#if i had a car and two hours worth of gas i'd go

[michelleplayswithfire]

Jupiter restaurant hosts a winning 'Hell's Kitchen' four-course meal

Enjoy 'Hell's Kitchen' Season 9 winning four-course meal recreation and wine pairing

Eddie Ritz Palm Beach Post

If you love the drama and pressure of the show "Hell's Kitchen" and are curious to know just what a chef Gordon Ramsay-approved, season-winning meal tastes like, now is your chance.

"Hell's Kitchen" season 9 winner and The Jupiter Grill executive chef Paul Niedermann will be recreating his winning meal on Sept. 19 and 26 at the waterfront restaurant in Harbourside Place.

This four-course meal and wine pairing begins with olive oil-poached shrimp featuring jalapeño, red onion, roasted garlic, lemon, and fine herbs, paired with Maschio “Cavalieri” Prosecco from Valdobbiadene, Italy. Pan-roasted diver scallops with corn emulsion, picked bell pepper salad, and smoked paprika aioli are next and paired with a Grgich Hills Fume Blanc from Napa Valley, California. For the main, Beef Wellington will be served with Yukon potato purée, roasted carrots, and a sauce bordelaise, which will be enjoyed with E. Guigal, Crozes-Hermitage from France. Finish off the evening with a delectable banana polenta cake topped with dark chocolate ganache with honey roasted peanuts and vanilla bean gelato. This delicious, delicate dessert pairs perfectly with Jackson Triggs Vidal Icewine, “Reserve” from Niagara Peninsula, Canada.

Niedermann is excited to recreate the winning dish and to share it with guests at The Jupiter Grill. "Being on the show is a big draw and I want (diners) to experience what got me here," he said. “Diners will get to enjoy each course that I presented to judges during that fateful season and experience exactly what they did.”

The chance to sit down for the meal is a rare opportunity. The contest-winning meal isn't on the menu full time at The Jupiter Grill because "it's a pretty labor-intensive dish," but also because by only doing it once in a long while it keeps "the 'wow' factor" going.

Besides his "Hell's Kitchen" season nine-winning dish, Niedermann said he enjoys all varieties of food, but noted specifically that "I love a good bowl of pasta, a Sunday gravy." In addition to eating it, he loves taking pasta and getting wildly creative with it. "Making different flavors of pasta, like a saffron, vanilla pasta" is a passion, he said. That particular variety went well with seafood.

Though he's a classically-trained, contest-winning chef, who has worked at the Biltmore in Coral Gables and the Ritz Carlton in Fort Lauderdale, Niedermann said he's no food snob. "I love food from a Michelin Star dinner, to a hot dog cart outside Home Depot."

Niedermann said he doesn't keep in regular touch with Gordon Ramsay, but they will send the occasional email to each other.

Wondering what Ramsey is like in real life compared to his intimidating, on-air persona? Niedermann described him as "one of the nicest guys I've ever met" adding that the celebrity is "incredibly interested in other people."

Niedermann doesn't have another television appearance lined up and said, "if there was an opportunity I'd be interested, but it would have to really peak my interest."

Until then, the best way to get a glimpse into that world of competitive cuisine is to dine on a winning meal. Or at least head out to where a winning chef is behind the menu.

“We are much more than just a destination for fine dining. Exclusive events such as Chef Niedermann’s Hell’s Kitchen Final Meal illustrate our commitment to connecting with our community,” says Dave Magrogan, CEO/Founder of The Jupiter Grill. “We invite everyone to come visit us!”

Jupiter Grill hosts a winning "Hell's Kitchen" four-course meal

What: "Hell's Kitchen" Season 9 winning four-course meal recreation and wine pairing

Where: The Jupiter Grill, 149 Soundings Ave., Jupiter

When: 7 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 19 (sold out) and 26

Cost: $125, reservations required, seating limited

Information: thejupitergrill.com; 561-768-9582

[lucimaaie]

we pt4 ✧.* tlou

pairing - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - you and ellie make a promise.

a/n - okay fr my hands hurt i need to take a break but this is the endd (prob) did this need to be stretched out, prolly not but..i did it, lil angst, fluffy tho, wasn't sure how to end it but hope u like it

part 1, part 2, part 3

“texas. that’s still a ways down, isn’t it?” you said, looking down at the annotated map. it was worn out, having been dropped a few times and even dropped in the water but the picture was still clear.

you looked over at ellie at her lack of response. her eyes were laser focused on the road ahead of you, only tearing her eyes away for a second once she heard you call her name. she raised her brows.

"you okay?" you knew the question was one that probably wouldn't be answered honestly, but it was worth asking anyway. she was still shaken up from what happened months ago. being back in the cabin, you barely encountered runners or clickers in the middle of nowhere. she'd started to wonder whether or not it was worth it to drag you from the home you'd already shared together.

"m'fine." ellie scratched her outstretched arm. she'd been driving for hours and you knew she'd barely slept.

"i'd believe that if you weren't zoning out every few seconds." you folded the paper up and tucked it into the console, angling your body to look at her. ellie glanced at you, sensing you were gonna say something. "lemme drive. i know how, a little bit."

"a little bit's not exactly reassuring, peach." she rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. "just sit back."

"but, you're tired."

"wiiide awake." she stretched the words out like that would reassure you more. her eyes were in fact wide in atttempt to keep herself awake and not swerve off the makeshift dirt road.

"baby." her eyes seemed to soften at the pet name. she let her head hit the head rest, looking at you with a smile. she shook her head as she looked back at the road.

"not gonna let you do it." ellie sung.

"it'd be great! i'd drive, you could take a nap. how's that sound? a nap."

"are you talking to me like i'm a- i'm not a baby."

"but you're-"

"my baby." "my baby" ellie mocked you.

"you're so..i love you."

"i love you too, will you let me drive?"

"you're relentless," ellie eventually pulled over and gave you the reins for a few hours. she didn't go to sleep the first two, still unsure about your driving skills. not that she didn't trust you but learning to drive wasn't exactly a concern amongst people today, so she would get it if you couldn't. but when it was clear you would hold up pretty well, she couldn't resist sleep anymore.

ellie flinched at the sound of a rattling in the car. she looked around to see the car stopped and you in front of the car, checking out something under the hood, probably having no idea what to do. ellie took a moment to breathe, reminding herself that nothing was wrong this time. there hadn't been for months, you were fine.

when she got out of the car, she wore a tired smirk. "you broke it."

"no i didn't." you looked stressed, leaning your hands against the hood as you looked into the mechanics of a vehicle you'd only found days ago. you couldn't even tell what model, these things were practically useless without gas. you bit your lip as you tried for the problem, having no idea how attractive ellie found you like this. "i swear."

"it's alright." ellie wrapped her arms around your waist from behind and kisses your temple and your cheek. "would've ran out of gas anyway. we got it on foot." she rounded the car to grab her backpack and wrap it around her back. she came behind you and moved your arms to put yours on. "unless you wanna rest a while?"

"no, no i took enough naps." you adjusted the straps of your backpack before lacing your fingers with ellie's. "let's go."

you had become grateful of the extra rest being in a car had given you. unfortunately it made it easier to become winded when you'd become used to sitting on your ass.

on the bright side, you were almost to texas. the only scary thing was the uncertainty of being somewhere this new without knowing if you'd find a place like the cabin. and you knew if were anxious, ellie felt worse. "you okay?"

"you keep asking that." ellie as she tried not to look at you, which she loved doing, only not when you were so adamant on getting an answer. she didn't want to tell you she was still scared over what happened months ago. she'd been through worse, but it felt like none of it would compare to losing you. if she lost you, she was done.

"you usually give me some smartass answer. like that one." you jogged down the hill to catch up to her. "like before." you looked at her from the ground.

ellie’s eyes flicked over to you. her eyebrows furrowed as she caught what you meant. this wasn’t before. not when you and her were essentially roommates and she tried to pretend as if she was falling in love with you. no, you were together now. she was trying.

she was pulled out of her thoughts by you tumbling down the grassy hill. “oh my-“ she tried to run down to get catch you but ended up slipping herself.

ellie was in shock as she landed at the end of the hill onto finally flat ground. she was just recovering from the fall, dusting herself off when she heard you laughing. “what?” she asked, completely thrown off guard between what she was already feeling plus the added embarrassment from falling on her ass.

she stared at your carefree expression, allowing herself to let out a laugh of her own. she didn’t exactly find the situation funny, it would be had she not had so much on her mind, but she laughed anyway. she couldn’t help but laugh. after a while, it died down into quietness as you laid in the grass.

ellie looked at your relaxed expression and she was reminded of her fear. “you can’t leave me.” she said quietly. “you can’t leave me o-or do anything stupid to get yourself killed, okay?” she turned to look at you, her eyes pleading.

“ellie.” you scooted closer to her, mirroring her. “i’d never.”

“you swear?” her voice shook with emotions she wanted to push back down. "cause you've scared the fuck out of me before. i hate feeling like that."

“i swear on everything i love.” you pushed her hair behind her ear, your hand cupping her cheek. your eyes were filled with love as you swiped your thumb over her cheekbone. “that includes you y’know.”

“i-i got that.” she chuckled, blinking away tears. she wasn’t a crier but of you made her one to wear her emotions when she hated to.

“you have to swear to me too. no more martyr bullshit. i don’t need you to save me, i need you to be with me.” your words were a harsh reminder that she’d been thinking of what she’d be like if she lost you but not you if you lost her. “swear?”

