#one bedroom apartment in Bloomington

[cool-bloomington-in]

Fun Community Features

If you’re looking for a place that feels like home, The Village at Muller Park is a fantastic choice. Enjoy 1 to 4-bedroom furnished apartments and townhomes that give you plenty of space. The community is packed with great features, like a cozy fire pit where you can gather with friends on chilly nights. You’ll also find grilling stations that are perfect for summer barbecues and a putting green to practice your short game. It’s a chill spot that encourages you to relax and socialize. If you’re searching for three bedroom apartments near Indiana University, this place has everything you need for a fun and comfortable lifestyle. You’ll love the blend of convenience and community spirit here.

The Economy of Bloomington, Indiana

Bloomington, Indiana, has a pretty diverse economy that’s thriving in many ways. You’ll find that education plays a huge role, thanks to Indiana University, which brings in students and staff from all over. This creates a lively atmosphere and lots of job opportunities in various fields. The tech scene is growing, too, with startups popping up and contributing to innovation in the area. Local businesses are a big part of the charm, from cozy cafes to unique shops, and they really keep the community connected. Plus, with the farmers' market buzzing on weekends, you can grab fresh produce and support local farmers. It’s a place where the economy feels balanced and lively, making it a great spot to work and live.

Eskenazi Museum of Art in Bloomington, IN

The Eskenazi Museum of Art is one of those places that surprises you. You might think an art museum would be quiet and formal, but this one feels approachable and fun to explore. As soon as you walk in, the architecture grabs your attention—it’s modern, bright, and filled with natural light. Inside, you’ll find all kinds of art, from ancient pieces to contemporary works that make you stop and think. You can wander through galleries filled with sculptures, paintings, and even quirky installations. They also rotate exhibits, so there’s usually something new to check out. It’s not just about looking, either—there are interactive areas where you can learn more or get hands-on. It’s a perfect way to spend a relaxed afternoon.

Bloomington Breakfast Truck Owners Win $100,000 in Contest Decided by Voters

Winning a local business competition with input from voters is a once-in-a-lifetime chance because it’s about more than just the prize money—it’s about community support. When your neighbors, customers, and fans vote for you, it shows that people believe in what you’re doing. That kind of backing can give you the momentum to take your business to new heights. For the Bloomington breakfast truck owners who won $100,000, the cash is huge—it can mean better equipment, a bigger menu, or even a second truck. But knowing the community is behind them? That’s priceless. It builds loyalty, creates buzz, and spreads the word faster than any marketing plan. This kind of opportunity doesn’t come around often, and when it does, it can change everything.

Link to Map Driving Direction

Eskenazi Museum of Art 1133 E 7th St, Bloomington, IN 47405, United States

Head west on E 7th St Pass by Taco Bell (on the right in 0.8 mi) 0.8 mi

Turn left onto N College Ave 0.1 mi

Turn right at the 2nd cross street onto W Kirkwood Ave 0.8 mi

Turn left onto S Adams St 0.2 mi

Continue onto W 3rd St 0.6 mi

Turn left onto S Muller Pkwy Destination will be on the right 0.3 mi

The Village at Muller Park 500 S Muller Pkwy, Bloomington, IN 47403, United States

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 7

Never let it be said that the Harringtons knew how to go small. They didn’t. The quaint little two bed they’d been living in was always going to be temporary if Steve came home. Even if it was now… technically theirs. It was a nice house, perfect for many a small family, which technically they were.

But they were also… filthy stinking rich.

The Harringtons didn’t really know how to go and stay small. Which is why by the following weekend, Eddie’s release from hospital looming upon them and the two bed house feeling more and more cramped by the day, they already had a cash offer in place on a five bedroom estate in Bloomington.

Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a finished basement games room, just under eight acres of land, a pool, and an extra little pool house outfitted as a detached bungalow on the property.

The little house they’d lived in… given it was theirs, well. They had no real plans for it yet. Selling it on was a potential, it was too far from the estate to even contemplate handing the keys to one of the families linked to theirs through their children’s shared trauma, although that’d be a nice gesture on their part, the idea of separating their kids after such an ordeal?

Nope. They’d clung to each other. Kept each other alive. They needed each other.

One of the reasons they even chose the bigger property was because “It’s big enough for you all to be there.” That’s what Lynda had told Steve when he’d asked about it. “It’s not going to happen for another couple of weeks, so the house is still going to be a little cramped with everyone in it, but…”

“We have no intentions of separating you from your family, Steven.” John finished for her, nodding over Steve’s shoulder to the multiple sets of eyes watching them. “Like your mother said, what we have now is too cramped, this new place will have plenty of room for everyone.”

“And… what about when their parents turn up?” Because it was a when, not an if. “Just gonna go back to an empty house?” They were operating on when. Nevermind that they’d never seen their parents get out of Hawkins. Nevermind that the only parent they knew for certain was alive and well outside of Joyce and Hopper, was Karen Wheeler, Ted having put himself between his kids and a Demogorgon during the early days and hadn’t come out as the victor. It didn’t matter that they’d seen horrors beyond anything a child should have to witness.

The kids needed to operate on when.

“Then we’ll help them find homes in the area, but until then, the house will be… a home base of sorts. A comfortable starting point for all of you so you’re not too far away from each other, it’ll never be an empty house, Steven. I know it might look like we’re just spending money for the sake of it but… it’s not like that anymore.” They weren’t doing that anymore. They’d found a better way than being away from home all the time. John worked from a home office and delegated important tasks and jobs to others to free up his time, and Lynda decided she wanted to be at home.

They were just glad Steve was allowing them to just decide to be there for him all of a sudden. He didn’t have to.

“…Forgive me if I still doubt that.” No amount of tearful apologies could erase all that history “But thanks, for… for thinking of us. It’s true, we kinda stuck together like glue after Mr Wheeler…” he trailed off. After they’d gotten Karen and Holly out of that house while Ted held back that shaking door, huge, clawed fingers tearing through wood. He still remembered Holly’s screams, still remembered Karen crying, begging them to go back as Nancy and Mike dragged her out, Holly running straight to Steve. “We were never far apart from each other.” It’d be weird without them, unsettling when the dust finally settled. When parents returned to claim their kids.

“And you wont be.” John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, firm, squeezing it in comforting reassurance. “You won’t be.”

~~

“Aaaand this is your room.” Had it not been for the fact that Eddie had been in a coma for the last god only knows, where he could, with rules, conjure ridiculous shit, he’d have probably assumed he was still out.

He had a room. In what was essentially. A mansion. But he’d never seen it before, so he wasn’t still in his funky little void because he wouldn’t have been able to conjure it.

Only what he’d seen, only places he’d been.

He had his own room. Bigger than his old one at the trailer because of course it was. Currently empty of personal belongings, void of personality, but Steve was holding boxes. Boxes with stuff in them, rolled up tubes of paper, stuff wrapped in newspapers, and he was setting those boxes down one by one inside the room. “…What’s in those?”

“Shit we saved from the trailer, it’s not much but… it’s something.” Eddie silently turned to just. Stare at him. Brows furrowed, confusion so evident Steve had to ask “what?”

“…How long has it been since I died, Steve?” He had to ask again, just to be sure of something, even if it was a weird question to ask.

“Bout two years, why?”

“… And in that time, Hawkins basically ate shit, right?”

“Yup, where’s this going?”

“How’d you save my stuff for that long? Why did you save my stuff for that long? Shit couldn’t have been easy to keep safe, right? So… why?” Steve fell silent, his jaw shifting, lips pursing, visibly going through all the possible reasons he could have saved that stuff, all the reasons why he would have saved that stuff, all the potential excuses, the boy would be terrible at poker.

He settled on shrugging his shoulders.

“Because I did. Because I could. Like I said, it’s not much.” It was so much. Not quantity wise, no… Steve was right there wasn’t much in those boxes, probably why Steve could carry multiple at a time but it meant so much. Steve obviously wasn’t going to go into the why’s or the how’s with him though. He was going to brush them away, without answers. “We saved some mugs, there’s some posters in here, uhh, I got a bunch of your tapes and your deck, I wish I could say I saved your guitars but… I’m sorry man, it was just too risky carting around something that could make noise. I think… they might still be there but—”

“It’s fine, Steve… this—this is way more than I could have asked for.” He could always get a new guitar, eventually. It’d mean saving up somehow, or using some of the hush money that the government had promised him for signing, he was planning on using that to find Wayne though.

It’d been over a week, the hospital had slowly been cleared of survivors, the Sinclair’s were the only parents who’d made it thus far, having been staying with Sue’s sister a few towns over doing the exact same thing as the Harringtons. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for news on their kids, any news. Anything.

They’d taken the Harrington’s offer to stay in the converted pool house with Karen until they could get housing arranged, the kids staying in the main house with everyone else.

“Yeah well… we’ll sort you out a new one eventually. Can’t leave the bard without his instrument, right?” Eddie’s wide eyes were on him again, a beaming smile spreading across his lips, dimpling his cheeks, stretching the scar tissue on his jaw, and Steve had to look away, he had to, because otherwise he just might fall again, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t make that mistake twice.

“Be still my beating heart, was that a D&D reference, Harrington?” He could feel the warmth seeping into his cheeks at the attention, as Eddie leaned in a little closer, got into his space, it’d been so long since someone had paid him any attention. Even if it meant nothing to Eddie, even if he was just being silly, be still his own beating heart.

“Maybe. Now get to unpacking your shit.” He put the last of the boxes down on the bed, purposefully turning away from Eddie to hide his reddening face, to hide what he knew Eddie had never wanted to see. “We’ll be heading out into town in an hour to find us all some new clothes, maybe some new stuff for the rooms too. Hop to it.”

“You’re not gonna help lil ol me unpack? I just got out of hospital!” Eddie called after him as Steve made to leave the room.

“With a clean bill of health! You can manage a few boxes!” And he was gone. Running away. Like a coward.

[ravensliterature]

Happy Accidents

A/N: A new day and a new post

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

warnings: Fluff

w/c: 1957

Prompt: Life is going well for you and Eddie until you get some surprise news. How will he take it?

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Things had been going surprisingly well until today. Eddie graduated, and monsters from the Upside Down hadn't been seen for a couple of years. You both even bought a new apartment in Bloomington, Indiana, which was only an hour's drive south of Hawkins at most. Staying in Hawkins wasn't an option after everything that had happened, but you chose not to go too far because your friends and family still lived there. Eddie’s criminal charges were lifted with Hopper’s help, but sadly, Chrissy’s case remains open. Your heart goes out to her family, and you wish you could tell them the truth, but it was for the best they didn't know.

Eddie worked at a game store during the day, but some nights he still played with his band. They had gained a bit of fame, though there was still room for growth. The lead guitarist being charged with murder had definitely drawn some attention.

You were currently a senior at Indiana University Bloomington, in your last semester, so what was currently happening wasn't exactly ideal. It wasn't bad, just unexpected and not the best timing.

You stared down at the test in your hand—two pink lines. You were pregnant. Eddie Munson was the father. Tears started to form, and you quickly wiped them away. It hadn't really sunk in yet. Sure, your hormones were screaming at you now, but you needed to tell him. Eddie was at work and wouldn't be home for a couple of hours, giving you time to prepare.

Eddie walked through the front door with groceries in hand. He tossed them down on the table before making his way to the kitchen. After setting out the groceries, he grabbed a bottle of water and headed into the bedroom where you were. Upon opening the door, he saw you and gave a soft smile.

"Hey, babe."

Eddie returned your smile and kissed you gently on the lips.

"How was work?"

"Busy as usual," he replied, sitting down next to you.

"Don't work yourself too hard. I need you in one piece," you playfully scolded.

"I'll try not to, love," Eddie said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. You rested your head against his chest, sighing deeply. You cherished these moments of tranquility with him.

"I'll make us some dinner, babe. What sounds good?" Eddie asked, kissing your forehead.

"Chicken pot pie? Or maybe some chicken Alfredo," you suggested.

"Sounds perfect!" Eddie exclaimed before heading to the kitchen.

