#denver pot

[blakkauldron]

Thelonius 🛢️ skunk - Sativa

Platinum Blue Cookies 🔵 🍃 H

[happilytinynight]

The third strain of cannabis

[slowlycooking]

[thequietguynextdoor]

Merry Christmas from Denver

[thanksfortheflaglove]

.

[inner-community]

also, idk. i told her last week i think a lot of parts are getting closer. so for instance with the Adult Us, i think it's becoming pretty hard to tell when we are switching? at least for me. i feel like there are hints that something has changed (like bandit will be more irritable when interrupted, jb spouts off intellectual thoughts and is more coherent than the rest but also is compulsively smoking weed, (part formerly known as andie but doesnt like it now because its our Name to people) is very very Polite and reserved...) but i don't think between them there is as much amnesia and it's like... idk maybe more of like a gradient shift of consciousness than flipping a switch. which is good i think!! i do have a hard time telling though if that is really like... an integration step or if i am just so busy i'm not noticing things/keeping myself in this adult mode more often. but i also notice the smalls are getting closer to the adults. (adults using more of the verbage that the smalls do, which helps us ask for things or express needs, and smalls being more involved in Big tasks)

soooooooo idk!!! it's really weird to like. notice this kind of healing i guess?? and i KNOW what a large part of me feeling so good currently is just weather, because spring brings back like all of my vitality, but we had such a mild winter that i feel like it didn't have as bad an effect on me as usual this year i think. sooo idk.

and my problems are mainly just like, interpersonal with my family now. i think a lot of it comes down to not being able to handle when everyone else has unregulated emotions and acts as unpredictable as they usually do, because no one is really working on their issues in a helpful way. and it makes me angry sometimes because i have problems equal to theirs, but i have put in years and years of work into being a better and more stable person. and i have DID!!! (my family definitely all have parts to some extent but refuse to either believe that or work with them. my sister is convinced she can just like. evict one from her head and i keep telling her that is only going to make it harder to integrate later.)

and two things.. my sister acts JUST LIKE my mom. every little thing is a big deal. if someone stands in her way for a second, or she drops something, she starts yelling about how shes "GOING TO LOSE HER SHIT!!!" and if she hurts someone and they comment on it she starts threatening self harm. and then when we have said that that makes it so everyone coddles her she throws a fit about that too. she talks shit about me and my wife in earshot and is mad if we say something. she is unpredictable and makes my dad take care of her (food, weed, cigarettes, driving her places, driving her 2 hours up to her 35 year old boyfriends house.... (she is 21) and if he doesnt do all of these she goes up to her room to scream-sob at her friends.)

and my dad? is just unpredictable and immature and he can't deal with his problems or his kids' problems and he can't just tell them to be fucking adults! (he also financially supports my brother who doesn't even live with him... my brother who refuses to get a job even tho he is 24. and again, weed, cigarettes, fucking gifts for his online friends, he bought him $700 plane tickets last year...)

and then amidst all that. me and my wife pay him when he needs help and we don't ask him for money or to buy us things. and then he is out here telling us we aren't ready to move out. mf we weren't ready to move IN with you!!!!!!!!!!!!! we moved here dec 2019 and were going to near immediately move, but my sister lied that she would be saving money and moving with us, then covid hit, and now we are still here but thank fucking god we HAVE to move because my wife is going to a school 3 hrs away next spring. so he CAN'T do shit to keep us here.

but it's like... HE isn't ready for us to leave. because we are the only responsible adults. but we are desperate to go, our dog causes my sister to be even bitchier so we want to take him out of the situation, we fucking hate how no one will clean up after themselves, and we just want a QUIET AND CLEAN HOME. where people dont scream at us, our dog, the other animals, the fucking inanimate objects, and themselves ALL THE TIME.

[intheupside]

Crosby has privately and publicly said on many occasions — most recently for this article from The Athletic — that he intends to finish where he started in the NHL. Fenway Sports Group, which owns the Penguins, views making Crosby a Forever Penguin as its top priority.

If an extension isn’t announced on July 1, it’ll only be because Crosby might still be shrugging off another disappointing season by vacationing in Europe.

If he signs for three seasons, Crosby will play through the ends of current contracts belonging to Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang— the two teammates with whom he is closest, not to mention the ones he pushed for the team to re-sign a couple of years ago.

The point is that Crosby isn’t going anywhere else to play NHL games.

If that upsets pot-stirrers who have gone out of their way to push this “Crosby deserves better” than what the Penguins have become — oh well. It might be tough for some people to accept, but they don’t get to decide what’s best for Crosby.

The Penguins are best for Crosby. Full stop.

I’m old enough to have been there when Lemieux didn’t even make it halfway through his 17th season with the Penguins. It was Crosby’s rookie season. Granted, Lemieux was four years older than Crosby is now. Still, he recognized then — as did former Penguins coach Michel Therrien — that Crosby, even at 18, was ready to lead the franchise on and off the ice.

Crosby is still the only guy for that job.

Before Crosby, the Penguins’ brand was built around star power, flashy scorers and high-end skill players. All those aspects remain, but Crosby infused the franchise with a blue-collar sensibility that Pittsburgh fans crave from their teams — even if several generations have passed since the city was a gritty, lunch pail, steel town.

The way Crosby plays changed what it meant to be a Penguin. His skill was obvious, but he hardly relied on God-given gifts. He worked his massive posterior off to win every puck battle, set up each or score each goal, and lift the Cup three times.

Doing that work — setting an example that the best and most popular player is also the hardest working and concerned with the team above the individual — made Crosby an icon. He’s still doing that work, even without a chance for his team to compete at the highest level.

As a student of history, but also someone who is studious when it comes to the franchise he’s shepherded for almost two full decades, Crosby is wise enough to know the chance — even if slight — to shape the next great Penguins team is more interesting than chasing a fourth title somewhere else, even if that somewhere is in Denver with his pal MacKinnon.

It won’t be easy. It might not happen.

But since when is Sidney Crosby not up for a challenge?

from the athletic

[whyissupernaturaltrending]

*banging pot lids together* TIME TO WAKE UP AND TELL US WHAT IS GOING ON

July 4-7, 11-12, 2024 - it's just a drill*

Supernatural is not slowing down and continues to trend at random times [x]. Please don't fear though, these are false alarms (likely to desensitize us before the next big thing that will inevitably happen).

Some of the possible contributors are:

Hype for Fan Expo in Denver which will feature several Supernatural actors [x]

Various news being announced via the destiel meme, including, but not limited to: a) boats stuck in a canal bringing back some fond memories [x], b) the UK elections [x]

Jivorce anniversary (my posts from 2021 about the prequel fiasco: [x] [x] [x] [x], and a more fun summary: [x])

Walker cancellation and subsequent chaos on Twitter [x]

Jared Padalecki joining The Boys [x]

June being pride month (and it's a spn site after all)

A sign of a healthy ecosystem

There's possibly more and I'll update the list if I learn of anything else. Sources below the cut.