“i swear.” she leaned up to kiss your nose. “on everything i love, i swear.” she said before laying a soft kiss to your lips, course it didn’t stay that way with both of your emotions on high. ellie pulled away with the need for air. she looked at you with all the affection in your eyes and swollen lips. “let’s get to texas, peach.”

thank you for reading!

[freakartack]

I love your Orbulon and space bunnies are sea creatures propaganda how do you even come up with that it’s so cool‼️

Thank you!! A fun fact about me is that i am actually insane about invertebrates. So when wario presented me with two made-up invertebrates i went a little insane. I do play it kind of fast and loose with these guys so i'm sure an actual specbio enthusiast would not be impressed but i'd say 40% of my creative decisions are also based in what would be the funniest (such as making sure the polyp looks like a bowling pin)

I have hinted at this via my orbiology poster but i have an entire orbulon corkboard living in my head so here is the bulk of that iceberg

Based on orbulon's aversion to heat, big ol' sunglasses, and milky complexion, i think that he is the interstellar equivalent of a cave olm. Instead of an underground cave i think he lives on a gas giant far from his system's sun, which would be cold, dark, and have a thick atmosphere for him to "swim" through. ("What about the air pressure?" You say. "Hold your horses" I say. "It will all be worth it in the end.") This reason i think it is worth it is because my model for this is uranus, the gas giant whose atmosphere contains notable amounts of, and i cannot stress this enough, methane. Tell me a more warioware planet

I also think that his planet is predominantly blue, not just because of the youranus thing but also because whenever he gets really scared he literally turns blue. Check it out

I think this is NOT the same as blushing, but a fear response similar to cuttlefish changing color to camouflage with their environment via chromatophores in their skin. Unfortunately when orbulon is scared shitless he does a bad job of it and just defaults to his home planet color, but when he actually thinks about it he can change his color and shape to be whatever he wants (such as a pretty woman).

3. On a similar note, orbulon does not have teeth but he can shapeshift his mouth to create the facsimile of teeth. This is a cool party trick but you need to know that the fake teeth are still squishy and it's really gross.

4. Orbulon's eyes are uber-sensitive to light which is why he needs those impenetrable coke-bottle sunglasses. He also doesn't have eyelids, so during his 24-hour naps his eyes are open the whole time. Sweet dreams.

5. This is going to veer out of plain biology and into his society so i'm not going to go too deep into this but basically i think that telepathy is an integral part of intraspecies communication and that their society is very communal as a result. Think like ants with pheromones, not a hivemind in that they lose their individual identities but they're definitely less atomized than humans. They're also wildly intelligent and have canonically developed time travel technology to the point where the average person can just have a time machine built into their car. This gives a little insight into orbulon's mindset here

(I don't think he's very clever by orbulon standards)

This is getting too long and crazy so i'm going to top it off with one more thing. I know orbulon is supposed to have smooth skin but in my heart i wish he had the texture of these bad boys

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

everything always falls together just in time for it to fall apart.

I couldn't wait to leave for 6 weeks. and, as John green once tackily said, 'falling in love is like falling asleep. slowly, and then all at once'. it all clicked into place. and the reasons why I have to leave, too, have all clicked into place: I hate my job. Now I've quit my job. Taylor concert in Melbourne, need to be in Melbourne. boyfriend flying into Sydney, need to pick him up in Sydney on the way down. 2 favorite Aussie bands at a music festival hours and hours' drive into the middle of nowhere; need my car to get there. Got to drive from QLD to Sydney to Melb. Housemate is leaving to go to England next week anyway, a lot of what I like about it here will be gone. Well, now I've found more things to like. Well, now the landlord is selling the house. Well, housemates are getting a new place together but I've still got all the other things that render me staying impossible. Well, now there's a cyclone headed straight for this region that I've got to outrun. Now there's a girl I know who wants a ride south who will help me with gas when I'm financially stressed. Time to go. Now.

There is no other answer but to leave. One of my housemates is a big believer in the power of the universe and when it wants you to do things. And yet, I wish I could stand here and brace myself against the gale force winds of the cyclone, feet cemented to the earth, and stay. I keep thinking, "if it wasn't for this I would stay", "if it wasn't for this I would stay" and before I've known it, "this" is literally every single factor that could possibly be worth considering except for where my heart is. I think it through and I know it's true: I came to Australia to see Taylor and I'd die without doing so. My boyfriend is flying in and I need to see him, and the impending cyclone would keep us apart his entire trip here if I don't leave to meet him; he couldn't fly up and I couldn't drive down any later than tomorrow. He wants to see the Great Ocean Road, I need my car in Victoria for the music festival. 2/3 of the people I love here are leaving and if I stay it won't be the same anyway; it won't be worth missing everything else for.

But my heart is tethered to the one street in town and the 2 palm trees on the beach that are beautiful to sit under on a sunny day, and to the girl at the boba tea spot who always looks so happy to see me and the sweet woman who owns the coffee shop I frequent, and the grass on the great lawn overlooking the turquoise sea and the memories of the books I've read in the marina, and the breakfasts I've eaten and taken for granted on the deck in the morning light filtered through the bamboo and birds of paradise plants. All the things that were, for the most fleeting moment, simple things about my home. My day to day life. Only about 2 weeks ago did I realize how extraordinary these things were compared to what my life in New York looked like. The novelty of the turquoise water and staring out at the sun glistening off the ships and the beach a 2 minute drive away and the most loving, maybe closest friends I've ever had living in my home; waiting for me to cook dinner and debrief the day over wine every single day. Taking an electric scooter around when I can't drive. the orange flowers that hang over the driveway. For these two weeks I have looked at everything with the sense of nostalgia and wonderment I will one day look back on it with, so as to not look back and think about how I didn't appreciate it.

I still don't think I appreciated it. How could someone ever live in an affordable and wonderfully furnished house 2 minutes from the beach and want to leave? With good coffee and colorful flowers and an ocean the temperature of a heated pool. I know there are reasons why I did, but now that the "nostalgia" I feel will become the present and not the future in just 24 hours, I feel sick to my stomach. Katie asked me if I'd packed yet and the thought of leaving this room empty never to see it again left me sick to my stomach. Another chapter of my life coming to an abrupt halt. This one, like the sun breaking through in the middle of an endless rainstorm. And just as you're reveling in the glory of the daylight, the clouds roll back in. They go on as far as the eye can see.

I don't know if I will ever find anything like this again in the whole time I am alive. Struggle has presided over my entire time in Australia thus far, and struggle is all I see on the horizon as I am unsure where I will go next in this country, how I will earn money, or where I will live. I am dreading seeing my boyfriend and cannot even place excitement for it in my brain, because it means I will be gone from here and back into the storm of uncertainty and all the bad things this country has brought me. The past few weeks in this place were the rainbow filled eye of a terrible cyclone, one far bigger than the one that is currently stampeding towards this place.

I do not want to go back to the rain.

[myloveforhergoeson]

October 7th

Prompt: Mist

From the passenger seat of the bright red Pontiac GTO, Roxy yawned loudly, not bothering to cover it up at all. Logan's scoff could be heard over the sound of her Soundgarden cassette in the ancient tape player.

"I'm going to dump you on the side of the road if you're going to keep acting like this," The boy jokingly threatened, grip on the steering wheel tightening and loosening a few times. "It sucks that it's early, but I do appreciate you coming with me."

Early didn't cut it; The sun hadn't even risen over the Los Angeles skyline quite yet as the two made their way down the highway to Santa Monica. Both of them thought the early hour would have eliminated the horrible LA traffic, but had been incredibly wrong as Logan rolled the car to a complete, dead stop on the ramp promising to take them to the beach.

Roxy dug her chin into her hand as she looked back at the city behind them. The smell of gas pricked at her nose thanks to the top-down feature of their vehicle. "When Mrs. Collins said the weather was perfect for some mist formation, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited."

Just the thought of it reminded her of home.

"Yeah... It's been a long time since I've seen some. Plus, it's by the ocean! I'm used to seeing it form by the lake, so I'm excited to see how it differs."

"Superior was always so gorgeous in the morning!" Roxy added, running her fingers down the braid she'd formed earlier. "Dad loved to go camping right on the beach so we could fall asleep listening to the waves."

Logan grinned, pulling his eyes off the car in front of him to glance her way. The red tail lights of the stopped vehicles reflected off his pale skin. "Really? My moms hate camping; I always had to tag along with Carlos and his dad. They preferred to camp in the forest though - The sand was too much for them I guess."

"The sand did kind of end up... Everywhere." His assistant laughed, and the cars began to inch forward again. "I swear it was pouring out of my shoes for a week, but it was totally worth it."

"That's nothing," The boy followed up, tapping his hands to the beat of the song when they finally managed to get off the highway and onto the less crowded surface streets. "We got attacked by a bear once and Mr. Garcia tried to fight it for getting near his hijos. He still has the scratches on his helmet to prove it."

Roxy's laughter didn't stop until they'd found a parking spot by the pier. Based on her one-time meeting with Mr. Garcia, that sounded just like him. When it involved his son and his friends, he could do anything he set his mind to - which apparently included taking on a bear to keep them safe.

As the pair got out of the car, the wind seemed to whip around faster than it had while they were on the highway, bringing the familiar sting of salty sea air flooding into their lungs. The golden rays of the sun were beginning to peek out from beyond the horizon, bathing the beach before them in a soft glow.