After dinner, you both sat on the couch watching television until your stomach began to churn. 'Now is the perfect time. You should tell him now!' you thought to yourself.

Eddie glanced over at you. "Y/N, everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes! Yeah, I’m fine! I actually have a small present for you..." you trailed off, trying to mask your nervousness.

"It’s not my birthday, is it?" Eddie joked.

"No, of course not!" you chuckled nervously.

"Then why did you get me a gift, princess?"

"I...uhm..." you paused, taking a deep breath. "Remember when we went grocery shopping about three weeks ago?" Eddie nodded. "I couldn't buy any of my normal shampoos because they made me nauseous," you explained.

"What does this have to do with the gift, princess? Did you get me shampoo?" Eddie teased.

This made you roll your eyes as you ran to your bedroom. When you emerged, you were holding a box.

You carefully set it down next to Eddie on the sofa. The two of you stared silently at it for a moment.

"Open it, please," you urged.

Eddie lifted the lid slowly and stared inside at the contents. His eyes landed on the smallest pair of shoes he had ever seen. Almost as if they were for...

"Is this.. Are you...?"

"Are you pregnant?" he whispered.

You nodded shyly. A smile slowly spread across Eddie's face. He stood up, ran towards you, and threw himself into your arms.

"We’re having a baby! We’re actually having a baby!" he exclaimed.

"I’m really scared right now," you admitted, holding onto him tightly.

"Scared about what? What do you mean by scared? Do you want to keep the baby?" Eddie questioned urgently.

You nodded again. "Of course, I want to keep the baby, but we don’t have the money. Eddie, I am about to graduate college, and you still work at a gaming store."

"I actually have something to tell you," Eddie announced, his grin widening.

"Well then, spit it out."

"We got signed," he stated.

"What?! But how?!"

"Corroded Coffin got offered a record deal last night. There was a music producer in the crowd," Eddie revealed. "I was keeping it as a surprise."

He grinned.

"That’s amazing! So, what now?"

"Well, maybe find a house. I love this apartment, but it might be best given the new developments," Eddie joked.

"Okay, fair point. The neighbors are probably tired of us anyway," you replied with a giggle.

"It's not my fault you are so loud," Eddie laughed in reply.

The two of you continued discussing possible house locations after finishing dinner. By that point, the sun had set, causing the stars to shine brightly above you through the living room window.

"Mommy, can you come here?" your daughter called from the living room. You walked in and held out your hand for her to take.

"Here! Look!" she exclaimed. Your husband was on television playing with Corroded Coffin. "Look, Mommy! He's on TV! Dad mentioned you! I think he likes you," she added, giggling.

You smiled down at your child.

"I sure hope he does," you responded, kissing her forehead.

"This next song is for my wife, Y/N, and my daughter, Chloe! Chloe, if you're watching this, go to bed!" your husband shouted in the middle of his performance, causing you to laugh.

"Why?" Chloe complained.

"Because tomorrow morning you have to go to school!" you answered.

Chloe rolled her eyes before climbing off the couch. Her little feet lightly padded as she headed to her room.

You smiled, watching Eddie perform his heart out on the late-night show. Even though you both were a little older now, he never cut his hair, and you watched him wildly bang his head to the music, playing his guitar.

After a year of playing and an album going platinum, Eddie had moved you and a much younger Chloe to a pretty good home where you have been living your lives. You two also got married in between that. It was a fast wedding, but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Maybe there are such things as happy accidents.

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[spaceoddball1969]

Falling for the Freak - Eddie Munson Fix-it Fic  Chapter 01

Okie dokie...here it is. Well, at least chapter one. I have literally no promises for this thing. I haven’t written creatively in like 2 years and barely ever have time, but here’s to trying something new. Please don’t tear it to shreds. 

PLOT SUMMARY: This is meant to be a fix-it type fic for season 4 so I can feel less depressed. If you want a bigger overview of what this is about see my original posts about it below. Y/N - female reader. She has taken two gap years between high school and college, so she is around the same age as Eddie, if not a year older. I will try to keep detailed physical descriptions to a minimum so y’all can truly imagine yourself in the story. There is will be fluff, angst, and smut eventually. For now we’re just in the very very beginnings.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/N moves to Hawkins to live with her aunt and cousin, Dustin, while she takes community college classes. She moves in and catches up with her favorite cousin. 

WARNINGS: None

I watched from the backseat of my parents’ Town and Country as my dad pulled onto my aunt’s street. This was going to be my new residence, at least for the time being until I could save enough money for an apartment. I had lived in a small city just over an hour outside of Hawkins my entire life. However, when my dad got laid off this last year and suddenly our income plummeted, my parents decided that some sacrifices needed to be made. The biggest sacrifice of them all? My finally starting college at Indiana University Bloomington. Instead I was to be moving in with my Aunt Claudia and my cousin, Dustin, and attending classes at the nearest community college. My aunt allowing me to stay with her in Hawkins helped to cut down the expense of commuting to campus each day. Her house was so much closer to campus, in fact, that my parents had decided that I no longer needed a car to myself and that a bike would suffice to make the commute. That bike was now strapped to the back of the car and shaking violently as we pulled up the driveway of Aunt Claudia’s house. 

I had a week until my classes started. My parents decided that it would be best to move me into Aunt Claudia’s house with enough time to adjust to my new living situation before I had to deal with my first college courses. It had been a while since I had sat in a classroom as I took a few gap years between high school and college. My parents were not totally sure I’d make the return to school smoothly. I had a week before I could prove them wrong. But first, I had to make sure everything was in order in my new home.

As we pulled in the drive of Aunt Claudia’s home, she excitedly stepped out the front door, my cousin not far behind her. It wasn’t so much that I was living with Aunt Claudia and Dustin that bothered me. It was more the whole giving up on my dreams of a four year university that really put a damper on the situation. I was happy to get to spend some more time with my aunt and Dustin. When Dustin was a little kid, he would follow me everywhere whenever my parents and I visited. It had been a few years since we had spent any serious time together, but I was still looking forward to seeing him again.

“Oh my gosh look how you’ve grown!” Aunt Claudia squealed as I stepped out of the parked car.

“Hi, Aunt Claudia,” I said, giving in to her tight hug. “It’s so good to see you,”

“We’re so excited to have you here with us for a while,” she replied, letting me go.

“Thank you again, sis,” my dad said, giving my Aunt a knowing look.

“You are more than welcome,” she said.

My parents helped me move my things out of the car and into the guest bedroom. My room was small, but cozy. I had a single bed, a writing desk with a lamp on it, and a dresser for my clothes. I also had a small closet that I hung some of my nicer clothes in. Within a few hours, I was unpacked and fairly settled into my new space. Once I had thrown my suitcases under the bed, I collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted from the drive and all the unpacking. I then heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come on in,” I called from my place on the bed.

“Y/N?” It was Dustin. He opened the door slowly and stepped inside. 

“Hey, Dusty, what’s up?” I asked, pushing myself up on my elbows.

“Oh, you probably shouldn’t call me that anymore,” He said, his cheeks turning pink.

“And why not?” I asked, fully sitting up. “Are you too cool for my nicknames now?”

“No, it’s just,” He stumbled over his words for a second. “That’s what my girlfriend calls me,” he finally admitted.

“You have a girlfriend?!” I asked. “Oh my gosh that’s so exciting!” Dustin broke out into a big smile. “Yeah, her name’s Suzy. She lives in Utah though, so I don’t see her much,” Dustin and I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. He refreshed my memory of each of his friends. He explained that he was still close with Mike, Lucas, and Will, and that a few girls had finally joined their party and that their names were Max and Jane. Will, unfortunately, had moved to California with his mom, brother, and Jane, who was his adopted sister. I was sad to hear that as I had always had a bit of a soft spot for Will when we were all growing up. 

Just like me, Dustin was a week away from starting school. It was going to be his first year of high school. I cringed in remembrance of my first year of high school.

“Just be yourself,” I said. “You’ll find your place. And you’ll have Mike and Lucas to hang out with,”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Mike’s still great, but Lucas keeps talking about how he wants things to be different this year. He’s talking about joining the basketball team,”

“Would that be the worst thing?” I asked.

“I guess not,” Dustin said. “It’s just, all the popular kids are on the sports teams, and we’re not exactly what you would call popular,” “Popularity is overrated,” I said, “Lucas will realize that in time. And maybe he just wants to play basketball, it might not have anything to do with popularity,” “I guess you’re right,” Dustin said.

“Of course I’m right,” I said, standing up from the bed. “Now, how about we go talk your mom into ordering us a pizza for dinner?”

To that, Dustin gave me a wide smile. We were just about to step out the door of my new bedroom, when Dustin stopped me. “Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah?” “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

“I think I’m glad I’m here too,” I smiled. “Now come one, pizza, pizza, pizza,”

Chapter 02

[diinofayce]

Shadows on the Horizon - 14

Pairing: Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: Language, angst, steamy makeouts, shower times, not quite smut | A/N: This is a sequel to my story Like a Whisper in the Night | Shadows on the Horizon Masterlist

“You could have died and it would have actually been my fault!”

Bucky was in a total state of distress. Danny had the kids tucked away in the back of the quinjet where they kept the bunks for after missions and long flights so Layne and Bucky could hash out whatever was going on with him in peace. Lucas had bombarded the sullen and moody Bucky with questions the whole drive back to the airport in Bloomington. Susanna and Layne kept them wrangled and out of his hair well enough, but they left Sue back in Minneapolis and Danny wasn’t as well versed with children so Layne could only imagine how crazy they were driving her brother.

“It’s not your fault you hit him in his bulletproof sunglasses. Who the fuck makes bulletproof sunglasses? Do you think Tony’s glasses are bulletproof?” Layne flicked the switches over her head in the copilot seat and her brows furrowed as the scanners didn’t give her the reports she was looking for. “Besides, almost dying is kind of a frequent hazard in this job field.”

“That’s the wrong one,” Bucky mumbled, coming down from his panic for a minute to reach over and flick the switch back and flip the one next to it on the right. “And it would have been my fault regardless. I should have made sure they were dead.”

Layne rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “Do you think I would have gone back in the van if I didn’t think you were watching and had my back, Buck?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Bucky growled, flicking his own set of switches as they prepared to land back at the compound. “I don’t fucking know anything anymore.”

Layne narrowed her eyes at Bucky, her lips turning down in a frown of disappointment before refocusing on the landing pad that was coming into view below them. “Why don’t you actually tell me what you’re mad about, James?”

Bucky froze and blinked a few times at the terseness in her voice and the fact that the only times she ever uses his real name outside of the bedroom is when he’s done something really stupid.

“I’m not mad, Layne. I feel confused and foggy and I don’t even know what else. I figured in both lives I could point and shoot so this shouldn’t have been a problem, but it’s different now. It’s all different now,” Bucky answered softly, dropping the wheels of the jet.

Layne pursed her lips as they landed the jet. Turning off toggles and switches and then the engines she focused on taking steadying breaths. “Maybe,” Layne started but stopped to chew on her thoughts some more.

Bucky watched her anxiously chew on her bottom lip, her eyes flicking back and forth as she sorted through the thoughts in her head.

“Maybe, if it will make you feel better, Shuri can put your head back to where it was. Maybe Steve was right and I was messing around with things I had no business in,” Layne mumbled softly as she cracked her knuckles nervously.

Bucky turned his head at the sound of small running footsteps, Danny was following close behind and Bucky reached up to flip the switch to open the ramp. Spinning in his chair he reached out and grabbed Layne’s hands, pulling her gently into his lap. She folded up easily, her butt between his legs with her knees folded up under his left arm and her head tucked under his chin resting against his right shoulder. He tangled his vibranium fingers in her curls as he held her close and tight to him.

“As weird as this sounds, I feel better than I ever have. Mentally, I mean,” Bucky responded. “I just thought that I had remembered everything I was going to and I was okay with that, but now I’ve had to process all this extra stuff and I’m trying to decide what to do about it.”

Layne tangled her fingers in the straps of Bucky’s vest, clinging to him impossibly tight her knuckles white from lack of blood circulation. “Together, then. Whatever you decide, we do it together.”