Thank you so much to everyone who commented or messaged me, I love you and may your days be always free or full of the Supernatural chaos, depending on your preference.

[jesncin]

can't get the idea out of my head of M'gann being given houseplants when she first arrives on Earth and cultivates them in her room by herself. cut to months later after she has a community she realizes almost all of them have outgrown their pots and need to be planted outside and she does so in the community garden. one plant stays in her room and it's a martian seedling that has now blossomed after months of dormancy

YEAA that's really close to how I imagine M'gann settles in Denver! After J'onn and Ma'al leave the Erdels (who live in a cottage in the woods) for the town, they stay in a crummy 2 bedroom apartment (eventually adopting Double Stuff). But when M'gann and K'hym move in, J'onn gives M'gann his room with a baby bed installed there for K'hym (J'onn volunteers to sleep on the couch). They get a bunch of plant pots for M'gann to use her White Martian sleeping powers to grow Martian plants that are harvested to feed a growing baby K'hym.

I love the idea of M'gann choosing to expand her plants into a community garden hobby! I imagine J'onn and Ma'al later save up to move into a bigger apartment so K'hym and J'onn can have their own rooms. There M'gann could have a public community garden for Earth plants, and a secret alien community garden where the local stealth aliens come to plant foreign plants safely under M'gann's care.

[pyrondeeznutz]

Ticci Toby Headcanons

PT.01

Toby Rogers past, upbringing, pre-proxy headcanons. See proxy era headcanons here ⬇️

CW: Slight mentions of animal abuse, domestic violence, psychosis, bullying, car crash, gore

<NOTE> Im a psychology nerd so I tried to make it as realistic as possible. This is my first time doing anything like this but I have a lot of thoughts about Tobys character. Its not proofread so ignore any typos or grammatical errors. Also… its very long… I have… so many thoughts…

BIOGRAPHY .

PATIENT NAME: Tobias (Toby) Erin Rogers

BIRTHDATE: April 28th, 1994

AGE: Currently 19 years old

HC/EC: Brown hair, brown eyes

ETHNICITY: White American

BIRTHPLACE: Denver, Colorado

FAMILY: Connie Rogers (mother), Dan Rogers (Father), Lyra Rogers (sister)

DIAGNOSIS: Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis (CIPA), Tourettes Syndrome, Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Bipolar Disorder (Type 1, psychotic)

THE GURNEY .

Toby was in and out of hospitals from a very young age due to his wide range of physical and mental health concerns

His earliest memory was when, at age 4, he hit his head after falling onto cement and didn’t cry, scream, or even really acknowledge that he was hurt

After seeing the bloody mess her young child was in, Connie ran Toby to the hospital where tests were ran to determine what caused his lack of pain response

Finally at age 8, Toby was diagnosed with CIPA. This condition not only prevented his brain from generating a pain response but also responses to extreme temperatures (frostbite, heat burn, etc)

Due to these dangerous health issues, and his neurotic mother, Toby was put in homeschooling from a very early age. Connie was too protective of her son to allow him to go out on his own at his age

His earliest memories revolved around roaming hospital halls, his parents fighting over medical bills, being talked to by social workers and doctors, having tests done, minor surgeries, etc.

DEAR OLD DAD .

Dan Rogers was a difficult man. He never admitted he was wrong, he spent his evenings drinking on the couch, and always had something to complain about. The best words to describe this man was angry, bitter, and reckless

He wasn’t a father by any means. To Toby, the man was more of a nuisance than anything. An alcoholic manchild who stood in his way

The boy never got along with Dan. His father would see him as a burden, bringer of unnecessary medical costs. He severely emotionally and physically neglected his children from their birth. Dan never wanted to be a father.

Due to the costs of Tobys medical problems, Dan would continuously attempt to “prove he was faking” his CIPA, and yell at the boy for his strange twitches due to Tourettes. On one occasion, Dan put his sons hand in a pot of boiling water to try and elicit a pain response that never came.

As Toby got older and more independent from his mother, he would often mouth off to his father, talk back, or straight up ignore him. There was never a moment of peace between those two

Being the money maker in the house, Dan was usually very overworked and stressed. He turned to alcohol to relieve this, and his bad temper got worse when he drank. Often to the point his outbursts would lead to physical violence against his family

It was like walking in a minefield for Toby and his family. And since the supposed “man of the house” was a drunken mean old man, Toby took it upon himself to protect his family from his fathers wrath.

He would purposely act up to direct Dans fist towards him. The boy couldn’t feel it anyways, and being hit, pushed, grabbed, was better than having his sister or mother be hit or yelled at.

The young boy spent his childhood in a rage, he was powerless against his father.

MOTHER DEAREST .

Unlike her husband, Connie was a quiet woman who cared deeply for her children

She was well-mannered, motherly, and kept to herself. And while she was a good woman, she had her fair share of flaws

You would catch her dead before you ever caught her losing control over her emotions. Connie grew up quick and that stuck with her. From a young age she took care of her manchild of a husband

She couldn’t afford to lose herself to silly things like emotions. She had a family to care for, a house to clean, meals to cook. Her priorities lied on appearance over her health

This was one of the many reasons she couldn’t leave her husband despite the years of abuse

Despite all the violence, berating, assault. This life was her own and it was just another thing she had to live with

Toby loved his mother, he really did. He knew she did the best given the circumstances. Connie kept her children fed, clothed and housed. Thats all he could really ask for

But he despised from the depths of his soul how she could just sit by and let the abuse happen. How she never left Dan. How she never cared enough to leave despite not knowing what lied in store for them beyond that house

To her, Dan was a safety net. He provided money, insurance, he paid the bills, put food on the table. Connie quit her job in order to homeschool her son. There was no choice

To Toby, his mother was a coward who never stuck up for herself. And god forbid he ever turn into that

So Toby fought the battles his mother couldn’t. He said the words his mother didn’t dare to speak. He took the beatings and his mother did nothing but ask her husband to stop

SOUL SISTER .

In the chaos of that household, Lyra was something of fresh air for Toby

While the two did fight as any siblings do, they had a mutual care and understanding for each other

Lyra would keep a makeshift first aid kit under her bed for whenever Toby got into minor accidents or if their father went too far some nights

Like her little brother, Lyra had a lot of anger in her. She would always try to stop Dan from going too far and she was good at talking Toby and their father down from ripping each others throats out

She would channel this anger and frustration into sports like boxing, soccer, rugby. It was easier to express her feelings through physical means than ever talking about it. The girl was a perfect mix of her parents

When he was younger, Toby had a very bad and hostile relationship with Lyra. He was young and didn’t have any clue how to handle his emotions and would often threaten or physically hurt his sister

But as he grew up, and they bonded over the related abuse, and they would be there for each other, Toby developed tender care for his older sister. If she got a boyfriend, he would be ready to attack at any sign of disrespect. If she brought over friends, he would stay in his room not to embarrass her.