Grabbing her wrist and gently pulling, Logan rushed his friend to the wooden steps of the pier and dashed up them. When they reached the top, surprisingly, there was no one else around. "Hurry! The air is starting to cool!"

When he said that, a small shiver ran through the witch. She should have brought her jacket, but the thought was lost on her once they reached the far end of the pier, and she took in the beautiful sight of the clear, blue ocean all around her.

Love Lake Superior as she did, the view simply didn't compare.

Roxy shivered again. Logan pointed out some leaping fish. Both of them watched the sun begin to rise and waited for the mist that never occurred.

Her friend's pouting was clear by the time the sun was halfway up, muttering some science-y reason why the phenomenon should have occurred by then. As he tucked his arms on the railing and plopped his head down, Roxy was by his side, laying a comforting head on his shoulder.

"Give it some more time... It'll come soon enough," She tried, but her chattering teeth betrayed her as they smacked together a few times with an unsettling clicking sound. "If not, we can hang out on the beach for a while and collect some pretty shells. James likes the big ones with the white and orange banding."

Logan bypassed her suggestion entirely. "I left my sweatshirt back in the car, want me to go grab it?"

If there had been a lightbulb hanging above her head, it would've gone off at that exact moment.

"Yes!" The witch cried suddenly, head flying off his shoulder immediately, hands flying to her bare arms to rub up and down. "I'm honestly, freezing, man."

For a moment, his smile returned, before fading away again. As he turned to walk away, he pulled out his phone. "I'll ask Carlos and Kendall what kind of shells they like, too."

Roxy waved as he took his time down the long wooden expanse of the pier, but once he was far enough away that she was sure the roaring waves drowned out her voice, she turned back to the sea and clapped her hands together.

She had never been one for elemental magic, though according to the family spellbook, many of her ancestors were quite masterful when it came to harboring the elements. So, she tried her best to channel that as her magic began to spark up her fingertips.

The plan was to combine some of her favored illusory magic with some of her chronology magic, the vision of a misty expanse forming in her mind as she shut her eyes and attempted to physically will the water in the air around her to suspend itself in place. If she could leave the scene around her paused in time just long enough, and then copy the look of it in the area along the pier, it may just be the scene Logan had been hoping to come across.

Now, she flattened her palms together and threaded her fingers, she could feel her energy begin to drain, but planned to hold out for as long as she could.

Moments later she heard the familiar sound of footsteps pounding on the boardwalk, and Logan shouting her name. When she peeked one of her eyes open to take in what she'd created, it looked almost exactly like the picture in her mind. Thank the gods...

"It's happening! The mist! Oh- Roxy! Look!" He was out of breath by the time he reached her again, cheeks bright red as he threw his sweatshirt around his shoulders. If she hadn't seen him dance so many times before, she might have confused his shuffling feet as he twirled around the pier as some fancy new footwork.

"Wow..." was all the girl could manage at the moment, feeling her palms beginning to grow sore. Though, Logan's new enthusiasm as he tried to take in the mist from every single angle did revitalize her slightly.

The waves of the ocean crashed onto the wooden beams below them, interrupting his laughter every now and then.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out, a bead of sweat now trailing down from her hairline, when Logan was by her side once more, beaming. "I told you this was going to be worth it!"

And the exertion was, just to see her friend so happy.

When he grabbed her arm and started off down the pier again, her concentration on the spell broke, but it took some time for the mist to taper off as they headed down to the beach. "Kendall said he wanted some spiral shells and Carlos asked for a whole hermit crab."

He didn't even fret once the mist dissipated, the sun now fully above the horizon as it shone into the sky, light bouncing off the ever-present waves.

"You couldn't pay me to touch one of those things," Roxy responded, sticking her tongue out at the thought. Her eyes were beginning to droop as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

"Sure?" Her friend asked her, already bending down to pull up a pretty purple and white shell. "James would be mighty impressed..."

"Fine!" The witch huffed, crossing her now-covered arms across her chest. "I'll hold it for a picture but that's it! You can hold it for the ride home. But if it pinches up the seats I'll kill you."

Even when he held the shell out to her to store in the large pocket of his sweatshirt, Logan laughed, dimples carving out into his cheeks. His black hair looked absolutely radiant backed by the sun. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a deal!"

[annieintheaair]

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings, coming down is the hardest thing.

I feel like I am ready to move somewhere totally new, find a new job in a different industry, and just completely start over.

The last few weeks at work have been rough, to say the least. I got my first ever missed trip a few weeks ago, which I'm still trying to fight because they tried to reassign me to work a 3-day Philly trip when I was supposed to be doing an Oklahoma City ODAN. They didn't even leave me any voicemails or come find me in the airport so I went home.

Tonight, more storms rolled in just as I was getting ready for work. I was scheduled to work a Tulsa ODAN and with the weather, I figured I'd leave early for work to give myself some extra time. Just as I pulled out onto the main street by my house, it started pouring. My phone was notifying me of flash floods and sure enough, I got onto the highway, and I could literally hear the water hitting under my car because the roads were so flooded. I got into the right lane, made my way to the next exit, and called scheduling as I got off the highway.

The scheduler was relatively nice to me and suggested that my flight would probably be canceled since my flight in the morning had been canceled and now my sequence failed continuity. He told me to call back in about thirty minutes or so to see what happened.

On my way home, I decided I wanted to stop at Wendy's. I got some spicy nuggets, a baked potato, and their new dreamsicle frosty. When I saw it, I just knew I had to get it. My Grandma loved frosty's and also loved orange creamsicles so the two together were a perfect combo.

At home, I changed out of my uniform and settled in to eat my food. I waited a bit and then called scheduling. The new guy I spoke to wasn't nice and told me I'd get a missed trip. I asked if I could call out sick then and he said no. I asked if I could get a PO, which was also a no. He told me to call a flight service manager and ask. Long story short, no one would give me a PO and now I have another missed trip to fight with them about.

I have learned that this job is not worth my life. If the roads are flooded and I physically cannot get to work, it's not even worth trying. Ever since I lost my car in the flood last year, I've had severe PTSD when it comes to storms and flash floods. My anxiety gets really bad and driving in it makes me have a panic attack. I can't even drive when I'm having a panic attack. Yeah, I'm annoyed about the missed trip but I'm also not trying to die for this job.

Anyway, here's the follow-up on this weekend:

Friday ended up being a pretty busy day. I thought about going to yoga but saw the traffic and decided against it. I felt like I had plenty to do at home anyway to prepare for the rest of the day, like get gas and stop at Dutch Bro's for a rebel to give me some energy.

I left my house around 3:45pm, sat in traffic, and picked up my mom at my sister's house around 4:30pm. We took a detour to Marty B's for BBQ and drinks. I had a margarita and brisket mac and cheese and my mom had wine and brisket tacos. Marty B's is always worth the detour.

We met my friends at the Little Wooden Penguin around 7pm, where we hung out and planned on doing putt-putt but never actually did. It was a little bit of a disappointment but we still had a good time.

The ride home was long. So many roads were closed. After multiple detours, I got to the point where I was actually angry and on the verge of tears. It took me an hour and a half to get home. My mom and I had talked about stopping somewhere to do something fun on the way home but ended up not because I just wanted to get home at that point.

We finished out the night by drinking wine at my house and watching Father of the Bride 2.

Saturday morning I slept until about 10am. My mom was doing yard work outside and then we went to get coffee and run some errands. We ended up going to Fort Worth to check out the new Daiso location and found another unique store, too.

Back at home, we changed and got ready for dinner. We went to Walloon's, which had been on my list forever. My mom got wine and seafood mac and cheese and I got an espresso martini and mussels. The Google reviews said to try the chocolate dessert, which was mousse, so I enjoyed that, too.

It was still early when we were done with dinner so we ended up going down the street to The Magnolia, which is a wine bar that my mom and I really like. We both had a glass of wine and then ventured back to my car to head home. Neither of us wanted to go home so once we got back closer to my house, I suggested we go to American Revelry. My mom had a Mexican coffee and I had a gin cocktail.

This morning, we got up and headed to church in Fort Worth. I had made a brunch reservation at another one on my list, Quince. It was a nice morning so sitting by the river was a great spot for brunch. We both had mimosas, my mom had avocado toast, and I got chilaquiles. Everything was delicious.

We ended up running over to Trader Joe's for a few things and then my mom got a Lyft to my sister's house and I headed home where I turned on the TV but ended up taking a nap.

Before I knew it, it was time to get ready for work.

All of the delays and cancelations and everything else going on, especially a lack of a contract and a livable wage, have me wondering if staying is the right choice. I have nothing keeping me here in Texas other than this job. Maybe it's time to find a new job and move to a new place. When I opened Facebook tonight, while waiting to hear back from my job, I saw a post that talked about not being afraid to try something new or move somewhere new. I felt like maybe it was speaking to me. There's literally nothing holding me back right now.

I applied to some jobs on LinkedIn tonight, with the idea that either I find something and go where the job is or if it's remote, maybe choose to try somewhere new. South Carolina has always been on my list.

For now, I'll continue checking Fort Worth restaurants off my list while I'm still here, even if sometimes I have to go alone.

xoxo

Annie

[nathank77]

4/6/24

10:04 p.m edited 10:34 p.m

Idk If it was you, I stopped my stream around 27 minutes in.

I put my glasses on when I saw the viewer go to 1 just incase it was the girl of my dreams.

It may not have been you. Idk. I question everything I think bc of psychosis when it comes to things that I can't prove factually.