Bucky sighed and she felt him shake his head in refusal. “I don’t think I can bring you along for some of this.”

Layne pressed her hands flat against his chest and pushed herself away from him so she could look him in the eyes. The usual clear blue of them swirling with an icy chill that she had only seen in flickers in the past, but would have to get used to it being a permanent fixture in his gaze.

“We promised, James,” Layne pressed, “We promised everything together or not at all.”

Bucky drug his teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes adverting Layne’s pointed gaze. “There are things I just don’t want you to have to see. I don’t even know if anything is still even there or not. I don’t know how I’ll react when I go to these places or find whatever I hid at them. I don’t know if you’ll be safe from me.”

“Bucky,” Layne’s voice was firm and had zero room for argument. “Shut the fuck up. I’m coming with.”

With that she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Any argument that Bucky was going to come up with was lost when she nipped her teeth into his bottom lip, the soft moan he let out allowing for her tongue to slip in his mouth. His hands slid down to firmly grasp her hips and shifted her so instead of being cradled in his arms she was straddling his lap. Her hands raised to tangle in his hair, tugging at the locks softly to tilt his head back and let her kiss him deeper. He broke away for air and to let out a wanton moan as she ground her sex into his.

“Jesus, baby, we gotta hit the pause button,” Bucky begged, but planted hot and heavy kisses down from her ear to her throat despite his words.

“So I can come with you when you go?” Layne whispered huskily, dragging her nails from his scalp to the back of his neck.

“Course, doll, whatever you want,” he agreed hurriedly, his mouth on a path to her chest but suddenly his arms and lap were empty as Layne stood and straightened out her uniform.

“Great. Straighten up, soldier, we have to debrief.”

Bucky blinked a few times, his hands still in midair in front of him from when he was holding Layne in his grip, a dumb look frozen on his face. He licked his lips as he fought the lust fogging his brain. “That…that was the rudest thing you’ve ever done.”

Layne sent him a cheeky wink and giggled. “I didn’t say I didn’t have plans to finish what I started, Barnes.”

~*~

The debrief was quick and easy, which was nice because they rarely are. The children were settled across the hall from Bucky and Layne in Layne’s old apartment, Cheryl was looking to make a quick recovery and would be out to meet them by the end of the week where they would take the three children to upstate New York and introduce them to Charles Xavier. In the meantime, Layne proposed a plan to really see what her nieces and nephew were capable of so they would be more quickly placed at the Academy.

But now, back in her and Bucky’s bathroom, she peeled her skin tight suit from her body and turned on the tap for the shower. Once it was lukewarm she stepped in, lifting her face up under the water stream and letting it soak her hair and plaster it to her skin. She let out a sigh from deep in her gut, the weight that’s been sitting on her chest for the better part of the week feeling crushing.

She ignored the soft knocking on the bathroom door knowing that Bucky was going to let himself in anyway and sure enough the door clicked open.

“Room for one more?” Bucky asked and Layne nodded slightly through their frosted glass door before choking out an okay.

Bucky stuck his hand in the shower first to check the water before reaching down to turn the heat up just a little bit and then stepping in.

“Are you doing okay?” Bucky asked with concern, his hands running up his girlfriend’s back and squeezing her shoulders gently. The difference in temperature made her shudder involuntarily until the vibranium caught up from the heat of the water.

His concern made her feel guilty. She wasn’t the one anyone should be worried about right now, Bucky had literally just gone through hell and back and now here he was trying to make sure she was okay. Little fragile Layne Hardin, falling the fuck apart again. She swallowed heavily and tried to pull herself back together quickly even if she knew it was pointless with him.  

“I guess, now that everything has calmed down a little it’s just all kind of hit me,” Layne answered honestly and leaned back into his broad chest. She twists her head around and leaves a gentle kiss on the scarring of his left shoulder.

“You’re angry.” It was a statement, Bucky knew her well enough to tell when she was barely hanging onto her self control. Even back in the Twin Cities when she basically assaulted her brother it was a rare moment. She was normally very good at keeping her emotions under cloak and mask, but Bucky could feel the frustration radiating off of her like heat waves.

“There’s no point in being angry. What’s done is done and it all worked out well enough in the end,” Layne grumbled grabbing her bottle of shampoo and squirting it into her hand.

Bucky reached forward and scooped it from her open palm to massage into her scalp, Layne let out a pleased hum and another deep sigh this one allowing much of the weight to come from her chest.

“I’m sorry, if it makes a difference, I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

“It didn’t just put you in harm’s way, Buck. You had a partner. Fuck the mission, you know? I agree with you that any scientist that was involved with what happened to you to take priority, but you left Sue on her own. She looked up and you were just gone and she still had unfriendlies to take care of.”

Bucky took half a step back and tilted Layne’s head back slightly so he could rinse the soap from her hair.

“I know,” he agreed, chagrined. It hadn’t been his intention to abandon his partner and the mission. He had seen the scientist and suddenly he was back in that bank vault in DC and he was giving chase.

“And seeing that fucking chair in your night terrors is one thing, but goddammit Bucky. How are you even willing to jump back into all of this after that again?” Layne twisted in Bucky’s arms pressing her chest against his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes bored into her warm caramel ones as he searched for the unspoken question hidden beneath the spoken one. His hands fell from her hair down to her shoulders and finally splayed across her ribs right under her breasts.

“Layne,” Bucky started slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I am going to follow you where ever you’re going. You need to spend time in Minnesota, I’m there. You want to never leave the tower again? I’m fine with that. You want to quit this whole thing entirely and go back to working in a lab at some university anywhere in the world. I’m okay with that too. I don’t need anything else but you.”

Layne shook her head with a rueful smile on her face. “That’s dumb as fuck, James. I appreciate the sentiment, but you want things too and pretending that they don’t matter is just stupid. This isn’t a fairytale, or a Disney movie, this is real life and there’s two of us. We’re a partnership, yeah? And if we’re going to be a strong partnership we need to be honest with each other.

“I’m pissed you broke rank and order and left Sue to fend for herself. I’m angry because that caused you to get captured and hurt again. I was terrified, Bucky, more scared than I’ve ever been about anything in my life because I thought I was going to lose you again. But I’m frustrated and angry with myself because it should have always been a possibility on any of these missions that this could happen. I’m mad because I told Steve that he should stay behind because Natasha was coming home and I could handle this on my own and none of this would have probably happened if he had been there because that kid is glued to your fucking hip.”

Layne leaned up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to Bucky’s to stop whatever argument Bucky was about to spit out. “But it’s over now and you’re here with me and the kids are here and we’re going to figure this out. I love you so much.”

Bucky blinked the water out of his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. “I love you too, doll, I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

Layne bumped his nose with hers before capturing his lips again and kissing him deeply, a raw heat flaring behind it. When they parted to breath Layne have him a fiery look. “So, do we want to un-pause from earlier?”

Bucky growled low in his chest and slid his hands down to Layne’s waist, lifting her up and pressing her against the shower wall where she gasped at the cold towel and arched into his chest. He immediately dove to press a hard kiss to her throat but she hissed and he pulled away with guilt rising in his stomach.

Layne instantly brought her hands to his face and brought his eyes up to hers. She could see the sself-loathing and cold hatred clouding the blue of his eyes. “Hey. No, not now. Not ever.” She insisted kissing him softly to test the waters.

“But.”

“No. Shut up and love me.”

That was all it took. Bucky slammed off the water to the shower and Layne squealed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked her to the bedroom and threw her soaking wet on the bed.

[ericvick]

These are America's 10 cheapest states to live in for 2021

Shoppers load up their vehicle outside a HomeGoods store in South Bend, Indiana, on Monday, Nov. 16, 2020.

Daniel Acker | Bloomberg | Getty Images

An engine as massive as the U.S. economy is not going to restart without some sputtering, which is what many economists believe explains the double-digit price increases in many goods and services as the nation moves past the pandemic. Global supply chains were so badly disrupted that it’s taking some doing to get everything back in gear.

Disruptions — and price increases — have been more severe in some states than others. That’s why CNBC’s annual America’s Top States for Business study considers Cost of Living among our ten categories of competitiveness. Some states feature costs so high that many people may prefer to stay away.

These ten states are where a dollar went the furthest last year, and where prices have been heading in the volatile first half of this year versus one year ago, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Also listed are average prices for selected items, based on the 2020 Average Cost of Living Index by the Council for Community and Economic Research, C2ER.

10. Indiana

A fuel pump stands at a Royal Dutch Shell Plc gas station in Jeffersonville, Indiana.

Luke Sharrett | Bloomberg | Getty Images

Driving through the Crossroads of America can be a breeze, with Indiana gas prices running about 30% less in Bloomington than what they are paying in San Francisco. Then head home to your apartment, where you pay roughly half the rent you would pay in Chicago.

2021 Cost of Living score: 62 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A-)

Consumer Price Index (June, Midwest Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Bloomington): $339,513

Half gallon of milk: $1.39

Monthly energy bill: $147.72

8. (tie) Tennessee

A customer gets a haircut at John’s Barber Shop in Knoxville, Tennessee, May 1, 2020.

Luke Sharrett | Bloomberg | Getty Images

Looking to get your hair done before you head into the office after a year of working at home? In Johnson City, Tennessee, it will cost you roughly half what it would cost if you lived in Houston. A Tennessee visit to the doctor is more than 60% less than it would be in Madison, Wisconsin.

2021 Cost of Living score: 65 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A-)

Consumer Price Index (June, South Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Johnson City): $395,467

Half gallon of milk: $1.92

Monthly energy bill: $141.46

8. (tie) Georgia

Arinahabich | iStock | Getty Images

Yes, you can get more peaches for your money in Georgia, where a 15-ounce can will cost roughly 30% less than it would in New York. And for your main course, a New York steak is also cheaper in Atlanta than it is in New York — by almost a dollar, based on 2020 averages.

2021 Cost of Living score: 65 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A-)

Consumer Price Index (June, Atlanta-Sandy Springs-Roswell): Up 6.7%

Average home price (Metro Atlanta): $380,418

Half gallon of milk: $1.99

Monthly energy bill: $120.82

7. New Mexico

Contemporary housing development in New Mexico.

Bim | E+ | Getty Images

You can rent an apartment in Albuquerque for about one-third of what you would pay in Bethesda, Maryland. And your heating and air conditioning bill will be about 20% less in New Mexico.

2021 Cost of Living score: 66 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A)

Consumer Price Index: (June, West Region): Up 5.1%

Average home price (Albuquerque): $329,645

Half gallon of milk: $2.10

Monthly energy bill: $155.29

6. Alabama

An American flag is displayed outside a home in the Cloverdale neighborhood of Montgomery, Alabama.

Julie Bennett | Bloomberg | Getty Images

If your idea of a Sweet Home is roughly 2,400 square feet, 4 bedrooms and 2 baths on a decent sized lot in Auburn, Alabama, expect to pay roughly one-third of what you would pay for a similar home in Orange County, California. Celebrate your smart purchase in Alabama with a bottle of wine, which will set you back about 25% less than it would in Atlanta.

2021 Cost of Living score: 68 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A)

Consumer Price Index (June, South Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Auburn): $309,875

Half gallon of milk: $1.80

Monthly energy bill: $179.77

5. Missouri

See a movie in Kansas City and it will cost about 30% less than it would in Hollywood. And if you wanted to buy a nice men’s shirt in Missouri for your first visit to a theater since before the pandemic, it would cost about 25% less than the same shirt in Boston.

2021 Cost of Living score: 69 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A)

Consumer Price Index (June, St. Louis Metro): Up 6.1%

Average home price (Kansas City Metro): $299,164

Half gallon of milk: $1.87

Monthly energy bill: $157.13

4. Arkansas

Pop’s Barber Shop of Pine Bluff, Arkansas.

Russ Scalf | The Washington Post | Getty Images

In his first year as President in 1993, former Arkansas governor Bill Clinton caught endless grief over a report — which turned out to be exaggerated — that he paid $200 for a haircut by his personal stylist aboard Air Force One. Nearly 30 years later, he could get still a haircut in Little Rock for about $20, which is also about 20% cheaper than in his current home in Westchester County, New York.

