2am and start packing up. I stash my bearcan and snowshoes in a bearbox and start making the trek up the trail. I pass another group making their way up the regular trail in the dark. I take a break at a stream and check Gaia app. The mountaineers route is right in front of me, unmarked.

Bumbling around by the light of my headlamp, the Mountaineers Route isn't actually a trail. It's a lot of scrambling over large rocks and crossing frosty streams whose stepping stones are icy slick in the hours before dawn. I am filled with doubt at this point and am mentally preparing myself for the all too familiar feeling of failure.

The sounds of quick footfalls is approaching behind me. Two guys come rushing up. One of them states, "You're lucky, this was covered in snow 2 weeks ago." they go rushing up the route quickly and with the familiarity of a retiree making his way to the kitchen for a cold brew. These guys know what they are doing.

Fuck HYOH. I'm now hiking their hike.

I do my best to keep up but these guys are moving through the brush and rocks like animals. at points I almost lose them but then catch a glimpse of their headlamps in the distance and head off in that direction. I feel good, I feel my confidence coming back. After climbing 2 other mountain ranges in the past week I'm a little more altitude acquainted and am able to walk 30 feet without sucking air. I finally catch up to my unknowing guides as they are taking a snack break at Lower Boyscout lake. I tell them about the L2H and they tell me that they are just doing Whitney as a quick hike to help train for Denali later in the year. I ask if they mind if I follow them as I don't have a lot of snow experience. Tony and Dane say it's cool as long as I can keep up.

Making our way out of Lower Boyscout Lake the sun is rising and the views are spectacular. I wish I had time to take more photos and video but I'm having trouble keeping up as it is. We pass a beautiful blue icewall near Upper Boysout Lake. The views here are amazing and make the dry desolate desert seem like a faint memory from another life.

We take a break at Iceberg lake. I snack a cliff bar while Tony and Dane consolidate their packs and get their crampons strapped in. I just sit there snacking because all I have is the same micro spikes I've been wearing for the past couple of miles. I look up at the couloir that leads to the notch and then to the summit of Mt Whitney. It's scarier than than the rattler I saw oh so many miles ago. The coulair is a 1500 foot vertical climb in hard packed snow to "The Notch". I can't believe I'm going to attempt this.

Don't look down! don't look down! I keep telling myself this as over and over again I repeat the same ritual up to the notch. Step Step Axe Rest Repeat. For 1500 feet. Dane occasionally shouts down at me "Keep going Josh! You're killing it!" I feel the it I'm killing is myself. I wish I had crampons.

I finally pull myself up to the notch. Tony and Dane are lounging. "You ready to do the traverse?" "Yeah totally ready!" I have no idea what the traverse is.

Dontlookdown dontlookdown. fuck. I looked down. The traverse goes around to the west side of Whitney. One mis step here and you're going on a 2000 foot tumble into Sequoia National Park. The boot pack I'm following is shallow and I'd be shitting my pants if it wasn't for a pucker factor of 11. I wish I had crampons.

Finally making my way around the traverse and begin the walk up to the summit. I feel kind of sick, my vision seems spotty and dim. I am steps away from the end. Everyone is taking pictures at the plaque.

I walk up and slap the monument.No joy. No huge sense of accomplishment.

Just relief.

I take the customary summit photos and have very little time to soak it all in. The cold is making my phone freak out, becoming as responsive as my brain at the moment. The weather is turning for the worse and its time to get off this wild ride. Tony and Dane ask if i can make it down on my own. They have to drive to Mammoth that night and I don't wanna slow them down. I thank them with all the gratitude I can muster. They laugh and say. " I can't believe you did this in running shoes and microspikes! Thanks for letting us be a part of your journey." We head down the mountain and somehow I am able to keep up with them. They give me a ride to Lone Pine and I buy them BBQ and beers because even though I probably would have eventually made it to the top, it was a huge morale booster to tag along with people that knew what the fuck they were doing.

I check into a hotel that night and have the best sleep of my life.

#photographer #Lowest to Highest Route #My Whitney #Badwater #california #Thru hike #Get outside #Death Valley #Camping #Hiking #Hiker trash #joshua flowers #Ultralight

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frankiefellinlove · 7 years ago

Photo

Return of the Native The Aquarian , September 23, 1978 By Mike Greenblatt

We’ve been sitting on a bench facing the ocean near the Casino Arena in Asbury Park. It’s 45 minutes past our appointed meeting time with Bruce Springsteen and we’re trying to light matches in the wind. It’s past 1:30 now and we’re wondering if he’s going to show up. Hell, it’s a beautiful sunny fall day, one of his very few days off from a grueling whirlwind tour of the country. And it’s his birthday to boot. Maybe he just ain’t gonna show.

But we’re determined. We’re prepared to wait for two more hours. Then, if he’s still not here, we’ll split. We’ve already tired of scrutinizing all the faces for something that will tell us it’s him in disguise. We forgot our quest and go back to the matches.

“Hi”, he says as he walks right up at us. “Sorry I’m late, I just got up.” He’s dressed in a blueish work-shirt and jeans. He has ever-present sunglasses on. We decide to break the ice over lunch.

Settling into a booth at the Convention Hall Coffee Shop, I order a BLT, photographer Sorce, a cheeseburger, and Bruce, a hamburger, french fries and coke.

“Yeah, we had a real rep”, Bruce starts to say. “We could draw two, maybe three thousand people on any given night. We played our own concerts here and also down south. It’s weird. Nobody would ever book us because we never did any Top-40. Never. We used to play all old soul stuff. Chuck Berry, just the thing we liked. That’s why we couldn’t get booked. We made enough to eat though.”

The waitresses are starting to mill about the table so Bruce puts his shades back on and hushes up his tone. “The other night was amazing”, he wispers. “I went to see Animal house, and when I came out of the theater there was a whole bunch of people that started following me to the parking lot. I wound up signing autographs for over an hour.”

“Anyway, after a while the kicks started to wear off and a lot of the time we didn’t make enough to eat. That’s why i signed with Mike (Appel). Anything was better than what was happening at the time.”

Little did the local rocker know that this early signing with Mike Appel would result in the latter claiming rights to the early material Springsteen had written. The rest of the courtroom drama is famous. Perhaps generously, Bruce had nothing bad to say about his former manager.

“He did a lot of good for me at that time”, he says, dipping one particularly long french fry into a mound of ketchup. “He introduced me to John Hammond (CBS bigwig responsible for signing Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith and others). He helped me on that first album”. He pauses as if he were ruminating on something. “I haven’t seen him since that day.”

“Actually, I was pretty shielded from the whole thing”, he continues. “Mike put the onus on Jon (Landau), claiming he was the culprit.”

I ask: You mean he charged Landau with stealing you away from him?

“Yeah, sort of. I was never good at the business end of things.”

Asked about the famous line Landau wrote for his Real Paper review (“I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen”), Bruce says, “That line is misrepresentative of the whole review. It’s funny. The review was nothing like that one line. It got taken out of context” - another myth shattered.

“I remember playing in a club where an earlier review that Jon wrote was splashed all over the outside wall. I was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, when Jon practically bumped right into me. I had never met him. We hit it off right away.”

“When asked if he ever gave up during the long months of inactivity, Bruce still remains bright, completely devoid of bitterness. ” I knew that it was just a matter of time. We were playing almost throughout that whole episode even though we weren’t supposed to. I mean, what kind of law is it that is written specifically to stop a man from doing what he does to make his money?“

“The only real frustrating thing which did cause me grief was the fact that my songs weren’t my own. I didn’t own my own songs. That hurt.”

But that makes it all the more satisfying now. At Nassau Coliseum, thousands of kids screaming their guts out for him before he even played a song. They didn’t let up until he finished, drained and exhausted. At the Capitol Theatre, two nights before, he was surprised onstage by a giant birthday cake out of which a scantily clad girl bounced. He swears he didn’t know a thing about it (“I even told John Scher no cakes”). At Madison square Garden, 18,000 fans leaned on every note as if it were the last they would ever hear. A gala party was held for him in the plush Penn Plaza Club located deep inside the bowels of the Garden. Security was the tightest I’d ever witnessed.

We paid for the food and split for the beach. The conversation continued amid the sea, the wind and the hovering presence of the Casino Arena.

“I’m into a little photography myself”, Bruce says as Sorce adjusts his light meter. “I took some pictures of Lynnie (Lynn goldsmith, photographer) that were published somewhere.”

When asked about his other interests, Bruce talks of softball. “Yeah, we used to play hard. we had to stop, though, when Clarence and myself used to get too battered up. We’d go on stage all wracked up and it would hurt. After a while, it got too important and too many people were into it. There’s no softball on this tour. What else do I like? Hmmm, I’ll tell ya…not too much besides music. Right now, music is it. I don’t care about anything else.”

We get back to talking of copy bands and the difference between making it with your own material and making good money playing copies. I tell Bruce I had to play “Shake Your Booty” to get booked anywhere.

“Shake Your Booty?” laughs Bruce, falling into the sand. “That’s a great song. KC, man, he’s great! He always comes out with those repetitive things. Over and over and over, that kind of stuff is great! It’s like the ‘Louie, Louie’ of today.” Later on, in talking about what is written about him, he says, “I have Glen (Glen Brunman, CBS publicist) mail me everything that’s written about me. Hundreds of things, man. I read them all at once. That way I can get a pretty good perspective on what my press is like, rather than reading one thing at a time.”

“Near the end of Darkness, I wasn’t doing any interviews”, Bruce continues. “Then I did them until I noticed myself saying the same things to different people. There’s only one answer to each question; you don’t want to lie to these people. I really had myself in a spin. And each interview was a multiple interview situation with two or three people at once. I guess the problem was that I did too many of ‘em.”

Walking off the beach, we talk of the Garden shows and his stretcher routine, whereby he sings himself silly until he has to be taken off the stage in a stretcher, only to break free and grab the microphone again until he’s forcibly restrained from the stage.

That’s a great routine. Where’d you get that from? I ask. I know that professional wrestling has a stretcher routine where the good guy gets beat so bad they have to carry him off in a stretcher and the bad guy always kicks him off of it as it passes by. It’s classic.

