#Diamondback Grill
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The Man Who Ate the Town Podcast Episode 232
In Episode #2, proudly recorded in the Omniverus Studios at Liberty Plaza:
Tim discusses:
It’s Negroni Week, and The Katharine Bar & Brasserie are participating. From September 18-24, buy an $18 Negroni at The Katharine, and a large portion of that will go to Slow Food, an organization uniting the joy of food with the pursuit of justice and dismantling oppressive food systems to achieve good,…
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#Diamondback Grill#Eat Local#Mojito Latin Soul Food#Omniverus#PodernFamily#The Less Desirables Network#The Man Who Ate the Town#WSNC#WSNC Food#WSNC Foodie
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Stripped Bare (Severen x f!reader)
Summary: After your least favorite person on the planet manages to singlehandedly ruin your night, you find yourself waiting out the timer on a washing machine in the dusty laundromat of a lonely desert hotel. But the night is still young and yields some . . . unexpected results.
Notes: Ugh . . . this is like 17.7k words. Yeah, this really got away from me. Funny after literal months of struggling to write that a gritty possum of a man from an obscure 1987 vampire film would be the one to light a fire under my ass. But this is literally just word vomit and some porn.
Warnings: This is an 18+ post, so kindly go somewhere else if you're underage. Mentions of cannon typical violence, death, blood is referenced an obscene number of times, the reader is lowkey a bitch (but it is a very intentional characterization), both Severen and the reader are absolute dumbasses, feelings realization, fluff, blood drinking, they're both switches, like one spank, oral sex (f! receiving), rough sex. Lemme know if I missed anything!
This is so far the last part of an ongoing series but can be read as a standalone. Master List.
The noise was almost unbearable. The high pitched repetitive metallic squeal of a machine on its last leg. An announcement of its impending departure, a final outcry, a plea for help maybe. A damned migraine is what it is.
You can't help the glare that you shoot it out of the corner of your eyes. That damn fan. Pathetically whining in the corner of the room while the head rotates on its stand, leisurely pivoting back and forth like it's not shrieking like nails on a chalk board. The colorful plastic array of tassels tied to the grill of the fan wave in the air that it tiredly spits out, sunny yellow, hot pink, a calm blue. All otherwise pretty colors that almost seem jarring underneath the sickly light that the old fluorescents cast. There's a bunch of dead flies stuck in the lights. Their poor withered bodies lie on the cloudy glass, almost as if on display.
There's about a million other ways you would like to be spending your night. Perhaps strolling down an isolated street, peeking into the windows of people's houses from the sidewalk, smiling at or judging their choice of entertainment broadcasted from their television (it's still shocking to you the number of people that leave their curtains open) finally enjoying a moment to yourself, or maybe you could be at the local bar - what was it? The Oasis? . . . No. The Mirage. Yeah, that's it. One of the rare few bars that hasn't been desecrated and set alight by the Hooker clan.
Your unfortunate victims are the ones that had supplied your group with the key to your current place of rest. The room has a strange beach motif. Which is odd because you're in the middle of the New Mexico desert and nowhere near the ocean.
They had also supplied you with the keys to their RV which Severen had fished out the husband's back pocket before promptly dropping his limp body on the floor.
You could be out right now. Enjoying the night, the cool air that follows the darkness in the desert. You could be sitting at the bar right now sipping on a drink that you admittedly don't have much of a taste for anymore, but you still get a buzz. Maybe you would have met a cute local by now if this hole-in-the wall town actually has any good-looking men. Not that you have your hopes up based off of the little settlements that Jesse or Diamondback usually stick to. Random, quaint towns that just happen to dot the backcountry routes you take. Unimportant, small, places that no one ever notices. That's why they're so great for feeding. No one pays attention to a body or two, or dozen or even a bar going up in flames in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.
Again - great for feeding. But not fucking.
The people who populate these places or typically retirees in some facet of the word. Veterans of war, old ranchers and farmers, strung out criminals running from the law, or simply quiet people trying to escape the stress and noise of the city. But often times people around your age have already fled, ran off to greener pastures to make a life for themselves that doesn't involve the bored scrutiny that comes with tiny settlements or the same old routine of working at the local mechanics shop or building the same old fences.
Maybe that's why Mae snatched up Caleb when she had the chance.
Probably the first pretty face she's seen in a while. Plus, he has all of his teeth.
You should be out there drinking, flirting and having fun. Pretending you're still fucking normal. And even if you didn't find some guy to take home (well not home. The bathroom or alley way is more than likely) at least you could enjoy yourself and unwind.
But instead, you're here at 3 a.m. at night sitting on a hard plastic chair in the motels adjacent laundromat listening to that shitty fan sputter and squeak and the low churning of the wash machine. All because a certain cowboy decided that he has the manners and discipline of a five-year-old.
Ever since crossing over you've done your best not to step on anyone's toes especially when it comes to the act of feeding. They clearly had a system for it, no matter how rudimentary it is. Structure in chaos or whatever. Clear rules to follow. Who you prey on, where, when. But the act of feeding itself? They never seemed to have a fear of leaving evidence. Blood, carnage, panic. It all came hand in hand with feeding. Any leftover traces would be burned to a crisp anyway. So why worry about how messy you were?
But you did. Perhaps it was something you'd grow out of with the coming years. Why worry about tedious things like blood when you have eternity stretching out in front of you like an unpaved road? There are bigger things to worry about.
But it's also about the hedonism. The blood, the hunger, the adrenaline, the heady scent of fear in the air while your prey looks down at you like a scared animal. They all got off on it.
And despite all of your new instincts yelling at you to drown yourself in the warm red, to lick it off of the floor like an animal without a conscious you've always managed to ignore it. Maybe you were just trying to hold onto whatever shred of human ideals you have left but leaving the scene of the crime drenched in blood never felt right. It was bitter. It was betrayal.
The only time you truly let go of your inhibitions was the first time you truly fed. After holding yourself back from these alien instincts, these horrid dangerous thoughts and cravings, you caved. After three grueling days of ignoring the call, despite Caleb's words of encouragement (even though they came from a place of understanding) and clenching your jaw shut whenever Severen tried to pry your mouth open and spit his blood into your mouth you held back. Until you couldn't anymore.
Despite the reality check that comes with being soaked in blood you also can't stand to deal with the mess. Unfortunately, as a bunch of traveling criminal vagabonds bathing can be few and far between, something that took a while to accept. Truck stops, rivers and stolen motel rooms serving as the only way to shower. So, you do your best to keep as clean as possible, often stealing a pack of baby wipes if you happen across a gas station that has them in stock or a 24-hour grocery store.
You don't like the mess and the feelings that comes with it. It's easy to ignore your lost humanity when you're under the haze of hunger, the temptation of feeding, but when the drunken hunger wears off and your left with the startling clarity that you aren't exactly you anymore. You don't need any reminders. The others knew about your boundary. They respected it even if they didn't understand it. Apart from maybe Caleb or Mae. It was a line they didn't cross no matter how excited or caught up in the moment they were.
Well, all except for Severen. Of course.
The reason why you're washing clothes in the middle of the fucking night when you should be out enjoying yourself. Maybe you should take some of the blame for having expectations of a dog in a man's body. You would think that being alive since the 1800s would give you plenty of time to develop some manners. Who are you kidding, he wouldn't know a boundary if it sat on his face. It's your fault for expecting so much of him.
Wait - no, no, it's definitely his fault. He knows how much you hate all the blood.
If you didn't know any better, you would think that he waited to tear into the poor husband's throat just as you were passing by. If the way that he looked at you was anything to go by, you were correct in that assumption.
He had made eye contact with you while his teeth sunk into the man's flesh, the crystal blue was electric with a depraved sort of glee. The corners of his bloody lips were perked up around the hold of his victim's throat, like he was privy to a joke that you weren't.
When he tore into the artery the blood had splattered across the interior of the RV like something out of a low budget B rated horror film. It coated the fake wooden walls and the beige cloth seats. It also splattered over you. Staining your shirt and jeans. You had frozen, arms raised and tense in the air while you fought between the kneejerk reactions of either punching him or simply walking away. Gasping on oxygen that you really didn't need anymore, muscle shaking with restrained anger all while he chuckled and licked at the spurting gash. He looked so proud of himself. Truly the cat that got the cream. Smirking underneath a layer of haunting red dripping from his chin in heavy rivulets.
You cleaned what you could from yourself in the mobile home's compact bathroom, wiping the blood from your skin as best as you could with the roll of toilette paper provided on the boarder of the tiny sink, unable to find any washcloths or towels inside the restroom cabinets. Trying to forget the way that his eyes had gleamed at you in a sadistic shade of cerulean, the glitter of crimson across his cheeks and nose. His lethal smirk, all sharp teeth and bad intentions. Or the way that he always licks his lips clean after a kill-
Take advantage of patterns like polka dots, rhombuses, squares and stripes to liven up your home - God, like you gave a shit about any of this stuff. You clutch the sides of the magazine tighter threatening to crumple up the pages, hard enough for the ends of your nails to leave crescent shaped intendents on the glazed sheets of paper. The wash machine is still thrumming away, and the fan is squealing in the corner like a wounded pig but what's really getting you is the bastard behind a row of washing machines clinging to a laundry cart like it's an amusement park ride, launching himself down the aisle over and over again. Lurching down across the pale tiles until he meets the wall of dryers and pushing himself off in the opposite direction until he meets the same fate. Over and over again. Like that fucking fan.
It really is a concept that you still haven't fully grasped onto. That he is the reason that your life isn't the same. That you'll never be able to go back to the person that you were before. You couldn't let go of this life. Even if you wanted to. And he's why. Someone you used to fear. That you had looked upon with cold trepidation. He was unpredictable, inhumane, deadly. Still is of course but having insights to all of his little quirks has made him human in a way. Sort of funny considering that you've seen him rip out a man's liver with his bare hands and laugh at the carnage.
But behind the bravado and rough jagged edges there's tiny little cracks in the armor that could almost make him endearing if he didn't have the personality of sweltering garbage cooking in the summer sun.