2021 Cost of Living score: 71 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A+)

Consumer Price Index (June, South Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Little Rock): $371,333

Half gallon of milk: $1.78

Monthly energy bill: $143.00

3. Oklahoma

A wheat field during the wheat harvest in Corn, Oklahoma.

Nick Oxford | Reuters

The wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet in Oklahoma, and it makes a very affordable loaf of bread — nearly 30% less than it would cost in Portland, Oregon. Your monthly energy bill in Norman is about half what you would pay in New Haven, Connecticut. Ponca City boasted the lowest apartment rents in the country in 2020, at just $502 for a two-bedroom unit.

2021 Cost of Living score: 72 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A+)

Consumer Price Index (June, South Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Norman): $316,455

Half gallon of milk: $2.14

Monthly energy bill: $152.87  

2. Kansas

Vadym Petrochenko | iStock | Getty Images

If Dorothy Gale were alive today — and her little dog, too — taking Toto to the veterinarian in Dodge City would cost half what it would cost in New York City. If she went to a restaurant in New York and ordered a steak, she would find the price 20% higher than at home, and she would know right away that she’s not in Kansas anymore.

2021 Cost of Living score: 74 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A+)

Consumer Price Index (June, Midwest Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Dodge City): $299,018

Half gallon of milk: $2.48

Monthly energy bill: $159.30

1. Mississippi

Quaint clapboard 19th Century cottage style house with Stars and Stripes flag, South Canal Street in Natchez, Mississippi.

Tim Graham | Getty Images

Got a hankerin’ for a hamburger? It will cost you 25% less in Hattiesburg than it would in Honolulu. How about that? But the bargains go beyond burgers in the Magnolia State, which offers low housing costs, inexpensive energy, and all-around affordable prices. Even with inflation, your dollar will go further in Mississippi, America’s cheapest state for 2021.

2021 Cost of Living score: 75 out of 75 points (Top States Grade: A+)

Consumer Price Index (June, South Region): Up 5.8%

Average home price (Hattiesburg): $247,812

Half gallon of milk: $2.37

Monthly energy bill: $153.76

[riddleblack246]

Elizabeth “Ginger Ale” Hopkins

For @sassafrasx and @kingsmansecretsanta

Prompt: Tell me more about Ginger: What’s her background/life story?

I wasn’t entirely sure about what was meant by this, since it was in the “other prompts” category, so I figured I would make a mini-aesthetic set and talk about my thoughts on Ginger’s back story. Head canons below:

She is from Bloomington, Indiana

She is a Cancer

Her family consists of her mother, her father, and her older brother

Her family calls her “Lizzie” and the nickname stuck with her until college

She had a twin sister (Abigail), but she passed away when they were in middle school due to an accident

They were both proficient at the violin, but Ginger always believed Abigail to be a lot better. When she died, Ginger stopped playing and stuck to scholarly interests

She wasn’t unpopular in school or inherently closed-off. She just was never great at making and maintaining friendships. Her sister had really been her only friend during her childhood and when she died, Ginger grieved and didn’t feel capable of finding friends to have as a support system. People comforted her, but she didn’t really have anyone to talk to about the loss. She didn’t want to talk to her family because the pain was still fresh to them too. She wasn’t comfortable talking to teachers or other adults because they always took her words too seriously and would call a counselor or her parents, which was something she didn’t want. So, she ultimately decided to deal with it on her own and grieve by herself. Eventually, she was able to find interests outside of school. She joined science clubs, built robots for fun, went to movies by herself on the weekend. She learned to be her own friend. And she didn’t see anything wrong with that. She had a couple of people she became close to in high school, but once they graduated, they all drifted apart

She initially just wanted to study biology in college, but her love of tech stayed with her. She fought tooth and nail to keep science electives where she could, even though she was already taking such a heavy load. She loved college. To her, it was perfect. No parents asking her why she didn’t go out more. No counselors asking about her social life. No one that remembered the sad girl that wandered around looking lost. No more “Lizzie”, just “Elizabeth”.

She was halfway through medical school when she created a skin graft that could heal tissue damage in half the time. She submitted the studies she’d done when they were intercepted by Statesman. Champ immediately asked to meet with her, offering to pay off her student loans if she came to work with them after she finished medical school

Statesman logistics are a bit different than Kingsman. Initially, Champ was just looking for medical personnel to take over at the agency and Ginger seemed to have really great ideas. However, he soon learned about her tech knowledge and her proficiency for mathematics and decided to move her to the role of quartermaster. She’s basically in charge of everything except mission assignments. He acts all gruff about it and will rarely compliment her upfront, but he genuinely thinks she’s a great leader and a good influence on the other agents

She was the youngest member to join the agency until Tequila joined the ranks. She is still the youngest member of the tech/medical team

Her family thinks she provides the cyber-security for Statesman and created the biometric security system that protects the whiskey (she did, but she lets them think that’s all she’s done), which is how she has so much money to send home

As she got older, she kind of became aware of her own sense of loneliness. She never really addressed her sister’s death and now that she has a sense of stability and isn’t running around in preparation for the next thing, she realized that she didn’t have anyone to turn to when she was feeling low. She and her family weren’t super close. They love each other, but they’re states apart, and they all dealt with losing Abigail in different ways, so things just... never quite healed right. She wants to get back out there and make friends, but it’s hard when your time is limited, you can’t even be truthful about what you do for a living, and you can be called away to work at a moment’s notice. That, and because she never quite got down the unspoken rules of maintaining friendships, she isn’t super great at meeting new people.

She gets into her own head too much. When she’s able to just speak and not think about everything she’s saying, she does fine.

She’s one of those people that would love a boyfriend, but she isn’t going to go out of her way to get one. Dating apps bore her, singles mixers make her uncomfortable, and she tried an online service once, but deleted her account when she got a dick pic (”You pay $9.99 a month to do this? How dumb are you?”)

She so desperately wants to be an agent. She wants to go out in the field and experience missions hands on and learn about the world outside of coding and firewalls and medical enhancements. She wants to experience her gadgets to the tasks she makes them for (AND THE ONLY REASON WHISKEY HAD VOTED AGAINST HER IS BECAUSE SHE REMINDS HIM OF LELA BECAUSE I REFUSE TO LET VAUGHN MAKE WHISKEY INTO A SEXIST FUCK)

When she is able to become a part-time field agent (Because Whiskey didn’t die because he didn’t betray everyone), Tequila ends up being the one training her (”As a thanks for savin’ my hide, Ginger- I mean, Agent.”)

One would think because she is “geeky”, she would like to read. She’s actually more of a movie buff. However, her movie taste is almost exclusively rom-coms and animated flicks, with maybe a few sci-fi ones thrown in

When she meets Merlin, her instinctive thought thought is that he looked like Picard from Star Trek. And then he talked and she thought about the Muppets (It is in the novelization and it is honestly the cutest fucking thing)

She personally adores super fancy lingerie. That’s what she buys for herself. Since most of her money goes to her family, expenses, and medical research, what she has for herself goes to elegant teddies and lace panties

The first time she and Merlin have sex, he thinks she prepared for it, only to see her closet. All of her every-day clothes are stuffed into drawers or tossed aside, wrinkles by damned, but all of her fancy underwear is hung up, pristine

Her corgi is a gift from Merlin. They’d been going out for a while when she learns that Kingsman recruits get dogs and she gushes over the concept. That gives him an idea. He gets her a corgi for Christmas that next year. She takes to him instantly and names him Rowlf after the Muppet

In recent years, she had started to teach herself to play the violin again. She’s not great, but she does it almost as a form of self-reflection. However, she only plays in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, because even though her sister never got to grow up, it feels like they’re playing together again

She prefers tea over coffee, but when Tequila accidentally introduces her to those bottled Starbucks frappuchinos, there are always a couple empty bottles lying around the lab

Her eye sight is super poor and while Champ offered to pay for her to have LASIK, she refused because “I look cute in glasses”

She bites her nails and is trying to quit

Her favorite movie is a tie between “The Fifth Element” and “Bridget Jones’s Diary” (One of the reasons why she found Harry so charming was because he reminds her of Colin Firth ;) )

She likes alcohol that is crazy and probably illegal in some places. I’m talking the ones with dead bugs in them. She wants to try all the weird shit

She decides to go with the code name “Ginger Ale” because when Champ asks her what she wants to go by, she says that because it’s bubbly, sweet, and goes great with most alcohols. He laughs so hard he nearly cries and insists she stick with it because it suits her perfectly <3

[gigsoupmusic]

Mighty Brother's "Naked Winter" is A Timely Release for Current Anxious Times

New Orleans band, Mighty Brother, recently released a music video for their single “Naked Winter” as a tease to their upcoming double album (The Rabbit. The Owl.), due in Summer 2020. "Naked Winter" immediately evokes a feeling of angst and foreboding, establishing the haunting, indie vibes that define the second side of their upcoming double album. The song is a slow-burner, but once the groove drops in, Mighty Brother takes us on a climatic journey, the apex of which features a wailing sax solo and the grittiest bass wah you’ve ever heard. “Naked Winter” captures familiar feelings of isolation, uncertainty about the future, and the feeling of being held hostage by uncontrollable forces such as the media (and, more relatively, the coronavirus), all while artfully exploring the band’s unique genre-bending style. We sat down with Mighty Brother to talk about their band's humble beginnings, new music video, and what's next for the dynamic group.

How did Mighty Brother get started as a band? Mighty Brother began as a duo songwriting project of Nick Huster and Ari Carter in Bloomington, IN, and quickly grew into a five-piece indie rock outfit based out of New Orleans.  We started making music together in 2015. Ari likes to point to a moment after we had first jammed and shared some of our songs that he woke up hiking in Denali National Park, Alaska with one of Nick’s songs stuck in his head as the “aha’ moment for starting the band. After he returned from that hiking trip, we got to work on our first album.   Where does the name 'Mighty Brother' come from? What does it stand for? The name came from “Dearly Beloved,” one of our early co-writes. “Mighty Brother” appears in the lyrics, and we felt it both a strong name and one that hinted at something greater than the sum of its parts. "Naked Winter" is a release from your upcoming double album..... what made you decide to release a double album? Short answer, we’re interested in music that creates an immersive listening experience.  But we could go on… As writers, we both like long-form stories and world-building (think LOTR, Dune, Game of Thrones, etc.), so when we set out to write an album, we hinge on a concept and let that inform what we create. In a listening culture dominated by singles, we just kind of wanted to push back on that.  If you’d like the full story of this particular concept... The Rabbit and the Owl first appeared as characters on the cover of our debut album Jettison. Reprise. We saw them as unlikely friends, predator and prey, the king of the night and jester of the day, and decided to place them on a simple, equal plane. Folks would ask, "So, who is the Rabbit and who is the Owl, and what do they represent?" Over time, the personification of these two contrasting characters grew, as did their stories. Certain tunes became characteristically more "Owl"-esque, while others were clearly the playful and energetic "Rabbit" shining through. Naturally, we ran with it (or took it too far), until a double album became the only clear and viable solution. Thus our upcoming Double Album: The Rabbit. The Owl. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEB9ouscstw&feature=emb_title What's your favorite lyrical line in "Naked Winter"? “Yet tarried she along the yawning frozen fringes fair with Venus in her hair…” That line calls back to the moment of the song's conception, as the sun was setting over a frozen lake, and the light sort of just hung there. You could see Venus beaming through the naked branches of the trees along the icy fringes. There was a profound stillness that lives between the lines of that stanza. What I love most about the lyrics and the song format, is how they allude a sense of motion without moving. There is action in the lyrics, the sun is setting, the world is getting colder and darker, but there’s something beautiful about that. The main action is observing this, and we get the sense that no direct action follows, concluding with the words “silence where it sings” where we just want to shout into the void! Musically, the song cycles back on itself and repeats this refrain over and over again, building each time, driving forward each time, but with no real release: motion without moving.  How did the idea for the music video come about? The music video, from concept to shooting, came together in the course of one whirlwind week last December. Ari and I had the idea of making a music video with an analog TV grid and digital mapping but had no idea where to start. When we contacted Bruno Doria and Worklight Pictures to chat about the concept, he revealed that they were, in fact, working on an analog TV installation already and that this would be the perfect push to pull it together. Following that chat, we crafted the video concept and narrative with our director Bruno Doria.  We filmed the video about a week after first contact. Ari and I got together for a whole day and wrote out the narrative and scenes we wanted to capture. The driving themes we wanted to explore were isolation and media feedback cycles / fake news. We wanted to craft this sort of "blind leading the blind" metaphor and how that can escalate and fall apart. In this case it's mute leading the blind leading the tortured and finally (after an epic sax solo) finding some sort of liberation. It's tough times and we need to be really mindful of our bias and our voice and how we treat each other. That's at least what this video means to me, and I'm really proud of how it came out. 