Just as he was with his mother, he was very protective over Lyra. She did so much for him, and he wanted to keep her safe. It was a tangled, messy relationship but they made it work despite her attitude and his anger

CONDUCT .

Toby grew up completely isolated from other kids, families, etc. The most socialization he got was going to family events or being dragged to the grocery store with his mother.

All he knew growing up was violence. And so when he was around other people, he would project everything he learnt from his father onto other kids

From a very early age he was made to feel small and insignificant in his own home by the people that were supposed to take care of him. And so whenever something challenged him out of the house, he would do whatever he needed to do to put them below him

Sometimes Toby would project this violence onto small animals, occasionally moving onto bigger animals such as cats. The feeling of killing something smaller than himself with his own hands gave him a sense of power and control he never had

Due to his untreated ADHD, the boy would often be loud, hyperactive and intrusive. He would have temper tantrums and outbursts as well, and his mother never knew how to handle it

He was a problem child from birth. Not only causing problems for himself, but for everyone around him

Toby would talk back, curse, say strange and vulgar things, refuse to apologize or admit he was wrong, and would run away from home occasionally.

But despite these behavioural issues, Toby always refused to touch alcohol. Despite all the anger, dread and frustration he felt he swore he’d never become the kind of man his father was

BULLY .

Around 12 years old, Toby’s parents decided it would be best for him to get properly socialized and placed him in a public school

He was now old enough to recognize that bleeding is bad and how to check for injuries despite his CIPA, which allowed Connie to calm down tremendously when it came to her anxiety surrounding her boys health and safety

Despite his mothers insistence that he would love public school, he’d make so many friends there, and that everything would be fine, Toby knew damn well he wouldn’t do well there. He was already bullied by his own father, imagine how other kids would react. He’s seen the movies.

And of course Toby was right. Due to his Tourettes, his tics would often confuse, scare and gross other kids out. They would either straight up treat him like a diseases rat or ruthlessly bully him

The boy was called every name in the book, from “twitchy freak” to “ticci Toby”

Alongside the ostracism and harassment from his peers, his tics and behavioural issues would cause him issues with his teachers. They would often scold him for being a disturbance in class

Making and keeping friends was near impossible for the boy. Talking to a “creepy loser” like him was practically social suicide. He was weird, strange, and given his history of fighting the other kids he was probably dangerous too. No kid wanted to be around that.

On occasion, the other boys would get physical with him and he would always hit back, leading him to get in more trouble with the school staff

Toby would be beat down at school and go home to have it done to him all again by his father

Eventually the school year came to an end and Toby was put back in homeschooling

Even though the torment in middle school came to an end, that didn’t mean the bullying stopped. He was now a known freak and the perfect target for kids who were a bit too much like him. They would harass him online until they got bored, and god forbid he saw any of them in public

It made the angry, powerless boy feel even worse in his own world. There wasn’t a night that went by where he didn’t think of going off and getting his revenge. Make them pay for ever fucking with him.

THE CRASH .

When Toby turned 17, he had finally got himself medicated for his recently diagnosed Bipolar Disorder which caused manic / depressive episodes

He was put on antipsychotics and stimulant medication for his ADHD

While he was being treated, his sister got a job and so did his mother. Outside of all the familiar instability and violence his father caused, life was good

Toby was going to be 18 soon and his sister promised that when he became a legal adult, she would take him to move out with her

He didn’t have any friends, he didn’t really have any plans for his life, but he had a life ahead of him regardless and that was enough

The boy was working through pain too great to imagine, he was carrying 17 years of fear and dread, he was so young holding on to so much

But he had a way out. He was going to get a job and move out with his dear older sister and maybe even go to college. He was going to overcome this

That was his views at least up until the crash

Lyra was driving Toby back home from a doctors appointment when it happened

His tics were acting up, it was rather distracting

He was so caught up in his own little world and trying to get through the frustrating twitches that he didn’t even have a second to process what happened

The next thing Toby knew, the car was swerving right into a lamppost and the air bags were deployed

And the next thing Toby saw was his sisters mangled, bloody body. The force of the steering wheel crushing her bones and shards of glass piercing her skin. The physical trauma near shattered her ribs

And the next thing Toby heard was the pained groans and wheezing from his dying sister

Thats the last thing he remembered before he woke up in a hospital bed with his broken arm being patched up. The doctors wouldn’t even let him see his sister who was under surgery in the emergency room

He didn’t get to be there by her side when she died

He didn’t get a goodbye

And while he was surrounded by family, his aunt Lori was even there to support his mother, Tobys father was nowhere to be seen

Dan was too drunk to drive, and too lazy to call a cab. He didn’t care about Toby and he didn’t care that his daughter just died. One less burden.

In one afternoon Tobys entire life slipped through the cracks of his hands

HIM .

The grief was sickening. It was heavier than the weight of the world. The silence that flooded his once loud house from his sister blaring her Beatles albums was deafening

These were the kinds of things that only happened in movies. People didn’t really lose their family members, and these things didn’t happen to people like him

It wasn’t fair

The one good thing in his miserable life, the moment things were finally getting better. There was no hope anymore, Toby was hopeless

He thought of ending his life every night as he stared at the ceiling, not getting a wink of sleep. But he couldn’t do that to his mom. She never showed it, but it showed clearly from the weight in her steps, the tired look in her eyes. He knew she was carrying a burden too great to bear

He couldn’t take away both of her children

So he would lie there night after night hoping to wake up from the gutwrenching dream just to hear her laugh, sing, blast her shitty music. He never really liked The Beatles, but she did. But she did.

It was all too much for him. From the moment Toby stepped out of the hospital he hadn’t felt real. The boy was living two steps away from reality like there was a sheet of plastic in between him and the world

Days would go by where he would forget to take his medication, or where he would simply just sleep the entire day away

On the days he was awake, Toby would feel like he was going insane. He wouldn’t feel real, he would see things out of the corner of his eye

Sometimes he’d swear he saw something outside his window at night

A strange creature standing under the streetlights

And it only got worse from here. Toby would almost always refuse to leave the house, he stopped sleeping, he felt like something was watching him

The boy would spend hours staring outside his bedroom window. The forest in his backyard had eyes and they were watching him

A wave of sickness overtook Toby. He would wake up with bloody noses sometime and no medicine would get rid of his strange cough. Sometimes he would sleepwalk and end up waking up on the edge of the forest behind his house, cold and alone in the dark of the night

It all added up. It was too much. The anger, the fear, the paranoia. The little voice in the back of his head telling him to just do it. Get revenge. Make him pay.