The way he minutely cringes at the sound of pop music on the radio his eyebrows furrowing and lips curling like he ate something sour, usually followed by a wise quip; how he prefers the blood of someone who's in the noon of their life, not too sweet but not too aged; how he hates the taste of tequila and whiskey specifically; his extreme sensitivity to synthetic fragrances like scented candles and colognes. You all have more heightened senses now, but he seems to struggle with it the most often dramatically retching like he's going for an Oscar whenever he feeds from a person with a heavy aftershave or perfume.
He does still know some Dutch despite it being incredibly underutilized. Having no one to talk to in his parents' native language you've caught him muttering to himself in the secondary tongue. You once found him reading a book in the language and Severen never reads. You assume it's all in an effort to hold onto that tiny piece of his past despite how much he shit talks the fact that he used to be human. You were there when he had crossed paths with an old trucker in a grimy dive bar. Seen the way that he perked up when he caught hint of the mans accented English. You watched from the pool table, marveling at the sight in between the shots you took at the striped pool balls. You don't know if you've ever seen him so . . . casual? Seated across the from the lithe greying man, laughing at the trucker's jokes (you assumed they were jokes but you have no way of knowing for sure), the pair rambling back in forth in Dutch. There was a lively twinkling look in Severen's eyes. A young sort of excitement that you hadn't seen from him before. Not the sadistic violet sort of excitement but a sort of relieved childlike wonder.
He did end up eating the man of course, but it was still sweet to see him in such a way.
There's also his hatred for cops which is admittedly telegraphed by the number of badges stuck to the breasts of his jacket, but you've also gathered that the hatred was personal. And based of the tiny context clues that Jesse has given offhand, and little comments here and there from Severen, you've figured that a sheriff or marshal (or several) may have played a critical role in his human life. You had mentioned it once to him before, a mindless thought that had slipped your tongue and based off of the dangerous way that his body had tensed you had figured yourself right.
But it still shocks you that this man is the cause of your new life. The man rolling down the aisle on a cart like a bored child, humming a choppy unrecognizable tune underneath his breath, sometimes outright shouting at random intervals.
"Uh, why are you here?" Your voice cracks through the background noise like an indifferent whip. The fan, the washer, the dim whine of the laundry carts singular protesting wheel. You clutch the Better Homes magazine in your hands tighter as soon as you register your own question. Like a lifeline. You try and focus on the pale hum of the washing machine, the distant pulsating sound of the sun that's halfway across the globe, the troubling squeal of the fan but none - not even the sound of that heinous fan compared to the dull grind of the cart's wheels spinning slower and slower. Losing momentum one second at a time until it meets a complete dead stop in the middle of the aisle. His singing cuts off all together.
You tear your gaze up from a paragraph declaring that baby pink was the way to go for your bathroom and regretfully gaze up for the pages and past the row of washers to see leather clad shoulders and a head of dark hair.
He tilts his head down a bit lowering it just enough to peer at you from over his dark shades and fixes you with a stare. He's still clutching onto the bars of the linen carts hanging line. The nasty yellow fluorescents are shading flecks of gold onto his hair and blood still stains his wife beater.
Thank God there aren't any security cameras in this place.
That sadistic glint flickers across his face. That look he gets when he's got prey in his sights. A poor soul that doesn't realize the scope of the situation that they're in.
It immediately sets you on edge.
"Unfortunately, the girl I turned is a pussy who doesn't know how to enjoy a meal, " he taunts, gripping the cart before shoving it off into the nearby wall of dryers with a bang. Loud enough that you hope the neighboring rooms don't hear and complain. "Imagine that" he snarks, nudging his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.
You can't help the scoff that escapes you plopping the magazine on the out of place mini coffee table next to your seat, a few sprinkles of dust shooting into the air from the impact.
"Well unfortunately I'm here because a certain idiot I know has no manners, " you snap, nails digging into the palms of your hands. " And that wasn't an answer to my question."
He's entirely still for a moment like a predator assessing a wounded coyote in its path, head cocked and contemplating. But despite the once over he's still smiling. Calm collected and cocky. Your least favorite version of Severen- not that there's any other version.
"Since your still so timid and inept I worry about leavin' ya on your own, ya know. Someone might take a bite out of ya. " He chuckles and scratches at the tip of his nose. " Ya know. Like I did."
You nearly snarl at that little taunt having to physically restrain yourself from rising to the jab. And he knows it too. Licking at his chaps like a dog with a bone. But it's all bullshit and that's exactly his game. Since when did he give a shit about what you did? Ever since he turned you, he's constantly seesawed between emotions in a way that gives you whiplash. The most consistent he's ever been, was when he had first turned you. All of the interest that he had showed in you seemed to have come from a place of curiosity and personal entertainment rather than the genuine desire to help you learn your new, forced place in the world. You understand that it was an accident, something that neither of you had wanted but considering that he had agreed to take you in upon realizing that you'd turned your sympathy for him tends to fall short.
He had been unwavering and aggressive in his attempts to get you to feed. Often tearing into the throat of victims himself and at times even his own wrist to take the blood into his mouth so that he could try and force feed you like some deranged mother bird. And you'd clench your jaw together with enough force that you'd worry that your teeth would break. And he would tear away from you like he'd combust if he stared at you for a second longer spewing swears and curses that would make a convict blush.
It was often Caleb who would do his best to guide you with a gentle nudge. Not a desperate shove like Severen. He would come to you from a place of understanding. Being the most recently turned apart from yourself, his conversations with you came from a place of understanding. He would occasionally seach you out, like on the night uptop a travel trailer where you sat staring up into the void of darkness and the twinkling dots of light above like it might give you an answer if you searched hard enough. He had smiled briefly at the sky before turning to face you, who had yet to return the gesture but watched him from your peripheral vision. He went on to explain that Severen was the least understanding of the group - no shit - but it came from the fact that he simply couldn't relate. From what Caleb had heard of Severen's past, he had left his human life behind and accepted eternity with open armed enthusiasm.
Maybe it wasn't Severen's fault for not understanding your struggle, but it certain wasn't your fault for not accepting your fate with the apparent joy that he had. To turn your back on yourself and the family you had waiting for you. Who you hoped was still waiting for you.
"Jus' be careful, " Caleb had warned softly. " The hunger, I mean. It becomes unbearable. You think it's bad now. " He looked down at your hands shaking weakly in your lap, jittering from fatigue and the empty pit in your stomach. " But soon it'll feel like all you are is hunger. You won't know where you begin and where it ends. And it'll make you dangerous. "
You should have listened. Maybe then you wouldn't have found yourself standing over the lifeless of a body of an innocent woman that you had apparently torn into like a mindless animal. Lost, alone and covered in blood.
Severen has always used that horrid night in Texas as a reason to get you to feed. "At least know you can choose who ya kill, instead of pouncing on every poor fucker who crosses your path like a wildcat. " He's correct of course. That if you force yourself to drink every night, you'll keep the clarity to properly choose a target. But that's what angers you the most. That he's right. That if you had just listened to him and fed when he told you to that the innocent woman who just wanted to help. That in your attempt to keep your humanity, you had lost a piece of it.
After the incident, your relationship with Severen became . . . odd. Not to say that it wasn't before. You've always been oil and water, but some of the trepidation he had previously felt for seemed to have thawed after you had succumbed to your urges and successfully fed. Though he still can't seem to decide where you sit with him. Flipflopping between being a sarcastic cold bully to a clingy and overprotective ass, regularly trying to join you on your hunts despite having proven time and time again that there's no longer a reason to suspect you of fleeing. He always tries to weasel himself in between you and your targeted victim for the night. Barreling in with the subtly of a bull, usually taunting the men into an unnecessary altercation just so he has an excuse to swing on them and steal your kill for himself. "They woulda been too much trouble for ya anyway, babycakes."
That's another one, all of the horrid, mocking pet names: sweetheart, sugar, honey, spitfire, wildcat, an obscene usage of baby. And kitten. All a means to get under your skin.
It seems that you have blessing of dealing with clingy Severen tonight. What joy. The disbelieving laugh that leaves you is unrestrained, purposeful even. You thread your fingers together, turning your head to admire the soda vending machine across from you, suddenly finding the array of soft drinks fascinating.
"Oh, I think I can handle myself now, " you plaster a fake smile on your face reaching for the recently abandoned magazine. After all you still haven't figured out what a trendy kitchen from 1980 looks like.
Then he's coming around the row of washers, all black leather, blood and self-assured swagger. Stupid, stupid man. You pick up the magazine anyway flipping to a random page - page 11 it seems - and based off of the paragraph and the picture that the text floats over in a white box it seems to be talking about a Mexican casserole. You can't even eat that. Would that even be good even if you could?
Here's a way to spice up your casserole- The magazine is suddenly ripped from your hands and tossed across the room plopping on the floor like discarded clothing and suddenly your face to face with dark pants and a silver belt buckle glinting in the light.
Then fingers with red still staining their tips and blood crusted underneath the nails are nudging the point of your chin up, directing your gaze upwards until you see his smirking face. Sharp teeth and danger.
"Are ya sure?" He asks. And despite the condescending tone you can't help the slight nod that you give, catching yourself but it's too late. He's already caught the complacent gesture grinning and nodding alone with you. " I worry about ya baby. All still reluctant and helpless. " And then his bloodied thumb is skirting across your bottom lip, catching on the sensitive skin, dragging the scent of his victim's blood across like a lip balm.
You catch yourself leaning into him then gasping at the clarity and clearing your throat. The humility skirts through you like a zap of electricity. It's like being doused with a bucket of cold water. What the hell was that?
"I'll survive," you snap jerking your head back out of his grasp despite the tingling where he had his hand. You clear you throat loudly, further breaking the light fog that has invaded your brain. And like the ringing of a bell the churning of the washing machine rapidly declines until it's dead silent and the analogue digits are down to 0. Finally. All of that for a single pair of clothes.