“No”, answers Bruce, “I didn’t even know about that. We got it from James Brown. He used to get himself so worked up that the bassist led him offstage wrapped in a cape. He’d throw the cape off his shoulders and come running back to the mike stand some two or three times. It drove 'em wild. So that’s where we got the idea for the stretcher routine.”

Sliding into the front seat of a borrowed '78 burnt yellow Camaro, Bruce at the wheel, we’re on our way to the neighborhood where he grew up in Freehold. Shoving a cassette into the receptacle, he says, “A fan gave this to me outside a concert once. it’s real good tape.”

He turns up the volume, guns the motor and shifts into second. We take off. He turns up the volume a little more and starts looking for “Hello Mary Lou” by Rick Nelson. “This song has one of the greatest guitar parts ever on it.”

He can’t find the tune and settles for oldies like “If You Wanna Be Happy For the Rest of Your Life (Never Make a Pretty Woman your Wife)” and “Blue Suede Shoes”. He shifts into third.

Now for the first time, we do not talk. The music is loud and damn appealing. The windows are down so the wind is whipping furiously into the car. He shifts into fourth and takes off.

We’re rolling now. We settle uncomfortably behind a slow driver. He checks his rear-view mirror and roars past the driver. Seeing another slow-mover right ahead, he stays in the opposite lane and passes two in one fell swoop before settling comfortably back on the right. From the back, Sorce lets out a soft “Whew!”

It’s great moment. Chuck Berry is wailing out with “Maybelline”. Bruce is going faster. It’s such a fuckin’ beautiful day. The wind is rushing in and Bruce is feeling good, snapping his fingers, clapping his hands and letting out with a hoarse vocal or two on the last line of each verse. “Hello Mary Lou” finally comes on and suddenly everything is crystallized in one magic moment - the speed, the music, the sun, the wind, the company. Jeezez Christ! We’re rolling down the highway with fuckin’ Bruce Springsteen at the wheel! And he’s driving the way you would think Bruce Springsteen would drive.

Later, when we reach a light, Bruce impatiently waits on it before saying, “This is what we used to call a 'quarterback sneak’”“, and with that he takes off surreptitiously past the red light.

We’re in the old neighborhood now. Bruce drives slowly down Institute Street until he reaches the right number. It’s been painted now. "I lived here all through grammar school. There’s a Nestle’s factory near here. Man, when it rained we smelled that stuff all day long.”

The elder Springsteen would go to work in the morning, come home, go to sleep and wake up and go back to work at the factory. “I guess there was other things he wanted,” Bruce reflects.

We get back into the car and drive over to the factory. “Both my grandfather and my father worked here. It used to be a rug mill in the old days, but for some reason it ran out of business fairly quick. I was pretty young at the time.”

When I ask about high school, Bruce clams up. “It wasn’t exactly the best time of my life because I didn’t graduate with any of the others. It was a rough period.” I could see he really doesn’t pursue this avenue too long so I drop it. But I wonder what mystery is veiled beneath this wall of secrecy.

We get back into the car and tear out of there. Ironically enough, the tape Bruce shoves into the machine this time is an old Animals cassette. The first song could be a forerunner to much of the music Bruce writes. As the opening line comes out of the speakers, the dusty factory is just fading from view…

“In this dirty old part of the city/Where the sun refuses to shine/People say that there ain’t no use in trying/My little girl you’re so young and pretty/And one thing I know is true/You’ll be dead before your time is due, yes you will/See my daddy in bed ad night/See his hair a’ turnin’ grey/He’s been working and slaving his life away, yes he has.”

The song is, of course, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”, and it was a fitting omen as we drove off.

As we drove, Bruce starts reminiscing. “Yeah, I lived in practically every single town around here, from Atlantic Highlands to Bradley Beach. We used to move quite often.

"That’s where I had my very first gig,” he laughs as we pass a mobile setup. Looking out of the window, the 10 or 20 mobile homes facing us look worn and old. “The gig wasn’t bad…for our first job.”

Hey Bruce, are you gonna show up at the Capitol again like you did last year on New Year’s Eve? I ask him. It was announced earlier in the week that Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes would again party away the year in such grand fashion. Bruce turns around and answers, “I don’t know where I’m gonna be on New Year’s Eve.

"C'mon, I’ll show you where my surfin’ buddies used to live,” he says, changing the subject. We swerve sharply off the highway onto an exit. “This used to be a surfboard factory,” he says. We step out of the car near a small white building.

“Yeah, me and a fella named Tinker lived here for a year and a half, in one room. All the rest of this area used to be nothin’ but sand dunes.” He points to a huge expanse of stores, houses and construction. “None of this was here.”

“They used to make the surfboards downstairs. Tinker and I, we had a ball. Just one room! Two beds, a fridge and a TV - the rest of the room was filled with surfboards.”

“Since I was from Freehold, I was considered inland. All these guys used to surf every day. I was friends with 'em all but never went. Finally, they got to me. One afternoon they were merciless. They just kept taunting me and kidding me about not surfing that it just sorta got me riled. I grabbed a board and we all headed out to the beach.

"I must have been some sight surfing for the first time, but I’ll tell you something - I got the hang of it pretty quick. Hell, it ain’t harder than anything else. It’s like riding a bike. I haven’t surfed in awhile. Now that’s something I’d love to do. As a matter of fact, I think I will.”

He seems resolute.

He continues: “This guy Jesse taught me the finer points of surfing. We used to stay in North End Beach in Long Branch all the time. Some guy owned the beach so we had the use of it for almost two whole years. We’d be there every day. We’d stay on the beach, go in the water. It was great.

"This area is really amazing. There’s really poor neighborhoods and then there’s real nice neighborhoods all in a five-mile radius.

"I used to go to New York a lot back then. I played at the Cafe Wha? a lot in '68. I used to play there with Jerry Walker’s old group, Circus Maximus. Let’s see, I played the Night Owl (all these places were in the West Village). They had a lot of good bands there at the time - the Raves, Robin & the Hoods. Let’s see, the Mothers of Invention were playing all the time in that area and so were the Fugs.

"I didn’t go to too many concerts then. I much preferred playing and jamming with these people. There was a whole 'nother scene taking place over in the East Village that I wasn’t part of at all - the Fillmore, the Electric Circus. I think my first experience seeing a rock star was going to Steve Paul’s Scene and seeing Johnny Winter. That was really something. I remember between sets, he came out and sat at the very next table from me and my friends.”

Let’s go back to Asbury, I suggest.

Asking Bruce if he’d take me back to the old Upstage site where he held court almost every night, he gladly obliges and we get out of the car again in what could be termed downtown Asbury.

“I gotta be cool,” Bruce chuckles. “I ran out of here without paying the rent.”

We walk over to the site, which is upstairs from a shoe store.

“I lived here while Greetings From Asbury Park was being made. I slept in my sleeping bag on my friend’s floor for a good portion of that album.”

Bruce poses for pics while people pass by right and left. Surprisingly enough, nobody recognizes him (or if they do, they keep on walking).

“I’m lucky in that respect. What happened in the movies the other night is a rarity. Usually, I don’t get recognized. I don’t have that instantly recognizable feature that a lot of other people have.”

Yeah, like Frampton’s hair, I reply.

“My folks had already moved to California,” Bruce remembers, “and I was out of high school by the time I got to Asbury.

"Upstage was a great place for us to play. We played here an awful lot.”

In answering questions about his immediate future, Bruce says, “I have one more day off before we finish the tour. Then I have a whole month off before we start up again. In February we go back into the studio for work on the next album. I’m hoping it will be out by next summer.”

Just for the record, the tour ended officially in Atlanta on Oct. 1. It started in Buffalo on May 23. The new tour starts (possibly in New Jersey) on Nov. 1 and finishes by Dec. 20. If the time it took to cut Darkness is any indicator, then number five will be lucky to hit the stands by the summer after next.

The just-finished tour took in 70 cities and 86 shows in four months and eight days. That’s why Bruce has to be listed as a “great guy” to do up an afternoon on one of his rare days off. Another highly impressive thing is that he spent the whole day without the protective cradle of a publicist’s presence. Rarely have I done an interview without the artist’s publicist in tow.

In talking about the current LP, Bruce says, “The guy who took the cover shot for that album is a friend of mine from south Jersey who works full-time in a meat market. The shots were taken at his house. He’s a great photographer.”

Bruce’s only comment about the self-destructive syndrome (dope-money-power) affecting so many rock stars is that “they let all the other things become more important than playing. Playing is the important thing. Once you forget that, you’ve had it.”

Bruce, obviously, hasn’t forgotten that. He’s been having fun with music since the start. Bruce Springsteen is the perfect assimilator of many styles - Chuck Berry/Stones/Elvis/Buddy Holly/ Dylan/Little Richard/Animals. His image on stage is also an amalgamation of many images - Elvis/young Brando/James Dean. Somehow he melds all of these influences into one cohesive framework for his own strikingly original material. The man is all that he has devoured musically from the time he started listening to music, and it all pours out of him every time he steps on stage. “That Elvis, man,” Bruce says, “he is all there is. There ain’t no more. Everything starts and ends with him. He wrote the book. He is everything to do and not to do in the business.”

If Elvis Presley is Bruce’s prototype then Bruce, himself, is the focus for a lot of envy and speculation. We all have fantasies - Bruce included - of making it big and living as stars. Well, Bruce is living the ultimate realization of that fantasy right now. He’s made it through all the bullshit inherent in such a proposition. He’s doing it. And doing it in style.

Yet if you talk to him, he’s quite humble. Ask him what part he played in the writing of “Because the Night” and he’ll tell you that he only wrothe the title line (although he admits he will probably put it on his next album.)

Seeing him so close up and listening to him speak makes one realize that, although not articulate, there is a certain aura about him. A certain intangible. His charisma is the well-worn persona of the working man. His handsome/beautiful face could even make the transition to the silver screen as a prophet of the proletariat. His facial features are tough, yet there’s a certain hardness to him. You’d swear he’s Italian before you’re told of his Dutch descent.

His enthusiasm is real. The moment when Gary U.S. Bonds came over the car speakers with “Quarter to Three” - that’s when Bruce really started to groove. The song is in his encores in most of his performances. He still loves the original and still sings along with it when it comes on.