ABLAZE .

The years and years of abuse. Everything his father had done. He wasn’t there. He was never there.

Why should a man like that deserve to live? 17 fucking years of making Toby feel small and insignificant

Not today. And not anymore. The world was in the boys hands now, and so was a knife. And that night was the night Toby Rogers killed his own father.

No words could describe the feeling of adrenaline and rage that overtook the boy that night. There was no other option, this was the way it was always going to happen

Everything Toby has ever been through has led up to this. It was his own divine prophecy

And God showed no mercy that night

23 stab wounds drilled into his fathers chest, his face bloody, beaten and unrecognizable. Toby smashed his tiny bruised fists ruthlessly into his fathers now deceased body.

The only thing that stopped him was the scream of his mother. It was something primal, something deep from the pain in her gut.

Toby ran into the garage and grabbed two axes that belonged to his father, one old one new. Alongside that he grabbed gasoline and matches. He was going to do what he knew best. He was going to destroy everything.

And so the boy ran down the street of his neighborhood pouring the gasoline along his way and dousing the rest over the trees as he stood at the edge of the forest

Striking a match, the dry grass and trees caught on fire and immediately exploded into flames. The heat and blaze engulfed the boy and soon it began catching onto the rest of the forest

This was the end, he thought. Strangely enough, even though his heart was beating in his throat and his body was shaking, he felt calm. He had no regrets and he was fine with this being his ending.

His mind went blank, everything felt like a static screen, he could feel himself getting dizzy and there was a loud ringing in his ears

The last thing he saw was a tall, faceless creature in the midst of the smoke and fire as he collapsed to the ground.

And that was the death of Tobias Erin Rogers.

[blakkauldron]

Royale with Cherries H-I 🌲Sangria Runts 🛢️H-S

[gottalovetumbler]

TF141 Zombie Apocalypse AU pt.2

Info: very gory and decently dark, cussing, slavery-esk, kinda obsessive too

Setting info: so I live in Colorado so this story is widely based on where I live and the Denver airport. To help set the scene I’ve included a picture I took outside of my house to show where the main character and Johnny live.

Anyways I hope y’all enjoy!

————————

“For the last damn time we are not going anywhere near Denver!”

“Come on bonnie! Juist imagine the untouch’d mail thare! It woul’ be like gettin the winnin lotto ticke’ !”

“Yea but instead of walking away with a shit ton of cash we’d be walking into a shit ton of zombies! Also don’t forget the sign saying to stay away from the airport.”

“Ah come on, whan has thon sign iver been richt aboot anything? remember earlier this year whan it says,’best outpost this side o the rockies juist 15 miles south.’ an then the same outpost blew up no e'en 2 months later. Tha’ sign has alway’ been full o lies.”

“No that sign has always been full of false hope, not lies. And it sure as hell has never been used as a warning sign, especially with how far whoever wrote it must have traveled to get up here. Whatever they’re warning people about, it’s serious and we’re gonna heed it. End of discussion.”

With that, you flip and stalk up to your house. Pulling open the door you walk in but don’t hear the door slam shut behind you so you know he’s followed you in. Of course he has, it’s your turn to cook dinner so he’ll be here all night.

“But Bonnie, it’s only aboot an hour drive.”

He whined, shutting the storm door and following you to the kitchen.

“It used to be an hour drive Johnny, 5 fucking years ago before the world went to shit. Do you know how many pileups and walkers there are in that city? Too many.”

You glance up from the pot you were stirring. The soup just about done and the scent wafting around making both your stomach growl. You’ve solemnly seen Johnny so defeated, the last time you saw him this bad was the day he turned up on your door step 2 years ago.

“Listen, I get it I do. It’s hard being in the middle of nowhere, nothing to do or to see. I get it I promise, I grew up here. But the possibility of finding some cool package meant for some chick named Racheal at the FedEx hub is not worth the risk. It just isn’t.”

“Yea you’re richt. The packages aren’t worth the risk o ane o us gettin hurt or worse,’ you turn your gaze back to the oven, glad you’ve finally got through to him. It sucks being stuck here but atleast you’re both safe-,’neither are the animals. They deserve tae stay trappit where they are because they just….. aren’t worth the risk. Right Bonnie?”

The glare you send his way just about lays him on his ass. The cocky smirk he sends you makes you nearly explode with anger. How fucking dare he use the defenseless animals against you.

“You and I both know any animals trapped down there are long gone and sadly there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Maybe…… but wha’ if they aren’t? Ye gonna let thaim suffer alone a scared while ye sit here eatin chicken noodle soup?”

———

Back before the outbreak, you thought no car rides would ever be worse than the family road trips you used to go on yearly. They were full of anger and arguing, mainly between your parents but what you would give to be back there. Not just because you miss your parents, you do, but because if you hear Johnny sing one more damn Rihanna song, you may just give yourself to the zombies.

“Umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh, Under my Umbrella-ella-ella-eh-“

“Johnny, shut the fuck up! You don’t need to sing this song 50 times in a row! I promise you’ll live if you stop singing.”

“For all ye know bonnie, ma beautiful voice coud be the one thin’ keepin us safe so hou aboot ye respect it a bit more? hmmm?”

“I highly doubt that if your voice is keeping things away, it’d be because it’s beautiful.”

He turns to you with an eyebrow raised but before he can retort, the large (and frankly, ugly) FedEx logos appears. Sun damaged and looks to have been half plowed down by a minivan, but recognizable non the less. You can’t tell if it’s the tires or Johnny squealing as he veers the car towards the front doors.

———

It’s been 4 hours since you pulled up to this God-forsaken warehouse and you’ve barely glanced through half the packages, let alone open and look at them like Johnnys doing.

“How much longer are you gonna take? I’d like to leave before I begin turning to dust if possible.” You ask/complain as you sit on a Samsung fridge new in box, probably cost more than 2k before but now it’s nothing more than a crappy bench. You guys spend another hour loading all the ‘good’ stuff into the trunk of the car and begin the long trek home.

It was about 4 am when you started the journey down and it’s just about to get to 9:30 pm as you make your way back up. On the drive back you guys stick to the highways instead of the side roads/land. It looks like when shit hit the fan almost everyone started making their way south to try and get out of the city, clogging up the roads while the north bound road had a few straggling cars but no big blocks luckily.

“Grumpy, grumpy. Absolutely na respect for the hunt. Back whan A wis i the military A usit tae have tae sit still i ane spot for hours hopin tae catch a glance at the missions target. Aye could hunt for hours an niver get borit.”

“That’s the first time you’ve mentioned your time in the military in a few months.” You say staring straight ahead at the ‘road’ (it’s a fucking field) processing what he said for a moment. “Do you miss it?”

“Miss wha’ exactly?”

“Ya’know the missions and the ‘doing the greater good.’ Getting the bad guys and putting them down.”