What do you hope the single conveys to fans? That we’re back! It’s been a little over two years since we released new music, so we’re hoping this new single is a good reintroduction to the band. We’ve been playing a lot of shows and working really hard on the double album, and we are ready to bring it to life! We hope that this single gives fans a taste of what the second side of the double album, The Owl., is all about. We can’t wait to turn that on its head when we release a single from The Rabbit. side of the record!  What can fans expect next? We will be putting out a couple more singles before the album release this Summer. This is a very difficult time to be an artist, and we feel lucky to have new music to share while we’re all waiting to see what the next few months hold. We’ve had to alter our release schedule a lot with canceled shows and tours, but we plan to continue bringing our music to folks via live streams, and we are pushing to release more music sooner than later.  How have you been affected by the global pandemic? Do you have a message for folks during the crisis? We mostly miss performing, and we really feel for our fellow musicians, artists, and hospitality workers during this time. Many folks in New Orleans are without work entirely, and spring is usually the most productive time for us. ⁣ We’re hanging in there, fortunate to have music to share, and it’s heartening to see our community pulling together, streaming concerts from their bedrooms, sharing playlists of local music, building digital communities across the web…  We’ve been encouraging folks who want to help to please stalk the artists you love, continually stream and share their music and videos, buy their merch. Buy paintings from visual artists you love, donate to organizations providing meals for artists and hospitality and gig economy workers.  Almost anything you enjoy in your leisure, whether that’s going to a gallery, listening to music, going out to eat or drink — these industries are the most threatened. Buy locally, however you safely can, if you want those businesses to remain after everything shakes out. And most of all be safe, stay inside for now as much as you can, stay healthy, and we hope to see y’all out there as soon as we can! Read the full article

[aboutdavidforrachel]

A tribute from Jamie

How do you grieve someone when nearly every memory you have of them makes you burst into laughter? I keep trying to tell people about who Dave was, the depth of his heart and the fierceness of his friendship, but I end telling stories about him almost knocking a full size refrigerator over at a party dancing to MC Hammer. In death, you experience the true shape of a person, their sudden absence reveals the exact nature of their presence. And David's soul was huge. A beautiful enormity. His absence reveals for me just how huge his love was and just how much he meant to me and so many others. I loved his sincerity. I love how his writing always stayed true to a sense of reckless, romantic, youthful "man, just looks all these billions of stars" spirit. He had a unique kind of bravery, the open hearted kind, a real willingness to be vulnerable. He inspired me with that bravery and he always will. He was there for me during the hardest moments of my life, without fail. Not just "there", he was truly with me. During these last years, as his struggles increased, we would write to each other about our loneliness, our losses, and our loves. That motherfucker could somehow quote Sylvia Plath, Rumi, and Rodney Dangerfield in one coherent sentence. I am so grateful to have known him. So grateful to be a part of the Bloomington family he wove together. Grateful to have shared a one bedroom apartment with him and Kate and two dogs who pooped in our shoes. Grateful and crushed. Weeping and laughing till snot shoots out my nose. David. Our David. This picture is probably inappropriate to share, but fuck it. It's my favorite. It's from the night of my bachelorette party in 2001. Dave was my surprise "stripper", and he had been hiding in the closet for over two hours before he heard the cue, and popped out and started dancing to ZZ Top. It was August in Bloomington, and my place did not have AC. He was drenched in sweat, and smelled so bad. When he took off his shirt we all had to beg him to stop. But he kept dancing. The only thing stronger than his B.O. was our laughter.

[David told me (Erica) this story often, and I reminded Jamie of a detail she had forgotten: at one point, he took an ice cube out of her drink, rubbed it on his nipple, and put it back in her drink, and then was sad when she thought it was gross instead of sexy. :D :D :D  What a kook!!!]

Our last exchange, we were talking about that lovely Rumi line, something about an open field that exists out there, somewhere beyond our ideas of wrongdoings and right doings. "I'll meet you there." And you will probably be doing the robot.

I love you David Coonce.

[placestostayflorida]

Anna Maria Island Club 44

Contents

Anna maria island

Maria island club

Mary kate smith

Grande 3 penthouse

Anna maria island florida

Mar 06, 2019  · anna maria island Club Unit 24 2600 Gulf Drive #24 Bradenton Beach, FL 34217 This gorgeous 2 bedroom and 2 bathroom Gulf front condo has just …

Exceptional views of the beach & Gulf of Mexico from this updated 2 BR/ 2 BT unit in the "Anna maria island club". This preferred floor plan offers an updated kitchen with solid surface counters, wooden cabinetry and breakfast bar.

Emily Lusk Benson and Douglas Jesse Miller Jr. were married Dec. 15 at the Cosmos Club, a social club in Washington … a vacation rental company in Anna Maria Island, Fla. The bride is a stepdaughter …

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[lareporteragonzeauxblog]

Outside the door

I arrived in Lima, Peru on the last day of December 2016 on a research fellowship to study gender violence. An absolutely overwhelming subject, I dove in head first, devouring academic articles on the subject, perusing daily newspapers, attending relevant art exhibits and lectures, watching Peruvian documentaries and films, and arranging meetings with anyone involved in the women’s rights movement and the fight against gender violence, from human rights lawyers to photographers to self-proclaimed feminists.

As much progress as I had been making in my research, I still felt like an outsider nearly two months in, an observer on the periphery of the gender violence phenomenon taking place all around me. I’d even had some unbelievably good luck, like casually sitting next to the former General Director of Gender Equality at the Peruvian Ministry of Women and Vulnerable Populations on public transport. Not only that, but she graciously offered to meet me at a cafe so I could pick her brain. Throughout our hour-long conversation, however, I struggled to figure out what my goal was in meeting with her. My questions failed to spark the awe-inspiring discussion I had envisioned, and she responded in truisms and platitudes about gender discrimination (i.e., “Gender violence awareness must be a focal point in the Peruvian agenda to building a more democratic and inclusive society”). I left the interview frustrated that I had squandered such an important opportunity and feeling anxious at the prospect of failing to take advantage of my time in country, on the ground, having face-to-face conversations.

My greatest fear in this process has been and always will be failing to tether myself to lived reality on the ground: all too often, our experience of countries as foreigners only skims the surface of a region’s essence. The most obvious example of this happening in my case was the mere fact that I decided to rent an apartment in Miraflores, considered to be one of if not the wealthiest district of the bustling capital city. Walking around Miraflores felt notably different than walking around, say, Bloomington, Minnesota, my hometown – but walking around Miraflores was also notably different than walking around other districts of Lima.

Another aspect of my research I was grappling with was the feeling that I was intruding on a sensitive socio-cultural issue that wasn’t pertinent to my life. Often, when asked what I was doing in Peru by Peruvians, I received looks of confusion and puzzlement followed by an iteration of the same question: ‘But why are you studying that here?’ Even I began to wonder, to doubt myself, my research, and my purpose for moving 4,000 miles away from home. Sure, Latin America is a region notorious for high rates of femicide and rampant machismo, and Peru ranks among the most conservative and patriarchal of the region’s countries. Yet I still felt like I was dipping my toes where they didn’t belong with disappointing results – until Sunday, February 12, that is.

Around 8 pm that evening, I was in the middle of a dance drills video, giggling at my neighbor’s boyfriend’s expression when he caught an accidental glimpse of what I was doing from the street below. All of a sudden, his demeanor completely changed: he stood at attention, alert, and then took off in a sprint, screaming words in Spanish too rapidly for me to decipher their meaning. I leaned out of my bedroom window to see what it was that had spurred this sudden outburst. At the end of the street, a young woman was leaning against a wall, rubbing her neck. She seemed to be upset and in a great deal of pain. My neighbor’s boyfriend (we’ll refer to him as “boyfriend”) ran right past her in pursuit of a young man that appeared to be walking away from the scene. They moved out of my line of sight, so I ran upstairs to alert my sister, Maria (who had been visiting me in Peru) that something was happening on our street. She had just finished preparing dinner and, for some reason, I grabbed a plate before ushering her down the stairs and out the door. Once outside, I noticed we weren’t the only ones whose curiosity had been aroused by the noise: most of our neighbors were leaning out their windows to get a glimpse of the spectacle.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that a violent dispute had taken place. Boyfriend had successfully retrieved the young man he was pursuing and brought him back over to the vehicle where the girl was now sitting in the passenger seat with the door open. Boyfriend was loudly accosting him, and though I was only able to catch bits and pieces of what he was saying, it was obvious that he was chastising him for harming the young woman, who sat dejected with her head in her hands.

‘Go see what’s going on,’ Maria urged me. ‘Make sure the girl is okay.’

I felt slightly uncertain as I approached the scene: was it was my place to intrude with questions? Did the girl want me, a foreign stranger, asking after her well-being at such a vulnerable moment?

I felt foolish as I interjected, clad in ballet slippers and wielding a plate of steaming pasta. ‘Que ha pasado aqui? / What’s happened here?’ I demanded, feigning strength and assertiveness.

Boyfriend had calmed down a bit, and he began to recount the details of what he had witnessed. I’ll admit, my ability to fully comprehend his adrenalized, rushed account of the occurred was slightly compromised by limitations in my Spanish language skills. As I understood it, he had been standing outside of his girlfriend’s house, waiting for her to let him in when, all of a sudden, he saw a young lady jump out of a parked vehicle at the end of the block and rip off one of its wing mirrors. Then a young man exited the vehicle and came after her aggressively, pulling her by the hair and grabbing her neck as he threw her against a nearby wall. This is what motivated boyfriend to take action: he beckoned the perpetrator back to the vehicle and laid into him, instructing his own girlfriend, who was still standing in front of her home just down the street, to phone the police.

This is the point at which I approached the group. The young man, who appeared to be about twenty years old at most, was leaning against the car, arms crossed, expressionless, as though nothing had happened. The girl was standing up but crumpled into herself, arms folded with hands tightly clasping her elbows. She rocked back and forth as a stream of tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, brusquely wiping her eyes as though forcing herself to quell her distress. Boyfriend had finished recounting the details of what he had witnessed to me, and we all stood in silence, waiting for the police to arrive. Maria, who doesn’t speak any Spanish, offered to take my plate of food back into the apartment so I could speak with the girl and offer her some sort of assistance.

I leaned against a light post, unsure of what to do. Here I was, at the scene of an assault not unlike the many I had been reading about in daily newspapers and government reports. Here was a living, breathing woman right in front of me that put a face to the statistics I had read, an individual that comprised a portion of the alarmingly high rate of 37 percent of women that experience domestic violence during their adult life in Peru. I knew I had to do something, but it was unclear to me what my role should be.

I decided to start by asking the young woman a question that I immediately knew was ridiculous the moment I verbalized it: ‘Estás bien? / Are you okay?’

Obviously this person was not okay – she was the victim of a physical assault that had taken place mere minutes before. But I was at a loss for words. She looked at me, forcing a sad smile, and thanked me feebly for asking. Boyfriend asked where she lived, and if she had anyone she could call for support. She explained that she lived in a faraway district on the outskirts of Lima, that her boyfriend – the same one who had just choked her – had rented the car and she had no way home to her mother and daughter who would be waiting for her. The assailant had also shattered his girlfriend’s phone during the attack, leaving her without the means to access her contacts. She regretfully informed us that she didn’t know any phone numbers by memory. Boyfriend let her use his phone to send a message on Facebook to one of her girlfriends so that someone knew her whereabouts and could ultimately relay this message to her mother and child.