You hop to your feet and skirt past Severen as easily as possible without touching him, lifting the lid of the machine and retrieving the sopping set of clothes. It always hits you like a ton of bricks to see what little you have now in terms of material things. A tight old T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a bomber jacket and a dreadfully work bra. You'll definitely have to pick up another one next time you get to another store. This all you have. Just the clothes on your back. Well, that and the backpack full of stolen perfume and little chachkis in the motel room. And the baggy sweatpants and sweater that you had to steal from the overhang cabinet of your recent victims RV but that's beside the point.
You grab the clothes from the barrel of the washer and toss them into a neighboring dyer, filling the horizontal slot with 75 cents from your pocket and pressing in the settings before slamming the glass door shut. Anything to ignore the heavy presence standing behind you. Which is about as ignorable as a gun going off or a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse, but you've become desensitized to a lot these past couple of months. Almost a year. It will have been a year in August.
" I know you think I'm prissy, " you huff without turning around, instead glaring at the muted reflection of him the pane of the dryer. " But unlike you I actually like to be clean instead of walking around in filth for days on end." You finally pivot on your heels meeting his amused gaze with your glare before slipping past and taking your place back on your seat, crossing your legs. "Anyways, shouldn't you be out harassing and seducing some poor sap?"
His head cocks loosely, practically flopping onto the shoulder underneath it. His eyebrows perk up from behind his sunglasses just a bit. " I am, " he replies simply like he's mentioning the weather conditions to a neighbor. You can't help but lurch back in your seat, the hard plastic digging into your shoulder blades. A rainbow of emotions running through you. Disbelief, confusion, anger and some other fluttering tingling feeling that you aren't ready to analyze. "Excuse me?"
You do your best not to shrink underneath the heat of his gaze. It's heavy, intense despite the fact that you can't even directly meet the startling shade of blue from behind the cover of his sunglasses.
If you still had a heartbeat, you're sure that it would be thrumming against your rib cage like a bird behind bars. Suddenly he's moving forward, blotting out the glow of the florescent lights until all you see is him, the delicious splotches of red across his shirt, dark leather, and the gleam of old badges and snarling teeth. All you can smell is him. Intoxicating. The natural heady musk of him, notes from the smoke of a fire and cigarettes, the heady iron scent of blood, the faint dampness of soil, the oak of leather and something that's a little spicy. It's suddenly all there, holding you in an inescapable cloud and you swear you could choke on it.
Since when did Severen like you? You rack you brain for answers. Sure, he flirted with you before your accidental turning but based off of what you've seen flirting is one of the ways that he lures in prey. That and shit talking depending on his mood. So, you weren't a special case in that regard. If anything, he was a little peeved when he figured out that you had turned before he could fully feed from you.
It was Caleb, Mae and then ultimately that Jesse persuaded him to quick dicking around and properly show you the ropes on how to properly navigate eternity and survive.
And yes, after the whole Texas debacle he did step up a little bit more (other than his usual overbearing antics). Whether it was from Diamond or Jesse ordering him to or if he genuinely wanted to help you, you aren't sure. But he taught you how to become better in tune with the sound of the sun, how to focus in on the feeling without it always being at the forefront. A reminder, not a distraction but not something to be forgotten either.
He taught you how to properly pick a victim, not to get too cocky (that was rich coming from him of all people) and try and take on too many at once.
And despite how he managed to grind every nerve in your body you often found yourself spending hours at a time with him, even when he wasn't the one latched onto you like a tick on a dog or being forced into his proximity by hotel room or an RV or car.
Even though you're now fully capable to hunting on your lonesome the two of you always seem to end up pairing up to get food. 85% of it is you and Severen throwing sarcastic barbs and snarky remarks at each other wondering how the two of you wound up hunting again. Apparently unable to help yourselves. Especially considering that usually ends up being a disaster with the both of you debating on who's going to be the lure or accusing the other of coming on too strong and scaring the prey too soon.
He even killed a man for getting to handsy with you at the bar. Even though you were intentionally seducing him. Someone you had intended to be your prey but when the young cowboy's hand had reached around to grip your ass suddenly, he was jerked back by his hair and tossed on the floor like a sack of potatoes with Severen's boot on his throat, the sharp edge of his spur digging into his skin with enough pressure to scar.
"That ain't anyway to treat a lady, is it? " He had sneered, "someone outta beat some manners into ya pretty boy."
But he's killed plenty of people for the rest of the family. Even for Homer when a man tried to physically remove the "kid" from the establishment. And it's no secret that Homer isn't particularly Severen's favorite out of the group.
So, what is this? Some sick little game to pass the time? A new tactic to get under your skin and humiliate you?
The thoughts swirling in your head lights a fire under your skin chest heaving out of reflex. The audacity of this man will never cease to amaze you. Not only did he ruin your clothes and by proxy your night, but now he's assuming that you'd actually be low enough in character to fuck him.
"My god you actually think I want to have sex with you?" You chuckle, but there isn't any humor in it. He leans up against the washers behind him not taking his eyes from you lazily propping his body up by draping arms across the machines. Relaxed like a cat lying in the sun. Your anger only seems to amuse him further and that only serves to piss you off even more. " You're disgusting." You seethe between gritted teeth.
"Hmm have I ever told ya I love it when you talk dirty to me? " He tosses his head back with a low groan. The sound is deep and guttural and the fire under your skin flares up and burns hotter. It's anger you decide. Yep, definitely anger. And even with the smart half of your brain telling you that he's trying to joad you, to get you worked up you can't help but bite out even more insults. The filter between your mouth and your brain fully gone. "You're a selfish, condescending, asshole with the emotional capacity of a dead roach." But he's only nodding and encouraging you to berate him with more jibes. "You couldn't pay me to touch you, much less have sex with you."
"Careful baby yer gonna get me all worked up."
"You're delusional!" You're rising from your seat again, a small way to feel like you're somewhat on even ground even though he easily looks down on you even when you're standing up as straight as you can. That final quip seems to hit some sort of mark because the smile that's there is a little less playful than it was before. "Yer about as subtle as a bull in a china shop sweetheart. " The confusion on your face has him releasing a hyena like little chortle, shoulders shaking. He drops his chin to his chest to gaze at you over his glasses. What kind of dick wears sunglasses at 3:30 in the morning anyway?
" I've seen the little looks you've been givin' me when you think i'm busy not payin' attention. "
That dampened the anger in your chest. Dousing the heat from the surprise. You refuse to let it show up on your face though, doing your best to school your features into something calm and neutral. "You mean the glaring and the bitchy eye rolling? Yeah, I was hoping you'd notice those. "
"Nah not those. "
"Then what looks exactly?"
"Like you wanna fuck me."
It's so calmly spoken that it sends you reeling. Yes, Severen is naturally vulgar and he's flirted with you before. But all of that had been suggestions. Fun unserious banter. Not a direct accusation. It flips the entire argument on its head and leaves your jaw hanging open like a fish out of water.
"Careful baby, " he croons, "you might catch a fly. "
You don't even respond to that too busy dealing with the torrent of emotions raging inside of. You do not want Severen. That's not possible. To want the man who had altered the entire trajectory of your life, no matter if it was an accident would be the ultimate betrayal to yourself. Yes, your human life was directionless, a sham. You were lost when the Hooker clan walked into that lonely diner along the dusty Arizona backroad. A runaway future trophy wife who took off in the night to flee her lifeless relationship. A decision that was made entirely on impulse and months of repressed insecurities and ignored truths.
They looked normal enough. A grungy set of ruffians. There were plenty of other people who looked like them. Far from the types you would run across while attending your fiancé's business parties. And you had mused how much they would stick out like a sore thumb among the bubbling champagne flutes, the twinkling diamond chandeliers that cost more than the average person's house, and the passive aggressive gossip tossed between the jaded wives and the young arm-candy of rich men.
But out there in that worn hole-in-the-wall that stunk of burger grease and cigarette smoke they faded into the background.
Or they would have if not for some primordial animal instinct that had warned you that you were looking at something beyond yourself and the human life you lead. There was a strange aura around the group. Something gritty and otherworldly.
And you had noticed him first as if drawn to a magnetic field. Tall dark and handsome is how you could easily describe him. The jingling spurs, the leather, the cocksure grin. He looked like the type of guys that you fantasized about when you were in high school. Criminal bad boys that you and your friends would giggle over during sleepovers while you practiced doing each other's makeup and venting about acne, and boob sizes and gorged yourself on candy that your mother would have grounded you for.
But then you grew up and met Samuel. Ambitious, well mannered, educated, sweet. But not loyal.
He was the complete opposite of Sam. He strutted in like he owned the place while he scanned the room. The elderly couple a corner booth; the frazzled waitress behind the bar, her curly ginger hair was weaseling its way out of ponytail one strand at a time. The diner was practically dead, but you figured that the shouting match between her and the cook that you overheard from the kitchen had something to do with her stressed state. You had planned on giving the poor woman a good tip before you left.
But then his eyes landed on you. He smiled wider and it was a warning sign in its own right.
Maybe in the beginning there was something about him that you found interesting. Being the antithesis of your ex-fiancé, you assumed that you gravitated towards him because you were still hurt. Even though you never pursued anything with Severen there was still a pull there. On you try your best to ignore. He's cocky and selfish but he has a roughish charm, blunt sarcasm and is painfully nonchalance. But it's also a breath of fresh air. You spent too many years surrounded by people who spoke in double meanings and fake compliments. Every word was twisted until you didn't even know what the truth was anymore.
But he was a passing fascination. There wasn't any feelings or desire there. Not for the first few months at least.
So, you absolutely hadn't been seething last week while sitting at a booth with Mae and Diamondback, glaring across the cigarette clouded air while Severen leaned up against the bar, smiling and laughing with a gorgeous brunette. Her long slender legs stretching out from a pair of daisy dukes. Rich brown doe eyes peered at him coyly from underneath thick lashes. Then she placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm squeezing the sleeve of his jacket and stroking upward. Her eyes were on the patches and badges. Then her lips were moving.
Probably asking him about them. Like she actually gives a shit. A ploy to get into his pants. You nearly rolled your eyes at the gesture, how he used it as an excuse to lean in closer until their noses were practically touching.