The essence of rock and roll can be distilled into a performance that a fella by the name of Bobby Lewis did on American Bandstand many years ago. Lewis performed “Tossin’ and Turnin’” on the show, lip-synched it, and drove the small television studio crazy with his slips and slides. Host Dick Clark did a never-before-done-thing - he, in his madness of the moment, screamed for Lewis to perform the same song again. The sound man cued it up and Lewis went back out onto the stage and really tore into it this time, twisting, turning, giving it all he had. By now his lip motions were completely out-of-synch with the record being played, but it didn’t matter. It was a piece of rock and roll heaven. And one, I’m sure, Bruce Springsteen would have enjoyed.

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praphit · 5 years ago

Text

She-Ra Season 3 - the search for her old behind

That's right! A She-Ra review.

I know that I'm not exactly the demographic.

So, let me explain.

How many of you are familiar with the beer "Tropical Bitch"? I know, it sounds made up, but it's a real thing.

It's actually a pretty good beer. If you like IPA's with a lil fruitiness and a lot of attitude, then TB could be the beer for you. This post brought to you by Flying Dog Brewery.

Well, I had more of the TB than I was striving for; I'm an overachiever. I had a host at a party who just kept chucking them at me. As soon as I finished one, another beer was flying towards my face - that's hospitality, ladies and gentlemen... and some damned fine enablement

I got home, went to my room, turned on Netflix, fell out on the bed, and what do I SEE??! - "She-Ra and the princesses of power"! - it was the new joint though, and season 3.

Now, new or old, I normally would have said "What the hell? Netflix, how dare you think that I'd watch this??!" and moved on, but I was bewitched by Tropical Bitches... plus the Sandman was creeping closer and closer to me. I think it was the Sandman (no one really knows what he or SHE looks like, right??), it could have been something paranormal/X-File-worthy... or maybe that homeless guy snuck into my place again.

Regardless, me, TB power, and the cuddling Sandman decided to watch "She-Ra". I didn't make it far, BUT what I remember... Whew!

Yeah, not much... but that won't stop me from reviewing it.

Like I said, She-Ra is new now... and YOUNG! Where did old She-Ra go? I was first introduced to She-Ra back when I was a kid, and I used to watch

He-Man!

He-Man was dope when I was a kid. Then, they brought in She-Ra, and we all thought they were gonna hook up!

But, years later, we remember He-Man, and...

I'm sure he hooked up with people, but not anyone who looked like She-Ra.

Old She-Ra's probably kickin about 60 now, right?? Madonna's 60. Madonna's still got it!

I mean, I’m not always sure what look she’s going for, but

...

But, she’s still got it!

Though Madonna had better be careful with those dance moves that she still does. She could twist the wrong way, and her hip bone could pop out; nothing sexy about that.

Sorry, is that not Madonna in there? My bad.

Regardless, this She-Ra issue is straight up ageism!

They probably said "It's reboot time!"

She-Ra shows up -

"What? No! Getcho old ass outta here! Nobody wants to see you dressed like that no more!" I bet you she put up a fight, and threatened to go to the papers! Now, while they shouldn't have been scared (cuz, c'mon, it's 2019... "THE PAPERS"??) she prob still "disappeared".

Her wardrobe though -

She'd grab the sword powered by feminism, grow to like 10 feet tall, and her skirt would shrink to like 4 inches in length.

C'mon, man! Now, y'all are doing that with a teenager?? Have some decency!

I saw a black dude in there. He was standing next to She-Ra in a band of princesses.

She-Ra did her growth thing, the black dude looked up to talk to her and... well, you can imagine. It was awkward. I want to know what happened to all of the other men, cuz he is the only one that my previously tropical-bitched mind can remember. And what did he have to endure in order to be the one guy left around... getting blamed for everything:)

Being the only guy in a room full of women - I've been there:

(watching Tv - Elizabeth Warren pops-up on the screen):

Woman 1 - "I love her so much!" Woman 2 - "Me too!" Woman 3 - "I'm drunk! I mean, me three!"

Woman 1 - "What do you think, lone guy?"

Lone Guy - "Yeah, I mean, she's aiight. I WAS riding with Hickenlooper. You know, he's name makes me laugh and all. But, yeah, she's ok."

Woman 1 - "Ok?? *shakin her head* Of course you're going to vote for a MAN, even one with a ridiculous last name."

Lone Guy - "No, it's not that."

Woman 1 - "Just wanna keep us down, don't you?"

Lone Guy - "... no?? Hey, why don't we change the channel?"

Woman 2 - "Mmmhmm" (changes channel - stops on a Nicki Minaj video)

Lone Guy - "Aw Yeah! That's my jam!"

Woman 2 - "I bet it is... Psssh, Oh my God, Woman 3, look at her butt. It's SO BIG. Lone Guy, you only like her cuz she looks like a total prostitute."

Woman 3 - "I think it's liberating to dress like that!"

Woman 2 - "Woman 3!"

Woman 3 - "Sorry. I meant I'M DRUNK!"

Woman 2 - "It's SO BIG! I can't believe it's just so round, it's like out there... I mean gross, look... she's just so...

Woman 1 - "Alright, alright, Woman 2. We're changing the station. Apparently, women are good enough to shake their asses in Lone Guy's face, but not good enough to run our country."

Lone Guy - "... *heavy sigh* Let's eat! What do you say??! (Long Guy eats some homemade pie). "Hmm! Woman 1, you made this, right?! It's delicious!"

Woman 1 - ("Hey, rambling Praphit, we DO have names!") Actually, my husband baked it. Ok? He let allowed me to leave the kitchen for a little bit." *glaring at Lone Guy*

Lone Guy - (taking a long gulp of vodka) "Did I mention how good you look in those jeans?"

Tammy (previously Woman 1) - "I know what you're doing... BUT THANK YOU :) *now all smiles*

Gladys (prevously Woman 2) - (thinking to herself - "Wait a minute, he told me that I look good in my jeans. Hmmmmmmm") *glaring at Lone Guy*

Becky (previously Woman 3) - "I'm drunk!" (she passes out)

---------------

This is his whole life.

I remember him raising his voice to the ladies at one point. He was like "She-Ra, we're going the wrong way!"

She-Ra: Are you telling ME what to do? Black Dude: "Well... it's just that you're holding the map upside down." She-Ra: "Oh, I'm a woman holding a map, please send the man to come explain it to me!"

Black Dude: "No, no... "

She-Ra: "You condescending asshole."

Black Dude: "I would never be that way with you... holding such a large, sharp sword.

*dead silence*

She-Ra: "Take him to the room!"

Black Dude: "Please no! Not again! I'll be good!"

She-Ra: "I'll deal with you later." --------------------

I don't know whether I dreamt this or not, but I visualize a room that She-Ra sends people to. We never know what goes on in there, but they hate going in, and they always leave crying and broken.

People, I didn't want to mention it, but there's some race stuff too!

There was a point when She-Ra and the team meet at an abandoned house. They want to sleep there.

Now, there's a Latina character named Catra, and she's drawn as a beast.

PEOPLE I'M JUST TELLIN YA WHAT I SAW. She-Ra and the others decided to rest for the night, but she finds a broom and tells Catra to clean this place up a lil first.

Catra: "What?! By myself?! Why?!"

She-Ra: "Cuz you're so good at it."

Catra: "But I always have to do this kind of thing!"

She-Ra: "So you won't mind doing it again."

Catra: *Growls*

She-Ra: "Now, Catra, no reason to get all uppity. Be quick about it though, we need to get bed early. ... oh, and we seem to be low on beds. You don't mind sleeping on the floor do you.?"

One of the other girls: "Or in the tree, you are a CAT hahahaha."

She-Ra: "... What? She's only joking, Catra. But, I mean, she's right, you are... "

Catra: "THAT IS IT! *strangles She-Ra*

(They help She-Ra)

She-Ra: "*breathing heavily, while holding her throat* You just earned yourself a ticket to the room! Two of you take her back there now. I'll deal with her later."

Wild for a kids cartoon, right?? I know! I couldn't believe it either.

Despite all of this, it's a colorful, action-packed, a lot of positive team building messages, a good girl power cartoon. There are also some monsters, and some thrilling moments. You just have to ignore everything I've said previously :)

And that's not a big deal to do. Kids don't see that type of thing anyway.

Remember Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner?

The coyote kept getting seriously and continuously injured due to using those damned ACME products! All he was trying to do was feed his family. He never did catch the roadrunner. His family probably starved, and devoured each other. Meanwhile, we're just yucking it up!

Ha! It IS funny though. Wile E Coyote, comedic genius.

All in all I give She-Ra Season 3 an A*

* = drunk on Tropical Bitch

I imagine the end of season 3 being dark. She-Ra goes walks into her basement, and then through a secret path, down a long poorly lit hallway to find... ... OLD She-Ra.

She's chained to a chair. Her clothes and body all dirty and stanky. Her hair mangled. Her body weak from not eating. Her legs have grown hairy. No, you don't understand - like, REALLY REALLY REALLY HAIRY.

Young She-Ra looks down at Old She-Ra -

"I can't believe that you really thought your old ass could be She-Ra.

I’M SHE-RA! You should be thanking me for locking you up, so that you don't embarrass yourself out there. (she gets real close to the former She-Ra) You know they're never going to find you, right? They don't even know that you're alive."

Old She-Ra: "My friends... my friends WILL come for me."

Young She-Ra: "I doubt it... especially since the old friends that you have left keep having accidents."

Old She-Ra: "What?"

Young She-Ra: (Pulls out a bag from behind her back. She opens it and turns it upside down... the head of an old He-Man plops down.) "Hahahahaha"

Old She-Ra: *speechless and horrified*

Young She-Ra: "I know you're upset. But, I'm gonna turn that frown upside down. We're about to have some fun."

Old She-Ra: "Wait, no no! PLEASE! You can't do this! Please!"

Young She-Ra: "Say my name, bitch."

Old She-Ra: "No! She-Ra No! Please! She-Ra plase! (camera turns away)

"SHE-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

(Cue cheesy coked-up 80's producer voice: "And the princesses of powerrrrrrrrrrrrrr! *echo*"

THE END

Hell yes! I can't wait for season 4.