All I know is I made that post about what was public on your fb and you put back up the family reunion photo. The part of me that has accepted the label of crazy or psychotic, is like you had a visual hallucination and it occluded it before the post.

The other part of me is like stop labeling yourself, maybe Elise didn't show up on my stream. I don't know.. but you didn't have a visual hallucination that occluded the family reunion photo and she really is here.

If you're here being how personal my blog is, I can't imagine you aren't in love with me. I mean of course you could be a concerned caring friend but-I mean I talk about hsv2 potentially being a diagnosis, I post almost naked photos, I talked about that dream I had where we made love, etc.

Why would a caring friend who feels bad for me subject herself to reading my personal diary? Especially every single word.

I do think you're here Elise and I'm not asking you to do the things I asked you to do in that post where I wanted direct answers. I understand why you don't want to. Especially if you've been here longer than since February...

I doubt that, but I remember seeing your following go up and down and your link being posted and removed when I was in Andover and Southbury... I chalk that up to visual hallucinations before I got full on psychosis...

But you very well may have been here since like June.

All I know is I believe you've been here since February 2024.

I still question my sanity bc sure my brain could have went you posted that and now you can see the family reunion photo but I'm not really someone who has visual hallucinations enough at this point in time.. that I'm aware of... I see black specks in my vision when I take my glasses off but that very well may be bc I need my glasses...

I did feel like I felt you on my stream, I put on my glasses all awkwardly for a reason but... idk... I can't go off a feeling. I can only go by what I see with my eyes....

I see you put up the family reunion photo within a hour of my post. I want to trust my eyes.

If you're here I know you love me. I hope you go to the Southbury Tango. I'm going to be incredibly awkward. I'll wear my glasses just incase you're here and you do show up.

I got to organize my finances bc of the cost to get in..... and I got to give you at least a week so you can arrange your life.

Tbh I'm considering using my 30$ in kohls cash that expires in like 10 days to buy more boxers. I could get 12 more pairs and 6 pairs of socks for like 160$. I won't need boxers for a long time but I got to make sure I can swing it, bc I'm at 250$ on my creditline and I'm up to 100 on a different one and I got to make high payments for the next 4 months to not accrue any interest.

I also have to determine how much it'll cost me in gas to get to Southbury.... idk if you'd show up and I'd only go once. I may even give you two weeks bc you're a Mom...

It's on meet up, and you have to rsvp I believe. I want to find you Elise. Idk how but I can't just show up places without having intentions like a dance class or a singles event or a hike...

So yea I do believe you're here and I can't wait 2 more years. I'd legit do anything to see you but stalk you or force you to see me.

I hope I'm right that you need to run into me somewhere. I hope that when I register for the Southbury Tango meet up you do too even if you show up in the driveway and step out of your car and I lose my money... it would be worth every penny to be able to look into those beautiful blue eyes again.

Anyways. I'll keep you updated. I don't expect you to go and idk what car you drive. I feel like it was a blue Subaru but idk. I know you told me. My memory is impaired from microsleeping and psychosis....I still remember all our moments though and what you told me about your life.

You'd have to step out of the car if you didn't actually register to attend. I don't know what you drive.... but yea.. I'm going to stop talking now.

Maybe you are just a concerned friend. Somehow I doubt that. Somehow I think you're my soulmate and we are like star crossed lovers..

Except we don't have to be star crossed lovers. We dont need to be kept apart. I meant it when I said, we can be friends first, we don't have to talk about tumblr or Instagram or any of it.

I'd want to build a strong friendship with you and grow into a beautiful relationship. I'd like to watch us grow and get married. Starting at friendship is important. I always valued that. Anyways I love you girl, and I'm sorry if I'm wrong about everything but I think I'm right.

[marsbutterfly]

Hiiiii! I just binged all your writing on AO3 and I love all your work, especially the one with poor Hange hallucinating. I'm not sure if requests are open right now but if they are, I'd love to make one! I'm sorry for being hyper-specific but I just had my wisdom teeth removed, they had to hammer and drill to get one of them out that grew wrong and, I'll spare you the details but it took over an hour for the one and I'm sore and swollen to say the least and not looking forward to having to eventually eat something, and I wonder how Hange would take care of a reader that just had their wisdom teeth removed.

Please feel free to ignore this if you're not interested, and regardless thank you for your time and sorry for the wall of text! Hope you have a great day!

Note: Thank you so much anon, I appreciate your support <3 It makes me really happy! I hope you are all right now and that your mouth healed up ok. This is a mixture of a short fic and headcanons. I hope you enjoy! <3

Tooth Ache

Summary: When you get your wisdom teeth removed, Hanji tries her best to take care of you. Modern AU!

Warning: Mentions of blood.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

“Come on, baby.” Hanji says as her torso reaches over you, struggling to fasten the seatbelt. You shift your body to the left gently, trying your best to help her but the effects of the laughing gas having yet to leave your body.

All you can do is giggle, watching the messy brown hair dangling in front of you. Without realizing what’s happening, a heavy weight is lifted from your body and your lungs can expand to their full capacity once again.

You look around confused, trying to understand what just happened, only to shift your eyes to the left, watching as Hanji starts the car. The sound of the engine roaring makes your heart beat slightly faster, a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

Before any words form, a warm, gentle hand brushes against your exposed thigh softly and the feeling is enough to soothe you. 

Body resting against the car seat, you take your fingers towards your mouth, touching the area around it as you try to make sure everything is still there. The piece of gauze that sat in your mouth now lies in between your legs, a few blood splatters following closely behind.

“Hanji, did you give me cranberry juice?” You ask, not realizing what that hot liquid was. She holds in a laugh, eyes shifting from the road to you for a second as she reaches for a small pill bottle sitting in the cup holder.

“Not yet.” She replies, handing you a decently sized pill and a small, cold box of juice. “But here, why don’t you drink this?”

You grunt in annoyance but still obliged to her request, earning a bright smile in return. 

The car falls silent, only the sounds produced by the vehicle fill the void. Your eyes wander outside, green leaves dance atop of the trees while an old lady’s blonde hair flows around in the wind, reminding you of last night’s dinner.

“Can I have some noodles when we get home?” You ask with stars in your eyes, knowing that Hanji has never once denied you anything at all.

“No, love. I’m sorry.” She replies, eyes focused on the road as you enter your neighborhood. In that moment, her words felt like a knife going into your skin, destroying your heart as a consequence. 

“But…” Tears form in your eyes and your bottom lip quiver.

“It’s for your own good.” She says, right hand squeezing your thigh before you push it away and all she does in response is sigh. 

Grabbing your phone from the glove compartment, you speed dial your most recent caller. A few seconds pass before Eren answers the phone and the image that welcomes him is the desolated, groggy mess behind the screen. Tears flow down your face as you try to speak through the gauze pads in your mouth.

“Hanji won’t let me eat noodles.” You say, earning a quiet giggle out of the brunette driving the car. “All I want is to eat my noodles.”

“It’s for your own good, Y/N!” He replies, a smile on his face as he tries not to laugh. From his end, you can hear two other voices but, in your current state, you don’t realize they are coming from Mikasa and Armin.

“That's what I said.” Hanji replies, reaching for your phone. “Now hang up Y/N.”

“NO!” You scream, pressing your body against the door and moving the device barely out of her reach. “I want to show Eren my lipstick.”

“Lipstick?” The camera shifts angles and now Armin’s face fills the screen. “Uhmm… Y/N?” 

You pull your head back, fingertips gently brushing against your chapped lips until the warm liquid touches them. In response, you let out a giggle. “Oh no. I think it’s blood.”

Hanji’s laugh echoes through the car as she pulls into the driveway. Once the vehicle comes to a full stop, she places her left arm against the window, fingers pushing her glasses up as tears of laughter stream down her face. 

You shoot her a confused look, trying to understand why she’s laughing. In response, she reaches for your phone once again, finally being able to catch the device from your hands and immediately hanging up the call.

“Come on, baby.” She says, removing her seatbelt and unbuckling yours. 

You reach for the handle to open the door many times but your hand simply slips right past it. After what seemed like an entirety, you’re able to hook your hand on it and open it, little do you know Hanji is actually the one to let you out.

Your vision is fuzzy as you try to step out of the car, everything spins around and you look at the sky. A pair of sturdy hands begins to guide you towards the entrance to the house and you smile gratefully.

Hanji seats you on the couch before handing you a cold compress. You stare at it for a few seconds, wondering what it is that she expects you to do with it. 

She laughs and sits beside you, your knee touching hers. “Like this.”

The cold compress against your cheek feels godly and it relieves some of the pain you are in. You instinctively let out a moan.

“I’m gonna go get your meds and be right back, ok?” She says while getting up.

“Otay.” You reply, humming to a random song you heard on the radio early that day. Unknowing to you, Hanji’s eyes glow as they watch you from behind the couch, her heart beating slightly faster as her cheeks blush.

A few minutes go by and when she returns, you are still moving your head and feet to the melody you sing. 

She hands you a cup of cold water and you happily take the pills from her hand. 

Your eyelids become heavy and you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling as her hand goes through your hair gently. You smile through the bloody gauze pads and she giggles.

“Hanji…” You whisper, calling her close to you with your finger and she leans towards you, “I want noodles.”

“Not this again!”

Headcanons 

Hanji is not a good driver so it takes her a couple of days to convince you to let her drive you to the appointment instead of asking Armin or Mikasa to do it.