“A dae miss the missions a little bit, ay. But A miss ma fellow soldiers more. We were a family, a found on’ but on’ nonetheless.”

You guys banter and talk for a bit more, effectively killing time till you have to inevitably had back north. Luckily the drive down wasn’t too bad since you were able to cut through fields and avoid any towns with ease.

If there’s one thing zombie movies and shows got wrong, it was the amount of zombies walking the earth. Sure, there used to be about 7 billion living people and that number has now dropped to a measly 400 million. But that doesn’t mean every other body is a current zombie. In the beginning there were loads but as the years went on and more were killed, the hoards became far and few between. On the drive down you guys maybe encountered 10 or 15 zombies, majority once you reached Denver. The drive back you’ll probably only see 5 to 10, if that.

You’d about halfway out when the car starts the slow. Your head had just knocked the door in your attempt to get some shut eye so your heart was already pounding as Johnny hit the breaks. Looking up you expect to see a pile up, a hoard or maybe worse, survivors, but all your met with is an open road. Glancing to your left to see what Johnny’s looking at you follow his gaze to your right and see a giant sign for the airport.

“No Johnny don’t even think about it. We talked about this, whoever wrote that sign was truly scared of whatever’s in that airport so we’re aren’t going anywhere near it.”

He shoots you a quick glance, studying your quirked eyebrow before he mutters a quick, ‘Sorry Bon.’ and veers toward the airport. Stupidly (don’t this at home kids) you reach for the steering wheel while yelling at him to stop. The second you get both hands on the wheel he grabs your wrists with one and holds them to his chest. Still muttering apologies as he reaches 60 mph and weaves through stopped vehicles. One too many close calls cause you to shut your eyes tightly waiting for the inevitable impact. A few minutes later you both come to a stop on the top floor of the DIA parking garage.

As he put the car in park and looks over, he expects you to yell or maybe even slap him. What he didn’t expect were the fat tears rolling down your face and you stared petrified at the entrance.

“Juist a quick in an oot ok? We’ll be back home i na time- oh bonnie i’m sorry ok, I’m so sorry.”

He pulls you in for a hug and strokes a hand down the back of your head and spine a few times.

“Ye don’t have tae gae i gin ye don’t want tae ok? A juist have tae see somethin for ma own piece o mind but ye can stay oot here.”

As if you could have gotten more upset at that moment. Pulling back from him you shoot him the most scandalized look. “And what Johnny, leave you alone to fucking die in there? ‘sniff’ No I’m coming in with you, but don’t think just because I’m going in either you means I forgive you for this.”

You both waited for your tears to stop and your breathing to even out before you steeped out of the car and up to the once working sliding glass doors. Newspaper had been plastered up and covered all the windows, you just hope it’s to keep zombies out and not in. Producing a crow bar from the trunk, Johnny wedges the doors open and you both sneak inside. You’re up on the second floor and begin walking around, passing the small shops and gates as you went. Up ahead you both see one of those floor cut outs with the railings where you can look over the edge to the lower levels.

When you first pulled up, there were no signs of life but as you draw closer to the viewpoint you begin to see faint light and hear voices. Shucking off the little stuff you brought in, you and Johnny lay flat to the ground and begin to army crawl toward the ledge, hoping to catch a glimpse at whoever’s down below.

The sight your met with makes you feel a bit sick, whether that due to the amount of zombies or what’s happening to them your not sure. Down below is a giant wheel, that seems to be hooked up to a generator, being pulled in circles by 20-30 of them. It isn’t unheard of for people to keep zombies and use them for some sort of manual labor but it is looked down upon. Just put the poor bastards out of their misery and let the rest.

Transfixed on the hoard you almost miss the very obviously human man walking up to one of the limping zombies that’s not moving quite as fast as he’d like. He stands there watching the poor thing drag its bum right leg for a good 30 seconds before it crumples to the ground.

Not even a second after the zombies knees hit the ground, the human man unchains it and begins dragging it away. The second he grabs the things shirt it begins to beg? You look to the right and meet Johnnys equally wide eyes, both of you realizing the sickening truth. Those aren’t zombies, those are fucking people.

Seemingly rritated by this, he begins dragging the human mam towards a wall. Clearly this is not a good wall because he begins to fight and yell, trying to get free but is quickly overpowered and chained up onto the wall. A bright light flicks on suddenly, momentarily blinding you as it points towards the man. Your heart skips a beat as you read the words over the top of the man’s head and holy shit you’re gonna be sick.

‘Johnny MacTavish, a traitor’

You look back over at Johnny but he’s transfixed on what’s happening below, unable to pull his wide and terrified eyes away. As the man walks away a new one appears with an all too happy voice.

“Oh Johnny, we finally found you! Do you know how hard it’s been withou' you all these years? I’ve missed you so dearly brother.”

The new man is clearly crazy because judging by the state of the wall this is not the first ‘Johnny’ to be chained up there. He approaches the chained man with a cart of knives and other torture items and from this far you can still see his manic grin. Not wanting to see the way this plays out you turn back to Johnny to say you guys need to leave but as your eyes slide over to his you catch something straight across from you on the opposite side of the opening.

Sitting in the same position as you, is a masked face. Just staring, not moving, just laying there watching you both. You kick Johnny to get him out of whatever trance he was in and before he can question you, your pointer finger directs his gaze to the man across the way. As Johnny makes eye contact with him his body grows frigid and he quickly stand pulling it up with him. The masked man tilts his head and slowly stands as-well, mirroring your movements perfectly.

Johnny grabs your hand and before you can even process the masked man running towards you both, he’s yanking you towards the exit.

———————

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1650

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnmixedbingo -Hiding an Injury @anyfandomgoesbingo -Childhood Best Friends

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Series Masterlist

PART X

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

****

Bobby is jerked out of his troubled sleep by a truck engine rumbling to life. Moving the window, he sees the taillights as John's GMC crunches over the gravel driveway toward the gate. Cursing obscenities in multiple languages, he rushes downstairs and pivots toward the front door when a voice calls out, "Denver Pyle aware you stole his underwear?"

Doubling back, he finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a smirk, drinking coffee. "Don't think you're too big to be taken to the woodshed, boy." Bobby chastised with as much dignity as he could muster in his red flannel long johns, walking to the stove to pour himself a cup from the old blue enamel pot. Ignoring the other man's continued smirk sat down across from him. "Good to see your eyes back to normal. Ready to tell me what that was about last night?"

That sobered Dean up.

He inquired how much Bobby knew about everything, and the Beta was honest about what he'd been told and felt that familiar pang of resentment toward John, watching Dean retreat into himself, knowing self-recrimination was nothing new for him.