#she-ra #netflix #john praphit #praphitproductions.com #tv #ageism #feminism #praphit #horror #nicki minaj #madonna #tropical bitch #flying dog brewery #cartoons #kids shows #he-man #girl power

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papermoth-bird-blog · 6 years ago

Text

San Francisco: The setting sun.

Early morning in San Francisco, might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced. Especially in the quite of the Sunset district, which is the more “boring” part of town in which a lot of immigrant families have settled. The houses, though more simple in decoration than the Haight-Ashbury district, are still painted in all sorts of beautiful colours- many of them pastel tones; pinks, baby blues, pale greens & yellows. Walking in the empty streets of the region alone in the warm reflection of the houses has to be a version of heaven. At the very least, it would be an excellent location for a Sophia Coppola film- or girl gaze photo shoot (looking at you Ali).

My friend Asa’s friend Carolina lives in the sunshine district & that’s where I ended up staying on my second night in San Fran. The area has plenty of Chinese restaurants- that I wish I could say I went to, but alas, I didn’t. Apparently it’s some of the best Chinese food outside of China. I’ll have to make a point of going next time I’m in San Fran.

When I awoke at the hostel, I moved pretty quickly- packing everything away & hurrying down to get breakfast. Honestly, I loved the hostel & would be totally keen to stay there again. It’s the right amount of people, so you can be as social or as lonesome that you’d like without it being weird. It also just generally has good vibes. Plus the breakfast was included- so you know I tried to eat a days worth of food all in the morning to save monies. Although it is in the Tenderloin- which is where all the homeless people got pushed into when aggressive gentrification came and swept the city. After breakfast, I decided to check my bags there & pick them up later since I was already downtown. I left the building without even glancing at a map- happy to exploring in the way of getting terribly & wonderfully lost. Over the course of this trip I’ve become so comfortable & confident in doing so. I think part of my previous distress with the city is being inherently nervous there- so many people, so much to pay attention to in order to navigate it properly/safely. In working through my personal anxiety, I’ve also been able to inadvertently mend my relationship with cities themselves. That being said- I think I still have a country heart & will always crave place that don’t require shoes. Spending time in cities has been really good for me in a way I didn’t expect. I am happy for it.

I wandered through much of the city- first starting off conservatively in the flatter neighbourhoods; the mission, the Castro. Kluane said one of the things I must do is visit the Tartarine Bakery- one of her favourites in the entire world. By happy coincidence I stumbled upon it during my wandering. The line up was around the block- so you know it had to be good. Like everything in Sa Fran, it was a little expensive- but I got some small little bits in a box & took it with me to eat in a near by park. My favourite little bit was the raspberry meringue with cacao nibs. SOOO good. Not too sweet, wild texture. In the line, I heard some pretty funny conversations that showed the heart of San Francisco. The lady in front of me spoke loudly about the tenants of Eastern European Clowning. Others spoke about the odd theatre projects they hoped to get off the ground somehow. There was died hair & texture & wild patterns in the get-ups. I was starting to feel really good about it all.

After I finished eating (& drinking my Komboucha—which I promptly sent a review of to Ryan) I wandered over to Ashbury Heights. Hands down this is the most famous part of San Francisco. Complete with colourful “painted lady” Victorians, winding hills & people wearing outfits straight out of the late 60s. Haight street is the main hub of the area. I have to say, Haight probably has some of the best vintage stores I’ve ever been to. I’m not gonna lie.. In one store (that was gathered like a library of vintage, sorted by year) I had tears gathering in my eyes. The clothing there were each individual works of art. I spent a good chunk of time studying the hats stacked high to the ceiling, and then the beaded gowns from the 20’s. Again, all these things inspiring so many ideas for future themed parties & White Rabbit. I don’t have much room in my pack (or money for that matter), but I couldn’t leave without buying some beautiful silk scarves- so I could play the part of 50s femme fatale. I also found some really beautiful old postcards from San Fran, which I added to my collection.

The area is also home to some really fun cafes & great record shops. I partially wished I could have spent more time there, but I was craving the park. I wandered over to Golden Gate park which was near by. As I basked in the sun, looking at the fresh tree blossoms, I heard bongo drums carrying over the wind. In those moments, I felt the echoe of the 60s in such a real way. I picked some pear blossoms & stuck them in my hair, nestled under by new blue silk scarf & found a low twisted tree to settle into. I sat in the tree for what felt like forever, looking out over the hills towards the Spanish church steeples & the Golden Gate bridge peeking out over the city haze. I breathed deeply, basking in my peaceful lonesome thoughts. It felt so good to be my myself again. I thought of friends & home, and what it would take to make me feel more grounded there going forward. I feel so much more prepared to be steadfast in what I wanted in my life, the things I would no longer tolerate because they would not allow me to live in the peace I crave. I learned a lot about that through my inner turmoil in the Gopala situation. I talked to my friend Stephanie (who had just been in San Fran a few months back). We talked about the beautiful Botanical gardens in the park, but also exchanged some brief life updates.

Not long after that, as I wove on down the path from the hilltop of Beuno Vista park, the sole of my shoe (on my favourite fringe-toes boots) fell off. So I hobbled along with my sole flopping around like cartoon character. Despite my slight distress over the situation, I still had some stuff I wanted to do, so I continued wandering- albeit at a more manageable pace for my failing footwear.

I got myself back over to the mission area in search of a burrito. For some reason, there seemed to be a lot of pumpkins about- sat out on front porches of the colourful houses. Don’t know entirely what that was about- maybe its pumpkin season insanely early in Cali (doesn’t entirely seem sensicle to me), maybe they thrive in the zeitgeist of Halloween?? Anyways, I found the section that is the capital of burritoville. I chose taqueria Cancun- both because it’s supposed to be one of the best & I am heading to Cancun too.. so might as well get prepped. Despite it being massive, I ate the burrito in about two minutes. I have to say- it has got to be one of the best burritos I’ve ever had & I mean that. Pure & simple & perfect little baby sized wrap. After I polished off that baby off, I stumbled over to get my pack from the hostel.

In a series of unfortunate mis-understandings, I accidentally took an uber over to perhaps the sketchiest parts of the whole Bay area. Two hours later though, I found myself at Carolina’s in the quiet of the Sunset district- ready to crash on that basment couch. I had some quick conversations with the roommates- queer artist types- and then went to bed.

I woke in the early morning, before anyone else in the house. I went to the downtown area to a place called Mel’s diner to meet an old friend I knew in High School. My partial motivation for this, was to get more content for my friend’s diner instagram account. Seeing Monica was so nice. We were not particularly close in high school, but took all four years of visual arts together. She’s been living in California on and off for the last 5 years or so. Originally she was living in the mountains of Santa Cruz & found a really lovely community out there. Eventually, San Francisco lured her in. She told me of the awesome non-profit she first worked for, but eventually the astounding living costs forced her into the tech sector. She enjoys her job at a video game company, but after studying art history & global development, I think her heart still craves work in that area. We talked about how San Francisco’s tech boom is making it impossible for artists to stay here, creating work. Most of them have been pushed out to Oakland, but even Oakland is seeing such rapid gentrification, it is making it quite difficult for artists to stay- let alone continue to show their work. The same is happening in many other west coast art hubs like Portland & Seattle. Of course, once the artists leave, San Francisco will die in the ways it was. Which is terribly sad- confirming it is no longer the city of love it once was in decades past. For the moment, there are still glimpses of it though, and I hope to be back while it still exists in this manner. It was nice seeing Monica & see her doing so well now, even though she will likely soon have to leave San Francisco too. She definitely inspired me to go back to Santa Cruz for longer next time- there are some cool land projects & anarchist communities out there she thought I’d really jive with. She also told me about some cool farms in Big Sur. I can’t wait to get back there with my sisters. Monica was bullied in High school and it makes me so happy & relieved knowing that she found peace and acceptance away from Toronto. Giving me added hope for love & harmony around the world.

I walked Monica to work (she often has to work 7 days a week to make enough hours to get by- which is insane to her too). After that, I wandered by myself again- as it is my very favourite activity. I walked along the piers- that is to say for a few hours. I slowly made my way towards the golden gate bridge. I eventually got to the park just past the maritime museum in the fisherman’s warf. It was there that I got a message from my best friend Kluane. “Is it okay if I call you” she said. Of course, we often try and chat on the phone, but I had a feeling in that moment it was something important. I crossed my arms & called her in Winnipeg. She picked up right away & hurried into it. It echoed a call I had with my father last fall. She asked me if it was a good time to hear some difficult news. I mean I was in public, but once hearing that sentence it’s hard to delay hearing it anyways. Plus, I heard in her tone she needed to talk about something really important too.

----------------------------------------------------------

Danielle Moore.

As I looked out over the Golden Gate Bridge, Klu gently let me know that our friend Danielle Moore was on a flight heading to Kenya for a UN conference. She continued that the plane had gone down & there had been no survivors. I could hear the shock in her voice still. I didn’t even really notice that I had started crying. After a relatively short chat, we hung up the phone & agreed to talk soon. I spent the next half hour crying in that park alone- trying my best not to full out sob loudly- I don’t know how effective I was in that effort.

I met Danielle in university. In second year we had been nextdoor neighbours- living in twin houses Victorian houses. Due to the fact that they looked exactly the same, we our separate friend group inadvertently often waltzed right into the other’s apartments. Once, Danielle’s partner so far as walked into my roommate’s room, only then realizing he was in the wrong place. During warmer months, both of our house hold would spend days drawing in chalk on the sidewalks outside & strumming ukelele’s & doing crafts. We went to eachother’s house parties. A year or so later, we found our paths crossing even more often, trading often on BUNZ & finding ourselves at a lot of the same events. Danielle had some of the most brilliant optimism & energy I’d ever witnessed. She tirelessly worked towards making the world a better place- widely diversifying her causes. She was honestly so inspiring & hands down one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met. I know a lot of people say that about people that have passed away. I can’t emphasize how true it was; Is. If Danielle was still here, the same things would still be said. I am in a state of absolute shock. I know the wider community is too.

As Klu said, it just seems so wholly unfair, that something so horrible would happen like that- especially to Danielle. There is no making sense of it. Kluane & Danielle had become really close over the last year- as they had both been living in Winnipeg. When Leon, Klu’s brother was to visit after Klu returned to Winnipeg (after meeting us in Mexico), they had made plans to go skating all together. My heartbreaks for her in such a really way too. She’s been doing her very best to honour Danielle in anyway she can & has been spearheading a ritual for all of Danielle’s loved ones across the world. I am doing my best to support that goal, despite my physical distance.