As we waited for the police to arrive, I felt extremely uncomfortable and awkward: boyfriend, this young girl who was clearly in pain, and the young man who had violently assaulted her all stood within an arm’s reach of one another, avoiding eye contact. The weight of what had just happened was palpable and hung thick in the air between us.

A car pulled up suddenly, and a young man approached the scene. He appeared to be the friend of the aggressor, greeting one another with a handshake and a pat on the back. They spoke in Spanish too quickly for me to comprehend, but I could see they were not taking this situation seriously. After exchanging some words they both broke out laughing.

I was furious: we were at the scene of a violent assault, and the perpetrator was openly laughing while the victim stood rubbing her bruised neck, tears streaming down her face.

‘Que no se ríen’, I found myself saying to the pair of boys, shaking my head incredulously side to side. Whether my Spanish verb conjugation was entirely correct or not I’m unsure – but my tone of voice and facial expression got the point across. They stopped laughing immediately and hung their heads, whispering in hushed Spanish. Surely they were speaking about me, mostly likely making fun of the foreigner attempting to speak Spanish in a quavering voice. No matter: they had ceased to blatantly disrespect the gravity of the moment.

A police car arrived on the scene only minutes later, and I felt an immense sense of relief. Finally justice would be served: the perpetrator would be castigated, the young girl would be able to press charges against him, and she would never have to deal with her soon to be ex-boyfriend again. At least that’s what I assumed would happen.

At this point, I’d like to orient this narrative in some important context. As I’ve delved further and further into gender violence research, one theme seems omnipresent across all national, social, and cultural boundaries: anger at the phenomenon of widespread impunity in response to reports of assault. The slogan for the widely attended international women’s march last April, for example, was ‘No + violencia, No + Impunidad’ (‘No + violence, No + Impunity’); written in bold letters on the Ni una menos (Not One Less) Peru Facebook page is the exclamation ¡BASTA DE IMPUNIDAD! (ENOUGH WITH IMPUNITY!); a recent report published by Pontific Catholic University of Peru  entitled ‘538 Cases of Sexual Violence (and Many More) Given Impunity’ is merely one of countless official records that shines light on the horrific rates at which aggression is overlooked and even pardoned in the country.

Up until the evening of Sunday, February 12, I had been surprised and upset by these claims of impunity, but they had been mere statistics to me. I was appalled by them but removed from the problem, shocked but shielded from their ugliness. Then, in the course of twenty minutes, I saw the very headlines, numbers, rates, pie charts, bar graphs and percentages that I had looked over time and again – but for which I had no frame of reference – transform into a harsh reality right before me.

The police officer that arrived on the scene was a male who appeared to be in his fifties. It was immediately obvious to me that he had little to no training in handling a case like this. Knowing how to interact with someone in a fragile situation – and with a victim of intimate partner violence in particular – is certainly challenging and requires a level of empathy that cannot necessarily be taught. There are, however, basic protocols that can and should be followed by anyone in a position of authority responding to such cases.

For instance, this police officer first approached the male assailant, in a seeming display of deference to his version of the story. The victim, meanwhile, waited patiently until the officer and her attacker finished having what appeared to be a polite discussion. Only after the young man had been given space to speak was the girl acknowledged, and, even so, the policeman took an entirely different approach to his interaction with her. He was clearly uncomfortable and, just as she had begun to recount the details of what had occurred, he interrupted her with an accusation. Yes, that’s right – the officer pointed out that she had damaged property (the vehicle wing mirror) and informed her that this was inappropriate in what I suspected was an attempt to nullify the severity of her boyfriend’s violent reaction.

The girl was naturally caught off guard by the audacity and timing of the officer’s remark, but she managed to calmly explain that she had damaged the vehicle in the heat of the argument in order to get the assailant out of the car, where she would have been helpless to defend herself. How she maintained a respectful demeanor I’m unsure: I had suffered neither physical nor verbal assault, and I was downright indignant. What the hell was happening here? A perpetrator of physical violence was being treated like an old friend while the victim, bearing the physical marks of her abuse – a heavily bruised neck and bloody lacerations – was dealt with like an angsty teenager in need of a lecture on respect.

Absolutely flabbergasted by what I had just witnessed, I did what seemed most natural in that moment: I hugged the girl. I wasn’t sure if she wanted comfort from a stranger or someone else invading her personal space. But she hugged me back.

In that moment, I felt a powerful connection to this woman that transcended language, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, and lived experience. Support and solidarity are universal, and I told her, to the best of my ability in Spanish, that she did not deserve to be treated this way. That no one deserves to be treated this way.

Though she looked back at me appreciatively, concurring with a wan head nod, I think we both knew there was a serious possibility that this would not be the last time she would see her perpetrator. That this would not be resolved as cleanly and easily as it should be. That her abuser may very well walk free, though he had left raw scratch marks on her chest and bruised her throat. In a matter of minutes, everything I had read and researched about impunity for violent offenders and police force incompetency in handling domestic violence cases was validated. In a society that appears to value a man’s property, i.e. a vehicle, over a woman’s emotional and physical well-being, it is difficult to feel hopeful.

As we parted ways, I wanted to ask the girl for her contact information, but she didn’t have a phone and I had left mine in the apartment. Boyfriend had offered to drive her to the police station for processing (no, the officer did not offer to do so), and I hugged her goodbye. The young man who had assaulted her drove away in his rented vehicle, presumably to go to the police station as well. Or perhaps not. I wondered if that would be the end of their relationship.

It felt strange, almost wrong, to walk back into my apartment that evening, closing the door behind me. An intense sense of guilt swept over me as I heated up my pasta on the stovetop, picking up right where I left off before everything happened. The world inside the walls of my apartment felt small and simple in comparison with the world I had just shut out.

I looked at myself in the mirror that hangs in the entry way, bidding me farewell every time I head out the door and greeting me when I return. Usually, I’d describe my level of vanity as ‘healthy’ with an occasional dose of excessive narcissism. On this particular evening, however, I stood before the mirror longer than usual, examining each of the constituent parts that make up my privileged whole. I saw in my reflection much more than a twenty-seven year old with messy hair and sunburned skin: that night, I was a face bearing no scars, hair that has never been violently pulled, a neck that has never been choked, arms free of bruises and welts, a stomach with the power of choice, legs that open and close of my own free will. What was staring back at me was a living reflection of circumstance, socio-cultural norms, and institutional values.  

[discovercreate]

How One Woman Used Design as Therapy After Her Divorce — House Call

Name: Dani Loseke, partner, two boys Location: Bloomington, Illinois Years lived in: 7 months, renting

This may sound really cliche, but after my divorce, I used designing and decorating as my own therapy. My goal was to make my home a place where I could come home and feel like I was on a vacation. Before I moved in to this three-bedroom ranch, I lived in a very small, but charming two-bedroom rental. It took me a while to fill my house with furniture and decorations (both bought and made) but I love it and I accomplished my dream. It may be a little too girly for my boys (11 and 14) but they don't complain, although I'm not sure they even notice when I do something different. But this isn't a sad divorce story, because I have a super hot fiance. So I would say this is actually a story of a girl that didn't know she had a knack for decorating (or so she's been told).

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from Apartment Therapy | Saving the world, one room at a time https://ift.tt/2wYE4z5

[ellenesh-blog]

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[smallcommercialrealestateloans]

JLL Arranges Development Financing for Minneapolis-Area Community

Novo. Image courtesy of JLL Capital Markets

Equity has been arranged for the development of NOVO, an apartment community in Richfield, Minn., directly south of Minneapolis. The capital arranged by JLL Capital Markets will go towards building a 192-unit property at 2412 W. 66th St., just east of Southdale Center, the first and oldest fully-enclosed, climate-controlled shopping mall in the U.S.

“COVID slowed the pace of the deal a bit, as it took longer to obtain all necessary signatures with many people working remotely,” Dan Linnell, JLL Capital Markets senior director, told Multi-Housing News. “Once that obstacle was cleared we were able to close. This was due to the strength of the sponsor, the desirability of the project and a great lending partner.”

Developed on a two-acre site west of Penn Avenue and east of the border between the municipalities of Richfield and Edina, NOVO will feature a five-story and three story building constructed above a 246-slot, two-level, heated underground parking garage.

Totalling 202,122 square feet, the property will offer 28 different floorplans in studio, one- and two-bedroom configurations. Luxury features and finishes will include large kitchen islands, stainless steel appliances, tile backsplashes and large closets. A fitness center with dedicated yoga room will be among notable amenities.

In addition to Linnell, the JLL Capital Markets team representing the seller included Senior Directors Josh Talberg and Mox Gunderson and Director Adam Haydon.

Transit conveniences

NOVO’s location will furnish residents with the opportunity to easily access different areas of the Twin Cities and southeast Minnesota. Interstate 35W is directly east of the location, and the Crosstown Hwy., I-494 and Hwy. 100 are also nearby. In addition, residents will be able to access the forthcoming Bus Rapid Transit METRO Orange Line traveling along 35W and linking suburban Bloomington, Burnsville and Richfield to Minneapolis.

Earlier this year, JLL brokered the sale of a Houston senior housing community. 

Original Source of Article

[mastcomm]

After Culinary and Literary Acclaim, She’s Moving to the Woods

NAHMA TOWNSHIP, Mich. — It was only Saturday morning, and already the problems were piling up for Iliana Regan here in the rainy woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

Ms. Regan is a 40-year-old chef from Indiana with a Michelin star who last summer published “Burn the Place,” perhaps the definitive Midwest drunken-lesbian food memoir. On its cover, the chef David Chang calls her one of the best chefs he has ever known.

Ms. Regan and her wife, Anna Hamlin, who is 10 years her junior, have staked their future on these woods, where sight unseen they bought a late-1990s, four-bedroom cabin with pine log walls on 150 acres at the edge of the Hiawatha National Forest. They fixed it up and named it the Milkweed Inn. Last summer, they hosted their first guests.

The dream is that every weekend from May to October, 10 people will each pay $750 to nearly $1,000 to relax in the woods and immerse themselves in what some chefs and writers have started calling “new gatherer” or “deep nature” cooking.

If the chef René Redzepi (also a Regan fan) is the Nordic godfather of a culinary movement that cultivates a deep connection to the surrounding landscape, Ms. Regan is its Greta Thunberg, steering her tiny boat steadily into uncharted waters and attempting a new definition of what it means to be an American chef.

“She’s an example of American pragmatism,” said Mr. Chang, who invited Ms. Regan to cook with him last year at an event in Austin, Texas, and later interviewed her on his podcast. “It’s almost a liberal-arts approach to how she cooks.”

Her plan is counterintuitive: Make the remote inn successful enough so she and Ms. Hamlin can jump off the fame Ferris wheel near its apex and close Elizabeth, the Chicago restaurant on which Ms. Regan built her name.

The restaurant has won a Michelin star six years in a row. Jeff Gordinier, the food and drinks editor for Esquire magazine and a former reporter for The New York Times, called it “a funky, foraged, magic-realist vision of the Midwest” when he included it on his recent list of the last decade’s 40 most important restaurants.

Closing it would be a relief, the women said. No more wondering if they can make payroll or whether the dishwasher will show. No more pressure to scale a concept or seduce an investor or battle the haters on social-media platforms like Yelp, which Ms. Regan described in her memoir as a 10-ton penis relentlessly “boinking you on the head.”

She just wants to write, raise a family and fill her pantry with the wonders of the woods.

“Cooking is something I want to be doing until the end of time,” she said. “But I definitely don’t want to be 55 years old and running Elizabeth.”

On this weekend, with winter bearing down and a compound to secure until the first guests would return in May, it was hard to see how that was going to work.

On Friday night, after the staff at Elizabeth had served the last fresh doughnut dusted with blueberry powder, which capped her 14-dish fall tasting menu, the couple wrangled their three dogs into an S.U.V. and drove six-and-a-half hours to get here.

