#ashland car show

[yz]

1965 Corvette featuring 327 Turbo Fire Engine and 330 HP.

At the Ashland Car Show, Sep. 10, 2023.

[fanfictionandpearls]

When The Levee Breaks- Ch2

Pairing: Kimberly Hart X Tommy Oliver

Summary: A tornado appears in Oklahoma, unlike any tornado this world has ever seen. The Winchesters go to investigate what is causing this phenomenon and find a world that is completely different from their own. Supernatural/Power Rangers Mash Up.

"Agent Holt, Agent Wilson, follow me," a nurse said as Sam and Dean walked behind her and they took in the extra security. The only reason they were ahead of the real FBI was Bobby's tip off and they needed to get these two beings out of here. With the war in heaven, there was no telling what side these beings were on and it was best to neutralize them until they knew where they fell.

"What can you tell us about their condition?" Dean asked as they paused in the doorway and the nurse looked back at them.

"Unconscious, but surprisingly healthy and stable. If they hadn't been in that field, I would just say that they were sleeping," the nurse admitted as they nodded. That certainly made things a lot easier for them and the plan they had. "Their identifications were weird though."

"Weird how?" Sam asked as Dean walked further into the room and glanced at the medicine that they were attached to. It was nothing that was really keeping them alive. Bobby was meeting them at a safehouse he had outside Ashland, Nebraska, but it was up to them to talk the doctors and nurses into letting them walk out with these two beings. They looked human, but they had been around too many monsters that appeared human to the average joe as well. Until they knew for sure, this was a new kind of monster that no one had ever run into before.

"Their ids aren't from real places. Reefside, California. Briarwood, Oregon. We can't find them on any map and Google isn't helping either. The best we got were some tv show references," the nurse said as Sam took the evidence bag from her and nodded.

"We have authorization to move them to a federal facility. We're not sure if they are a danger to this world," Dean said as he passed them some paperwork that they had hastily forged and the nurse nodded. "We will require an ambulance, but since they are stable- no need for medical personnel."

"That's unorthodox," the nurse responded as Sam turned on the charm and Dean motioned to the other medical personnel who were willing to move them onto ambulance gurneys. It was obvious to the both of them that they did not want them in this hospital any longer than they needed to be. The circumstances that got them here freaked out even the most experienced medical personnel.

They put them into the ambulance and Dean let out a sigh of relief. As they pulled out of the ambulance bay they saw government plated cars pull into the parking lot and turned on the sirens. The impala was parked a few streets over and it was not going to take long for the hospital personnel to realize that they had let fake federal agents take the only people that might know what had happened in that field. Dean switched on the lights and sirens and floored it, every second was going to count.

"They are not on the angels' side," Cas said as he landed in the passenger's seat and Dean jerked the wheel before quickly correcting back into his lane. No matter how many times Cas dropped in, he would never get used to the sudden appearances.

"Thanks, Cas. You could have just answered the text Sam sent you," Dean pointed out as Sam glanced up into the front of the ambulance. "Sammy?"

"He's starting to come around. I'll knock him back out if he wakes up," Sam stated as Cas and Dean exchanged a glance, but didn't argue with him. They didn't know what they were up against and if they could be unconscious- that was the easiest way to keep them until they got to the safehouse.

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

"Where…where am I?" the woman murmured as she blinked her eyes open and felt that she was secured to a chair. She glanced around the room and saw three men watching her and Tommy attached to a similar chair. She had water thrown in her face and she sputtered as she stared up at the tallest man who had pulled out a knife and he quickly slashed her arm and then pulled out another one and slashed the other. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Huh. Doesn't react to holy water, silver, or iron," Sam said as she wondered what the hell the man was talking about. Why would she react to any of those? Was there some sort of allergy she would suddenly develop?

"Dead man's blood did nothing. Ashes of a phoenix did nothing. Goopher dust did nothing," Bobby remarked as she glanced down to see several syringe marks on her arms. What had they injected her with? "What are you?"

"Human," she sassed as she pulled against the restraints, testing them. She was feeling her strength come back and if Tommy didn't wake up soon- she was going to have to get them out of this and then she would cuss Tommy up one side and down the other for pulling her into this mess, again. "Where am I?"

"We're asking the questions here," Dean said as he leaned in close to her and she met him head on. This man didn't scare her. She had had real things in her life that were terrifying. He was not terrifying by any means. "How did you get here?"

"It looks like you kidnapped me. How about you enlighten me then?" she quipped as Dean smirked. That smart mouth would be attractive if she was actually human, but he highly doubted it. The man started to come around and Sam repeated the tests on him. They were concerned about testing him while he was conscious, there was something about him that made them all think he could be dangerous. "Do you work for Lipretere?"

"Sorry who?" Bobby asked as he watched the man test the bonds and for the first time felt a jolt of fear. They could control her, but there was something in his eyes that made him think the man was not controllable. There was something that made him think that they were going to be hunted if these beings weren't on their side.

"Lipretere. The being that attacked her to get to me," the man said as they all shook their heads. They had never heard of a Lipretere before. "Where are we?"

"No idea. Best guess- still on Earth," the woman replied as she flexed her hands and they watched as something appeared. Sam wrestled it out of her hands and they all stared at it. They moved away from them and studied the item as she let out a groan. She hadn't even meant to summon her morpher, she was just trying to see how much give they had left her. "I'd like my morpher back!"

The men retreated even further out of the room and she looked over at Tommy again. He flicked his hands and his morpher appeared. He muttered his morphing sequence and a light filled the cabin as he morphed. It broke the ropes that held him, but also called the attention of the three men. They charged back into the room, but froze as they watched the man rise to his feet. He ignored them as he walked over to the women and quickly checked her over.