"Don't worry honey, " Diamondback's voice had rose over the dim chatter and rock music playing from the jukebox. " Just remember that she's not gonna be alive for very much longer. "
That had snapped you out of it. Blinking and turning away from him to stare down at the watery magarita clutched in your hand. You didn't know how to respond to her insinuation. So, you didn't. You didn't care what Severen did. He could have slept with every patron in that bar, and it would make little difference to you. You weren't jealous. Right?
Right?
It has you thinking back to every little interaction. Running through the memories like files and zeroing in on all of the times that you watched him seduce men and women alike. The sting that would nestle in your chest like a hot coal. It was guilt, right? Feeling sorry about watching his helpless victims naively let him butter them up just so he could lure them away back to their houses or a seedy hotel room so that he could tear them apart.
Sitting on the sidelines idly like you weren't aware of the danger that lies ahead of them.
How your stomach would flutter whenever he throws an arm over your shoulders. How you'd stay up with him for hours listening to his stories of his life before he crossed over despite the fact that he's your least favorite person in the group. Letting him take you down memory lane. Back to the days of outlaws and robbing banks and coaches, pillaging the west and running from the law. And in you'd in turn share with him parts of your old life. The country clubs, the expensive parties, the private beaches with cresting waves, the penthouse apartment in Manhattan. And then you'd jokingly whack his chest with no real force behind it when he'd playfully mock you for being spoiled and spoon fed.
Added together you've probably spent days alone with Severen talking about nothing. Sneaking into movie theaters and shushing him whenever he got too excited, loudly complaining whenever a character makes a stupid decision or whistling and whooping like drunken frat boy whenever a scene got even a little bit suggestive.
And sure, you've caught yourself staring at him a few times here and there. He's an attractive guy. Ruggedly handsome. Just as wild as the lives you lead and equally as alluring in his own right. Sometimes downright overwhelming in the gravity of his charisma and the intensity that radiates from him whenever he has prey in his sights. Of course, you've noticed it all. The veins that bulge underneath the creamy skin of his hands, the dark hair that dangles above his eyes. It's a little taboo but can't help but admire him whenever he's splattered by the fresh blood of a victim. Drops and smears of red contrasting with the dark blue of his eyes. The dangerous crazed sort of glint when he's taunting his prey, and his body language becomes purposeful and lithe. It always sends a little thrill through you.
He even does this stupid laugh every once in a while. It had thrown you off when you had first heard it. It seemed like a complete juxtaposition to his character. You never would have imagined that a man as imposing and unrestrained as Severen would produce a dumb noise that has an uncanny resemblance to Goofy, the stupid if not endearing hyuck sound - Jesus Christ you're so stupid!
You're jealous. You're fucking jealous. And every time you saw him with another person even if they were a means to an end, a nightly meal, it got under your skin. Even though you had no right to feel that way, you couldn't stand to see him walk away with somebody else underneath his arm.
You wanted nothing more than to snatch them by their hair or the scruff of their necks and take care of them yourself.
You meet Severen's gaze struggling under the weight of it. Struggling to grabble the scope of your realization. But you're drowning. The shrieking of the fan, the spice and leather of his scent. The room feels so small now, tight, crinkling up around you like a soda can under a heavy boot.
"I can't do this right now, " you just barely choke the words out around the sudden thickness of your throat and turn to exit. You only make it about three feet before there's a grip on your forearm and you're being spun around. "Wait, wait, wait baby, " he's cooing in soft voice, like he's trying to soothe a spooked animal. "You ain't gotta go and have a conniption fit, I was just playing with ya. " He drops your hand with a defeated sigh like he's not the one who decided to go and be an asshole.
"What?" You snap heatedly.
" Nuthin'. Didn't mean to go and get ya all worked up, " Yeah, like you believe that. Severen's entire M.O. is to cause trouble and stick his nose where it doesn't belong. "You just about got stream comin' out of your ears." He squints his eyes at you like you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. "Why are you runnin' baby? " He asks cocking his head. Then he's stepping closer prompting you to move back to keep the space between you.
"I'm not running, " you deny weakly. He scoffs at that pinning you with a glare that stirs up a thick warm feeling in your gut. And he's still stalking after you like he can't bear having even centimeters keeping you apart. You haven't felt like this in the longest time. Forgotten what it felt like to be pursued. Followed by an apex predator. To be the prey. And he seems to notice the shift in you because to the steady, cautious gate he was keeping suddenly shifts to that calculated tread that he has when he's hunting. "Oh, I don't know babydoll, " he rasps, voice taken on a thick tone. Heavy and low. It has tingles dancing across your skin. " I think you are. You aren't scared of me, are ya? I thought we were past that. "
Your back hits the wall just a few scant inches from the threshold of the open door. You could easily twist on the balls of your feet and slip out of the laundromat, leaving Severen alone and fleeing to the safety of the room. Homer's probably plopped in front of the TV watching some rerun and the other two couples are probably out enjoying some time to themselves. You could leave. Go and lock yourself in the bathroom and sit under the spray of the shower head and pretend that a night of washing clothes hadn't just changed the way that you look at not just yourself but the man that turned you.
But you don't. You're glued to the spot. Helpless to watch as he eliminates the remaining space and now stands toe to toe with you. The tips of his boots nudging the rounded points of your scuffed sneakers.
"No, I'm not scared of you, " you finally respond. And it's true. You aren't afraid of him. You afraid of all of these restrained feelings and urges that are now bubbling under the surface, straining against the lid you have kept on tight now that you've broken the seal and took a peek.
"Then what are you runnin' from? " Hearing the same question twice doesn't make it any easier to stomach. Doesn't make it any less difficult to face. You are terrified in a sense. Terrified that you'll just be used. A passing fancy, just another hole to fuck when he can't find someone to fill the void. Used, discarded and forgotten. You've felt the sting of betrayal before. Blamed yourself for Sam losing interest. That you weren't pretty enough anymore, that you'd become too boring, that you should have been more attentive. You had spent hours lying alone in a cold empty bed wondering where you went wrong while Sam was spending his time screwing his secretary in his high-rise office.
"I . . . " The words die in your throat hanging empty in the air. You couldn't tell him that it wasn't just all physical. How despite how pathetically blind you were to them that over the course eleven months you have managed to develop feelings for one of the most crude and frustrating men you've ever met. That as much as you wanted to grab him by the hair and fuck his brains out you also wanted to sit in his lap in public, to run down the streets with him at night and wreak havoc on the poor unsuspecting souls that cross your path, to hold his hand and kiss his bloodied lips after a successful hunt. It is undeniably corny, but you don't just want him. You want him to be yours.
Taking notice of your internal struggle Severen reaches up to cup the sides of your face. His hold light and unsure but he doesn't remove them. The gesture is so out of character for him that it has you looking up at him in surprise. He almost looks nervous, a streak of vulnerability flashing across his face, but it's gone in a blink and he's back to looking poised and controlled. But you know that he's just as out of his depth as you are, and the realization gives you the footing that you need. This time it's you who steps forward eating up the remaining leeway until your chest is pressed against his and you can feel the metal of his belt buckle and badges digging into you. He drops one of his hands, the remaining one moving to sweep his fingers through your hair, tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumb.
The energy has shifted. No longer pulled painfully taut, and awkwardly nervous. but charged. Still vulnerable, but electricity that steady rises in the air is welcome. The world was at a standstill, holding its breath in anticipation. It was stifling like the both of you had become magnetized and the heat in your abdomen spread further, burning the stagnant blood in your veins. Your nipples stiffen underneath the cloth of your stolen shirt. Everything was too warm, and you hadn't even done anything yet. And the only thing that keeps you from being swept up in your embarrassment is that you remind yourself that it has been a month or two since you've actually been touched by a man. You're just a bit pent up is all.
There's a hardness pressing against you through your sweatpants. That's definitely not his belt buckle. You have to fight to suppress a grin to know that he's already as worked up as you are.
His hand at his side slips to your stomach rucking up the shirt to get to the edge of your pants, fingers stroking the skin there but not slipping any further. You nearly whine, but you still have your head screwed on straight enough to try and cover up the noise, instead opting to lowly curse him under your breath but he definitely heard you if the smug way that he snickers is anything to go by.
"So, you gonna admit it? " The low Texan drawl has your eyes fluttering open. You didn't even realize they were shut. It takes you a minute to figure out what he's referring to. But you don't feel like giving him that sort of satisfaction. Not yet at least, the push and pull is already too fun, too good to give up so soon. You look up at him, feigning ignorance while you nose along his cheek, skirting dangerously close to his lips. "What do you mean?" You ask against his skin, pressing up tighter against him to tease, propping your knee against the bulge straining underneath his jeans. He hisses through his teeth and the hand cradling your face moves to your throat faster than you can blink. His hold is firm enough to keep you pinned in place, but not enough to hurt you. You can't help the satisfaction you feel. He already looks like he's hanging on by a thread, eyes glinting in the light. There's a crazed edge to them that would terrify anyone else, but it has you clenching around nothing, and you have to hold yourself back from grinding on him in a mindless haze. It nearly surprises you how quickly you managed to set him on edge, but then again Severen's always been one to restrain himself. Self-discipline has always been something that he's avoided like the plague.
"God dammit woman, its always gotta be a fight with you don' it."
"You say that like you don't like it," Your voice is amused and breathless but apparently far too cocky for his liking. His hand finally slips past the waist band of your pants. " Well, momma did always say I had a knack for trouble," he agrees like he isn't slipping a dexterous finger against you, parting your folds with an experimental brush that has your jaw parting despite how delicate the touch is. " Hell baby, your gettin' all haughty but I ain't hardly done nothin' and you're already wound up tight. This little cunt's soakin' my fingers."