"Seeing it's too early to get breakfast from Micky D's, I'm guessing John's found somewhere else to be." The young Alpha shrugged, saying it is what it is, and fiddled with his mug. "Anyway, I gotta keep my nose clean so Sammy doesn't end up in CYF custody. And seeing how you're my warden, that's the parole officer we're supposed to meet today." Dean slid a piece of paper over with his parole officer's info. "Is there anything else I should know before seeing them?" Dean shook his head negatively. Bobby braced himself, knowing the next thing coming out of his mouth would raise the Alpha's hackles.

"Couldn't help noticing number girl shivering in those hand-me-downs last night, and Sam needs some warmer clothes for school; going to get damn cold before too much longer." Deans features shifted, "Bobby, it's my responsibility to provide. I'll get what they need after I find a job."

"Looks like John forgot a few details. Part of the agreement is you'll work for me, too. But if that's how you want to do things, I've got no problem docking your paycheck in reimbursement." After rinsing his mug, the older hunter crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and decided to bring up what he saw last night.

"Considering we have an Omega in the house, I want to get a few things straight,. You boys have always been close, and don’t care if you still share a room, but don't take me for stupid." A flash of oh crap crosses Dean's features. "And I want to be clear: she's your property. It'll be your decision how to handle situations when they arise. Where Sam is concerned, there'd better not be any fighting over her 'cause I'm not getting in the middle of you two. And give me a heads up before you go into a rut 'cause that's another thing I'm not going to deal with either."

After getting a yes sir, Bobby heads back upstairs to get dressed when he runs into Sam, who asks why he is dressed like Uncle Jessie makes the Beta grumble; this is gonna be a long six months.

Bobby once again wonders where god got their twisted sense of humor.

The building Dean's parole officer directed them to look like a country feed store from the outside. Inside, that was a different story.

Bobby had learned a few things about people's kinks over the years, but this place shocked the seasoned hunter when a bubbly voice that didn't match the decor called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I help you with today?"

Bobby watches Dean lean against the glass counter, showcasing a variety of erotic toys, turns on the charm he's mastered at a young age, turning the female Beta into goo while explaining he needs the necessities for his recently acquired Omega.

The shop assistant leaned towards him, putting her ample bosom on display. "We carry all the approved items from the O divisions. But if you're interested in something more adventurous, we have a certified craftsman who does custom designs." Bobby slaps the list they'd compiled on the counter, "We just need this stuff."

The assistant does a quick read and, within minutes, has almost everything sitting on the counter. "Most of our customers prefer to custom order outfits for their O. Let me show you what we have in store; see if any strikes your fancy."

Exaggeratedly swaying her hips, she heads toward the clothes section, where Bobby picks up a shirt and says, "This stuff makes the lingerie I gave my wife look conservative." Dean nodded toward him and inquired. "Do you have anything not so revealing for an O about his height?" The assistant looked confused. "Are you kidding?" Dean shook his head, and her attitude changed. "If this is some prank, you can leave, or I'm calling the cops."

Bobby intervenes, and Dean can hear the testy assistant's insolent remark and Bobby's very Bobby response as he walks out of the store. Unlocking the Impala, Dean opens the rear door and helps the Omega out. As they enter the store, the manager is now arguing with Bobby. "O's are not that big; it's a biological impossibility!" Bobby replies, "Oh yeah," and peers around them, "Tell that to her!"

Dean sat a bowl of spaghetti covered in meat sauce and salad he'd made to appease Sam in the middle of the table, then went to pull the cheesy garlic bread from the broiler. "Damn, that smells good," Bobby said coming from the library with Sam in tow, and sat in their usual spots at the kitchen table.

Reaching for a piece of bread, Bobby asked, "Isn't your girl hungry?" Sam's eyes cut to his brother, waiting to see how he'd answer, and watched Bobby's narrow at Dean's casual response, knowing he was concealing something.

"She won't touch the stuff Dad bought, so Dean's been sneaking her food, but the only thing she'll take is broth." Sam yelped and kicked his brother back. "This true, boy?" Dean affirmed that he had, and Bobby wiped his mouth. "Show me the stuff John got."

Retrieving a bag resembling dry dog food Bobby opened it frowning, "This isn't fit to feed a hog, let alone a person! Why'd he get this crap?"

"It's on the list of approved nourishment."

Bobby sighed, "As long as you're in my house, we all will eat like other families."

Completing more paperwork made Dean gnaw on the end of the pen because the bureaucracy involved in owning an Omega annoyed the Alpha after spending most of his life trying to stay off the government radar. A cough drew his attention, and he saw the Omega shivering where she knelt on the tiled floor.

"Fuck this," Dean growled, tossing the clipboard aside, got up, and getting her up off the floor, removed his jacket and wrapped it around her before helping her sit in the chair next to his.

Returning the clipboard, Dean drew the receptionist's ire and let them know he doesn't give a shit about their rules before sitting down, glaring. He continued until they were called and slowly made their way to an examination room at the far end of the clinic, where the doctor Bobby knew was already waiting.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Stevenson. Could you please have her remove the coat and sit on the table? I've looked over the other clinic's paperwork. Are there any other issues you're concerned about?" Dean tells them about her not eating and the constant pain she seems to be in, even with the substantial pain reliever being given. "Let me do another examination, see if something got missed."

The doctor asks the O to indicate pain on a scale of one to ten, starting at her feet and working up her body. They are pleased that most reactions are under five until they touch her neck, and she throws herself off the table. "Believe we found the source," the doctor comments. They ask Dean to remove the collar, and he admits not knowing how it made them frown.

Dean helps the trembling O back up as the doctor pulls out a penlight and shines it over the collar, finding hidden stitching and their expression changes.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen one of these since my residency. I'll find something to cut the leather while you hold her." Dean drew the O flush against him and gently guided her face into his neck, releasing calming pheromones to relax her.

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original high collars were redesigned for autoerotic asphyxiation. Their voice fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

Part XI

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[onenicebugperday]

@encunto submitted: once upon a time, i was sitting in my car with the windows down, and a bee flew in and landed on the top of my phone, waved it’s little antennae at me, then flew out the opposite window. I was blessed that day.

Went on first break at work today and immediately after sitting down, this bee landed on my leg. I’ve been blessed again! All my coworkers started saying “Be careful, don’t get stung!” and I just sat there thinking “Literally the only reason I would get stung was if this bee’s life was being threatened” So instead, I stick out a finger, it climbed aboard, and I spent my break holding a bee friend making everyone around me nervous. I was late getting back to work, because I tried putting it on some flowers in a pot in front of me, but it refused to get off my hand. Bee friend.

Located in Denver, CO.

Turns out you are the bee whisperer and they seek you out to hang

[3416]

How Auston Matthews came from the unlikeliest place and rose to hockey stardom

By Jonas Siegel | 02.21.2024 | The Athletic

PHOENIX — Zac Larraza was the first player to be drafted into the NHL from the untraditional hockey system in Arizona.