"No way. Sam- didn't you watch some kung fu shit when you were a kid where…" Dean trailed off as the masked man went about untying the woman's ropes. "Oh what was it… Super Soldiers? Galactic Gurus?"

"Power Rangers?" Sam suggested as they watched the beings freeze. They both exchanged a glance as the men smiled. "What was the girl you had a major crush on?"

The two groups studied each other. The more the Winchesters examined the foreign beings, the more they realized that they looked exactly like a couple of characters from one of Sam's favorite shows as a kid. They were older, but there was no denying who the woman was and they both had a sinking feeling about who the man was as well. They'd been really smart to test his reaction when he was unconscious.

"Smooth, Sammy. Real smooth," Dean muttered as the woman rose to her feet and she moved towards him. "Kimberly Hart?"

"And Tommy Oliver. I'll take that," Tommy said as he grabbed her morpher and tossed it over to her as she turned her glare to him. "Can we agree that we're human now that you have some idea who we are?"

"You asshole," Kimberly growled as she charged at Tommy and sparks flew up as she punched him. "You were awake and you let them torture me!"

"They tortured you?" Tommy asked as he demorphed and wrapped his arms around her as she struggled against him. He looked down at her arms and saw multiple cuts and he felt that she was soaked. "You tortured her?"

"Just doing our job- we had to check," Sam said as he held his hands up and Tommy glared over at him as Kimberly bucked in his arms. "You could have been anything- from vampires to werewolves to demons. So yeah- we had to check."

"Those aren't real," Kim said as she finally pulled out of Tommy's arms and glared over at him. He let out a sigh. Now that their lives were not immediately in danger, she was going to go back to hating him. "How the fuck did you get us into this?"

"I warned you that Lipretere was going to come after you and that you should get back to Reefside or go into hiding. You ignored me," Tommy ground out as the Winchesters continued to watch them. This was definitely not the couple that had been portrayed in the tv show, that couple had been wildly in love.

"Why would he use me to get to you?" Kim asked as he just gave her a look and she snorted. "Not that shit again. You don't cheat on your fiancee with multiple people and still be desperately in love with her."

"I was evil," Tommy clarified to the room as she laughed.

"Oh yeah, evil enough to fuck your way through Katherine, Renee, Jasmine, Michelle- who else?" Kim growled as he let out a groan. It had been over ten years and she still could not forgive him for what he had done when he was evil. She had forgiven basically everything but the infidelity and that was something he understood, but he still cared about her. He still cared about her enough that every evil in the universe knew that she was his achilles' heel. She tolerated him when she was in danger, she craved him when she was terrified, but mostly he was her safe place and he was fine if that was all he ever was again. She seemed to hate herself and him for the fact that she felt safest with a man who had hurt her heart so much. "How far are we from Briarwood, Oregon?"

"See- that's the problem- there's no Briarwood, Oregon or Reefside, California. You got dropped in that field by a tornado that hovered there for over a day- your lives- were a kids tv show," Dean said as Sam pulled up an episode and began playing a clip. Kim and Tommy huddled around the screen and they watched their mortified stares. "Yeah…we know. Similar thing happened to us, but that involved angels and our friend Cas said you weren't part of an angel thing."

"And they certainly aren't part of any deal I would make for hell," Crowley said as they all jerked around to him. "Hello boys…and girl. A little birdie said that you picked up what fell out of that storm- I guess they were right."

"Seriously? Did I ever look like that?" Kim shrieked as Tommy looked back at the computer and shook his head no. She might have been the pink ranger, but she had never dressed that way. "Ignoring that- different universe?"

"Looks like it and looks like Lipretere brought us here," Tommy stated as he let out a sigh. He wanted to go after Lipretere, but they owed the people that had saved them from all the questioning. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. We're hunters," Dean said as he watched them carefully as they studied him. He was not sure that he wanted them as an ally, but he had a feeling he definitely didn't want them as an enemy. "We hunt ghosts and werewolves and vampires and demons. And sometimes angels. You are now our problem."

"We can take care of ourselves. We've been down this road before and once we can get Lipretere, we should get back to our world," Tommy said as Kim nodded. The two of them had had this happen more times than they wanted to admit and they knew best how to track down Lipretere. They also knew that anyone that was with them, was in danger. "Thanks for getting us out of any awkward questions."

"I don't think it's going to be that easy," Bobby said as they all turned to him. "What can you do? Really do. I mean you muttered a few words and were powered up to take us on and anything that got in your way. Both sides are going to want you as a weapon."

"We're no one's weapon," Kim ground out as Sam and Dean grimaced. They had both said that before, but it didn't matter- they were turned into weapons anyway. "What?"

"Allow me," Crowley said as smoke poured out of his mouth and he took over Kimberly's body. Her eyes blinked open and Tommy jumped back as he saw they were pitch black.

"Get out of her," Tommy ordered and to all of their surprise black smoke immediately poured out of her mouth. She collapsed into Tommy's arms and he watched the man stand back up. Crowley stared at him as he shook his head. He'd never had that happen before.

"Well I'll be damned," Bobby muttered as Tommy gave them a confused look before Kimberly leaned over to the side and threw up. She batted his hands away as he ignored her and continued to care for her. The rest of the room stared at them in awe. Yeah, they definitely had some powers that all sides would want.