She nearly sleeps for too long the day of your procedure because she spent the night before worried sick, even if you’re just getting your wisdom teeth out.

Once it’s done, she has to control herself and not give in to your every request like she usually does. No solid food, no milkshakes, no moving more than you have to.

Hanji sets alarms for every 8 hours so you won’t miss a single dose of your pain medicine and, if the pain is too bad, she gives you an extra pill. Not only that, she constantly reminds you of when to change the gauze pads.

You always have fresh ice to apply to your cheeks and Hanji kisses them every chance she gets.

She can’t cook for shit, she tries but when the house ends up smelling like burned soup, she immediately calls Levi, who shows up with at least 3 days worth of food. For you and for Hanji.

When the anesthesia wears off, she pulls up her phone and shows you the embarrassing videos she took while you were high. Of you singing terribly to whatever is playing on the radio, your conspiracy theories on how your dentist was an alien or simply videos of you begging her to give you solid food.

She brushes your teeth for you when you can’t, always making sure to go around the extraction sites and scrubbing your tongue.

The day after the surgery, she rinses your mouth out with warm water and salt, even if you can do it yourself she keeps saying she’ll do it better than you, so you simply let her.

Hanji always makes sure your head is propped up while you’re lying down, even when you beg her to let you put your head down, she won’t let you. Instead, she sits behind you and props your head on her chest. You can hear her heartbeat so you can’t complain.

Once you are healed, she buys you an insane amount of junk food and you suggest going on a picnic with Levi and Erwin to eat it all. She agrees and immediately picks up the phone as you run upstairs to take some medicine so you won’t throw it all up.

[dancing-cockroaches]

My life flashed before my eyes twice today bcuz my brain kicked into fuckin fight or flight hyper mode. I had an interview then decided to go straight to the homeless shelter for kitchen work instead of driving all the way back home. Since there was some time inbetween those two things, I decided hm let me just grab something to eat. I drive past the city occasionally, but never have I driven through it. I was waiting at a red light to turn, when someone behind me honked. At a fucking red light. Close to where someone just got fuckin shot at a red light, like last week. I was like omg this is the man. Hes gonna kill me for making him wait at a red light. Hes gonna kill me or these huge cars with the right of way are going to t-bone and kill me.

I decided to skip grabbing food altogether and gtfo outta the area. That's when an accident happened right on the interstate. The cars in front of me merged over, and soon I saw a stopped car in the middle of the lane. I saw no damage or the accident happen, I just saw a dude get out of his car and immediately thought "holy fuck he's got a gun hes going to start randomly shooting I need to fuck outta here" and almost slammed into a minivan before realizing it was an accident. Then I was just stuck there for 10 minutes because it's not very possible to merge when theres no space between vehicles. I then saw 3 more accidents in about a span of 4 miles. Gotta love it.

But it was worth it cuz an old man asked for extra mashed potatoes and when I gave him it he smiled and said "ah I love ya lady" and I was like. This is worth a quarter tank of gas and fearing for my life. My fiance thinks I'm insane, not that he knows I volunteer because that would make him think I lost my absolute marbles, but because I've picked up so many interviews for direct support professional or shelter monitor. One of them is for a graveyard shift at a shelter with 200+ beds. At $12 an hour. Yes maybe that is completely insane given the pay rate. But I also couldnt do with the unfulfilling office life anymore, it was driving me up the walls batshit. The fact working 2 unpaid shifts made me happier than my entire 4 year career cemented my decision. It was more cemented years ago when I'd help out at the group homes my friends lived at when I was in HS, but it took 5 years to finally be pushed to my limit to pursue it.

[shespeaksinsongs]

You Are My New Fear | Letters To My Mom

TW: MOMMY ISSUES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, SUICIDE, AND ANXIETY.

Me in my game room at about five years old.

I wish somebody would have told me that that smile I used to slather onto my face so effortlessly would soon become something I forced. I'm not sure if it would have made a difference, but it's best to be prepared in any case.

-

"What's your biggest fear?" My elementary best friend asked, kicking her feet giddily under the table. We were still too little to reach the floor.

"Drowning." I'd say, with a panicked look on my face, growing pale at the mere thought of dying that way.

-

"What are you most afraid of, hija?" My dad asked on our regular morning car rides to school.

"Drowning." I'd say, without even thinking twice. The answer was almost prepared, seeing as how casually it rolled off my tongue.

-

"What's your biggest fear?" My friend asked in the comfort of her room, watching as I shifted uncomfortably in my spot on her bed.

"Becoming my mother." I'd say wishing that drowning was the most of my worries.

-

I don't know when my default answer of drowning to death switched to the terrifying idea that I would, one day, become my mother. Still, somewhere along the lines, those little moments that I would suck up to my mom and gift her pretty pictures I spent hours working on and picking daisies from my backyard for her turned into scheduling my crying for nighttime when everyone was asleep.

Slowly but surely, I became uneasy about the idea of marriage, fearing that I'd only ruin it and become a wife like my mother. The idea of having children scared me to the point where I felt I would rather sacrifice my own happiness so that my children wouldn't have to live to see the day I turn into my mom.

Because in my eyes, my mom is a monster. She's not the kind of monster that has big, sharp teeth and scary yellow eyes, and a menacing growl. She's the kind of monster that you would never suspect. She's the bloody hand, but you were the accomplice. She was the screwdriver, but you were the loose screw. Sure, she hurt you, but you let yourself be hurt by her - so really, whose fault was it?

My mom is the kind of monster that uses your vulnerability against you in the worst way possible.

-

"I'm just not feeling good right now. I feel like I'm dying, and I feel tired all the time." My sixth-grade self, awkwardly positioned in the passenger's seat, turning my head away from my mom.

"Well, you know we care about you." My mom said, stoic in her demeanor and ultimately still in how she held her body up.

It was a day I'll never forget. She picked at her fingernails and anxiously tapped the gas pedal, waiting for me to be done talking about my emotions so she could drive back "home."

Warm tears stung my eyes, forcing their way down my face in slow streams. "You don't get it, I-" I stopped, knowing it wasn't worth it to try to make my mom understand feelings she'd been adamant didn't exist.

"Ay, don't be so dramatic." My mom said, waving her hand up to dismiss me and my silly ideas. She was right. I wasn't depressed or anxious, and I definitely didn't look for any excuse possible to threaten suicide against myself. My mom said so.

-

I don't know why I kept running back to her in times of need. Maybe it was my dream version of her that I relied on to justify my ever-growing love for her. Feasibly, it was the person I wanted her to be. And perhaps, just perhaps, my expectations of her drove me to the point where I'd convinced myself my mother was the person I saw when I closed my eyes at night.

I remember telling her things, spreading rumors I'd heard about people in the family, hoping that it would make us closer. The things I did just to make her happy...

-

"Mom, I'm trying my best!" I cried on the floor, cleaning up the mess my new puppy had made. She'd pooped and peed all over the kitchen. I was exhausted, previously knocked out in my bed, when my mom called me downstairs, screaming for me to get my ass down there.

"No, you're not! You never try! You're useless! I should've never had you!" My mom yelled from the bottom of her heart (or lack thereof).

Tears welled in my eyes for the millionth time because of my mother. This wasn't the first time she'd wished me dead, and it sure wouldn't be the last time. "Mommy, please just leave me alone and let me clean up." I begged, letting broken sobs come out of my mouth. I wanted to hurt her, and I wanted to hurt her as bad as she hurt me.

My mom refused to leave, yelling at me, watching as I piteously scraped my dog's contents off the wall.

-

It's sad that the only good memories I have of my mom are those I couldn't participate in. Instead, I have stories of her youth and how caring of a mother she used to be when I was a baby - conveniently so far back that I can't remember it. It pains me more knowing how she was before she had me, her firstborn. If she were this way her whole life, would I take it so personally?

Am I dramatic for wishing I had a mother who could hug me back when I hugged her? Am I a selfish and pathetic bitch for feeling envy when I see how my friends' moms act with them? Why can't my mom love me the way she loves her? Why does my mom have more pictures of her first niece than she does of me? What did I do to her?

-

"Mommy, mommy! Look!" I said, running up to my mother, holding my report card in the air like a shiny new toy - all A's.

"Nice job, Fio. I'm so proud of you. You're doing great. Keep it up." My mom said softly, pulling me into a warm hug. Somehow, that was all I needed - that's all I wanted. It really is a shame that that memory is fake.

-

I have plenty of other fake memories that I store in my head, letting the (also fake) backstories take over my mind when I go to sleep. For one of them, I was romping around on an old swing set, one that made little squeaky noises whenever I swung too high.

Somehow, I lose control of the swing, and my mom comes rushing up to me, worried and begging for me to tell her how she could help. I don't know when or how she got there (my dad was usually the one to take me to the park), but what I do know is she's exactly who I needed there at that moment.

So many real memories I have of me needing my mother most, waiting for the day she would actually turn up in one of them. She was always the first to pick me up in school lines. She was always at my open houses. She attended every grade promotion I had. But she was never there. It was all a facade. She'd said so herself that she craved being the all-star mom, the one who'd win several gold medals if there were award ceremonies for that sort of thing.

Her perfectionism is what makes her corrupt. She has spent my entire life telling me what to do, how to do it, scolding me for not doing it the way she imagined me doing it in her head.

She refused to seek help when that's all I wanted her to do.

-

"What do you want for your birthday, hija?" My dad asked, glancing at me while keeping his eyes fixed on the road, humming along to a Christmas carol playing on the radio.