The Phoenix Coyotes, appropriately enough, selected Larraza with a seventh-round pick in the 2011 draft. Larraza never made it to the NHL, but while he was on the rise and playing for the University of Denver, he invited a promising youngster he knew from his hometown to skate with him.

That kid was Auston Matthews.

Matthews was about to turn 16 and join the same U.S. National Team Development Program Larraza had left a couple years earlier.

He was younger than everyone else skating that day. But, right away, they all knew: He was different.

It was the way he skated. How he caught passes. It was his hands and how he carried himself: Confident, but cool about it.

“There’s some people that are just — they found what they were born to do,” Larraza said. “Shohei Ohtani: He was born to be a baseball player. Steve Jobs was born to invent. Thirty-four was born to play hockey.”

But before No. 34, no one from Arizona had ever become an NHL superstar, let alone one of the greatest goal-scorers in the history of the league. No one had ever made it big like that. Not even close.

Auston Matthews is a unicorn in more ways than one. He’s forged a path for the next wave of young players from the desert to follow.

Thirty-four jerseys are ubiquitous here for a reason. Matthews has made it possible to dream and dream big. The next generation has a reason to believe and someone to believe in.

Call it The Auston Matthews Effect.

It’s also a reason to believe hockey in Arizona will persist with or without the long-troubled Coyotes.

As Shane Doan, formerly the face for hockey in Arizona, put it: “Auston is the flag that everyone in Arizona holds their hat on and says, ‘Someone not only made it and played here and grew up and always comes back here, but also excelled.’”

“That gave everyone hope.”

–––

‘The number 34, you see it all over the place’

You can still feel Doan’s presence here. There’s a Shane Doan rink inside the Ice Den in Scottsdale, where the Coyotes practice.

Doan grew up in Alberta, however. Daniel Briere, another one-time Coyotes star, was also Canadian. Keith Tkachuk and Jeremy Roenick, two more franchise icons, both hailed from Massachusetts.

Matthews could dream of playing hockey in the NHL, could dream of being Doan, but still had no yellow brick road to follow. Matthews had to forge his own path, one that the next generation is now following.

Josh Doan, Shane’s 22-year-old son and a promising prospect in the Coyotes’ farm system, can recite Matthews’ story by heart.

“He came up through the ranks of minor hockey in Arizona and he had done it all and he stuck around till his U16 year,” Josh Doan said. “And then he made the national development program and turned pro at 18 years old to play in Switzerland and then went right into the NHL and had an amazing first year.”

Doan was 14 when Matthews potted 40 goals as a rookie for the Maple Leafs.

“It was really just a sign of hope for a lot of the kids in the area that it was possible,” he said, “not only just to make it but to be a superstar.”

Where once little hockey players here wore Shane Doan’s No. 19, now it’s all No. 34. At least one on every team — and usually the best player.

“He’s an icon,” Marc Fritsche, the director of tier hockey with the Coyotes Amateur Hockey Association said. “Kids know him. They know Auston Matthews. The number 34, you see it all over the place.”

Hundreds of Matthews’ Toronto Maple Leafs jerseys … in the desert.

“There was a guy who I went to school with who played hockey growing up here,” said Coyotes forward Alex Kerfoot, “and he was talking a little bit about how he played hockey with Auston Matthews. I think everyone here just knows Auston … and that’s cool.”

“Everybody back home asks me if I know (Matthews),” said Mark Kastelic, a 24-year-old Ottawa Senators forward from Arizona. “It’s cool to just be in the same world as him.”

On the October night in 2016 when Matthews made history in his NHL debut, Shane Doan was coaching Josh’s 14-year-old squad (which included future Maple Leaf Matthew Knies). Word filtered down to the ice that Matthews had registered a hat trick in less than 22 minutes.

The team rushed down to the lobby to watch him become the first player in league history to score four in his first game.

What could be more inspiring for young Arizona hockey players than that?

Larraza likes to point to his younger pal as a shining light, an example for the kids he coaches to emulate.

If Matthews did it, why can’t they?

“It hits home way more now that there’s a kid that was born and raised here, that they have somebody to look up to,” Larraza said. “I use Auston as an example all the time when I talk to the kids about work ethic. ‘I know 34 is working harder than anybody in my life. What gives you the reason not to work as hard as that?’”

Arizona hockey has grown “exponentially” since Matthews came on the scene, in Fritsche’s estimation.

USA Hockey lists 9,716 total players in Arizona in its 2022-23 report. That’s up from 7,781 players in 2017, a 25 percent increase. More importantly, at the eight-and-under level, there were 795 registered players in 2023 — a 45 percent increase from the 2017 report.

One thing that’s helped is all the ex-pros who have stuck around. “Even guys who didn’t play for the Coyotes have homes here and live here and come here in the offseasons,” said Mike DeAngelis, a Kamloops, B.C., native who arrived in 1999 to play minor pro and now works as the director of hockey operations with the Coyotes Amateur Hockey Association.

What do those former NHLers do? They coach. Steve Sullivan took his Arizona team to the final of a recent tournament in Calgary. His assistant coach was Derek Morris, who ended his long NHL career with the Coyotes.

Then there’s Dallas Drake. Keith Carney. Ray Whitney. Former NHLers are everywhere.

“Not only are they involved, they’re coaching, they’re involved in the programs,” Fritsche said. “And having that wealth of knowledge to bring down to those players and those kids and those families, it’s just so valuable.”

The lack of rinks is a problem. The Coyotes’ uncertain future has also again bubbled to the surface. All anybody can talk about around town, besides Matthews, is the future of the Coyotes, who are now playing on the campus of Arizona State University.

The Coyotes may end up leaving, but the path Matthews laid will remain. Kids will continue to play hockey here and dare to dream because of him.

Kerfoot has been a Coyote for only a little while now and lived at Matthews’ house in Paradise Valley when he first arrived last summer. He’s seen it, too.

“It doesn’t seem foreign to walk on the street and see kids playing with a hockey stick or see kids who are involved in hockey. It doesn’t feel too much different being out in Arizona,” he said. “Auston’s had a huge impact on that. You hear kids at our games even talking about Auston.”

“People see him, and it’s not just this fairytale myth,” Larraza said. “He’s here. He’s a human that’s from Phoenix, Arizona, that’s made it to where he has.”

–––

‘Elite of the elite’

Larraza had played alongside future NHLers like J.T. Miller and Seth Jones coming up the ranks of U.S. hockey, but teenage Auston Matthews was unlike anyone he had ever seen before. The “elite of the elite” were different like that.

You know it when you see it.

“You just go, ‘OK, we’re all pretty good players, but this is different, what’s going on right here,’” Larraza said.