[igettalk]

Samantha Steele, an Illinois Democrat official, was more concerned with the penis size of the police officer handcuffing her than with the trouble she got into after driving under the influence and crashing her car. 45-year-old Steele who held the position of a Board of Review Commissioner in Cook County crashed her car into two vehicles on the 5000 block of North Ashland Street, in Ravenswood, Chicago, on Sunday night, at around 8.49 pm. Bodycam footage from a police offer shows Steele refusing to obey the cop's orders to come down from her car, rather she warned the officer and said she was an elected official. Video below: https://twitter.com/CollinRugg/status/1861149250022768748?t=oSDnsLWhGVwzDSo2etLXYg&s=19 Acting intoxicated, she offered her hand to the officer for a handshake while introducing herself as "Sam". When asked to do a sobriety test, she refused and added she doesn't want to be on video. Samantha was given the liberty of calling her attorney while the officers patiently waited. Her attorney promptly told her to come down from her car. Once on her feet, the Commissioner was asked again if she would do a field sobriety test, and when she refused again, she was promptly arrested. The officer noted that she smelled of alcohol and had definitely been drinking. The officer's report also noted that her eyes were “bloodshot and glassy" and an open bottle of red wine was discovered in her car. As Samantha Steele was been led away in handcuffs, she repeatedly asked an officer "Is your penis that small?". A portion of the video that seemed to have captured that part was muted. The Chicago Police Department said that she was charged with one misdemeanor count of driving under the influence of alcohol and will appear in court on December 27. Meanwhile, calls are mounting for her to resign following the public abuse of power. She was elected into office in 2022 and represents District 2 which covers the majority of the North Side of Chicago. Read the full article

[prettyboysdontcry]

In case I don't ever see you again, (and even if I do I will never say this,) (2)

Claus

Thanks for the clippers. Thanks for the alcohol, thanks for teaching me how to skip rocks, thanks for sitting there in the dark that day so many months ago and saying, “I’m Lucas,” and thanks for understanding when I was confused until you rearranged the anagram and told me your real name, the only one I've ever called you by. Thanks for showing me what a positive, loving, close, gentle, kind, well-intentioned, romantic, and ultimately unrealistic relationship looks like. I'll remember Faith braiding your hair, you moving her stuff into her house while she's in California, the two of you sharing clothes and kisses and inside jokes and meaningful looks and bedrooms but never having sex when I get into my next genuine entanglement. I'll remember her telling me how much she loves you with pain in her voice, her knowing it's time to let go, you riding in the back of Sam's car with an unexplainable air of change about you, you telling me how you love her with pain in your voice, when that lovely entanglement inevitably begins to untangle.

You taught me what a mature adult relationship can look like. You were a wonderful lesbian mother. I hope I see pictures of you in five years, you holding a fish by the lip with a proud grin on your pretty face, with your arms around a beautiful, taller woman who loves having sex with you, in a big city with a big house that you don't have to walk on eggshells in. One of my sweetest memories from this whole year, Claus, is you holding Lucy, backlit in the front doorway of Sam's house in Ashland. I probably never told you, but I will think about you. I will remember.

Thanks for the lessons on mature love and skipping rocks. Thanks for the help on the crossword puzzle. Thanks for the clippers.

[parttimereporter]

The death of OJ Simpson

The death of OJ is a little bizarre.. old faces like the Goldmans .. the jurors.. Marsha Clark.. they are all back on TV again tonight.

That 1990s moment when the entire world came together to watch a slow speed car chase on a beautiful summer day.. when America came together to collectively watch a trial in the court room on television, in class rooms.. workplaces..

And when the world fell apart and was clearly divided at a jury decision with an acquit because it didn't fit..

Old 90s things came back to me--I was just a kid. But watching adult things from a distance.

When TIME magazine showcased a darkened photo of the Juice while Newsweek shows the real deal--it was controversial at the time. When the jury partially was making a statement about Rodney King.. when OJ went on a slow speed chase so he could finish listening to the Knick's finals' game on radio..

I was watching that slow speed chase sitting on my mom's bedroom floor watching it with her while eating a deep dish Devito's pizza from Ashland PA. Devito's is a memory.. sadly now is my mom, too. All of this is a rush of emotion...

A rush of nostalgia mixed with anger.. mixed with confusion.

How did so many years go by.. and how, after all these years, did OJ keep on just golfing and Tweeting like there no care in the world...

Except there was a care.

The creepy creeping moment when death began to place his hands on Orenthal James. When care made its way through his body.. when he was breathing his final bits of air..

An atheist friend of mine texted today that he wishes there was really a hell so OJ could be there now.. I am a little more hopeful in an afterlife--good or bad. I'd rather think that OJ's trial on earth was a large waste of our time. And now, as he meets his fate, Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman are sitting in a celestial court room watching OJ's REAL trial begin...

We would normally say may he rest in peace.. we are not sure what to say on this one.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Don't understand social media, because

I'm not from any of the self promoter classes; not a journalist, or a photographer, or advertiser, not a model agency associated person, *certainly not the sex trade*.

Solitary, I tend to be solitary. Some years ago, after Alameda had passed though I was watching telemundo at what remained of my mom's neighborhood. All the local stations were jammed up with politicians decreeing "I'm XYZ, and fire is scary" for a few months after that. Social media is for direct self promotion. This was television though and as though it was a long time ago when television could reasonably be expected to get you elected.

So I went to telemundo for a little bit, to watch a kung fu panda short (could be a movie; could've been legends of awesomeness) and the plot point of the thing is that there's a threat to po. And in the form of an ox or something, and the *only way for the legendary warrior* to overcome his green-is-evil cartoony villain, is all the people of "chinaland" we'll call it, to pray to him; like he's going to throw a genki dama or something. So *who* po is, becomes important with these things; as this is in Spanish language. Is the legendary panda kung fu guy...his Spanish voiceover? Is he Jack Black who is built like a Mexican, who quickly recovered from having his arm shot off by Bruce Willis in the forgettable Jackal?