Your cheeks burn at the remark, suddenly bashful again. It usually took a lot more than some light grinding and teasing to get you up and going, but if you're finally going to be honest with yourself Severen's always been able to affect you without having to do much of anything. But you've never really been one to let him have the last word. "That's funny coming from the guy who's about to burst out of his jeans, " you taunt around an airy moan. He starts drawing circles around your clit. Not enough pressure to bring you any real pleasure, but just enough to keep you hooked. It has the simmering heat in your belly flaring up in a delicious burn. "I'll give it to ya sugar. Ya just gotta say the word, save the both of us from waitin.' "
He releases your throat, trading his hand for his lips, latching onto the soft sensitive skin and sucking. It has your head lolling, thumping back against the wall at the feeling of teeth nipping across where your pulse would have thrummed if you still had one. You tilt your head back baring more of your neck to him which has him purring against you with a pleased hum. You don't even notice the way that your hips have started to roll against his fingers in a desperate attempt to get some sort of friction. Something to hold you over. Just a little bit more please- he's suddenly pulling his hand out of your pants leaving you wet and wanting. You cry out weakly, a protest heavy on the tip of your tongue but you're too busy panting around useless lungfulls of oxygen so you fix him with a glare instead. Quietly seething as he removes his head from the crook of your neck.
His eyes lock with yours, the ocean blue stormy and dark with want and you nearly shake underneath the power of it. He raises his hand up letting you take in the way that the wetness that coats them glimmers under the old fluorescents and then he's slipping them into his mouth. Making a show of it, groaning and closing his eyes like he's savoring a rich wine.
"Severen, " you gasp, fisting the lapels of his jacket in an attempt to anchor yourself. You have to turn the tables somehow. Get him just as worked up as you are. And if the way that he's still drooling over his cum stained fingers is any indication, slurping at the taste in a vulgar display of lust, it shouldn't be too hard. That's the thing about Severen. He's a hedonist in every sense of the word. Once he has something that he wants in his sights it doesn't take much for him to abandon reason and pursue no matter the consequences. Not even a shot gun to the chest can keep him from what he wants. It's a dangerous trait combined with how susceptible he is to his own desires. Running around like a mad dog sniffing after a wounded rabbit. Severen operates off of emotions and desires rather than logic and reason.
It's qualities that makes him a lethal, if not a chaotic hunter. Undoubtedly one of the most dangerous of the Hooker clan. But as commendable as his feral tenacity is it's also a fatal flaw. One that you're definitely going to exploit.
Play your cards right and you'll have him eating out of your hand. Not really playing cards honestly. Severen doesn't require that much strategy. Not when he's already horny and thinking with the head in his pants.
"Yeah, pretty girl, whatcha need?" He's grinning at you again, clearly basking in the affect he has on you. " All ya gotta do is say it."
You grip him by his hair, knocking his sunglasses off letting them clatter on the pale tiles forgotten, drawing him into a heated kiss that lights you both on fire. It wasn't soft or sweet and sugary like the old you would have probably wanted for a first kiss, but this was just as good. Time around you seems to slow down before dimming out entirely as if it was sucked into a black hole, all of the background noise from the outside world now muffled and distant like your ears are full of cotton.
It's sloppy, desperate and full of teeth and you're both squeezing yourselves together, joining like a rough puzzle. You let him lick into the heat of your mouth, shivering at the sweet taste of iron from his recent meal, the earthy musk of yourself on his tongue, angling your head to deepen the kiss, nipping at his lips and then he's moaning in a way that would probably embarrass him if he had the mind to care.
It has you gripping his hair harder and suddenly his hands are all over you. Sweeping down your hips, up your back, reaching to squeeze the swell of your ass like he can't get enough and can't decide where to touch. Like you might disappear if he doesn't keep his hold on you. Nailing you tighter against the wall with his crushing weight.
The firm line of his cock poking at you from between two layers of separate clothing gives you some clarity and you're squeezing an arm through the press of your bodies, which is a task in itself considering that it's near impossible to create leeway, being quite literally trapped between a wall and a hard place. Severen absolutely refusing to inch back to give you room to work, instead growling into your mouth like you're personally affronting him. The sharp nips of his teeth on your lips and the tightening grip on your butt punctuating the complaint.
You finally get ahold of your prize in your blind search. Your fingertips slip on the slick metal while you hastily jerk the buckle undone, hand shaking despite the limited amount of adrenalin now available in your body. And you're thumbing the zipper down just as quickly, desperate to get it down before Severen can focus enough to realize what you're doing. Halfway down the zipper is catching on the worn teeth of its track but it's good enough to work with and you're cramming your hand down his jeans and are immediately met with the throbbing heat of his cock. Of course, he'd go commando.
He breaks the kiss like he's reluctant to do it dragging your bottom lips between his teeth as he pulls away, looking down at you through a drunken haze, eyes already glassy and glazed over and the space between his brows are pinched in way that would make you think that he was in pain if you didn't know any better. Then you're gripping him, feeling the damp stream of precum that's been steadily leaking from his cock and squeeze the head and move up in a firm upward stoke, spreading the wetness up the length of him. Severen's groaning into the air, spitting an array of colorful words under his breath while mindlessly thrusting into the smooth heat of your hand.
It has you burning, legs shaking like you're the one with a hand in their pants. But God you never thought you'd see the day. To have Severen, the guy who couldn't shut up if you paid him to, moaning under you. Arrogant, sarcastic Severen melted against you, barely holding himself up and desperate all from a little hand job. The thrill that you got was unparalleled, dowsing gasoline on your ego, on the inferno of lust already burning underneath your skin. You can feel slick already smearing on the inside of your thighs at the gritty pleasure-drunk groans that keeps spilling out of him.
The angle is hell on your wrist, the lack of room available to move your arm has the muscles screaming. It doesn't help that he's the equivalent of a brick wall, clinging to your body like a desperate, horny leech. But you don't let up, focusing on making him fall apart, twisting your wrist around the stiff velvet of his cock, squeezing the head with each upstroke.
You lick at the flesh underneath his jaw, swiping at the skin with the tip of your tongue, and his upper body practically liquifies while he exposes more of his neck, shoving the expanse of it harder against your lips like he wants you to bite him. Hmm . . . Hardly one to resist your curiosity, you do just that. Opening you mouth to lave your tongue over the chosen spot before sinking your teeth down, not enough to break the skin but enough for it to sting, just enough to test the water. And you aren't disappointed. "Fuckin' shit!" he chokes out, the groan that follows is completely debauched and unhinged, and the obscene amount of cum that leaks from him makes you worried that he might have already came, but he's still hard and pulsing in your fist.
You thread your fingers through the inky strands of his hair, guiding his face back to look at you, admiring his blissed out, barely there expression.
"That feels good, doesn't it?" You croon, still working his cock in a steady rhythm meeting the clumsy roll of his hips. "It can feel even better too. All you have to do is say the word." You can't help but throw his comment back at him, still riding the high of having him at your mercy, of the control you have over him. So, it admittedly catches you by surprise when he's tearing your hand away from him, securing an arm around your back like a lock. "Aw baby, " he snickers, a complete one-eighty from the desperate mess that he was only seconds ago. His grin is all sharp edges and predatory, and paired with the wild gleam in his eyes it sends liquid heat pooling in inside of you. Your toes curl inside of your shoes as eager as you are nervous to see where this goes. " You don' call the shots here. I do. "
Then he's gripping your shoulders and turning you to shove your front down onto the defaced folding table that had sat next to you against the wall, the steel feet harshly shrieking against the floor. The change in perspective is jarring. Squinting underneath the artificial light, allowing your gaze to skirt around the room taking in the row of egg white washing machines, the set of ugly hard plastic chairs to your far left, and the built in dryers lining the pealing mustard yellow walls. The reality of it hit you with the force of a speeding car, humiliation flooding your system and stinging at the apples of your cheeks.
Had you really gotten so caught up in the moment that you completely forgot that you were out in a public place?
"Severen, wait- someone might see," you make to prop yourself up but he's placing a hand on the small of your back and pressing down, flattening your stomach against the cool surface of the table. " You were just jackin' my dick like there's no tomorrow. " He shifts closer, pressing himself into your backside shamelessly humping against the thick fabric of your sweatpants. "No one's been out here for hours. It's just you an' me."
He's not wrong. The last you saw someone outside the motel was roughly after you had all settled into the room, figuring out the sleeping situation and showering after a few days of roughing it. You had finally been able to properly wash your hair after having to settle for awkwardly ducking your head under the sinks of gas station bathrooms. After picking up your soiled blood-stained clothes from the floor and shoving them into your backpack you had stepped out onto the dusty, dimly lit parking lot. The first thing you had noticed was how empty it all was. Apart from the stolen RV that Severen had parked close by, there were only two other vehicles. An older gentleman was sitting outside of his room, smoking a hand rolled cigarette and staring off into the night. But based on the way that he rose from the chair he had been sitting on and turned to snuff out the cigarette on the window seal, you figured he was on his way on his way back inside. And other than the amalgamation of scents that come with well-traveled spaces, there weren't any that have been accompanied by the potent metallic call of blood, or the pulse of a heartbeat. The town is quiet and asleep.
It is just you and him.
A thrill bursts from deep inside you, spreading across your body and shivering up your spine. Something that he without a doubt caught given how tightly he was pressed up against your ass. You could feel the smugness radiating from him, basking in how he could turn you into mush by doing so little. His hands are on your hips now, slipping under your shirt and tracing up and down your sides with electricity following the path of his palms. His fingertips skim dangerously close to your breasts. You lift yourself up on your elbows in the hopes that he'd continue upwards and take them in his hands. But the tips of his thumbs rub across the soft skin just above the sensitive skin of your nipples. Humming a breathless whine your hips start to greedily roll back against his and in doing so the seam of your pants gets tugged up between your bodies and presses up deliciously against your swollen clit making your jaw drop open.
A satisfied hum all warm and heavy dips into a fiendish giggle and then he's taking your invitation, squeezing your breasts into his hands. They're rough, worn from decades of use, calluses and old scars from his time as a human weathering the skin. The texture of them has you mewling and then he's rolling them between his fingers, strumming the unforgiving heat inside you. Your pussy flutters around nothing, reminding you of how devastatingly empty you are.