After my good public sob-fest, I called my sister on the phone to tell her. I decided to by my ticket back to LA there & then. I wanted to be around someone I knew, even just to be there quietly next to them. Having family near-ish felt like a good option for me. I soon texted Mia that I would be coming back earlier than expected.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I still owed Gopala money from our roadtrip up the coast. I met up with him & tried my best to be brief. He told me he had been worried about me. I told him I was sorry, but that I had really needed to be alone for the past day & had purposely not been looking at my phone. I also briefly mentioned the news I had just learned about Danielle. He said some swift thing like “Well remember what Krishna told Arjuna, when Arjuna expressed his fear of his friends dying”. The thing is I knew. I still know. I haven’t lost that picture. I have better tools now, and do not feel the urge to fall apart like I did when my cousin died (although even then I managed not to). Ellie’s death was perhaps the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through in my entire life. And I am surviving that. It has prepared me for so much, including Danielle’s horrible death. I kinda wanted to smack him… just a little. Okay, maybe just pinch him a little. I just feel huge resentments towards people who speak to me like I am being some overdramatic-woman-type creature. As if being upset at my friend’s death was an overreaction of some sort (I had resolved my composure at this point). As if I was some person that needed to be lulled back into a rational state of mind. In fact, I think I am quite good at that- the key being that I allow myself to fully feel my feelings through a purge of emotion. I guess it’s not my buisness what other people’s opinions of me are. Their opinions are only a reflection of their own inner psyche. So, I learned in that moment not to give single shit about what he thought & do whatever I needed to do to feel okay.

Danielle wasn’t in my everyday anymore, though, I suppose she had been for a few years. I cannot imagine the heart pain of the people that were so deeply intertwined with hers. For Kluane who did have her in her everyday. For her partner Colby, who had had her in his everyday for so so so many years at this point. I have such fond memories of Colby & Danielle doing goofy sung duets- Colby occasionally pulling out his Kermit the frog puppet. They had hosted countless potlucks gathering the community throughout university & beyond. My heartaches for her family. How absolutely horrible & out of the blue. She had flown so many times- travelling all around the country with her job. There is just no making sense of it, even though I am still trying for some reason.

I got myself to the bus stop & climbed onto the bus feeling partially numb. I did a pretty good job of not crying- though I still welled up with tears on a semi-regular basis, trying not to freak out the girl that was sitting next to me. I checked in on Klu, who went ahead with performing in her Hip-Hop dance recital- which I am so unbelievably proud of her for. Katie told me that yesterday, a letter arrived for Klu from Danielle. From what I know, the letter contained fairly ordinary, but non-the-less lovely thoughts & dreams. I can’t imagine what getting a letter like that would be like. I do remember how scared I was went they first found Katie’s tumour though. How precious it was to have time to process all of it. With Danielle’s passing, there was non of it.

I got into LA & after a rather fumbly uber ride, I found myself on the couch of my uncles house yet again. In the morning, Tom woke me up & asked if I wanted to do yoga on the beach with Mia & him. Of course I said yes. I feel more grounded now that I have the tools do deal with all these emotional difficulties. But I can’t help have my mind wander over to thoughts of Danielle quite often.

So too, were my thoughts wandering over to the imminent flight I too was supposed to be boarding in order to travel to Mexico. Mia & Tom were both flying out the following day too- and we tried to keep our fear to the minimal, by not talking about it too much.

We were gentle with out last day in LA. We rode those uber scooter’s back and forth between Venice Beach and Santa Monica. I’m glad I finally got to find them- they are so fun. More importantly that gave me that same wholly free feeling I had in riding that rusty old bike around New Orleans. I had a rush of realization with how much I loved LA. Venice Beach in particular. I have such gratitude for the laid back warmth this area provides. It was like a really soft cushion to fall onto after a challenging week.

We ate at swinger’s diner & talked about family dynamics, Danielle & Ellie & about what we would all do in Toronto when we got there. Of course, my thoughts flickered to the fact that that meant more plane rides. I had only extremely recently become completely comfortable with planes after all this time. My flights are already booked though, and I am determined not to have fear steal my wanderlust. Anyways, I miss my sisters. And seeing them means going to Europe.

I caught up with some friends while I walked around Venice beach by myself later that day. Stopping to look at the deep fried oreos that were calling out my name, until I decided to ignore them. I hung out with Tom & Caroline in the apartment for the rest of that evening, as Eric & Mia went out for dinner just the two of them. I passed out on the couch a little cookie drunk. We had been watching Christopher Robin (after it became very clear that Blood Diamond was WAY too violent for me these days). Of course normally I would have been sure to pack my bag meticulously the night before, but in my altered state I chose to fall asleep instead. I resolved to wake early & do it then, meaning I knida rushed it, packing in the dim morning light of Mia’s still darkended bedroom. Tom Left early, then it was me, then Mia left an hour later- all at differet terminals, so I guess it didn’t really matter we weren’t able to hang at the airport together.

In my haste, I forgot to take my grohman pocket knife out of my purse…which I only realized as they searched my bag. The lady at TSA looked at me like I had done it on purpose & was an absolute criminal. She noted it down on my record. I cried. Honestly because that knife meant to much to me & was one of my prized pocessions. I reminded myself there was more important things in the world & that I could always eventually get a new one. But I continued crying a bit anyways- my thoughts drifting along other paths. Danielle. The coming plane ride. My knife. My frustration with myself. But mostly it became about the plane.

After that incident, I pretty well ran through the airport to make the flight, so there wasn’t that much to think afterall. When I got onto the aircraft I forbaid myself from thinking any bad thoughts. “not in here” I repeated internally. I closed my eyes once I was settles & chooed the thoughts out of my brain. Repeating my mantra over and over and over. Somewhere in there I came back into awareness enough to fill out my immigration form.

When I landed in Cancun I was exhausted & downed a whole bag on banana chips out of frustration. I took the bus into Playa del Carmen where Katie was waiting for me. The humidity here struck me immediately. Especially seeing as I had a huge pack & was still wearing my jeans- which seemed wholly reasonable in California, but ridiculous here. Seeing Katie felt unreal. When I saw her face, it was like I came into realization that I was really there- that I had survived my flight & I could enjoy the next couple weeks with my friends.

Katie had offered to stay on the phone with my as I boarded. I was relieved I didn’t need that, although I was grateful for the offer. The past few days we have been scheming ways of supporting Klu on her journey here. Not only is she sure to be exhausted, I understand the fear she is experiencing in getting on the plane. Anything we can do to help her, Katie & I are determined to carry out.

For right now, for me, that looks like doing some of the footwork of contacting some of the organizations Danielle was a part of to inform them of the ritual. And also check on Klu and do my best to support her in these moments- though I know she’s thrown herself fully into planning (which she thrives in anyways). I don’t know what support will look like here in Mexico, but we will have to play it by ear. We will only be able to tell when it happens. All I know is that during a time like this, it’ll be so nice to have some of my best friends all together again.

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ectopuppy · 8 years ago

Text

Crash Chapter 3

[Chapter 1.1] [Chapter 1.2] [Chapter 2.1] [Chapter 2.2]

On fanfiction.net!

Crash is off hiatus! This was a fun chapter to write. If you’re wondering about why this chapter is “chapter 3″ instead of “chapter 5″, that’s because I reformatted the story on fanfiction. So now what were chapters 1 and 2 are chapter one. (same for 3&4)

Anyway here we go!~

Two hours later Sam pulled into their garage, reminding herself to pick up her car tomorrow. She hated driving her mother's Lexus, it was too fancy for her tastes. She cut the engine and leaned her head on the steering wheel for a moment. Time to go play nice with mom and dad, She thought. You're only here for the summer then you're back at school where you don't have to deal with them. She allowed herself a few more seconds of self pity and then got out of the car, steeling her nerves.

“I'm home,” She called as she entered the house. Her mother, who had been in the sitting room the garage opened up into, accosted her immediately.

“How did it go?” Pam started, patting the couch beside her with a dainty motion. Sam sat, knowing that abstaining would be 'improper and impolite'. She sighed inwardly. Nineteen is too old to worry about being scolded.

“You were out all night last night and, it was so last minute –very unprofessional, by the way– you probably had no time to prepare. Just look at your makeup, it's far too dark for an interview.” Pam caught her daughter's pointed look and frowned. She made a high sound in the back of her throat and continued. “Did it go well Pumpkin?”

“Yes, actually,” Sam replied, biting down the urge to scream. She drummed her nails on her thigh in an attempt to soothe herself. She plastered a proud smile on her face. “It went very well. I start on Monday.”

“That's wonderful, sweetheart.” Pam exclaimed, clapping her hands together with the same grace all her actions seemed to have. “Which internship was it? The accounting firm? I know your father put in a good word for you with a friend there.”

“No,” Sam said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “It was the record label. I met one of the producers assistants last night and she recognized me from my application. We hit it off pretty well and she offered to set up a meeting with her boss. Wild, huh?” It wasn't the exact truth, but Sam wasn't sure how well her mother would take the whole 'I Yelled at some Rockstars and they Asked Me To Come Party' thing. She wasn't sure how well she was taking it to be honest.

“Well, at least we know you're good at networking,” Pam said, laughing to herself. Sam shifted on the couch and straightened her skirt. Pam placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. “Why don't we go out for dinner to celebrate. Your father and I haven't taken you out in ages. We could go to the country club! I'm sure everyone would be excited to see you.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, her voice dripping with the kind of false enthusiasm that her mother had a hard time detecting. There was no arguing. She could tell her mother had already made up her mind. She wanted to parade Sam out in front of her friends, and tell them all how perfect she was. Sam mentally shook those unwanted thoughts away, and stood from the couch. “I'll go change.”

“I should as well,” Pam replied, following suit. She smoothed out her already immaculate dress, and hummed to herself. “Oh! That reminds me; I bought you a dress today you should wear it,” Sam's nose wrinkled up. “don't give me that look, it's not pink.”