Is he a white Chinese? Is he Mexican because pandas are built like them? When po speaks Spanish *are they* white? Or Chinese?

It's like being a comedian, any social media user. And I don't get it. Not from Twitter or livejournal (which I've been flirting with what tumblr calls "nightblogging" which are really livejournal posts showing their age, stylistically) or Facebook which really continues the myspace format with more information.

And I think this is all very interesting, because what was considered among the "whitest communities in America" has been nearly mexicanized without anyone really noticing. Classrooms full of kids started working as collectives back in the 80s. Hate groups are here and *they act like Mexicans*. White and affluent Americans with all that same baggage and yet, functioning an awful lot like latinos.

They're not integrated, a lot of latino self segregated communities. Around Ashland, Spanish is not the thing. Notice all the rotting fences around town that rich people regularly replace; because there's no paint or stain, ever.

Too many choices to form a top down consensus, which is what it would take to get them painted and stained or water resistance treated in an inclusive latino community. Affluent white people. Around the region, I've been followed around by cars by make and model (they vary but the precise location and near term time of day never do, consistent with where I'm walking) and even people upstream downstream like any ant colony. As though I'm going to talk to randos (see; not understanding social media) about my specific interests, and while I'm out walking around. (There's an international drug production hub down the road). And it approximates a self training neural network, the latino social organization. So and, white people *gained the tools* to network like Mexicans already had been for thousands of years, just a few decades ago. Po becomes like an aztec priestking when he speaks Spanish among latinos.

And so social media culture and comics by webcomic people and all that, tend toward an "everyone is ugly/poor/objectionable/concerning/villainous/neurotic" because it's emotionally "leveling the playing field" whether or not they realize that. Which is fine, but it takes the softness out of people and replaces it with abrasiveness and sarcasm, and a degree of callousness about the human condition that *we* (meaning most other people on earth), reserve for war veterans and such. Also, we tend to associate that exclusively with men.

(So I feel like my drawing breath is supposed to benefit *whoever the local mano duro is*, someone in or from the drug trade and their descendants I'm guessing)

Takes all the conspiratorial stuff and contrivance right out of that end, on the basis of the interest it serves.

All those "fag hags", ma beagle types, and/or women who can't seem to stop getting pregnant; those are the new one eyed people in the land of the blind. Social media influencer this and that, but they have countless children say and are pooling their resources as a family.

[loli--dolly]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRWfPUhG/

PLEASE REBLOG AND BOOST

Two days ago the Ashland Kentucky Police Department killed a family friend, all over a little bit of weed. He had been showing signs of a massive heart attack before and after they arrested him. He begged for water, said he could not breathe, and had to crawl into the police car. The cops did absolutely nothing for him, and he passed within two hours of being arrested.

The cops are already trying to cover this up, but my dad's girlfriend has this video. Please spread it around, we're just a small-town and no one cares. Please don't let my Dad's friend die without justice.

[sandythereadingcafe]

🧡🏍️COVER REVEAL🏍️🧡

DEAD TO RIGHTS by Jessica Prince

Check out the gorgeous covers for Dead to Rights, a small-town romance from Jessica Prince coming April 8th!

⁣

🏍️Pre-Order Today! Releasing April 8!

Read for 🆓 with #kindleunlimitedbooks

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/43ijq8L

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⁣

⁣

🏍️SYNOPSIS:

⁣

When I caught my husband having an affair, I picked up what remained of my tattered pride and broken heart and left the city behind, heading for a small town where motorcycles outnumbered cars three to one.

⁣

Ashland, Tennessee was where I planned to start over and become the woman I wanted to be; a woman who was fun and just a little bit reckless. The need to break out of my shell led to one wild night with a man I never planned on seeing again. But when the tattooed stranger showed up unexpectedly at my new job, he made it clear that once wasn't going to be enough for him.

⁣

As the president of a motorcycle club with a checkered past, Courtland Pope should have scared me, but no matter how hard I tried to stay away, the pull to him was too strong to ignore.

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However, when old rivalries breach the surface and the line between good and bad begins to blur, I find myself stuck in the middle. And as much as Pope wants me, he might not be able to protect me from the past.

⁣

**𝐴𝑠ℎ𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝐵𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐷-𝑁𝐸𝑊 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Oregon Again Welcomes PCT Thru-hikers

Janet Eastman, who lives in the Ashland area, periodically writes a piece about the PCT. Again this year she has documented the annual migration of PCT hikers through Oregon. This is an excerpt of her story that appeared in the August 21st issue of The Oregonian.

To me, the key comment included in this article is that of the PCTA's Scott Wilkinson who observed that, "uninterrupted end-to-end hikes may continue to be more difficult.” Although there will still be plenty who attempt the uninterrupted thru-hike, more and more hikers may be forced to consider section hiking the PCT.

By Janet Eastman

Ashland’s stars of summer arrive slowly, on sturdy legs hefting carefully stuffed backpacks, and introducing themselves by their trail names like Butters and Giggles.

By the time northbound Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikers cross into Oregon, they have forged 1,720 miles from the bottom of California, through deserts, over mountains and out of unexpected situations, despite years of planning.

The majority of hikers who depart from the trail’s southern terminus, near Campo, California, and move through steep, snowy, soggy, windy and hot conditions at about 25 miles a day, show up in Ashland in August.

This year, many of these hikers were stopped in their tracks by the 55,500-acre McKinney fire in California’s northern Siskiyou County.