"Ya know I could always tell ya were a bit sweet on me, " he admitted, leaning over you, followed by leather and spice. His words just barely make it through the thick red mist that packs your mind like stuffing, moving your head so that you could peer at him from the corner of your eye. You should be embarrassed by his revelation, insulted that he of all people (and apparently) everyone else had seen your little crush before you did. But the arousal is already too great. You can hardly focus on much else. But then he's leaning down so his chest is against your back, nuzzling into your cheek and pecking you with a kiss that's too chaste given your current predicament. "I could smell it on ya."
That you get loud and clear regardless of the fact that you're still grinding down on him like a paid whore. Does he have to bring this up now of all times? Who are you kidding, of course he does. Severen would never pass up the opportunity to be petty and knock you down a peg or two. God, the thought of it hadn't even crossed your mind. Your senses have obviously become heightened since your turning, surpassing the human experience by unimaginable extremes. It was almost overwhelming when you were freshly crossed over. For one, you can follow a scent trail for miles, so the fact that you've apparently gone nose blind to your own scent is a bit jarring. A blessing and a curse most likely.
And the fact that you didn't even think of Severen sniffing out your arousal both surprises and disappoints you.
And it's even worse to know that the entire clan must have - nope! No, not right now.
"You like to strut around like yer too big for your britches, but you were jus' achin for it weren't ya."
"Severen, I swear if you don't shut up, I'm gon. . . na . . . " You voice trails off on a choked breath when he cruelly rips his hands away from your chest and the weight at your back lifts away, followed your pants being jerked from your hips and down to your knees with a quickness. The light chill of the room meeting the heat of your cunt has you gasping. "Ya know sugar, you talk too much for your own good. " Oh, that's the pot calling the kettle black. Then his hands are on the thick of your thighs, kneading the flesh between his fingers and kisses are being scattered across the sensitive skin, some with just the barest hints of teeth and your brain's turning back to mush. You can feel his hair brushing and tickling against you. His tongue runs up the inside of your thigh, cleaning up the slick that has been dripping from you and stopping just before he reaches where you need him most.
You whine open and shameless rocking back to try and get him to do something. Anything. A shocking sting erupts on the swell of your ass like it's been struck with a heated metal, a heavy clap ringing out across the room making you yelp. Feverous need burned hot in your stomach at the realization that he spanked you. He fucking spanked you.
You nearly say fuck it; you almost throw your pride to the wind and beg but then without a word of warning he's spreading your lips open with his thumbs and the warmth of his mouth is on you. You barely register him groaning over the sound of your forehead slamming on the table beneath you, eyes rolling in the back of your skull at the firm press of his tongue grazing over your clit before swiping over your slit, collecting the taste of you on his tongue and swallowing. He burrows his face as deep as possible, drawing in a deep breath that's utterly filthy so that he could take in your scent while working his tongue inside of you, and his arm is reaching around your bucking hips so that he can drag tight circles around your swollen bud. " 'Amn ya 'aste s' good, " he grunts, absolutely refusing to remove his face by even the slightest degree. Groans muffled and slurred. " 'weet as pie."
Your hands are reaching around the table clawing across the surface until you find the edge of the plastic, desperate for something to ground yourself down to reality while you try not to float away. His tongue is unforgiving, burrowing deep, lapping along your inner walls like he's trying to drink you down. Your legs are shaking and it's searing at your toes and fingertips. The muscles in your abdomen are already tensing and it feels like a wave is rising high. It was almost demeaning how quickly he's working you towards your climax.
He removes his fingers from the swollen bundle of nerves, opting to spread you open with them instead so that he can play with your clit in delicious, practiced strokes with his tongue . . . Sharp repetitive shapes coaxing you closer and closer. It takes you a second to focus around the pleasure clouding your brain, but you catch it. Blunt capital letters crudely shaped by the curl of his tongue. An 'S' an 'E' followed by five more letters before being repeated.
His name. The bastard is spelling his name on your clit. Then his lips are sealed around your slit, gulping down the wetness that smeared down his nose and chin and groaning wantonly, and you fleetingly wonder if he's touching himself from eating you out.
The thought has you jerking against him, back bowing taut and he has to grip you with his free hand to keep you from wiggling free from his hold. Hard enough to leave a bruise behind. The vibrations of his voice against your pussy, the scratch of his five o' clock shadow rubbing against your skin, the suction of his mouth, the unforgiving strum of his fingers, it's all too much at once. It's good. it's so, so good . . . Your hips snap sharply in a shameless grind, riding his face as the wave rises up, looming over you, dangerously close to sweeping you under. Fuck, just a bit . . . more . . .
Then it stops as soon as it started, and your body is aching in an almost painful way fluttering and shaking violently around the loss of his tongue and fingers. But before you can berate or beg him, he's hauling you up by the nape of your neck and jerking you around to snag your bottom lip between the hold of his teeth, pulling you into a kiss that's hungry and burning. You melt under the heat of it like wax, compliant and wanting.
He's reaches down to grip the swell of your ass and lifts you up like you weigh the same as a sack of feathers to deposit you back on the table, pulling back away from you, ignoring the helpless moan you emit so he can fervently start tugging at one of your shoes, swearing when it catches on the heel of your foot. He tosses it once he finally wiggles it off, the leg of your sweats quickly following. He doesn't even bother with the other sneaker, apparently deeming it too much of a hassle to remove, leaving the thick fabric of your sweats to bunch around the shoe and hang uselessly.
You're tugging him closer by the lapels of his coat as he's done, spreading your legs wide, offering yourself up for him to finally take. An offer that he doesn't refuse, reaching to grip you by the throat and forcing you to look into the wide feral glint of his eyes. He looks like he's a man possessed, lips still glistening with the dewy gloss of your arousal, and he's never looked hotter. But you can't help but wonder if you're going to make it out of this alive.
"As much as I love the taste of you, sugar, when you cum it's gonna be on my dick. " He growls, grinding the thick head of his cock against your clit, making your cunt quiver, still sensitive from your denied orgasm. It has strings of pleasure shooting deep and latching into the muscles and sinew of your body. You secure the hold of your legs around his waist, panting and begging against his chest, hoping that he'd finally give in and let you have it.
"Yeah, ya want it? " His voice is all condescending and cocky around its southern drawl. On any other night, in any other moment it would have absolutely pissed you off. It still kind of does, cutting into the lustful haze and striking a chord. But he's tapping the thick head of his cock over your slit in steady teasing motions, over and over like he's got all the time in the world.
"Yes, yes, please. I want it." You beg, officially throwing your pride out of the window. You barely get the words out before he's pushing within the wet velvet of your cunt, the both of you groaning with shard relief at the sensation of him finally stretching you open. He doesn't wait for you adjust, and you're thankful that your already so worked up and ready because he immediately sets a brutal pace, punching into you without a shred of mercy, bottoming out with each stroke. All you can do is cling to his shoulders and do your best to chase the wild rhythm. The ecstasy is already boiling and pulsing up your spine. He takes a nipple in between his rough fingers while rutting deep, groaning into the junction of your neck with a faint hint of teeth like he might bite you.
If someone had told you hours before that you would be getting railed in a laundromat at 4 in the morning by Severen, you would have laughed in their face. But now that he's actively turning your brain into liquid mush you can't help but mourn the fact the two of you probably could have been doing this regularly if you had just put your differences aside.
"Ya gotta be quiet. " He huffs, nuzzling against your cheek. You hadn't even realized the increasing volume of your hiccupping moans. You burry your face into the hollow of his throat, biting into the skin in an attempt to muffle yourself, but it proves to be useless with the broken, pleasured sobs still escaping around the makeshift gag. " Unless you wan' someone to hear. " Then like the devious bastard that he is he's shifting on his feet, spreading his legs wider to pour more power into his thrust, grabbing the meat of your thighs to hitch them higher around his waist so that he can punch deep and absolutely flay you open and pour molted heat inside, setting every singular nerve alight like sparklers.
"Oh, fuck! " You cry brokenly, voice already raw. He's suddenly there, the drag of his cock repeatedly grinding against that devastating spot inside of you with deadly precision, like he's fucked you a million times. Like he already has every inch of you mapped out. Now you're just along for the ride, clinging to him helplessly while the pleasure lights up like a live wire thrashing across steaming water. Your back arches almost painfully and your fingers rake down the smooth leather of his jacket, no doubt leaving raged scratches across the expanse of it. You are a little disappointed that it isn't the flesh of back that you're slicing angry red streaks across - not that the scratches would last long either way, but it has the possessive part of you mourns the lost opportunity.
He doesn't slow his rhythm in the slightest, delighting in the way that your body writhes and jolts. The laundromat fills with the lewd sounds of your coupling, the wet slap of skin on skin, the restrained moans and cries, the filthy, repetitive squelching of his cock filling your cunt.
You aren't even in control of your own body anymore, completely enslaved to the burning syrupy pour of pleasure that courses through your veins and across each piece of you like lava, a mindless animal chasing after the high. You catch little compliments and curses under the ragged gasps of his breath, weak, wrecked sounds. Some have your heart going all melted and fuzzy, praising you so sweetly, but you're also gasping at the pure shameless filth that's pouring out of him like a fountain. You've never heard him sound so mindless, so gutted. His honeyed drawl is wrecked, frazzled around the edges while he pants in your ear like he's been wounded. And the fact that he's just as affected as you are, just as fucked out, has you clenching down around him like your pussy is trying to milk him for all he's worth.
"God damn, yer fuckin' squeezin' me, " he groans, shuttering at the scrape of your nails across his scalp, leaning into it like a purring housecat. And then he's pulling your face away from the crook of his neck to stare you down, gripping you by the jaw. The wild glare of his eyes is electrical, sharp and dangerous. A trickle of fear steaks deep across your frying nerves before swiftly mutating into an aching throb of lust. The satisfied wolfish grin that greets you tells you that he knows. "Feelin' good? Yeah, ya are. My good girl ain'tcha, takin' me so well. " The praise has you gripping his shoulders like you'll fall apart without the support. And right now, you probably would. "You're mine now."
Not just 'baby' or 'sweetheart', but his. It has another feeling welling up, tearing at the walls, a possessive urge that you've been too been to ignorant, too scared to acknowledge. Months of pent-up jealousy and want. The need to stake your claim after standing on the side lines and watching just about every man and woman in the U.S flirt and feel him up.