"Honestly, dad?" I asked, only twelve years old, my green eyes twinkling in hope.

"Whatever your heart desires." My dad said in a goofy voice, making me smile.

"I want Mom to get help." I said sadly, hoping my dad would agree and push the idea upon my mom.

-

My mother went to therapy for four months. My dad had to pay her every session for her to go. In my mom's life, money has never been an obstacle. Her father was a middle-high class socialite in Venezuela who worked in engineering and oil companies. Her mother, who passed away of Leukemia when she was twelve, spoiled her rotten until her very last breath.

Eventually, I became mentally sick to the core. Writing and singing, my two favorite things in the world, became hobbies, and life had lost its zesty twang. Little things like music and the people I passed on the street that waved "hello" at me became nuisances. My mom "gave up" her therapy so I could get help.

I still wonder if she did it for herself or for me.

-

A few times a year, I get asked what my biggest fear is. Sometimes it comes up in conversation. Other times I create the question, not thinking about the consequences if people answer with "Spiders, yours?"

Each time I get asked, I take a deep breath and lie. "The dark." I say now, the idea of death by sea sounding more of tranquility than a travesty.

I look back at the old pictures I have of myself, a smiley and shy little girl who was afraid of nothing and everything at the same time. To her, I ask, "When you have nothing to lose, why be afraid?"

Me, with my baby doll at age three. I loved taking care of her. I used to take her everywhere with me.

[jukeredlin-m3]

The Ride Home

I actually flew out with my niece from Charlotte, landed in CA, and were picked up in the car by the owner. Terrifically nice gentleman. I drive the car back to his place, allowing me to test the car out, as well as providing me a ride.

The car seems to have a shimmy in the steering. The paint damage on the roof was pretty significant. It needed new tires (more than I realized...) but the motor purred and the infamous SMG shifted hard and promptly. As far as the biggest issues, she didn't have any engine knock, and the transmission didn't mind short shifting or engine braking. Everything else is maintenance in waiting.

I gave the man his check and we headed home after a couple pit stops... it was supposed to take three days. It took six.

The tires were beyond just needing replaced, they were actively dangerous, and if I'd know that they were going to be so much an issue, I may have argued harder on price. The car ran perfectly, aside from the shimmy caused by seven year old, dry rotted, nearly bald tires. I planned to new ones on once I was on the correct side of the country, but physics forced my hands. The third day after a particularly hard bridge transition, I was riding passenger but felt the vibrations... at first I thought it was a slow flat and shrugged but quickly changed my mind and directed my niece to take the next exit. See pic one.

We found a shop in Little Rock that had a tire that would fit. But only just. With a new tire I set off late, hoping to retake some of the drive time. It rode a lot straighter with the new tire taking the work off the old, and I was hoping I'd make it home the next day. I didn't.

The next day we set out and were working out way out of the Tennessee mountains and into the North Carolina High Country. Lots of twists and curves in beautifully painted Appalachian valleys. In the little valleys, it's not unusual to see a gas station pressed into the side of the mountain, following the bend of a turn. As we passed on of these... the vibration came back.

Right rear this time. See pic 4.

Just. Great. This time we were far enough in the back country that we weren't finding a tire for my European Super Car, and were resigned to stay another night on the road, two hours from the destination. The next day a local shop found us two used tires that, again, would fit, but just barely. Being they were cheap and matched, I had them both put on to avoid another old tire failure.

These old tired took my niece home, me to my home and made it half a vacation... before doing the exact same thing. See last pic.

See I had new tires at this point but due to another entire posts worth of sillyness, I only had the fronts on. But I'll leave that hear for now. When I reread this, I'll be able to recall how the night ended riding home next to a murderer. So that's something to look forward to.

[apartyofone]

Another Storyworth post

How did I get my first job?

I've previously answered the question about my first FIRST job with neighbor Emma Dunn. Someday I'll tell the story about how I got my first REAL job out of college but that's for another day.  So how about all those other random life experiences in the workplace?  Through my summers between high school and college, I had a pretty wide variety of jobs: 

I applied for and "got" the sports reporter job at our tiny local weekly paper when I was a sophomore in high school. I think the publisher John Mustard thought it was 'cute' that some kid wanted to try to be a reporter, but I think I surprised him with my dedication. After they got bigger and hired a couple of real sportswriters - graduates from Univ of Oregon - taught me a lot about reporting and interviewing. I even started covering local government meetings in Jacksonville, Oregon.

I had one short miserable summer as a dishwasher at the Plymale Kitchen restaurant in Jacksonville. Thank goodness I came down with a horrible skin rash about 6 weeks into the job. That was my one and only restaurant job in my life.

I spent one summer as the "Assistant Produce Manager" - the title I gave myself - for our local grocery store, called Van Wey's Markets. I'd come in during the early afternoon and get my marching orders from the department manager. He was a pretty hard-working guy and good to work with. He taught me how to sort and go through the produce and fruit on the floor, cleaning out the old and rotten stuff. The cooler was packed with boxes of fresh produce delivered almost every day. I'd go up and down the aisles and restock as needed. I'd have to trim out some of the produce  - corn, cabbage, and lettuce - before putting it out for display. It wasn't too bad and there were some slow times as well when I didn't have much to do. On one of my last days, I decided to make life a little more interesting so I wrote notes like "Help, I'm being held hostage at Van Wey's Market" and slipped them between the lettuce leaves.

This stint gave me the idea for a few summers' worths of a side hustle that was a labor of love and profit. My parents' house was situated on some of the most fertile soil in the world, on the west side of the Rogue River Valley. I've already described the rich sandy loam soil, and it was perfect for growing any kind of vegetables. This is where I gained my lifelong love of growing veggies - from seeds to harvest.  I claimed a three-acre patch on the side of our property and started raising heirloom summer corn. You know, the kind with the crazy off-beat kernel colors like red, purple, orange, etc. From my contacts at the local market, I called a local gourmet grocery distributor that did business with San Francisco Bay Area markets. I took a bag of my "fancy" corn and he told me he could sell anything I grew to the gourmet stores and restaurants in California. Once a week I'd load up our old pickup truck with 12-15 bushels of corn. I was making over $1 an ear of corn to this wholesaler - at a time when corn cost about a nickel an ear in the local grower markets. Thank god for those early adaptor foodies! 

I had two part-time jobs one summer. I would spend some weekday mornings at the local daily newspaper office, the Medford Mail Tribune, getting some real-life experience in the office. I remember the editor John Lowry and reporters Don Hunt and others being really friendly and helpful. I'd cover the occasional stock car race when Hunt was on vacation. They even sent me to cover an Oregon Football game down in Fresno - that was a huge thrill! 

The other part-time job? I was a cashier and gas pump operator at a tiny convenience store outside of Central Point. We sold beer, cigarettes............and beer. Oh yeah, I already said beer. It still amazes me how the local Wawas, 711s can even survive without alcohol sales. I worked a 4 pm to 1 am shift over the weekends, and those were pretty exciting hours at times. One night a guy came in after I had closed at 1:15 and wanted some beer. I shouted through the window that we were closed, but he wasn't having any of that. He pulled his car back about 15 feet and decided to ram the building. Really bad idea - because it was constructed of cement block. I called the cops but the car managed to limp away before they arrived. After that episode, the store owner kept a huge softball bat behind the counter for me. He informed me that it was now my "Can Beater".  I said, "huh"?  "Yeah," he said. "It's for Mexi-CANS, Afri-CANS...." Ah, southern Oregon.

I spent two horrible-yet-profitable summers in the local plywood sawmills. I worked at the Boise Cascade plant on an industrial site between Medford and Central Point on Highway 99. I would usually work the Swing (3-11) and sometimes the Graveyard (11-7) shit in the factories. I was a nervous wreck on every shift, trying to keep up with the workers that had put in their time for decades. I'd never know what machine I'd be working on until I reported for my shift. The easiest job were feeding wet veneer - long "sheets" of thin wood sliced to make up the parts of plywood - into the mouth of the 200-foot-long dryers. These shifts were fun - especially when I was paired with another summer worker - a girl from Oregon State University who happened to have been featured in Playboy's Girls of the Pac 8 during the previous spring. And yes, we did go out a couple of times that summer. Together we would lay in a flat row of this sticky, smelly wood to be ingested into this mega machine. If we didn't do our job correctly, the wood would jam up and cause a fire in this long oven. 

The other job that I hated was on the far end of this dryer - pulling out the now dried sheets of veneer - and trying to stack the sheets on a large metal cart. It was an art to the job - using the air to float the sheets into position. Luckily, the old timers were very patient with us "kids" as we filled in for the regulars taking their summer vacations.

At the end of my shifts, I'd drag my tired ass to my parent's house and soak in their oak hot tub for an hour before trying to get some sleep.

So why put myself through the torture? Oregon minimum wage in 1980 was around $3.50 per hour. The lumber mill unions helped me earn $18.00/hour and I often worked the holidays for time-and-and-half bonus dollars! I was able to buy a car and upgrade some other toys for all my labor!

[princess-pill-enjoyer]

Passed out off a morning dose and woke up to the sweet sight of an email from my old uni 🙃

I thought I settled that for a while as I said I didn't have the money for that and the lady said it was fine. Buuuut apparently that had a time limit as well so they now want me to pull $400 out my ass or they're more than likely gonna send that shit off to collections

Part of me doeent even care. It ain't like I'm going to jail over 2k and I have literally nothing of value. No car. No house. Annnd no money. Sooo yeh have fun tryna get yall shit lmao. But I know that's a pretty stupid way've looking at it. Ruining my credit this early on probably ain't s great idea.