On July 30, around 60 hikers in the Red Buttes Wilderness were taken to safety by Oregon’s Jackson County sheriff search and rescue team and bus drivers with the Rogue Valley Transportation District while others gathered 100 miles south in tiny Etna, where they camped in the Johnson-Joss Park and pondered their future.

Their goal of entering the green tunnel of Oregon on foot was over.

Many were shuttled 66 miles on I-5 from Etna to Ashland in buses or by police driving vans, or in the back of cars driven by volunteers.

The endurance hikers, who are miserly with their few days off the trail — called “zero days” — were greeted by smoke and ash, red flag fire risk conditions and lightning, and frantic innkeepers at booked hostels and budget motels.

Thru-hikers Craig Marshall of upstate New York (trail name Butters) and Nadine Osterloh (trail name Giggles) of Bonn, Germany, said they had a mix of emotions.

They were grateful to be safe at the shelter, but they felt guilty taking one of the beds.

And like other long-distance hikers on a schedule to weave through the West Coast when the weather is in their favor were eager to get going.

“We are used to hiking and walking, and now we’re on hold,” said Osterloh.

Where to go?

On Aug. 2, the pack was ready to move again. But in which direction?

Dave (“Floppy”) Kim of Philadelphia started at Campo, steps north of the Mexican border, on May 4 and about 13 weeks later he was in Ashland, which is between exits 11 and 19 off of I-5. Here, he heard options from other thru-hikers.

Return to the trail, either near Callahan’s Mountain Lodge at exit 6 or head east on Oregon Highway 66 for 20 miles to the Pacific Crest-Green Springs Mountain Connector Trail, or about 35 miles northeast to Fish Lake in the Cascade Range to connect to OR-140 north to Crater Lake.

A trail north of Crater Lake is closed for roughly 60 miles due to the Windigo Pass and Tolo Mountain fires, and there was another closure near Mount Jefferson, which burned in the 2020 Lionshead fire.

The closures mean “this season’s thru-hikers will definitely get mixed up and even more spread out along the trail,” said Scott Wilkinson of the Pacific Crest Trail Association.

“Given climate change-driven drought, wildfires and other extreme weather events over the past few years, this could be characterized as the new normal and not unusual,” he added.

Trail closures are also caused by flooding and erosion, and used for habitat protection of endangered species, Wilkinson said.

Uninterrupted end-to-end hikes “may continue to be more difficult,” Wilkinson said, but “the PCT is still a spectacular wild and scenic experience” for day outings, weekend trips and multi-day section trips.

Some thru-hikers in Ashland are throwing up their hands over the road blocks, and heading north on the Oregon Coast Trail. Or they are taking a Greyhound bus to Portland to cross the Columbia River on the Bridge of the Gods and continue on the PCT to the Canadian border.

“This will affect us,” said Candy Boerwinkle of the Ashland Commons hostel on Tuesday. For days, she said her phone was ringing off the hook, with calls from stranded hikers.

Her hostel is typically booked all of July and August, and she didn’t know how she could accommodate everyone.

Then she started receiving cancellations from hikers who decided to skip Oregon.

“There are 27 people checking out today, and only four are checking in,” she said.

The iconic Callahan’s Lodge, in the shadow of Mount Ashland and a short walk from the Pacific Crest Trail, is forwarding some thru-hikers’ mailed care packages to their new destination, said employee Forrest Eldred.

“We’re sending the care packages to towns near Crater Lake or to Bend, or returning them to the sender,” said Eldred on Tuesday. “Some hikers hope to circle back here.”

Callahan’s is still offering lodging, all-you-can eat pancake and egg breakfasts and spaghetti dinners, as well as $16-a-night camping; $25 for backpackers who want to shower and use the laundry.

“Floppy” Kim hopes to come back, to hike the 170-mile gap from Shasta to Ashland.

On Tuesday afternoon, he and Johannes (“Coach”) Popp of Frankfurt, Germany, returned to hiking at the Pacific Crest-Green Springs Mountain Connector Trail, elevation 4,940 feet.

“This hike is 90% mental and 10% physical,” said Kim, who averages 22 miles a day and has worn out two pairs of boots.

More than boots needed

Hiking 2,663 miles on narrow dirt trails from California to Canada takes more than stamina. Success relies on strategizing and adapting when reality dashes best laid plans, said Lauren (“Grandpa”) Schuster, 24, of Atlanta.

She made it from Campo to Etna before forest infernos instantly upended her goal to complete the entire Pacific Crest Trail on foot.

On Sunday, Schuster rode into Ashland and confessed she has been “obsessed” with the PCT even before she read Portland author Cheryl Strayed’s best-selling memoir, “Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail.”

Schuster’s months-long trek was made possible by another dashed dream. She was unable to travel in the Peace Corps after she graduated from college in 2020 because of COVID-19. Hiking the PCT became her Plan B.

Two zero days in Ashland had Schuster and a dozen of her closest trail friends pacing around the city and their Airbnb rental, and considering their rerouting options.

Their decision: to reach Crater Lake in four days, then hitch past the Windigo Pass and Tolo Mountain fires closure and keep going north.

“It’s up in the air” how the group will eventually reach Washington state, Schuster said. Then she paused and added the traditional PCT mantra: “The trail provides.”

On Tuesday morning, she and Steve (“Funfact”) Jacobs of Salt Lake City, waited for the rest of their trail family, who started on this journey as strangers on April 5.

Jacobs will celebrate his 35th birthday on the trail Thursday and the tradition for this group is to receive a pastry with a candle, a golden paper crown and a Happy Birthday card drawn by Schuster.

The trail is about give and take, said Jacobs, who contributes “fun facts” to conversation such as mayonnaise can’t emulsify in a lightning storm.