You meet him with an unwavering stare of your own threading your fingers through the dark strands of his hair in a jealous hold. "Then I guess that means you're mine, too, " and then you're yanking his head back and sinking your teeth into him just above his beaded necklace. Skin breaks underneath the cut of your teeth, splitting just as easily as warmed butter. Iron and smoked spice gushes across your taste buds, spilling into your mouth like a fine aged bourbon. The sinful flavor shreds your brain, sinking you deeper under the burned haze of need and want. His skin is vibrating under your mouth, shaking from the volume of his gutted moans. He grips you closer, jerking up inside the quivering heat of your cunt with rabid unrelenting thrusts.
You preen under his desperation, swallowing around the tendons of his throat, gulping down mouthfuls of his spiced blood like its ichor. You haven't drunk his blood since the night you had crossed over and then you had been sluggish and confused under the stress of the night. But no matter how muddled your memories are you do remember his taste. You always blamed it one being recently turned, the foreign torturous hunger seizing your body that made him taste so good. But now you know that it's just him. Heat and cream and spice. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you greedily gulp at the wound while the essence of him flows into your stomach.
"You dirty fuckin' minx!" He slurs out on drunken words, barely forming them around the moan they chase. His wrecked reaction and the high you feel from successfully getting the upper hand on Severen has you smiling around the bite of your teeth. Now that you have knowledge of this little chink in his armor you can't wait to abuse the hell of it. But as good as it is you don't want to take too much and hurt him. So, with a great amount of restraint you remove your teeth from the meat of his neck, ignoring his protesting moan and reluctantly pull back just enough to lap the flowing wound, admiring at the way that it pours down his chest, joining the rest of the red that soils his wife beater.
"You were made f'r me. Made for my cock, " he rambles somehow driving himself into you with even more vigor.
The buckle of his belt is digging into the back of your thigh with each pointed thrust. It's messy and ragged and feral. Perfect. It has the heavy, burning pressure steadily climbing up, your body tightening like a rubber band being stretched to its limits. The pleasure that looms over you is almost daunting, fizzling at your skin like a lit fuse burning closer to a stick of dynamite. "C'mon baby, I can feel ya, " he grits fervently. He's pressing a rough thumb to your swollen clit, grinding it in perfect timing with the burning drag of his cock. But a part of you didn't want it to end yet, too scared to face what may follow afterwards. You couldn't help the bitter fear of rejection. That this was just a one-time thing. You don't know if you'd be able to forget tonight, to brush it off and pretend that it didn't happen. To just sweep it under the rug and face eternity. You willed your body to hold back, doing your best to extend the pleasure afraid of letting go of this moment. But he could feel it. "It's alrigh,' let go. I gotcha. "
Then he's licking into the bloodied hollow of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. It's messy and debauched and decadent all at once. It has you gasping into him, riding his fingers and cock in a wanton abandon, the fear that parades around in your head discarded to the side like useless, broken toy. The world spins on itself as the pleasure arches high. You could feel it there, taste it on the tip of your tongue like lightning and honey, a wave ready to take you under and drown you alive.
"Lemme feel ya. Be my good girl and cum."
Everything - the world, time, your body - seizes. Muscles shaking like you've been tazed, writhing under the sweetened, stinging claws of ecstasy as it tears through your body in unforgiving pulses. Fuck. Your jaw drops open in a silent wail, arms, legs and cunt tensing around Severen's body like bands of steal while he continues his heavy thrusts, intent on dragging out your pleasure until you can't take it. Everything is muffled like your ears are stuffed with cotton and your heads packed with fuzz, and you swear you've died, unable to form a single coherent thought. All you can do is feel. You're a nerve of fire and electric heat. Suspended and lost adrift in the moment and an overwhelming cocoon of liquid euphoria. He still hasn't stopped. His cock is still filling you with sharp jolts, hellbent on wringing out every burst of bliss that he possibly can.
"Sev, please. I want you to fill me up, I wan-" his mouth meets yours with the clacking of teeth, and you're drinking each other down. He only manages a few more sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts of his hips before he's burying deep, shoving himself against the cradle of your thighs and coming in thick heavy pulses while his body shakes and quivers. The raw, aggressive drag of his lips has melted into a softer exchange. Delicately nipping and pecking at each other's lips while he still rocks against you in lazy, unhurried drags. You're covered in blood and filth but it's still so sweet and sugary. You don't want the night to end.
It has you stilling. The weight of your actions settling over you like a winter breeze. You had just fucked Severen. The man you're supposed to hate. You should hate him. You shouldn't be lamenting the very big possibility that he'll pull out, buckle his belt and leave you sitting in your collective mess to stew in your humiliation and guilt. You don't even know how you would cope living with him after tonight. Sleeping in the same rooms as him; listening to the that cute, weird little piggish snort that bubbles out of him when he tells a joke, to walk around and act like he didn't hold up a mirror and force you to acknowledge the feelings that you've been carting around for months on end.
Worn hands are cupping your face in a delicate hold, like you'd fall apart if they gripped to hard, gently directing you to look up and meet a set of hooded baby blues. Concern melting into the lust glazed pools. "Why the sour look?" He asks, voice raw and strung out from use. "I didn't think I did all that bad."
Despite the inner turmoil, the little joke has a smile weakly quirking your lips. You shake your head as best as you can while being restricted under the hold of his palms. "Well, you weren't the worst if that helps, " you quip back, trying to block out the ice of your insecurities, even for a moment. " For a second there I thought you had killed me."
His eyebrows shoot up dramatically, followed by an awed whistle. "Damn, knocked ya dead twice. That must be some sort of record. "
He catches the playful punch you try to throw at his chest, nipping at the knuckles. You could lie to him. Tell him that you're fine and go on with your night. Even if he doesn't believe you there's a fifty-fifty chance that he won't pry any further. But . . . You also don't want to walk around without closure.
"It's just. . . the 'you're mine' thing . . . " Jesus Christ, you feel like a teenage girl again stuttering in front of your crush in the middle of the high school hallway. And the intent way that he's staring at you does little to ease the fluttering ball of anxiety in your chest. It's too much. And so, you look anywhere but him. Sweeping your eyes past him to study the old, questionably stained wall that has suddenly become very interesting. "Did you mean it or was it just sex talk?"
The grating voice in the back of your head crooning that he's going to laugh at you. Call you stupid for assuming that he had actually meant it. You're waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath you and to be left to bust your ass on the cold floor. Alone, dumb, and useless. A girl with a crush.
But he's gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs- god, he's still inside you. You're trying to be all vulnerable and he's still ins- and sweeping soothing circles across the stretch of them with his thumbs. It pulls you out of your head a bit, focusing you just enough to really look at him. His dark hair is tussled, hanging in front of the gorgeous blue of his eyes in a way that you always found attractive on him. Scarlett lightly stains his lips from the bloody kisses you had exchanged, making them glisten lightly under the light. The bite mark on his neck has yet to fully heal, ugly and blunt and bleeding, it has the possessive streak inside of you preening and strutting. You did that. You marked him, not someone else. He's ruggedly handsome, lightly panting from the exertion despite the fact that he doesn't need to. Just over a centuries old habit.
"I said it didn' I? I meant it. " He says it so matter-of-factly that it makes you feel stupid. "It's you an' me."
That has the ice thawing, snapping off to drift downstream and far away. You pull him to you again to peck at his lips, completely overcome and basking in the glow of it. The relief. Your chest is bursting, filling up with the sun. The sun before all this. Before the dark and the blood. Soft, and fuzzy and inviting and warm. A sun without consequence or death in its wake " Ya know- " Severen starts, talking between your kisses. " Yer about as dense as you are beautiful."
That gives you pause, briefly wondering if you heard him right. You stare at him like he's grown a second head, eyebrows furrowing. There's that unforgivingly sharp tongue of his, always at the ready to strike. But it doesn't ruin the private moment between you, it just shifts gears. The jab is spoken much more softly than it would have typically been. It's more playful, lacking bite. It keeps you from heating up a cutting remark of your own. Instead of bristling and shaking out of his hold like the old you would have done you level him with a glare, a teasing warning all in its own, cautioning him to explain with no real gall behind it.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, " He scoffs petulantly. " I've always been a bit sweet on ya too. I made it pretty damn obvious."
"You did not-"
" Hell woman, I killed about damn near every guy you ever flirted with!"
Wow, he really thought that being an obnoxious douche and outright taking your diner was the equivalent of flirting. Like a bully pulling at the pigtails of his crush because he's too bullheaded to have a conversation. Figures that Severen would think that singlehandedly snatching your meals from you is a declaration of feelings. "I thought you were being a dick!" You counter, " you're always stealing my food. "
"I wasn't stealin', I always give the bodies back to ya. I was jus' . . . doin' the dirty work for ya. " You suppose that he is correct now that you think back on it. After tearing the unfortunate souls' throat out with his teeth or slitting it from ear to ear with a broken beer bottle or at times the lethal silver of his spurs (often saved for the people that piss him off the most) he'd discard the body at your feet like a feral barn cat dropping a hunted mouse on the doorstep of its owners front porch like a twisted offering, beaming at you with his mouth smeared red and his chest puffing out like a strutting rooster. Wait . . . offering. You always thought that his habit of killing your prey came from a place of malice. A way to poke and prod at you. A grim reminder that you still weren't as ruthless as him. That you still aren't a good enough hunter after all this time.
But like a dumb ass you were reading it all wrong. Blinded by forced disdain and your own insecurities. But then again, it's not your fault that he's apparently allergic to simply sitting down and talking. Roughly two hundred years old and he still can't seem to process his emotions like an adult. You truly know how to pick them.
But the sadist- the betrayed fiancé in you wants to hear the confession out of his own mouth. You need the confirmation for yourself. "Why?"
His eyes soften around the edges, melting like slates of ice. It's a look you've only seen twice from him since the months you've been a part of each other's lives. And it's a soothing balm on the old scar that still hasn't fully healed inside you.