“Okay,” Sam sighed, keeping herself from rolling her eyes. With a nod, Pam left to go find her husband and prepare for an evening out. Sam started her trudge up the stairs. She entered her room –the only room in the house not painted in pastels –and eyed the white box on her bed. She kicked off her heels and sat down beside it before pulling out her phone.

Danny Fenton: Congratulations! Jazz told me you got the job! :)

Sam Manson: Thanks. My parents are taking me out to celebrate.

Danny Fenton: Sounds like fun. I'll let you get to your evening.

Says the celebrity taking time from his day to text me, Sam thought, an amused smile on her lips. She still couldn't stop the giddiness that bubbled up in her heart whenever she thought about Danny. Every other minute she would remember that she now had the personal numbers of her favourite band on her phone and her heart would explode a little.

She was determined to not be weird about it. Maybe she'd had a bit of a crush on Phantom since she was sixteen, but that was just some silly fantasy. Now he was Danny. He was real. Once she got to know him –oh my god, she was going to get to know Phantom –the butterflies in her stomach would subside. He'd just be a colleague. A friend maybe. A dreamy blue eyed friend who just happened to be plastered on her wall. Sam buried her face in her hands. Those posters would have to come down now.

With a sigh, Sam steeled herself and tossed her phone down on her bed. Enough stalling, time to see what her mother had bought her. She removed the lid from the box and looked down at the dress in the box. It was lilac with a violet floral pattern. Could be worse. Sam thought, pulling it out of the box. It was a sleeveless tea dress, with a high collar and a white taffeta underskirt. She went to the mirror and held it up to herself. It was probably meant to be knee length, but with Sam's long legs it would end a few inches short. She could make this work.

She went downstairs forty minutes later in purple lipstick and dark eyeliner, her hair pulled into a tight bun. She'd chosen all black accessories, trying to go for a pastel goth look. Her father smiled at her, and looped his arm through Pam's. Pam gave Sam a quick once over and pursed her lips for a moment before smiling. She was displeased enough for it to show on her face, but not enough to say anything. A balance Sam had perfected in her senior year.

“Ready to go ladies?” Jeremy asked, taking no notice of the brief tension between his wife and daughter. Pam's smile became more genuine, and she leaned into him. Sam checked her purse for her phone, and then nodded. “Alright, let's go.”

“I can't believe you got a concussion, dude!” Danny practically howled, dropping his phone onto his bed with a dull thud. Jasmine knocked three times on his wall, a signal she'd used since they were kids to tell him to be quieter. Cujo padded over and sniffed the wall, interested in the sound.

“Whatever,” Simon's voice chimed out of Danny's phone speaker. “I was drunk. Back flips are cool.”

“Only when you stick the landing,” Danny laughed, softer this time. He held a red flannel shirt up to himself in the mirror and then tossed it on his bed. “Between you pulling that and Latch renting a peacock, I'm sure we made a hell of a first impression on Sam.”

“She seemed pretty chill about the whole thing,” Simon replied. Danny could just barely hear Tucker and Latch talking in the background. He strained to hear them. “Yeah, Tuck says they had a good morning. I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

“I mean she was a little flustered maybe, but in my presence who wouldn't be.” Tucker added. Danny heard someone smack him, and snorted. “She's really nice, though. I was a little worried at first to be honest.”

“Yeah, like, we made a pretty big snap decision.” Latch said. Danny nodded to himself. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her at the after party. He'd been pulled away by the press pretty early on. Jazz had nothing but good things to say about her, though. Danny had learned to trust her judgment. Latch continued. “She could have been... You know.”

“A stalker...” Simon finished for him. An uncomfortable second of silence passed over the group. Simon cleared his throat and continued.

“But, I agree. She seems very genuine.” Danny let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Simon never hid what he thought of someone –it had gotten him in hot water more than once –so hearing that he had accepted Sam was a relief.

“Still,” Danny said, a tentative edge to his voice, “we should give her time to prove herself.”

“Of course.” Simon replied. His voice was softer than before. Danny opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a knock at his door.

“One second,” He said in the direction of his phone. “Come in.”

“Hey sweetie.” Maddie said, opening the door. She still had her lab coat on over her clothes. Cujo bounded to her side and nuzzled her hand. She pet his head in gentle circles.

“Hi Maddie!” Danny's phone chorused. He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, mom.” Danny replied, a warm grin on his face. It was nice to spend time with his family for once. He was glad this tour was over. “What's up?”

“Hello boys, “ Maddie laughed. “I just wanted to say I'm home, and ask if you planned eating with us or not.”

“Oh,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn't considered that his mom might want to have dinner. “We made plans already.”

“Dude, are you kidding!? Can we come over instead!?” Latch's voice yelled from the phone. Maddie smiled. “I haven't had a home cooked meal in months.”

“Of course you can.” Maddie replied. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, gauging Danny's reaction. When he didn't object, she smoothed out her lab coat and grinned. “Be here by seven. We're having spaghetti.”

Cheers erupted from Danny's phone, and his heart swelled. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this.

“Thanks mom.” Maddie shot him a final smile and slipped out the door, pressing it closed with a click.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #my fanfic #screamo au

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the-fault-in-our-cakes · 8 years ago

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i was tagged by @iwannashelteryou so let’s do this

Rules: always repost the rules; answer the eleven random questions posted for you; create eleven new ones and tag eleven people.

You are given an unlimited budget to travel the world during three months. Where would you go, how long, with whom and why ?

I think I would randomly pick someone that I don’t even know to go all around the world (Canada, Japan, Polynesia and Norway for sure) for a year, just to get to know them through how they behave and how interested they can get depending on the places.

You can only eat one thing from now on until the day you die, what do you chose ?

Uuuugh do I really have to choose between pancakes and bacon ? Really ? I’ll go for pancons then. Pancons don’t exist, but it’s still a better idea than choosing between pancakes and bacon.

One day, you wake up and realize you’re not yourself anymore but Midas and you can turn into gold everything you touch. How do you live with this malediction ?

I’d probably just touch myself so the world will finally see me as the person I truly am. Pure gold. I guess I’ll be fine then.

Who would you ask to direct a movie about your life and who would be playing your role ?

I’d ask Sofia Coppola to direct the movie since she directs works about boredom. Also I think Eddie Redmayne would be a pretty good choice to play my character, all he would have to do is stand in the middle of a crowd, look like he has no idea what he’s doing here but still manage to look cuter than everybody. If Eddie is busy, pick Anna Kendrick, she will make it as well. She is already awkard and gets drunk hoping it’ll solve her problems.

What are the last three positive things that happened to you in the past few days ?

I talked to my crush, appeared on the Buzzfeed website and spent hours laughing with @iwannashelteryou on Snapchat 8)

From now on, you can only see the world in one colour. What is it ?

Red. It is a colour that makes me feel safe and comfortable. I tend to cling to red whenever it is possible, so seeing the world in this colour would be kinda great ?

You suddendly find yourself send into the last book you’ve read/the book you’re currently reading. What is it and what would happen to you ?

I’m a fucking hella good-looking god named Apollo and... my father tosses me in a trash.

In a movie adaptation of your life, what ten songs would be a must have?

(of course there’s a question about songs)

1 - Troubled Minds - Marina and The Diamonds

2 - Fabulous - High School Musical 2

3 - The Kids Aren’t Alright - Fall Out Boy

4 - Demons - Imagine Dragons

5 - Teen Idle - Marina and The Diamonds

6 - I Write Sins Not Tragedies - Panic! At The Disco

7 - I Want It All - High School Musical 3

8 - Oops, I did it again - Britney Spears

9 - Wild World - Cat Stevens

10 - Je ne veux pas travailler - Edith Piaf

How many languages can you speak, which, and would you like to speak some more ?

I’d say...two ? And a half ? It’s supposed to be three actually, French and English, but my Spanish is fucking terrible ? I’m also learning LSF (Langue des Signes Française) but I still have to work a looooot on it. So let’s say two and a half.

Do you prefer libraries or bookstores ?

I like both tbh, but since I use bookstores as libraries (when I was a kid my mom made me pick the books I wanted and by the time we reached the till I had already finished them), well, it makes it harder to choose lmao. I’m gonna go with bookstores anyways because I never find the books I want to read in libraries ???

You are given the opportunity to meet with the head of your country’s government for a day. What do you use this day for ?

Very interesting question ! Well, I’d take my buddy François Hollande with me and make him live like an average French person. I would take him shopping and show him we can’t especially afford everything because the taxes are too high. I’d also take him to different workplaces and schools so he could see the real problems our country is encountering, not only what the government think the real issues are. I’d show him homeless people, take him to refugees camps, make him meet my grand-mother, whom is disabled ans has worked hard for her entire life since she’s 12, but who still has to go to the Restaurants du Coeur. Finally I think I’d show him several average pay slips and compare them to the prices & taxes we have to pay for and hope he’ll realize something is fucking wrong here. I think (hope ?) it would change certain things, even slightly. WOOOW that was long, thanks again @iwannashelteryou for tagging me <3 I tag @brochy, @anotherfrankiewarrior, @longlivetswizzle, @theversatilist, @captainliam3, @american-supernatural-tw-story and anyone who feels like doing it :) You’ll have to answer to following questions : 1 - Are you the kind of person that easily expresses their feelings ?

2 - You have a time machine that can take you anywhere at anytime, but you can use it only once. Where do you go and when ?

3 - Who is you favourite historical figure ? Why ? If you had the possibility to meet them, what would you tell them ?

4 - Do you watch any Youtubers ?

5 - Is there something at the moment you wish you could tell someone but you are too afraid to tell them ?

6 - Give a note to this past week on a scale of 1 to 10

7 - A crossover you wish existed ? (books, series, movies... it can be anything)

8 - You can turn your favourite person (a celebrity or someone you personally know) into a pet that would follow you EVERYWHERE for the rest of your life. Who is it and what pet would you turn them into ?

9 - What do you think is missing in this world to make it better ?

10 - You can listen to only three songs for the rest of you life, what are they ?