PCT hikers’ star appeal

By the time northbound PCT hikers reach Oregon, they have faced daunting challenges and have succeeded, said John Kerr, who is one of the leaders of day hikes organized by the all-volunteer Ashland Hiking Group.

“PCT hikers know by now they will complete the journey of a lifetime,” he continued. “They are full of smiles despite what lies ahead of them, another 900 miles. And they are universally friendly, even when we break their stride as they step aside.”

PCT thru-hikers are mostly in their 20s and 30s.

“What I love most is seeing people, especially the young, who have gained the confidence in themselves to succeed in whatever else they may dream of doing,” said Kerr, who lives outside of Ashland. “They have no fear of what lies ahead. Last week we met a hiker who had done the journey wearing a prosthesis. Now that was inspiring.”

To Ashland residents, thru-hikers represent hard-earned athleticism, a deep appreciation of nature and the value of taking time off.

People often give thru-hikers a place to stay and rides to the trailhead, and even offer to pick up the tab for a meal or beer.

“They treat us like we’re heroes,” said “Coach” Popp. “But we’re just hikers.”

[yz]

1969 Camaro RS Convertible. 8-track included. Ashland Car Show, September 2023.

[iamdarcylewis]

“You’re awake! Dad! She’s awake!” She was confused, who was talking? She didn’t recognize the room nor the very excited girl in front of her. “Hi, I’m Violet. What’s your name? I found you in the middle of the road. What happened to you?”

She blinked as she tried to remember how she got there. Wait, where was she?

“Violet, do you like it when people ask you a lot of questions after waking up?”

“No.”

“Then neither does she, give her some space.” The other voice came from an older guy, probably the dad Violet mentioned before? “Sorry, she insisted of bringing you here, the hospital is too far.”

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” The girl was curious, ever since she woke up the woman hasn’t said a word, not that she had the chance with how chatty Violet was.

“I uh…” She cleared her throat. “Where am I?”

“Just a little outside of Ashland, Kansas.” She looked at them scared, she didn’t know where she was supposed to be but she knew she was far away.

“I’ll bring you some water.” And Violet ran to the kitchen to get the woman some water.

“Hey, I really don’t want to sound like asshole.” He said the moment the little girl was out of the room to get the water. “I really don’t want my kid to be involved in whatever you are. I saw some weird cars driving around the neighborhood and they showed up exactly when Violet brought you here.” She tensed when he mentioned the cars, and now he felt bad. “I can drive you to the hospital. I tried my best to patch you up but I’m pretty sure there’s something broken.” Not to mention the terrible bruises on the woman’s face. “We can call someone or maybe go to the police? To file a report.”

“I… I can call someone.” She just needed to remember who. He was about to say something else when Violet came back with the water.

“Here’s your water, I added some ice cubes because it tastes better that way.”

She smiled at the girl and muttered a thank you. The dad then rested his hands on his daughter’s shoulders.

“Well, I think we need to let our guest rest. If you need to use the phone or anything, let us know. What’s your name again?”

“Uh…I don’t know.”

[ad-jak]

Ohh finally got Ashland's background and real name! I kinda thought they'd drag it out by switching to other storylines or Nick being reluctant to talk with Victoria there. But nope got right into it! His real name is Bobby DeFranco, he definitely looks like a Bobby imo. As much as I like the name Ashland, he never looked like an Ashland to me.

His story about taking his friend's identity after a terrible car accident sounds super traumatic. I really thought it was gonna be revealed that Ashland/his father was actually part of a Mafia-like crime organization and he changed his name to escape that, especially because of that text Nick sent to Phyllis about his findings being concerning. So the story turning out to be that the real Ashland was his best friend that he couldn't save from a burning car caught me by surprise a bit. There's definitely more to the story though considering that attorney that tried to blackmail him so I'm a little leery of believing everything he claimed. Also his claim that in the heat of the moment (awful pun fully intended) he switched their wallets and ran off feels a little shady. Seems like a big decision to make so off the cuff like that. But then again people who have gone through severe abuse often have a heightened sense of self preservation so a quick decision like that doesn't seem entirely implausible. I suppose the thought process could have been like "Ashland is dead. I need help. Help means police. Police means dad finding me. But if I take Ashland's wallet and leave mine then they'll think I'm dead. And dad can never find me again." Not an entirely impossible line of thought. I definitely want to believe him, because I very much like the character and like him and Victoria together. Also Nick and Billy have annoyed the absolute fuck outta me this entire storyline and I want them to be super in the wrong lmao

Curious to see what happens when Billy finds out. Part of me is like fuck you, stop your nonsense already and let Victoria be happy. But! It could lead to plenty of drama. The second Billy finds out Ashland's name he's gonna dig into it relentlessly which could easily lead to Ashland's family finding Ashland. Can you imagine the juicy drama from his abusive father/family randomly showing up in Genoa City?!

[wickednerdery]

Title: The Guest Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: The Night Manager Pairing/character: Jonathan Pine/OC Rating: Teen Summary: “You go alone? At this hour?” Notes: This is something that’s been bouncing in my brain for, like, almost a year (on-and-off)…still not sure I have more than snapshots, but it finally came out onto paper just now lol!

First Chapter

Pine jolts awake, covered in sweat with tight chest and pounding heart. If he didn’t know what it was, if he’d not had them over the years, he’d have thought it a heart attack. He groans himself up, swings legs over edge of bed and puts head between. He runs through the hotels he’s worked in to himself, skipping only the Nefertiti. He repeats them over and over until some semblance of calm returns. Then Jonathan sighs. All that work on setting a routine, putting the past behind him, undone by one little incident. Hopefully it’s a blip, a singular attack, and not the return to a nightly pattern. 