Around 2 a.m., they got lost on the network of profoundly muddy, one-lane logging roads that lead to the cabin. The next morning, Ms. Regan had to drive back out 25 miles to pick up a reporter and photographer at a minimart near the edge of Lake Michigan because the rain hadn’t stopped and the roads were too rutted for a city car to navigate.

Ms. Regan doesn’t so much arrive as she just appears, quiet as a deer. She looks younger than she is, in round eyeglasses and a yellow Minnesota Vikings watch cap she bought not because she is a fan but because she liked the looks of the Viking.

It’s hard to square the woman who quietly suggests a fried chicken thigh from the gas station as a road snack with the person who, before she got sober 10 years ago, ran away from the police in handcuffs, had sex in bar bathrooms and used her car key to administer bumps of cocaine.

“Because Iliana speaks with this high, gentle, childlike voice, I think some people underestimate her,” Mr. Gordinier wrote in an email. “She’s not an innocent kid lost in the woods. She’s actually the wolf. She’s fierce and independent and hungry.”

After a quick stop to pick apples from what seemed like the only tree in the forest that still held any fruit, we made it to the cabin. Almost immediately and despite the clear warning they give every guest not to pet him, Bear, her beloved Shih Tzu, bit me hard enough on the finger to draw blood.

There were other, bigger problems. Mice had discovered a bag of marshmallows left over from a summer s’mores kit. An enterprising rodent had dragged one into the banneton basket Ms. Regan uses to proof her sourdough bread, and hosted a mouse party.

A Knack for Foraging

Bread plays an outsize role in her life. She makes it from a starter she has been tending like a pet for 15 years. It took her a year to learn how to turn wild yeast and winter wheat flour into a perfect loaf with a hard crust and a custardy heart. She serves it as a separate course at Elizabeth, alongside cultured butter that has been molded into the shape of an owl.

The bread also sustains guests throughout their weekends at the inn, which starts with pierogi and smoked lake trout on Friday and peaks on Saturday with a 15-course dinner that might include wild blueberries in juiced wood sorrel, young milkweed pods fried until the insides turn as silky as cheese, and moose tartare.

“Making a good loaf of bread can entirely change my mood,” she wrote in her memoir. Executed correctly, the day is good no matter what else happens. Screw it up, and she feels sad and worthless.

The mice had ruined the proofing basket, so she improvised with a colander and a dish towel. Temperature and timing were not on her side. When she baked her loaf outdoors in a cast-iron Dutch oven tucked inside a ceramic grill, it emerged misshapen with large holes.

Redemption came in a steamy cup of tea brewed from three kinds of mushrooms, including some black trumpets like the ones she hoped we might find down by the river once the rain stopped. She has been making the dark broth ever since she ran an underground restaurant out of her Chicago apartment a decade ago.

“It’s her ‘Free Bird,’” Ms. Hamlin said.

One sip, and you think maybe they can actually pull this off.

Ms. Regan grew up with three older sisters on a 10-acre farm near Merrillville, Ind. Her bedroom had plywood floors, and the basement always flooded. The barn was crammed with used restaurant equipment, coffee cans filled with old parts and an abandoned light-blue Chevy, where she used to sit and fantasize she was on a date with a pretty girl. An outsider observing her young life, she wrote, might have bet she’d grow up to be an alcoholic transgender trucker carny.

Her mother liked to read Gourmet magazine and make her own pasta. Her father, a steelworker who never met a vegetable he didn’t want to grow, saw early on that she had a knack for finding the last ripe dewberry on a bush.

In an arresting passage in her book, she describes the day he taught her to hunt for chanterelles. She was about 5, and so focused on the task that she lost track of him. A drunk uncle who she recalls was always telling her what a pretty little girl she was, picked her up from behind and carried her into a dilapidated cabin. A family friend was inside, saving her, perhaps, from something terrible. He took her back to her father. As they headed to the car with their bags of mushrooms, a tornado spun through the sand and swept the family to the ground. When they finally made it home, her father placed her on a stool next to the stove and taught her how to carefully cook the chanterelles with red wine and butter.

“This was the day I slighted fate and became a chef,” she wrote.

By 15, she was already a hard worker, grinding it out in small-town restaurants. She was drinking, too. And chasing women. She tried studying chemistry at Indiana University Bloomington but realized she wanted to write, so she got a creative writing degree from Columbia College Chicago.

In between classes, she worked in restaurant kitchens, eventually landing a job waiting tables and expediting food at Trio, the restaurant the chef Grant Achatz ran before Alinea, where she also worked for him.

Despite the insight that comes with maturity and a decade of working the steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, she can still obsess over criticism and the backbiting gossip endemic in professional kitchens. To wit, she had heard that Mr. Achatz didn’t think much of her.

Not so, he said in an interview. “There is a certain amount of honesty there that resonates,” he said. “She’s not playing the game.”

In 2008, Ms. Regan began selling food she made or grew at farmers’ markets, including warm pierogi she stuffed with beets and sautéed in butter. Chicago Magazine named them the best pierogi in the city. Two years later, she started a small underground restaurant with an elaborate menu in her apartment. Fans encouraged her to start a traditional restaurant and were willing to back her.

Ms. Regan opened Elizabeth in 2012, naming it after a beloved sister who was a drinker, too. She died, possibly from a stroke, during a night in jail that followed a fight with her husband.

Success, and Stranger Things

Elizabeth is a small restaurant tucked between a tire shop and a soccer supply store in a north-side Chicago neighborhood. The open kitchen in the back feels like something your well-off friends who like to cook might set up until their loft got remodeled. The décor is deeply personal, with thrift-store teacups and antlers and Funko figurines. In the bathroom, a collection of small logs leans against the toilet. A thoughtfully considered shelf holds bobby pins and a marble box of tampons.

It was here that Ms. Regan learned to weed out the arrogant young male chefs who challenged her authority and to temper her own tendencies to either withdraw or yell like a coyote and fire people if things weren’t done properly. She taught herself to become, in her words, a girl boss.

“I can’t really say I have gone to chef ladies for advice necessarily,” she said. Part of it is simple shyness, or maybe respect for their time. When she went to Sqirl in Los Angeles recently, she didn’t tell the chef, Jessica Koslow, that she was coming even though the two had cooked together before and had spent time together in Copenhagen at Mr. Redzepi’s MAD conference.

She just ate, and left a copy of her book. “I know how much pressure there is when another chef calls you up and says they’re coming in,” Ms. Regan said.

Ms. Koslow was disappointed but understood. “She’s just so cool by even doing that, for being someone who doesn’t need to be recognized,” she said. “She is just trying to be her, and that’s so refreshing.”

Doug Seibold, who runs Agate Publishing in Evanston, Ill., has an imprint dedicated to Midwestern literature. He had been following Ms. Regan’s career, and reached out five years ago, thinking she might want to do a cookbook. She didn’t, but she was interested in a memoir. It came out in July. By December, several publications had picked it as one of the year’s best.

“I think some people were unprepared for a Michelin-starred chef to be the daughter of a steelworker union rep who grew up with sisters who were drunk and fighting all the time,” Mr. Seibold said.

The memoir made the long list for the National Book Awards, the first time a food book landed there in nearly 40 years. The September morning the list was announced, she and Ms. Hamlin woke up to dozens of messages. They had no idea what had happened.

“I had to actually look up the National Book Award,” Ms. Regan said. “It was a huge shock.”

She is working on her second book. It’s about foraging, but also about inherited trauma and her family’s cooking lineage.

The book advances were small, and went right back into the restaurant. The couple relies mostly on income from cooking classes and Elizabeth’s popular theme menus, which can cost close to $600 for two with wine and can last three or four hours.

Ms. Regan created one inspired by the television show “Stranger Things,” and prepared her “Game of Thrones” menu by reading all five books and highlighting every food reference. During November, the theme was 1980s Nintendo. The menu featured dishes like a Super Mario mushroom built from a root-beer leaf with Meyer lemon and a slice of black truffle sandwiched between brick pastry.

“I basically gauge how far she is willing to go,” said Ms. Hamlin, who is as animated as her wife is introspective. She grew up in a Southern Indiana restaurant family, and fell for Ms. Regan when she was working for a wine distributor and landed the Elizabeth account. Now she is a full partner, running service, worrying about staff and matching beverages as eclectic as the food.

They also offer an elegant, seasonal tasting menu, which is so personal it can restore an eater’s faith in a format that has become cliché. Late last fall, she served a dense, rosy slice of duck that had been dry-aged for three weeks, with a sauce made from the apples and wild cranberries we had harvested together at Milkweed a month earlier.

Still, 2019 was a tough year, even though the book was a hit and they hosted their first guests at the inn. Ms. Regan had to close her two other Chicago businesses: Bunny, the Micro Bakery, which had been entangled with a difficult investor, and Kitsune, a 24-seat mash-up of Japan and the American Midwest that was a critical darling when it opened in 2017.

The closings were a blow to her ego, but she had to consolidate. It was the only way to save Elizabeth, expand the inn and create some semblance of a balanced family life.

“Everybody around me seemed to be, like: ‘Hashtag-cheflife, it’s all good,’ ” Ms. Regan told Mr. Chang on his podcast, “and I’m like, what are they talking about?”

She also had a miscarriage last year. Ms. Hamlin has medical challenges, so it’s up to Ms. Regan to carry their child. More attempts to get pregnant haven’t worked yet, but they’re trying.

On Their Own

The Milkweed Inn is all Pendleton blankets, deer taxidermy and wood smoke. The water pressure is great, and the basement is filled with new fishing gear and inflatable kayaks. A copy of the 2016 Best New Chefs edition of Food & Wine is in one bathroom. There Ms. Regan is on the cover, the only woman in a sea of 10 men.

You can rent one of three rooms inside the house, a platform tent or the tiny Airstream trailer the couple took around the country to cook pop-up dinners in 2018. It has a bumper sticker that reads “Ted Bundy was a Republican,” which is just one reason the handful of people who own hunting cabins nearby were initially suspicious of the two women.

After a walk to look for mushrooms, Ms. Hamlin removed the orange vests the dogs have to wear during hunting season. Ms. Regan was busy sweeping the new wood floor. She had two walleyes hanging by their lips over a fire outdoors, and a pile of chores to do before they left the next day.

Talk turned to what little progress has been made for women in the restaurant business and whether her book would become a movie and just what it means to homestead a new life here.

Ms. Hamlin is still adjusting.

“I know we’re safer here than when we’re in the city, but I am scared of bears and I’m scared of old white men sometimes,” she said. “This can be quite isolating.”

“That’s why I like it,” Ms. Regan said. She slipped on a jacket and headed outside to check on the fish.

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The Top 10 U.S. Cities to Buy Your Starter Home—or Your Forever Home

iStock; realtor.com

Get ready for a real estate tsunami—two of ’em, in fact. America’s largest-ever generations, millennials and baby boomers, are entering their prime home-buying years at the same time! But while most millennials are prowling the market for affordable starter homes that will enable them to move out of Mom and Dad’s basement or finally trade in their apartment keys for deeds, older Americans are often seeking “forever homes” with amenities and flexible, universal designs that will enable them to seamlessly transition into their twilight years—and maybe even party like it’s1999. Or 1979.

Where are the top cities to find these different places? Realtor.com set out to find the best metros in America to find starter homes and forever homes.

So what defines each type of abode? More than anything else, it comes down to customer needs—where folks find themselves on the great home-buying journey of life. It isn’t just about age: After all, some folks wait until their 40s or 50s to buy their first home, while some young buyers opt for a starter home they intend to stay in, well, forever.

That said, there’s a reason why the ranks of both forever homes and starter homes are swelling exponentially right now. Millennials have waited longer than previous generations to settle down and buy homes, not always by choice—student debt and high home prices delayed pulling the trigger. But now that they’re getting married and having kids of their own, more and more are settling into their first homes, making them the nation’s largest group of buyers. And the biggest chunk of them are just now hitting their 30s!