11 - Tell me something funny about you :)

(mes petits baguettes, si ça vous pompe de le faire en anglais vous pouvez faire le tag en français évidemment, voilà <3)

#le tag le plus long de ma vie #iwannashelteryou #tag

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Donate Quotes

Official Website: Donate Quotes

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• A woman gave my dad $400 so we could get an apartment. We were living in a park. That’s how we got started: Four hundred bucks, and look at me. When I donate a computer to a school, I never know what’s going to come out of it. – Gilbert Arenas • Americans are known for their strength, fortitude, and generosity in times of need. We encourage people in the U.S. and everywhere to give with their hearts, reach out to these victims, and donate what they can to the relief efforts. – Michael Dell • And when those bombs went off, there were runners who, after finishing a marathon, kept running for another two miles to the hospital to donate blood. So, here’s what I know – these maniacs may have tried to make life bad for the people of Boston, but all they can ever do, is show just how good those people are. – Stephen Colbert

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Donate', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_donate').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_donate img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Being willing to donate the taxpayers’ money is not the same as being willing to put your own money where your mouth is. – Thomas Sowell • Big Data allows us to see patterns we have never seen before. This will clearly show us interdependence and connections that will lead to a new way of looking at everything. It will let us see the ‘real-time’ cause and effect of our actions. What we buy, eat, donate, and throw away will be visual in a real-time map to see the ripple effect of our actions. That could only lead to mores-conscious behavior. – Tiffany Shlain • Do you know what the actual percentage of money the Clinton Foundation has raised that they donate so far to charity is? It’s like 5%. Five percent of what they have collected they have donated – and of course, nobody reports that, either. – Rush Limbaugh • Donate and do not talk about it, they say you do nothing for the society; do and talk about it, they say you seek publicity! – Amitabh Bachchan • Donate time, food, or money to organizations that fight the good fight. We can act individually for the collective good. We can all do something. – Joy Bryant • Donate to the extent that you don’t have food for yourself after feeding the needy. – Sivaji Ganesan • Don’t spend two dollars to dry clean a shirt. Donate it to the Salvation Army instead. They’ll clean it and put it on a hanger. Next morning buy it back for seventy-five cents. – Billiam Coronel • Flint is a city of a hundred thousand that was having a rough go of it even before its water was poisoned by lead. And when the water crisis finally grabbed national headlines this winter, the Democratic presidential candidates noticed. Hillary Clinton sent senior staff to investigate and asked her supporters to donate to a fund for Flint’s kids. Bernie Sanders called on Michigan’s Republican governor, Rick Snyder, to resign. – Tamara Keith • For people who don’t know, the fundraiser works like this: people donate to Worldbuilders and they’re automatically entered to win geeky swag in the lottery. We’re just starting week two and we’re already giving away more than $40,000 of books and games. – Patrick Rothfuss • Frazier is so ugly that he should donate his face to the US Bureau of Wild Life. – Muhammad Ali • Go into business, sell a product, sell a service, you’re automatically a suspect to people like Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton – unless you donate to them, and then you become their closest friends, and then we get cronyism. – Rush Limbaugh • He whipped the chair around and actually split one of the things in half with the impact, spilling the spray of blood that was reflective, like mercury. John bellowed, “Anyone else want to donate blood to chair-ity?” He ducked into the the door and bashed one monster right in the wig, screaming, “There’s some dessert! With a chair-y on top! – David Wong • Hey Everyone! Parts of the US are getting hit really hard and need our help. Reach Out Worldwide is proud to announce that we’ve sent out a team and are already on the ground helping out. Please help us make a bigger impact by donating to this cause at http:// donate.ROWW.org/ arkansasrelief . Our thoughts are with all of the people in this devastated region. Thank you! – Cody Walker • How come you like Josh so much anyway? All he does is sit around drinking overpriced coffee and bitching about how awful things are” “He cares about the world.” “If he cared about the world, he’d donate the ten thousand dollars he must spend on coffee every year to charity. That would be doing something. – Elizabeth Scott • I am happy to donate funds to various organizations that help people in need. – Carl Karcher • I do a fair bit for children’s charities. The big ones I support in Liverpool are Zoe’s Place Baby Hospice, and Claire House Children’s Hospice. I donate money and time but the time is what they value the most. If my inclusion at any event they’re doing, helps them to raise more money, then of course I’ll be there. – Robbie Fowler • I do not think it is selfish to want to donate a kidney “only” to family members. – Mallory Ortberg • I donate heavily to the church and various churches in the Detroit community and food banks. – Aretha Franklin • I donate lots to charity. I don’t necessarily tell everybody the number or what I do. – Lindsay Davenport • I donate money to the existing foundation that funds the US Ski Team kids. – Picabo Street • I have a healthy respect for those individuals and the businesses that they represent. Their involvement only solidifies my belief that the United Way is a worthy organization to donate my time and efforts to. – Bill Vaughan • I owe my life to blood donors. I’m forever grateful to people who donate. – Niki Taylor • I think I actually made a very kind gesture out of nowhere; I decided in the middle of that match that for every ace I hit I want to donate money. I just think people should honestly look at themselves before they judge another person. I’ve never been spoiled. I want a Range Rover very bad, but I refuse to spend the money to buy a Range…The diamonds are borrowed. I won’t buy them because I’m too cheap. – Serena Williams • I think you should automatically donate your organs because that would turn the balance of organ donation in a huge way. I would donate whatever anybody would take, and I’d probably do the cremation bit. – George Clooney • I used to get taxed on my allowance. Yeah, I’ve been taxed since I was a little kid. And at the end of the year I had to pick a charity to donate my taxes to. – Lauren Conrad • I went to a pizzeria. The guy gave me the smallest slice possible. If the pizza was a pie chart with what would you do if you found a million dollars, he gave me the “Donate it to charity” slice. “I’d like to exchange this for the ‘Keep it!'” – Mitch Hedberg • I wondered if it was possible to donate my body to science before I was actually dead. I wondered if a disease were to be named after me what the symptoms would be. – Miriam Toews • I work with a charity called Donate My Dress. It’s got chapters all over the country where you can donate special-occasion dresses. Prom is a big deal when you’re 15 years old, and it enables girls who don’t have the money to come in and choose something special. – Ashley Greene • I wouldn’t want to donate my body for scientific study. – Patricia Cornwell • I’ve had so much plastic surgery, when I die they will donate my body to Tupperware. – Joan Rivers • If it feels right to recycle our waste or purchase solar panels for our house or rescue an animal or adopt a child or stop someone from hurting another or donate our time, money, or goods to charity, then do it. – Bryan Kest • If I’ve learned anything in the more than 50 years that I’ve led MDA, it’s that the generosity of the American people knows no bounds. I’m sure that with their fellow citizens in such dire need, they’ll dig deep and do everything they can to help. I’m hopeful that many people will be willing to make two phone calls and donate to both causes. – Jerry Lewis • If someone does not have a specific charity they would like to donate to, that’s OK. An undesignated donation would be split up evenly amongst all the charities supported by the Annapolis Area Complex. – Derren Brown • If something is important enough to you that you feel the urge to donate your money or time to it, I think it’s best to try to express that form of giving through your career, not just as something you do on the side. If you enjoy your volunteering and charitable activities more than your career, it means your career is in serious need of an upgrade. In my opinion your career should be your best outlet for giving. – Steve Pavlina • If the money we donate helps one child or can ease the pain of one parent, those funds are well spent. – Carl Karcher • If you don’t donate to Obama and you’re a major corporation like Big Oil, then they’re gonna blame you for climate change, destroying the planet and they’re gonna get everybody turned against you and hating your guts and so forth, and that’s how they operate. That’s not how Trump operates. That’s not how Mike Pence operates. They understand the simple mathematics of economics. – Rush Limbaugh • If you take all the food aid, America is by far the most generous country. If you take the direct aid, we’re very generous. But when you add on our private contributions – see, our tax system encourages private citizens to donate to organisations that, for example, help the folks in Africa. And when you take the combined effort of US taxpayers’ money plus US citizens’ donations, we’re very generous. And we’ll do more. – George W. Bush • I’ll go through all of [12 steps for people who say are traumatized by the election], but a sample: Volunteer to fight Islamaphobia. Join the ACLU. Donate to Planned Parenthood. Take down sexism and misogyny. Sort of all the stations of the cross of liberalism. Sort of all the stations of the cross of liberalism. – Tucker Carlson • I’ll tell ya, my wife and I, we don’t think alike. She donates money to the homeless, and I donate money to the topless! – Rodney Dangerfield • I’m a good son, a good father, a good husband – I’ve been married to the same woman for 30 years. I’m a good friend. I finished college, I have my education, I donate money anonymously. So when people criticize the kind of characters that I play on screen, I go, ‘You know, that’s part of history.’ – Samuel L. Jackson • I’m blessed. I have a 13-year-old girl’s eye and a 14 year-old boy’s eye. I’ve been given the gift of sight by people who decided to donate organs. I try to do as much organ-donor work as I can. – Mandy Patinkin • Imagine, just for the sake of discussion, that you had a few hours a week and a few dollars a month to donate to a cause – and you wanted to spend that time and money where it would have the greatest impact in saving and improving lives. Where would you spend it? – Bill Gates • In Japan, it’s strange to openly take credit for giving to charity or even to donate publicly. – Robert Paul Weston • It is easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. – Ayn Rand • It is important to note that there are no age limitations on who can donate organs and tissue. Newborns as well as senior citizens have been organ donors. – Vic Snyder • It is worthwhile to engage in something that is close to one’s heart. I had a scholarship. So if I donate money to give brilliant Chinese students an opportunity to study abroad, then this embodies everything I believe in: education, globalization, social mobility. I am an example of social mobility. – Zhang Xin • It’s easy to run to others. It’s so hard to stand on one’s own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can’t fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is your strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It’s easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It’s simple to seek substitutes for competence–such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence. – Ayn Rand • It’s one thing to donate money. It’s a whole other thing to give an opportunity for someone to make his own money. – Liya Kebede • Jesus, that ear. He should donate it to The Smithsonian. Brian Wilson, he made all his records with four tracks, but you couldn’t make his records if you had a hundred tracks today. – Bob Dylan • Joe Lieberman frightens me. Why should we, an Hollywood voter, donate money to a man who threatens our creative freedom, our freedom of expression. – Joe Eszterhas • Ladies, you may not realize this, understand this, or even believe this, but everything