With deep sigh he stands, tosses on swim trunks and hoodie. He knows he’s not going back to sleep, not after that, so he steps into trainers, grabs keycard and towel, and heads out. He takes the nearest exit, walks the grounds outside, to reach the pool. He’s still shaking slightly as he folds and sets clothing on plastic chair.

Breath is visible in the chill of the morning. The ocean hums in the distance, crickets carry on, but the daylight has yet to reach the grounds. Jonathan enjoys the privacy of it, takes in cold air until his shivers only come from the exhilaration of it. When he feels ready, feels right, Jonathan discreetly dives in.

He lets out his shock at the cold, his lingering frustrations, while still underwater. Screaming bubbles surface before he does. Looking around there’s nothing but increased birds chirping and sun finally cutting through the trees. He is still alone, blissfully, but terribly, alone. Jonathan goes under again, his back skimming the surface as he does laps until he hasn’t the air to continue the pace.

“Was the gate unlocked?” She asks with neither amusement nor upset.

Jonathan turns to find her at the other end of the pool. “Yes.” Then his face goes troubled. “I’m sorry, is it not open?”

“Apparently, it is.” Kay’s lips finally lift as she starts to walk towards his end. “I told May to lock it before bed, I should’ve checked.” So much for giving her daughter more responsibility at the hotel.

“I do apologize.” He starts to get up, out, the steam of warm body hitting cold morning rising from his skin. Muscles stutter and tense in the cold, but he presses on.

“Don’t worry about it.” She grabs a pool towel for him. “I’m sure Mrs Regan had her best morning here.” Kay tosses towel with a smile.

He catches it with confused look before following Kay’s eyes to a balcony room overlooking the pool just as its door closes. He chuckles. “I hope this doesn’t count as making trouble in your hotel, Ms Lin.”

“Oh no, Mr Ashland, this is entertainment.” She laughs. “Would you care for any coffee, Mr Ashland?”

“You may call me, Jonathan, if you wish.”

“Alright then, Jonathan. I’m Kay. Coffee, Jonathan?”

“Perhaps we can have one together?”

“I’m going for a run.” Only now does he realize her outfit, the athlesuire wear and trainers. Hair usually tightly wound is more relaxed, in ponytail. “But I can get the coffee before I go.”

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“Okay then.”

He towels hair, watching her start to go, before being unable to help himself. “You go alone? At this hour?”

“Always.” She senses his implication. “Don’t worry, the biggest risks are the early morning drivers and I've got my reflective jacket for that.”

“I could...join you?”

“Are you asking or offering?”

“Whichever offends you less.”

Kay smiles, indulges him and her own curiosity. “Tell you what, lock up for me here, get dressed, and meet me at the main desk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, god, no,” she laughs. “No, no, don’t ever call me that. I start getting “ma’am’d”, I won’t know what I’ll do with myself!” Kay’s laugh lingers even after she’s back inside.

Jonathan chuckles, makes sure the padlock is secure in place, and heads back to his room with a smile. He doesn’t bother to ask himself why he made the offer, if that’s what it was. He’s not yet willing to dwell in the possibility he’s lonely or scared after his night terror. Jonathan is not thinking on whether or not he wants to be with her or just anyone. He just knows he wants to jog with Kay and that if he lets her go alone he won’t feel right the rest of the day.

***

They run together and alone. Enjoying shared silence, each one in their own head, as they move side-by-side, in synch. Pine thinks about his troubles, if he might ever outrun them. Kay thinks about the ones coming if the men return before she can find a safe place for Ricky.

Pine stops when Kay does, panting with her down at the center of town. He straightens up, looks around, then smiles. “Coffee.”

“Coffee.” She smiles, slips in with him behind as she catches breath. “Morning Joe!”

Joseph beams. “Every time.”

“Without fail.”

“The usual?”

“Yes, also...” She turns to Jonathan, expectantly. 

“Just a medium coffee, black, please.” There’s a plethora of options on a separate counter, he’ll adjust for himself.

Kay shrugs. “You heard the man.”

“What about a treat for our favorite month?”

“No, just the coffees today.” She won’t to reward May’s shoddy chore work.

Back outside, coffees in hand, they walk the shuttered town. Jonathan scans for threats, listens for cars and dangerously important conversations...all those things he can’t stop doing nowadays. It isn’t until Kay settles onto a bench at the main bridge that he lets himself relax a touch beside her. He keeps to one end, her on the other, with enough space for ten coffees.

“Are you still keeping your reservation open-ended?” She asks, sipping the overly sweet latte she favors.

“If that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“I am sorry about this morning.”

“Are you this apologetic naturally or is it the years of customer service?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” He smiles into the rising sun. “How long have you run Squall’s End?”

“About five years. It was my parents, but they retired and left it to me.”

“Are they still alive?”

“Yep, just moved down to Florida. They said it was part of their American dream.” She laughs a bit. “We stay with them during most the winter, when tourist season ends here.”

“I see.”

She looks to him. “If you’re still around, I’ll find you accommodations until we return, don’t worry.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble.”

“Exactly. No trouble.”

He smiles, sips his coffee. He holds himself back until he finishes the cup. “Those men who dropped by yesterday -”

“I told you, I don’t discuss and I don’t ask.”

“Will they be back?” He presses on to the point. “Will you and your daughter be in danger if they do?”

Kay isn’t sure how to answer, isn’t sure she has the answer. She focuses on her coffee, only responding when she senses him shifting in preparation to speak again. “Men like them might threaten, intimidate, but they won’t do anything to get on police radar.”