Ah. This sucks. My dad really doesn't want to drive me around cause of how much gas is now, the work from home shit he and my stepmom are doing is having me wait a month for some dumb junk with my mic, had to turn down two different jobs due to my dad deciding they're not for me.. bruh. Atp. I'd just walk to work. It'd probably at least be an hour long but. Fuck it at this point. Only thing is I live in one of the most infamous places for human trafficking so I'd definitely have to stay alert and try to go on different routes here and there to not make my routine as obvious

I probably woulda been able to float by for another month or so if my dad and stepmom would've paid me back. They owe me like $500 and half that comes from some shit they borrowed a year ago now. Plus, i accidentally eavesdropped on them grabbing my dad's phone instead of mine. They apparently been borrowing a lot from soneone else as well soo yeah even if they did have the money i dont think they have that to spare rn

The other option woulda been to take out extra on my student loan but my mom already took the excess out so I'd have to apply for a whole new loan. If I were still in school that'd be no problem but my incident in April makes me hesitant to make big commitments like that. I was so close to ending my shit just off owing 7k but a whole new semesters worth of debt just for me to possibly fail again sounds like a tragedy waiting to happen lol

Sigh. Days like this are so hard. I used to stick around because of an age goal I set for myself which sometimes felt like my only motivation. But it's just like nowadays I'm long past every age goal I've set and the plan was stay around until it started being inconvenient/not fun to be. Annd as of now it is looking mighty inconvenient. It makes me question why I'm even trying anymore. I never wanted to be here for this exact reason you know?

I feel like I'm just here atp. What am I working towards anymore? What do I even like to do? Do I honestly even like my hobbies or do I just like the distraction from my head? Even if everything fixed itself in the future and I started living a normal stable life, would it justify ignoring my damn near lifelong wish to not be here?

I'm gonna try to get R's attention and make sure she's not too fucked up then take a gram and head to bed. I am not mentally alright enough to have those questions circulating rn

HA apparently if I don't poof $400 up by Monday they're charging me damn near $600 extra

I am. Done. I just wanna sleep and not wakeup atp. I'm so done. I never wanted to be here in the first place and now I gotta drag myself out of an addiction, get over an unrequited love, find a job that fits my dad's parameters, pay off a mysterious 2k AND my 15k of loans. What the fuck. I never signed up for this and I would've ended my shit before my stupid fucking age goal had I known things would go to shit this quickly. I'm tired of feeling horrible for not wanting to do anything. I'm so tired of fighting myself to do the barest minimums and having it not be enough time and time again. I'm so fucking tired of all this up and down. God like. One day I'm in one of the best schools for engineering with hella open house money and the next I'm a fucking basement dwelling dropout with no money and no real desire to go out and do the shit that'll MAKE ME MONEY. And to top it off I'm fucking addicted to otc allergy medicine that is literally bottom of the barrel to the point that even WITH it being so accessible everyone knows how shit it is and leaves it alone. But not me ofc. My dumbass just had to screw up shit further. What is my problem at this point. This is my fault. I can't keep staying in this stupid limbo of barely doing anything but not having the guts to make that a reality. Atp I'm either gonna have to pick on or yhe other. My money's on the second but we'll see :)

[builder051]

Okay, so you know your series with Bucky/Steve where Bucky is recovering and you write the fics set during different holidays? I'm really curious how Bucky would deal with Steve getting food poisoning... Like maybe a bit further on in his recovery? I'd love to see a fic for this if you're willing and up for it!!

This is quite long, so brace yourself… And it’s fairly plotless too. :)

We are in Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.

_____________________________

Steve leans back into the couch, hands behind his head, and watches the Minnesota Vikings make a touchdown.

“Yes!”  Clint practically jumps out of his seat, pumping his fist in the air.  His son Cooper, who’s sitting on the couch between Clint and Steve, glances at his father and follows suit.

“Why are they your team, again?” Bucky asks, peering around Steve and Cooper to address Clint.

“I don’t know.  Thor likes them, so I figured I’d adopt them as my team too.”

“For not being that into them, you’re really into them,” Steve observes with a hint of friendly judgmental incoherence.

“Yeah, well, what can I say.  Sunday is football day.  And just to throw it back at ya, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two dudes less into a game,” Clint throws back.

“It would be different if the Giants were playing,” Bucky provides with a bit of a yawn.

Steve reaches over to pat Bucky’s knee.  “Tired already?” He asks quietly.  Bucky’s been doing better lately, but that doesn’t mean the nightmares are completely gone.  The jumbled sleepy groaning had turned to shouting around 4, and they’ve both been awake since then.

“I don’t know.  I’m ok,” Bucky replies.

“This game’s almost over, if you’re ready to split,” Steve suggests.

Bucky shrugs.  “I’m ok,” he repeats.

Laura swoops in from the kitchen, picking up bowls of snacks from the coffee table and carting them away.

“You could at least wait until a commercial break,” Clint playfully snipes at his wife as she momentarily stands between him and the TV.

“Yeah, yeah, suck it up,” she teases back, rolling her eyes and dancing in place as she loads a bowl of potato chip crumbs under her arm.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Steve offers.  He jumps up and grabs the bowl of onion dip and a plate of baby carrots and celery.

“I got it,” Laura tries to say.

“No, really, you’ve been waiting on us all day,” Steve says.

“Now you’re really blocking the view,” Clint complains.  He sticks out his foot to trip Steve as he carries the dishes into the kitchen, but Steve easily sidesteps the obstacle.

“I’ll get dinner served in a few minutes, here,” Laura says, gesturing to the potatoes in the oven and crock pot of chili on the counter.

“Thanks for the offer,” Steve replies, “But we should be getting home.  You’ve fed us enough already, and we’ve got a long drive home.  Gotta be up for work tomorrow.  You know the drill.”

“Yeah, sure do.  He doing ok?”  She glances at Bucky, still watching the TV in the living room.

“Oh, yeah, he’s doing great,” Steve explains.  “You’ve seen how far he’s come getting back to his old self.” Steve paws in the bowl of chips for a couple sizeable crumbs, swipes them in the onion dip, and throws them into his mouth.  “We just had kind of a long night, if you know what I mean.  The nightmares still bug him sometimes.”

“I bet they still bug you, too,” Laura says with a sympathetic eyebrow raise.

Steve half-shrugs and dips another chip.

“You know, that’s been sitting out for over 6 hours.  I’m not sure you want to eat it now.”  Laura snags the bowl of dip from under Steve’s hand and dumps it into the sink.

Steve swallows the chip anyway.  “I’ll be fine.”  He tries to help stack up a few more dishes.  “I think I amgonna drag Bucky home now.  Thanks for everything.  All the hospitality.”

“Sure.  You know you’re welcome anytime.”  Laura dries her hands on the seat of her jeans and hurries to find their coats.

Steve meanders up to the back of the couch and starts massaging Bucky’s shoulders from behind.  “Ready to run?” He asks.  “I gotta be up early tomorrow.”  He doesn’t really, but it’s an easy out.

“Yeah, sure.”  Bucky stands up and claps Clint and Cooper on the shoulder before donning his jacket and following Steve out to the car.

They’re on the highway before either of them speak.

“How’s it going?”  Steve’s used to Bucky’s long silences; he just sometimes feels the need to check in to ensure they’re contented stretches of quiet instead of depressed ones.

“Fine.  Good.  I’m good,” Bucky says.  “I’m just, I just wonder… I think I like the Giants, since they’re a New York team, but I don’t really remember seeing a lot of football before the war…”

Steve shifts slightly in his seat and replies, “Yeah, I don’t think we paid a lot of attention to football…  If you decide you don’t like the Giants, you can always go for the Jets…”  Steve stifles a belch behind his hand.

“You drink too much coke or something?”

“I’m fine,” Steve automatically replies.  He’s sure he is.  He can’t remember the last time he was sick with anything, not even a sniffle.  The slight grumble in his stomach has to be from an afternoon of munching junk food and ignoring the need for physical activity.  Though even as he commits to the thought, the unsettledness takes a dip toward pain.

Dusk is falling.  Steve can see the edges of orange sunset peeking in the corners of his rear view mirror as they sail from the beautiful stuck-in-time Virginia countryside back toward the concrete bustle of the DC suburbs.  He wishes they were travelling west so the beautiful sight could be in front, like a paradise to travel toward.

“Maybe we should move to the country,” Steve dreamily suggests.  “Get a farm house like Clint.”

“Could,” Bucky says in a doubtful tone.  “But I think we’re city kids.  We could go back to Brooklyn…”

They dissolve into a stretch of silence again.  The sun continues to plummet, and the harvest gold glow glints off the car mirrors in a harsher manner, making Steve squint against the assault on his eyeballs.  It’s beginning to make his head hurt, which isn’t coupling well with the tumult in his stomach.  Wave motion is creating white-capped froth against the sides of his abdomen, and it feels as though it’s splashing up into his chest.  Steve tries to stealthily let out another burp, and he tastes the sourness of acid reflux.

Then Bucky’s saying something, and Steve’s completely missed it.

“Huh?”

“Are you ok?”  It’s definitely not what Bucky said the first time.

“Sure.  Yeah,” Steve replies.