else we do is ultimately for you. Men don’t do anything-create art, build businesses, donate to charity, invent things, or do anything noteworthy-for any reason other than to impress women, and thus get them to have sex with us. If women didn’t exist, we’d still just be naked grunting apes living in caves. In a very real way, pussy is the key to human civilization. You don’t have to like it, but it’s a fact; if you understand it, you understand men. – Tucker Max • Less mess, less stress. That’s my rule! If you don’t stay on top of decluttering, it can get out of control. I maintain as much as possible. I’ll do seasonal edits and decide what we can toss or donate. If we don’t love it, need it or haven’t used it in the past year, it’s gone. – Molly Sims • Let Pascal say that man is a thinking reed. He is wrong; man is a thinking erratum. Each period in life is a new edition that corrects the preceding one and that in turn will be corrected by the next, until publication of the definitive edition, which the publisher donates to the worms. – Machado de Assis • Mark Zuckerberg recently announced that he will donate $45 billion of his wealth to philanthropy. Two years ago, my husband and I decided to endow $100 million to set up the SOHO China Scholars. This program will give financial aid to Chinese students so they can attend the best universities in the world. – Zhang Xin • Maybe instead of buying myself another Barbie, I could donate that to the Kmart Wishing Tree. – Hamish Blake • Mitt Romney has a new fundraising gimmick. If you donate $3 or more to his campaign, your name will be entered into a drawing to win a dinner with Mitt Romney and Donald Trump. If you donate more than $10, you get to sit at a different table. – Jay Leno • My mother always told me if I really didn’t wan to do something, if I was really tired, but if I had helped someone and I really went out of my way for them but I asked nothing for it, that I should donate my energy to the souls in purgatory-meaning that to give my goodness to those who are trapped. This is purgatory/limbo. This is a very Catholic thing that very few people really understand. – Peter Steele • No. But it’s like the argument `don’t donate to third-world countries because the money mightn’t get to them.’ People only say that because it makes them feel better about the fact that they do nothing. – Melina Marchetta • Of all the things that it is possible to donate, to donate your own body is infinitely more worthwhile. – William Jones • Okay, God, I thought. Get me out of this and I’ll stop my half-assed church-going ways. You got me past a pack of Strigoi tonight. I mean, trapping that one between the doors really shouldn’t have worked, so clearly you’re on board. Let me get out of here, and I’ll…I don’t know. Donate Adrian’s money to the poor. Get baptized. Join a convent. Well, no. Not that last one. – Richelle Mead • One ought not to encourage beggars, and yes, you are right, it is far better to donate to charities that address the causes of poverty rather than to him, a creature who is merely its symptom. – Mohsin Hamid • People are going to have a good time, you know. One can go have a good time at these big openings in museums. And people go to have a good time. But the thing has another purpose.In the case of museums, it’s always got to do with money, people who donate and things like that. And I believe a certain kind of interest has to be demonstrated. – Garry Winogrand • People get together and they donate to organizations so that a pile of money can be used to create a message that can be broadcast en masse as part of the a political campaign. They are the lifeblood of Hillary Clinton campaign, the banks and all these big time rich people from Hollywood and Silicon Valley are the mother’s milk of her campaign. They are the money. She just doesn’t want Donald Trump to have it or any other Republican to have it or any average citizen to be able to bundle his money with other people’s money and create an ad or a campaign. – Rush Limbaugh • People who identify themselves as conservatives donate money to charity more often than people who identify themselves as liberals. They donate more money and a higher percentage of their incomes. – Thomas Sowell • Perhaps we have failed as human beings. Perhaps we have embarrassed ourselves to the natural world. We have been rigorous and willful in all the wrong ways. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Maybe you don’t want to deal with (marching), the permanent marker and poster board. But try something else. Carry someone’s groceries. Chat with the custodian in your office building. Donate blood. Live in Rwanda for a year. Write letters to the Department of Buildings. Learn to knit. It is only going to get better from here on out. – Sufjan Stevens • Presumed consent preserves freedom of choice, but it is different from explicit consent because it shifts the default rule. Under this policy, all citizens would be presumed to be consenting donors, but they would have the opportunity to register their unwillingness to donate. – Cass Sunstein • Scott has to be one of the most talented artists I’ve ever seen. He really captures his subjects in a unique way. He is extremely generous as well. How many artists are willing to donate some of their best works to charity? The Texas Sports Hall of Fame has benefited greatly from Medlock’s donated paintings, which are the cornerstones of our auction! – Bob Lilly • Since time is the one immaterial object which we cannot influence – neither speed up nor slow down, add to nor diminish – it is an imponderably valuable gift. Each of us has a few minutes a day or a few hours a week which we could donate to an old folks home or a children’s hospital ward. The elderly whose pillows we plump or whose water pitchers we refill may or may not thank us for our gift, but the gift is upholding the foundation of the universe. – Maya Angelou • Sometimes when I’m swimming, I think that maybe someday I’ll put my red Speedo up for auction. Or maybe I’ll donate it to the Smithsonian. They can stuff it with two plums and a gherkin and put it on display. – David Duchovny • That is not true I am not a greedy man because if I was why would i donate money to charity?I care about others as well. – John D. Rockefeller • The Clinton Foundation does nothing but donate to charities.” They can’t find any evidence that what Schweizer has written about the Clintons and their foundation and the fund-raising and the getting paid for speeches is wrong. They can’t find anything where he’s wrong. The book has not been “discredited.” So [Donald] Trump delivers this massive speech. It hit home run after home run after home run. – Rush Limbaugh • The great thing is these days I no longer have to work for a living and that all of the things that I’m able to do where money is paid as compensation for whatever it be, I’m able to donate all of that to charity. That’s a wonderful position to find yourself in at the latest stages of your life and I’m proud to have walked the path that I have and I’m proud to be able to continue working and to be able to give away what I earn to some very good causes here in the Southwest. – Robin Leach • The ideal set-up would be the story man, the director, and the layout man, as well as musician, operating as a sort of story unit. They all should be keenly interested in the picture. No one in person should donate to an extent where he would keep the others from entering into the production and freely expressing themselves. – Walt Disney • The Oscars is the one night of the year when you can see all your favorite stars without having to donate any money to the Democratic Party – Jon Stewart • The Pacifica Network is a vital cornerstone of our independent media landscape that depends on your financial support. Please donate today to safeguard the future of listener-powered community radio. – Amy Goodman • The point is that no matter what you choose to do with your body when you die, it won’t, ultimately, be very appealing. If you are inclined to donate yourself to science, you should not let images of dissection or dismemberment put you off. They are no more or less gruesome, in my opinion, than ordinary decay or the sewing shut of your jaws via your nostrils for a funeral viewing. – Mary Roach • The shape I’m in, I could donate my body to science fiction. – Rodney Dangerfield • There are lots of issues more important than where billionaires donate their money. – Malcolm Gladwell • There can be no clearer indication of how undemocratic the way we finance campaigns is than the fact that only one-quarter of 1% donate $200 or more, and only one-tenth of 1% gives $1,000 or more. – Arianna Huffington • There could be a powerful international women’s rights movement if only philanthropists would donate as much to real women as to paintings and sculptures of women. – Nicholas D. Kristof • They are miserly, the princes of Austria, you need not grieve about it; they may not donate anything, but they allow themselves tobe fleeced, the good lords. – Franz Grillparzer • To be able to donate money to effect change is extremely exciting. I think I’m very determined and persistent. All the things that you need to deliver a successful business and I think these qualities will be useful in the campaign with the Animal Justice Fund. – Jan Cameron • To see change in your own area code is very powerful. There’s a little orphanage down the street from my company, and we donate $1 from the sale of each CD we sell to the orphanage. – Henry Rollins • Tom [Cargil]s suggestion with a further idea: Propsers of new [C++] features should be required to donate a kidney. That would – Jim [Waldo] pointed out – make people think hard before proposing, and even people without any sense would propose at most two extensions. – Bjarne Stroustrup • URGE is a grassroots charity. We organized to get some incubators to give to the hospital for the kids. We donate money to orphanages. – Ziggy Marley • We cannot wait for others to make a difference, we have to be the change ourselves. To be a part of the making of yet another cancer hospital is a blessing in itself.’ Watch me live on ARY Digital and donate to Shaukat Khanum Memorial Cancer Hospital and Research Centre in Peshawar as much as you can. – Hadiqa Kiani • We must “Bring Back Our Girls” and support Nigerians working every day to create change. Please donate now to support Nigerian organizations educating and standing up for girls – Malala Yousafzai • We’re raising our girls to understand the real meaning of Christmas, and to know that it’s most important to have Christmas in your heart. We go to our local mall and donate toys, and we say prayers for all the people in the world who might not be as lucky as we are. – Faith Hill • What took you so long?” Nash asked, as he slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “I stopped to donate all your underwear to the homeless. You’re gonna wanna take care of those tighty whities—they’re all you’ve got left.” He leaned against the door, either too tired or too drunk to sit up. “And to think, most people don’t understand your sense of humor.” “Fools, all of them. – Rachel Vincent • When Al Gore picked Joe Lieberman to be his running mate in the 2000 presidential campaign, Eszterhas wrote “Joe Lieberman frightens me. Why should we, an Hollywood voter, donate money to a man who threatens our creative freedom, our freedom of expression.” – David Shuster • When the Haiti earthquake happened, I registered with UNICEF to set up an account, and posted to Twitter for people to donate to it. In a matter of a couple of hours, $30,000 had been donated. That, to me, was eye-opening. – Misha Collins • Whenever I donate a hunting trip for the Children’s Leukemia Foundation, Ronald McDonald Cancer House, all these children’s charities, I offer the anti-hunters an opportunity: if you donate more to the children’s charity than the hunters donate we won’t go hunting. – Ted Nugent • You can give your Social Security check to any organization, public or private, or to individuals. You can donate it to your favorite political party. You can give the funds to a student scholarship – for your grandchildren, for example – or to somebody who has a medical need. Or you can invest your government check in free enterprise. – Mark Skousen • You don’t have to donate money, it can be clothes, or books, or mediavl supplies. So there’s so much that can be done [for refugees], the most difficult thing is that first step that decision to do something. – Khaled Hosseini • You may have heard of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. There’s another day you might want to know about: Giving Tuesday. The idea is pretty straightforward. On the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, shoppers take a break from their gift-buying and donate what they can to charity. – Bill Gates

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

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