“Are you certain of that, Kay?”

She gulps cold latte, stands with a sigh to toss cup in recycling, then looks down at him. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Jonathan. You’re my guest, not the other way around.”

He smiles up at her, she smiles back. They both know he’ll worry anyway, that he’s already worrying. He’s just that type.

**

Apparently writing the first one unleashed more so...yay? So, the new OC’s full name is Kai-Lee Lin, but goes by Kay because it’s easier. She’s Asian-American, moving to the States with her parents when very young then becoming a citizen (probably around her teens/20s). Her daughter, May, is about ten or eleven and I’m sure she’ll show up later. ...And that’s all I’m saying for now lol! 

(Gif found from Google!)

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[dgchg]

his eyes and horns and spinal plates blood red

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[ohiopages]

17th Annual Loudonville Classic Car Show by Doug

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Read this book in the talent library forever ago

Columbia professor now, I guess. They couldn't figure out how to classify him from the segregation by race that the Chicago gangs use and that part, I thought, was really interesting. He's from Madras.

So he got to hear about "loaner girlfriends" that gang members use to spy on enemy gangs, from a member leader of the Black Kings. He got to hear about cars with no papers because black people get redlined out of those, too. Driving things they can't afford borrowed from people who can.

He got to hear about "she stuck the knife into his stomach over and over while he slept" so he woke up and had a friend take him to the hospital. A stark difference between the latino gangs and the black ones. Neither really claimed him or rejected him because they didn't know what to make of him as an ethnic Indian where there weren't any.

So they treat him somewhere between a non combatant advisor and a dumb journalist between the gangs. The drive-by terrorism turned out to be different from the murder rates. Around the turn of the century (cannot to this day believe I'm saying this), I got on at a grocery store off I-5 in my hometown, and back then the place might as well have been fort knox; we're a secured border crossing with California "the golden gate to the golden state" as the mob of the 1920s called it during prohibition. We *had gangs* and had drug problems, armed highschool kids outnumbered unarmed ones back in the 1980s. But *their parents* out parents I guess you'd say, were all doctors or lawyers, city council people, business owners, big fish corporate types retired to small ponds and such.

(We were so called little Chicago in the 1920s)

So we get "retirees" from there, gangs and otherwise predominantly white but not always and near homogenized back in the 80s. They're not tough, the gang members from Ashland. They *did* have parents that fought it wars and stuff, owning a block because "they stepped on it", having all the connections one would expect of those kinds of lives. They're not college educated and their wives are models and they own businesses that they don't really run in the traditional sense, because they don't know how.

The kids they knew from their own kids in school formed up into these pools around tourist targeting businesses overlapping with the drug trade.

The *parents though* are the real thing or were before they retired. Affluent though they may have been, these kids go off to cut their teeth on sex work or violence or drug peddling like they went to a boarding school; coming home worthy of their parents who have *defined* their cushy lives on the absence of what they were doing. Fortified against it with homogenized white affluence. These are, in a word, the people *running* the activity in Chicago, "phoning it in" they like to call it.

A house costs *millions* of dollars, it's Timbuktu by any city like Chicago's estimate, there are no amenities, full of deadheads who never left the sixties and drug tourists from liberal enclaves from California. So their past shouldn't even want to come here let alone live long enough to turn up here anyway.

When you administrate endemic poverty in a metropolitan area segregated by race, this is the kind of a place you turn up and/or retire to.

"Can't take the jungle out of the tiger" right?

As such, the decades piled on and the *kids had kids* whose *grandparents* were now "somebodies", so *real* gang bangers started to show up from the biggest and most dangerous gangs here, to see and check in on how "the bosses were living" because social media is twenty years old. We get foreigners from Asia and and India, Latin America, Africa, people who live in a house for a few days per year.

There's a dollar general store down the interstate across from where a Walmart supercenter sat since the 90s, "where even Walmart won't go" was their Tennessee tagline. That giant building sat empty for a *very long time* implying cartel or mob juice and on a level completely out of profile for the region. Talent had an estimated population of like 2000 when it went in, the Walmart. So now, ms13 has come in since a series of downturns to represent a whole organization of chickens coming home to roost.

And thinking this was some kind of fortress or something because redlining had created an appearance of impregnability from minorites. So affluent kids could go off and make street names for themselves and return to safety without giving that a second thought.

We *had* harmless homeless around Ashland like out of work actors and people cut loose by san francisco and such. Now we have the illusion that a transnational drug production hub is not down the road, not urbanized and not racially integrated, some ten or fifteen miles from our city center.

Dad had the courtesy (and insight) to move out where they didn't have so much as volunteers; biker land of sorts where people regularly *resolve disputes by shooting into each other's houses* from within their own homes. After my parents divorced. "You bring it with you" whatever you really are "because it always comes through". So and, after you get on somewhere *people like you are going to show up* whether they're soldiers, thugs, amish people, mobsters whatever.

They call it "the game" alternately "being about that life" in the writing there, but Chicago was *doing good* when he wrote his study. Ashland feels it here, after crashes, where they're not.

Japan takes over the world made them seem really driven and overpowered. They're outnumbered by China, outproduced by Americans, outfought by everybody with an army. It looks that way in the 1980s though; like they were running the world. Chicago. Is a borough of New York. It might have eight to ten million in the Illinois metropolitan area. Chicago university. It's pretty well landlocked. It's the same as Japan. You guys aren't leaving North America and progress is a highly educated people *who aren't gang members* and who don't live in the United States.

It's your time to shine, between about 1870s to 1930s Chicago. Citizens were as bad as the worst excesses of any gang today. Have a nice day.