On the other end of the spectrum are the retiring or downsizing baby boomers, searching for homes where they can age in place. Many are holding onto their careers longer, and 1 in 3 has yet to reach age 65. So they’re just now hitting the market en masse.

Homes for both groups tend to be smaller—under 2,000 square feet—and located in walkable areas. But in other respects there are some key differences.

Millennials “want to buy near their jobs and amenities. But affordability is the key factor—they are looking for something they can buy without getting over their head,” says Chris Porter, the chief demographer at John Burns Real Estate Consulting in Irvine, CA. “And boomers are retiring and moving to warm climates. … They want a home that requires less upkeep and in a walkable community.”

For both rankings, we looked at the 250 largest metropolitan areas.* We limited each ranking to one metro per state to ensure geographic diversity.

To find the top places for buying a starter home, we factored in these criteria**:

Percentage of home buyers aged 35 and younger

Percentage of typically more affordable homes under 2,000 square feet

Median down payment (the lower, the better)

Median mortgage borrower’s FICO score (the lower, the better)

Percentage of income of those aged 35 and younger going toward median monthly housing costs

To find the top places for buying a forever home, we factored in these criteria**:

Percentage of residents aged 60 and older

Median list price

Number of homes adapted for seniors, looking at realtor.com listings with keywords such as “universal design,” “ground-floor master suite,” “senior-friendly,” and “no-step entry”

Ratio of home health aides per senior

Number of folks aged 55 and older moving in

So let’s start out by taking a tour of the top spots for folks leaping into homeownership for the first time.

Top metros for starter homes

Tony Frenzel

The top 10 places to buy a starter home 1. Lake Charles, LA

Median list price: $235,100 Share of buyers aged 35 and younger: 56%

A reason to go back to Lake Charles, LA?

realtor.com

Cracking open a seasoned crawfish is just a way of life in Lake Charles, about three hours west of New Orleans. But just a short drive from the Gulf of Mexico, this midsize city isn’t just about Cajun food. It also offers plenty of gigs at all levels, giving young workers the cash they need to buy that affordably priced first home.

“We’re more of a blue-collar area, but everybody’s making money,” says Tommy Eastman, a real estate broker at Flavin Realty in Lake Charles. A lot of the first-time buyers he works with grew up in the area and work at nearby petrochemical or natural gas plants.

With prices and mortgage rates already so low and with rents rising, it can be cheaper to own than to rent. Many two-bedroom apartments are going for upward of $1,500 per month, Eastman says. Folks here can easily score a mortgage for less than that.

Homes are so affordable here, about 20.7% less than the national median, that plenty of first-time buyers are purchasing newly constructed abodes. And builders are responding to this demand, putting up lots of new subdivisions to the north and west of the city. Three-bedroom, two-bath homes in these neighborhoods go for around $200,000.

Just check out this three-bedroom home with a two-car garage in the Oak Grove subdivision priced at $199,900.

2. Provo, UT

Median list price: $377,500 Share of buyers aged 35 and younger: 51%

A 2,000-square-foot home in Provo, UT

realtor.com

In recent years, Provo’s cultivated a growing startup and tech scene. But despite all of the growth in this city situated between Utah Lake and snow-capped Provo Peak, it’s still relatively affordable compared with other big tech destinations.

The price tag here might sound a little high, but homes go for a median $393,000 in Salt Lake City, about 45 minutes north of Provo—or for that matter $999,000 in San Jose, CA, in the heart of Silicon Valley.

The typical down payment here is just 6%, a much lower barrier for younger buyers than other higher-priced cities. Provo also boasts a down payment assistance program for first-time home buyers, which includes assistance of up to $10,000. The city makes them put down at least $1,000, and they must repay half of that amount if they sell the home within their first two years of ownership.

Many of these young professionals are buying starter homes in suburban neighborhoods such as Cedar Hills, where there are lots of family-friendly ranch homes. These homes are usually under 2,000 square feet, so they’re substantially cheaper than their larger counterparts nearby.

3. Appleton, WI

Median list price: $227,700 Share of buyers aged 35 and younger: 53%

A two-story, 100-year-old home in the neighborhood of City Park

realtor.com

This Wisconsin city is known for its beer. On the weekends, places like the Appleton Beer Factory and the Fox River Brewery are hopping (no pun intended). But aspiring homeowners aren’t just spending their free time downing pints—they’re out there dominating the Appleton housing market. Young buyers make up more than half of those purchasing homes.

“You can get a lot of home for your money,” says Carolyn Stark, a real estate agent at Keller Williams Fox Cities. The median home price in Appleton is 24% lower than the national median.

Appleton is home to employers such as Kimberly-Clark Corp. (maker of Huggies and other consumer products), a Fortune 500 company. And the typical household income for 25- to 34-year-olds is $68,108. That’s 16% more than what they earn in Milwaukee and 3% more than in Chicago—two bigger cities where homes cost more than in Appleton. In fact, last year, realtor.com named Appleton the top market for millennial home buyers.

So, the word is getting out. But cash-strapped buyers can still find deals in places such as City Park, a walkable neighborhood with two-story, 100-year-old homes with around 1,600 square feet priced around $120,000.

4. Bloomington, IL

Median list price: $150,000 Share of buyers aged 35 and younger: 43%

A home for $60,000 in Bloomington, IL

realtor.com

Many places across the nation are experiencing a historic shortage of homes for sale—with a scarcity of homes offered at prices low enough for most first-time buyers to afford. That couldn’t be further from the truth in Bloomington, a small city two hours south of Chicago. Finding a home priced under $100,000 isn’t hard if they know where they look. Hint, head to the southwest part of town.

“A lot of students stay after they graduate,” says Becky Gerig, a broker at Re/Max Choice in Bloomington. Entry-level buyers make up the bulk of her clients, and they’re often recent graduates of local colleges like Illinois Wesleyan University who go on to work at companies like insurance provider State Farm, which is headquartered there.

“They can find homes sometimes at $60,000 to $70,000,” says Gerig.

Many of the homes here are single-family homes with porches, built in the 1940s. Bargain hunters can find fixer-uppers such as this one for just $60,000.

5. Amarillo, TX

Median list price: $227,000 Share of buyers aged 35 and younger: 46%

Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, TX

fdastudillo/iStock

One of Amarillo’s claims to fame is the Cadillac Ranch, with its array of colorfully spray-painted vintage cars half buried in the ground and sitting straight up like Stonehenge. But don’t confuse the luxury cars as a sign of high local home prices. Amarillo is a low-cost, Texas Panhandle city, sitting at the gateway to the Palo Duro Canyon State Park, about an hour east of New Mexico. First-time buyers here can have their pick of abodes.

“Builders went crazy last year,” says Cinda Lovato, a Realtor®. “There are so many new homes, from as low as $150,000.”

Starter-home seekers are flocking to suburban neighborhoods like Saturn Terrace, where they can find three-bedroom, 1,400-square-foot ranches for under $200,000. Some of these buyers are even as old as 40 or 50 and are tired of renting instead of owning, Lovato says.

“Rent on a three-bedroom, two-bath house is typically $1,500,” she says. “If they bought the home, [the mortgage could] be less than $1,000.”

The rest of the top 10 metros for starter homes are Huntington, WV; Lafayette, IN; Fargo, ND; Waterloo, IA; and Syracuse, NY. 

Now let’s look at the best places for folks who are staring down retirement—and beyond.

Top metros for forever homes

Tony Frenzel

The 10 top places to buy a forever home 1. Punta Gorda, FL

Median list price: $280,000 Share of buyers aged 60 and older: 47%

Newly built, two-bedroom villa in Punta Gorda, FL

realtor.com

No one wants to live through a devastating hurricane and then spend their golden years rebuilding their homes. That’s why many retirees are heading to Punta Gorda, about an hour and a half south of Tampa. The city was devastated by Hurricane Charley in 2004. In the wake of the tragedy, lots of homes designed to withstand powerful storms have been built. Affordable prices and no state income taxes are big draws for retirees looking for a down-to-earth community on the water.

“We’re a boomtown,” says Patricia McGuire, a local real estate professional with Coldwell Banker Sunstar Realty. Last month realtor.com named Punta Gorda the fastest-growing retirement town in America.

All those incoming baby boomers mean home builders don’t get a lot of free time. They tend to favor newly built, two-bedroom villas priced around $200,000 with granite countertops and two-car garages (to store all the stuff left over from their larger previous homes). First-floor condos are also popular with this set, McGuire says.

2. Prescott, AZ

Median list price: $400,000 Share of buyers aged 60 and older: 54%

Home in Victorian Estates in Prescott, AZ

realtor.com

Prescott tends to attract wealthier, active retirees and soon-to-be retirees who prefer a hike or bike ride in the mountains over hanging out at senior centers. The city is situated between the Prescott National Forest and the Coconino National Forest.

The typical forever homes in Prescott are one-story houses priced around $250,000 with a garage and big driveway—all the better to park the RV.

The metro is also home to plenty of 55-plus communities such as Victorian Estates. The gated community boasts 178 single-family homes ranging from about 1,000 to 1,700 square feet with open floor plans, a clubhouse, outdoor pool, and even weekly poker nights. Homes there start at $279,000.

But places here don’t come cheap—that’s why we earlier named it one of the most expensive retirement towns in America. You can thank former Californians for that. They can sell their big homes in the Golden State for a bundle and still have enough to buy in Prescott and put some dough in the bank. But they’re driving prices up for everyone else.

3. Myrtle Beach, SC

Median list price: $244,800 Share of buyers aged 60 and older: 46%

Condo development in Myrtle Beach, SC

realtor.com

Myrtle Beach isn’t just for souvenir vendors and vacationers. Over the years this tourist mecca has seen a steady increase of older folks buying up dream retirement homes or second homes just minutes from the beach.

They’re drawn by the inexpensive housing, warm weather, and relatively low cost of living. And because Myrtle Beach is a tourist hot spot, there are already lots of fun things to do in the area, like taking a ride on the SkyWheel (a 187-foot Ferris wheel).

Some folks looking ahead to retirement will snag a permanent lot at a seaside campground, where they can live full time out of their camper and even build things like porches around it. Costs for a campground site at Pirateland Camping Resort start at $15,000 per year. Other folks are buying one-bedroom condos in beachfront high-rises priced around $120,000.

4. Salisbury, MD

Median list price: $310,000 Share of buyers aged 60 and older: 39%

Ranch home in Salisbury, MD

realtor.com

The popular HGTV show “House Hunters” followed J.D. and Jenny Schroen in 2017 as they searched for their forever home in Salisbury. They wanted something big, around 4,000 square feet, and under $600,000. They ended up buying a home for $315,000 and giving it a six-figure overhaul.

Forever-home buyers in Salisbury can either go the fixer-upper route of the Schroens or choose from lots of new, rambler-style homes that were built with older buyers in mind. These places usually have open floor plans, wood flooring, and granite countertops, and can be found for under $200,000.

Salisbury isn’t as much of a de facto retirement town as many of the other places on our list. But with a population with an average age of 45, it does have lots of folks starting to think ahead and choosing to stay put.

5. Asheville, NC

Median list price: $372,300 Share of buyers aged 60 and older: 27%

Asheville, NC

SeanPavonePhoto/iStock

Asheville isn’t the place to find forever homes on a shoestring budget. But this lively place filled with boutiques, breweries, and art galleries in the Blue Ridge Mountains continues to see young and old alike moving in.

“Arts and culture are really important in Asheville,” says Molly de Mattos, a broker in Asheville. “We have a big live-music scene, but we don’t have big venues. The retirees appreciate the small, more intimate venues.”

Older buyers often prefer single-family homes in walkable neighborhoods, like Montford, with houses that have outdoor patios or porches. Usually these homes are priced around $350,000 to $600,000. The buyers come from all over, but particularly California.

“People are tired of paying millions of dollars for a home, so they retire here knowing they can get a really nice house for $500,000 and have money to play with,” de Mattos says.

Hey, Asheville’s nickname of the “San Francisco of the East” didn’t come out of thin air.

The rest of the top 10 metros for forever homes are Roanoke, VA; 

The Top 10 U.S. Cities to Buy Your Starter Home—or Your Forever Home