“I think, maybe, you’re not,” Bucky says, his eyes trained on Steve’s face.  “Your stomach hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Buck, really, I’m ok,” Steve says.  But internally, he admits to himself that he’s definitely uncomfortable. The first flecks of nausea are starting to materialize under his tongue.

“No, you’re not feeling good,” Bucky insists.  “It’s been a long time, but I used to take care of you.  I remember how you’d look when you felt sick.”

“That attractive, huh?” Steve asks, attempting to chuckle and swallow at the same time.

“If you feel bad, pull over,” Bucky says.

“It’s not that bad.”  Steve realizes what he’s let slip as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“But you do feel kinda bad.”

“Eh.  Kinda.”  It’s not worth disagreeing, now that there’s something like an invisible boa constrictor simultaneously squeezing his stomach and esophagus.

“You want me to drive?” Bucky suggests.

“You can’t,” Steve says, swallowing a mouthful of bitter saliva.

“I can drive,” Bucky says, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, but you don’t have a license,” Steve reminds him.  “I’m gonna be fine.  Let’s just…get home.”

The sensation stretching from his stomach to the back of his throat has reached the point of definite illness.  It’s been such a long time since he’s felt sick like this; it brings back flashes of being a weaker version of himself, laid up in bed before the war.  But with Bucky still by his side.

He pushes on for five rough minutes.  When the flips of his stomach bring sleepy heaviness to his jaw and vertigo to his forehead, Steve knows he’s screwed.  Sickness is imminent.  A disgustingly wet belch works its way up his throat, and it’s all Steve can do to swallow down what’s quickly becoming the urge to gag.

“You should pull over.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second…” Steve mutters in a choked whisper.  He takes the next exit without knowing exactly where it leads.  He gulps against a surge of bile and speeds through a yellow light to quickly merge from the off ramp to the main road.  There’s a gas station about a hundred yards down, and Steve pulls into the parking lot.  He sloppily stops the car across two parking spaces and throws the door open just in time to heave onto the dirty cracked asphalt.

“Hey, alright,” Bucky murmurs from behind him.  There’s a click as Bucky releases his seatbelt, then a shuffle as he clambers to his knees to balance his stump arm against Steve’s seat.

Steve feels the warm pressure of Bucky’s hand on the back of his neck.  It has the essence of comfort, but also the sensation of pushing him forward into the choking sling of his seatbelt as his stomach continues to evacuate.

He retches hard again, and a torrent of undigested food and soft drinks erupts, splashing over Steve’s knee and the edge of the door frame.  The seatbelt has him bound too far into the vehicle, and he fumbles his trembling fingers over the mechanism to unbuckle himself.

“I’m coming around to your side, ok?”  Bucky pats Steve’s shoulder and scrambles up.  He produces a dizzying ricochet when he slams the passenger side door.

In barely a second, he’s around the front end of the car and hovering face to face with Steve.  He quickly leaps backward a step as Steve lets out another flood of vomit onto the toes of Bucky’s boots.

“God.  Sorry,” Steve croaks, dabbing his mouth with the back of his hand.  “You’re tired; we should be home…”

“It’s ok, you’re just all messed up,” Bucky says, squatting by Steve’s left shoulder.

Steve nods absently in agreement as he tries and fails to suppress another gag that ends up delivering a thin stream of liquid.

“You want to go inside?”  Bucky jerks his head in the direction of the gas station’s convenience store.  “Try to get in a bathroom?”

“Nah, I’m…I don’t want to move.”  Steve’s hands shake visibly as he rests his face in his palms.

“But you’re, I mean, everything else is doing ok?”

“I’m not shitting myself, if that’s what you’re asking,” Steve embarrassment coming out in an edge in his voice.

“Hey, whatever’s going on, no problem.  I’m just here to help.”  Bucky says.  He uses a Kleenex from his pocket to swipe a few chunks of sick from Steve’s knee, then keeps his hand comfortingly on his thigh.

“Yeah…”  He retches agonizingly, then spits onto the ground as his body continues to force out air and fluid in painful belches.  “Jesus fucking Christ…”

Bucky’s inexplicable lover’s radar seems to inform him that the filthier the curses, the more excruciating Steve’s condition.  His hand finds Steve’s, and he squeezes as tightly as he can.  “Do you think you’ll be ok for a minute?  I’ll grab you some water.  Maybe some antacids.  Or some ginger ale?  I don’t know what’sgonna help the most…”

“I’m ok,” Steve gasps through a cough.  He means in general, though he also knows he’s blatantly mistaken.

“Ok.  Breathe, alright?  I’ll be right back.”  Bucky forces the Kleenex into Steve’s hand and lovingly strokes the back of his knuckles with his thumb.

Bucky’s gone for all of five minutes, but Steve can’t stop his body from contracting forward again.  Twice he heaves, and twice white-tinged stomach acid falls into what’s becoming an ocean of puke running across the concrete and under the car.

In his peripheral vision, Steve sees Bucky’s strapping one-armed form exiting the store’s glass doors.  He has a plastic shopping bag in the crook of his elbow and his phone pressed between his cheek and his shoulder.

“Yeah…” Steve hears Bucky muttering as he approaches the car.  “Ok, I’ll let you know if anything changes.  Ok.  Thanks.  Bye.”  He slaps the shopping bag around his hips as he fumbles the phone back into his pocket, then he bends over Steve’s back again.

“Alright, how’s it going,” Bucky asks.

“Oh, god,” Steve groans, fighting a hiccup.  “Just…so nauseous.”  He takes a stabilizing breath.  “Who were you talking to?”

“Just Laura,” Bucky says.  “I wanted to let her know, in case someone else was getting sick.”

Steve gives a thick swallow.  “’S nice of you…”

“And I, well, you know I’m kind of rusty on this,” Bucky admits quietly.  “I mean, you’ve been doing so much for me, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done this.  I want to make sure I’m, you know, doing it right.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot you can do,” Steve murmurs, bringing a fist to his mouth.  “What did Laura say?”

“To push fluids.  Get you home.  Go to the ER or call Sam to start an IV if it gets too bad.”  Bucky sets the shopping bag on top of the car and starts rummaging in it.  “And to remind you to not eat something if she tells you not to eat it.”

Steve glances up and sees Bucky’s smile.

“Yeah.  Point taken,” Steve says.

Bucky squats down to face him again, squeezing a bottle of water between his knees as he screws off the cap.  “How long’s it been since you brought anything up?”

“I don’t know.  A few minutes,” Steve gauges.  “But feels like I could go again any second.”

“Here.”  Bucky offers the water bottle.

Steve eyes him doubtfully and gives a small shake of his head.

“Better to puke up water than just acid.”

Steve has the slightly nostalgic feeling that he’d told Bucky the same thing not many months ago.  The full scope of the role-reversed scenario suddenly hits him, and Steve’s struck with the desire to be cooperative, though his body still seems to have other ideas.  He accepts the water bottle from Bucky and loosely grips it in his sweaty, shaky hand.

“Yeah.  Ok,” he sighs.  “Just…not really appealing.”

“Take a couple sips and I’ll drive you home,” Bucky encourages.

“You still can’t drive.”  Steve brings the bottle to his lips, the condensation beading on its surface making it slick in his hand and against his mouth.  The water is refreshing, but swallowing gives him the distinct impression he’s forcing his system to work in the opposite direction of its current preference.

“I can drive.  It’s a medical emergency, and I won’t get pulled over,” Bucky insists.

The water immediately hits Steve’s stomach, and the bubbling reaction it seems to set off is less than pleasant feeling.  He burps under his breath.

“Ok?”

“Maybe,” Steve says.  “It’s not setting that great.”

“Well, you seem ok for now.  You think maybe you’re ready to get going?”  Bucky rescues the plastic bag from the top of the car and stoops to offer Steve his stump shoulder as support.  With difficulty, Steve accepts the handhold and pulls himself to standing, remaining slightly bent at the waist with one arm protectively draped around his middle.

They sidle around the large splash of vomit on the ground and somehow maneuver to the passenger side.  Steve can barely concentrate on moving his feet as he trembles around the front of the car.  He sinks into the plush seat as soon as Bucky guides him to bend his knees.  He swallows hard as the water he swallowed threatens to come back up.

“Here,” Bucky says, reading Steve’s panicked expression.  He reaches over Steve to place a container of Tums in the cup holder, then hands over the empty plastic bag.

Steve imagines the car’s tires streaking through the lake of sick as Bucky reverses out of Steve’s awful parking job.  He doesn’t look to confirm his prediction.  With his palm pressed firmly into the steering wheel’s 12 o’clock position, Bucky steers them easily back onto the highway.

It’s only 25 minutes or so before they reach the exit for Falls Church, but Steve still can’t handle the smooth motion of the car on the road.  He leans his head into the window for as long as he can, but ends up hanging over his own lap as saliva trails from his lower lip into the crinkly plastic bag.

“You’re good,” Bucky says, shooting Steve a sympathetic glance.  Steve nods and belches out a mouthful of acidic water.  Hardly anything more comes up, but he stays hunched, not trusting himself to move.  At the first stoplight they get to, Bucky takes his hand off the wheel to stroke his fingers down Steve’s back.

Once they’re safely parked in the garage, Bucky unlocks the front door and Steve immediately slips past him to set up camp in the downstairs bathroom.  He kneels in front of the toilet and buries his face in the bowl, folding his arms over his aching head.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks from the doorway.

“Nothing, I don’t know,” Steve says around the threat of a gag.  “If you just want to come sit…”

“Yeah.  Of course.  With ya till the end of the line, remember?”