Every year, by late summer, Coyotes players trickled back into town ahead of training camp. They invited Larraza and his pals to come out and join them. That included Auston, who had become close with Larraza, and Doan, who took notice immediately, asking who Auston was and where he was from.

While the Coyotes had, and continue to have existential problems, if they hadn’t come to town in 1996, it’s possible there would be no Auston Matthews, NHL superstar.

It might have been Auston Matthews, MLB superstar. Auston’s father, Brian, had encouraged Auston’s early adoration for hockey, but he and Auston’s grandfather also hoped he would pursue baseball. Auston liked the action of hockey, though. And he liked scoring goals, especially.

There were no ponds for young Auston Matthews to play shinny on in the desert, though, and very few rinks.

One of the few that does exist, Arcadia Ice Arena, sits in the shadow of a giant Walmart in Phoenix’s sprawl. This is hockey in Arizona. If not for the giant white hockey stick poking out of an otherwise bland building, you wouldn’t know this was an arena, let alone the place where Matthews grew up learning to play the game.

Arcadia isn’t much. One sheet of ice in an otherwise shabby structure but better than nothing in a community where ice is hard to come by. It’s one of the things locals in the hockey community bemoan. There just aren’t many places to lace up the skates and play.

For Matthews, it was Arcadia and the Ice Den, where he returns to skate alongside Coyotes like Clayton Keller every summer.

The locals love that about Matthews. Not only is he one of their own, but he comes back. They see him in the flesh and are reminded of the remarkable path he forged.

And Matthews and his family didn’t do what other hockey parents in the desert might have. He didn’t move to a traditional hockey market to play against tougher competition or increase his visibility.

Matthews’ father, Brian, grew up in Scottsdale. He would ensure his son had every opportunity to fulfill his dream in Arizona.

That meant rigorous training with Boris Dorozhenko, a skating coach who moved to Arizona from Ukraine and even lived in the Matthews’ home. It meant playing for NHL alumnus Claude Lemieux’s team, the Phoenix Roadrunners, among others. It meant spending hours on a now-shuttered three-on-three rink where the quarters were tight and slick puckhandling was mandatory.

“Auston was allowed to skate there as much as he wanted,” DeAngelis said. “And he’d just wheel around and play three-on-three or skate by himself.”

Matthews had incredible skill even then when he was just a kid.

That chuckling you hear in the background? That’s Shane Doan.

Matthews always had a mind for the game, too. His decision-making was strong for his age. His hands were exceptional.

And he was determined.

Dorozhenko remembers Auston struggling with one drill in particular. For 40 minutes, he just couldn’t get it right. He was crying. But Matthews wouldn’t give up and go home until he got it right. With tears in his eyes, he insisted they keep going.

“He never stops on something,” Dorozhenko said. “He wants to be better.”

Dorozhenko proudly describes Auston as a “pioneer” for hockey in Arizona, but no one knew back then that he would become this. How could they? One of the greatest scorers the NHL has ever seen — from Arizona? Get real.

But they knew something was different, especially as he crept closer to the NHL.

“He was a flat-out stud, that’s for sure,” said Keller, the Coyotes star who first met Matthews in 2015 while teammates with the USNTDP under-18 squad.

Keller and Matthews sat next to each other in history class as teenagers in Ann Arbor, Mich. Their nightly ritual: EA Sports’ NHL video games.

“There were like five of us that would play every single night, probably a little too late,” Keller said.

Matthews was Arizona chill — “super laid back” in Keller’s estimation — but maniacal about hockey, even as a teenager.

“You can tell that there’s a purpose to every rep, every shot,” said Keller, who skates with Matthews in the summer. “He’s never going through the motions.”

Larraza sees it firsthand when Matthews makes his annual return home to Arizona in the offseason.

“Like 80 percent of his day is focused on working and getting better, whether it’s on the ice, off the ice, taking care of his body, eating right — having a chef come cook him meals at his house, taking care of himself so that he is in the best possible position to succeed when the season starts,” Larraza said.

For other players, playing hockey is a job that they punch in and out of, Larraza said. “They work hard at it, they want to take care of themselves, but they’re also having fun and they’re golfing and they’re going on all these trips. (Matthews) knows he’s got a short career. I mean, 20 years is a short time in your life. He’s got 20 years to really prove who he is, make the money that he deserves to make, and carry his legacy.”

How much of Matthews is a byproduct of where he came from? Does he have what Kerfoot describes as “internal confidence” because he never had reason to think otherwise, because he towered over everyone in Arizona from the beginning? Is he laid back and chill because he was raised in the desert where the pace is slow and the sun shines almost constantly?

Kerfoot believes it’s just more about who Matthews is than his environment.

He was born for this but shaped nonetheless by where he came from.

“If you grow up in Toronto, or you grow up in a hockey family, you kind of are in the world,” said Kerfoot, a West Vancouver native. “Your parents know the other hockey parents. You’ve kinda got a path that’s all laid out for you. It’s just every day — there is like a hockey world. And he’s kinda carving his own path coming from a non-traditional hockey market.

“Because of that, I think he does things his own way.”

Now his way has become the way for others in Arizona to follow.

[transgenderer]

Trinidad is the home rule municipality that is the county seat and the most populous municipality of Las Animas County, Colorado, United States.[7] The population was 8,329 as of the 2020 census.[8] Trinidad lies 21 mi (34 km) north of Raton, New Mexico, and 195 mi (314 km) south of Denver.

Trinidad was dubbed the "Sex Change Capital of the World",[25] because a local doctor had an international reputation for performing sex reassignment surgery. In the 1960s, Stanley Biber, a veteran surgeon returning from Korea, decided to move to Trinidad because he had heard that the town needed a surgeon. In 1969 a local social worker asked him to perform the surgery for her, which he learned by consulting diagrams and a New York surgeon. Biber attained a reputation as a good surgeon at a time when very few doctors were performing sex-change operations. At his peak he averaged four sex-change operations a day, and the term "taking a trip to Trinidad" became a euphemism for some seeking the procedures he offered.

Drop City, a counterculture artists' community, was formed in 1965 on land about 4 mi (6.4 km) north of Trinidad. Founded by art students and filmmakers from the University of Kansas and University of Colorado at Boulder, Drop City became known as the first rural "hippie commune",[27] and received attention from Life and Time magazines, as well as from reporters around the world.[28]

In 2015 Trinidad started to experience a new boom due to the marijuana industry. The town raised $4.4 million in tax revenue from $44 million in annual marijuana sales, about 5.13% of the state's total sales.[29][30] In 2018 High Times called Trinidad "Weed Town, USA", noting that its 23 licensed retail marijuana dispensaries serving less than 10,000 people amounts to one dispensary per 352 people. "In one downtown block alone along Commercial Street, there were five dispensaries in a single building in town which the owner referred to as the "World's First Pot Mini Mall",[31] others call it the 'weed mall'.[32]

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