"You've come a long way from bein' that scared girl, jumpin' at shadows like a cute lil' scaredy cat. I mean, sometimes the way you go after those poor bastards really gets my blood pumpin' down south. " His voice drops to a husky timbre, reminding you of nights spent in neon lit bars, filled with the high of adrenaline sizzling in your veins from a successful hunt, tinged with the sinful iron bliss of blood. That southern is twang rounding out and cutting edges, dripping with heat and melted honey. You feel him twitch inside of you, clearly enjoying the memories parading around inside his head. You almost worry that he'll try to use it as an excuse to ditch the current conversation and try to get in your pants again (like he still isn't inside of you and like you wouldn't enthusiastically indulge in another round regardless) but to your relief he doesn't. "But I can still see ya hesitate sometimes- drag it out longer than necessary. So, I figured it wouldn't do any harm if I stepped in from time to time and took care of 'em for ya. Not that I wantcha goin' soft on me. "
He wasn't wrong. You have accepted your new life. Finally stopped struggling against the dark fate that's been set out before you regardless of your initial reluctance. Your outright refusal to partake in the night and the eternity it promised. Until you couldn't resist its call. Crawling to the whispered lure of the dark instead of staggering out into the morning light one last time like you had once promised yourself. But despite accepting your new family you've never completely been able to shake the guilt that comes with killing. Even though it's done purely out of self-preservation - at least on your part.
So, sometimes you do drag out the flirty exchanges between the oblivious men at the bars. The men who come to unwind after a grueling day of work, the men who are just trying to escape the unrelenting weight of their lives, hoping to find reprieve at the bottom of a bottle; the men just out to chill with their buds and maybe get laid if they're lucky enough. People just living their lives. Diamond's always tried to reassure you in her own motherly yet blunt way. Tough love. "They're dead men whether you eat 'em or not. They died as soon as we stepped foot in this place. No reason to go hungry, honey."
Just a fact. But a hard pill to swallow regardless. They would be killed even if you weren't the one to eat them and so just like Diamond back said, you might as well as feed. They'd be bodies in a burning building either way.
But the fact that Severen noticed and didn't pull on your hypothetical pigtails but opted to help you in his own crude, silent way instead. It had your chest warming like the morning sun was going to burst out of you. Perhaps some would see it as a small gesture. But coming for Severen, the guy who you had convinced yourself (well, not convinced- he was definitely more than on the fence about you when you were new and kicking and screaming) hated you, took your reluctance into account and decided to do something about it. Especially considering that he is the second eldest of the Hooker clan - apart from Jesse himself - and took to the bloodshed and violence like it was second nature.
"Plus, they shouldn't have been puttin' they're hands on ya anyway. " You just barely manage to catch that little remark. Maybe you should be concerned about the happy little thrill it gives you, but you aren't. Instead, you pull him closer by the ornate lapels of his jacket until your chests are pressed together, smoothing your hands up until they meet skin. And a part of you silently mourns how the once gnarled mark on his neck has begun to seal closed, now a faint set of scars underneath a coat of smeared crimson. And you're a bit tempted to give him another.
But you're too transfixed on the soft baby blues studying your face to try. "Thank you, " you responded with a smile, toying with the inky strands that collect at the nap of his neck. "We both seriously could have pulled our heads out of our asses, but seriously . . . Thank you."
" Don' mention it. " He replies, a bit of mischief shifts through the sugar in his gaze. His smile turning from relaxed and sweet to quirking up a bit too sharply at the corners. " . . . Kitten."
"Don't start with that, " you warn, nose crinkling at the old nickname. "I'm serious."
"Alright, twist my arm why don't cha, " he grumbles like he's annoyed but he's nuzzling against the rise of your cheekbone playfully, nipping at your jaw. "I'll spare ya. For now."
You look over to the little wall of dryers, skipping down the rows until you find the machine containing your clothes, now idle with the black material of your shirt peeking out over the circle rim of the door. It all comes in one after the other: The faint buzz of the florescent lights above, the metallic squealing of the fan in the corner, the dull grind of the sun still somewhere on the other side of the planet but growing closer with each passing second. The gravity of it finally dropping on your shoulders but all you can do is laugh into his chest. The both of you had sex in the grimy laundry room of some hole-in-the-wall hotel like a pair of horny teenagers. Jesus, you could have been caught.
"What?" He asks, now stroking up and down your bare thighs like if he quit touching you it would kill him.
"Did we seriously just fuck in a laundromat?" You question like you don't already know the answer, a disbelieving laugh trailing after your words. Then he's chuckling in that goofy, charming way of his. "Better strike it off the ol' bucket list. "
You swat him on the arm like you mean to scold him, but it does nothing to quell the little puffs of laughter that hiccup from his chest. Not that you want it to. "Have a list, do you?"
"Oh, you have no idea, darlin.' " His voice is lowering in that sinful pitch again and it has a bit of heat pooling in your abdomen. " I could go on and on talkin' but we'd be here for weeks. 'Sides, I'd much rather show you."
"As much as I'd love to take this table for another spin, I think we should save the fun for another time." You unlock your legs from their loose hold around his waist, allowing him to finally move back. You hiss lightly at the drag of his soft cock slipping free from your sensitive walls, a trail of cum pouring down your thigh. You nearly cringe at the feeling and now that you're no longer distracted by the haze of sex it finally sets in how disgusting you are again, smeared in blood and cum. Looks like another show is in order. The two of you are quiet while you straighten yourselves out, simply enjoying each other's presence. Severen tucks himself back into his jeans, securing his belt while you reach down to thread your foot through the dangling sleeve of your pant leg. You hop down from the table to work them over your hips but seriously underestimate how wobbly the relaxed and used muscles of your body are. Your knees shake and you have the fleeting thought that you might just crumple to the floor, but then a set of sturdy arms are looped around you, securing you to an equally firm chest.
"Like a newborn fawn," he quips, oozing ego and smoky satisfaction. Jesus, he is going to become unbearable with that self-assured bravado. He's already dangerously cocky, walking around like the world spins for his entertainment alone but now that he's successfully blown your back out, you're never going to hear the end of it.
"Oh, shut it. " But you smile regardless and the feel of the cold tiled floor underneath the thin material of your sock reminds you that he threw your left shoe somewhere in your mindless scramble to get to each other.
"Well, speakin' of time, we've got a couple more hours a' dark." He says drawing your attention from its light search of the floor. " Wanna go kick up some trouble? Bust a couple headlights? Scare some drunks?" The grin on his face is boyish, displaying the charming gap between his teeth. And the excitement radiating from him is infectious, practically vibrating where he stands from all the chaotic possibilities running amok inside his head. No doubt ideas of burning buildings, of shooting fireworks into the night; of speeding down quiet desert roads in stolen cars, blaring music and howling into the air. Forever is a long time. And although you've only gotten a taste of it, of the long sleepless nights ushered by a devilish primal hunger that guides you to the steady pulsing heartbeats of lonely, unassuming people, you were never sure how much eternity you were willing to take. Would you finally crack after a decade of dodging the sun? Tired of taking cover inside seedy motel rooms and taping tinfoil to the windows of some unfortunate strangers' truck? Would it be fifteen years? Twenty? A century? Or maybe by then you'll be a completely different person who will scold the current version of yourself for not fully embracing the dark and all of its gifts. Maybe she'll be able to cut down her prey with the same deadly indifference, the same wild joy that the others do. Maybe one day you'll bathe in the blood of your prey instead of flinching from it before you regretfully gulp down the metallic nectar. You can't say for certain. Now that Severen's at your side it doesn't just null and void all of your fears and internal struggles for the present and future. But it helps to know that you have someone to lean on, even though he can't personally relate to most of your struggles. To have someone with you on your walk through eternity. And now that you think about it, you wouldn't want it to be anyone else. You can't imagine spending the rest of your time on earth with anyone other than the devious violent cowboy standing in front of you. His eyes lit up like a fresh blue morning sky, staring at you like you hung up the moon and set the stares alight. It's a look you've seen before out of the corners of your eyes. Too foolish to correctly recognize it, often presuming that he was looking at you to be rude. Mistaking the intensity in his gaze for annoyance. But now you melt under it, threading your fingers between his and squeezing his hand in a reassuring grip. Maybe forever wouldn't be such a long time after all. "There's nothing I'd love more."
" . . . but first you need to find my damned shoe."
#Severen x reader#severen van sickle#near dark#near dark x reader#vampire#slasher x reader#severen van sickle x reader
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Sunday, July 09, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)
WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?:
DOMINA (MGM +)
CELEBRITY FAMILY FEUD (City TV) 7:00pm
SEE IT LOUD: THE HISTORY OF BLACK TELEVISION (CNN) 9:00pm
LUANN AND SONJA: WELCOME TO CRAPPIE LAKE (Slice) 9:00pm
LAST CALL: WHEN A SERIAL KILLER STALKED QUEER NEW YORK (HBO Canada) 9:00pm
THE $100,000 PYRAMID (CTV) 10:00pm
THE PRANK PANEL (City TV) 10:00pm
WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?:
D.I. RAY (PBS Feed)
GRANTCHESTER (PBS Feed)
FORENSIC FILES II (TBD - Investigation Discovery)
NEVER SAY NEVER WITH JEFF JENKINS (TBD - Nat Geo Canada)
PARANORMAL CAUGHT ON CAMERA (TBD - T&E)
RUNNING WILD WITH BEAR GRYLLS: THE CHALLENGE (TBD - Nat Geo Canada)
SIGNS OF A PSYCHOPATH (TBD - Investigation Discovery)
TRAPPED IN THE FARMHOUSE (TBD - Lifetime Canada)
NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:
CRAVE TV
LAST CALL (Episode 1)
WIMBLEDON TENNIS
(TSN2) 8:00am: Round of 16
(TSN2) 1:00pm: Round of 16
(TSN2) 10:00pm: Primetime
MLB BASEBALL
(SN) 1:30pm: Jays vs. Tigers
(SN1) 4:00pm: Pirates vs. Diamondbacks
(TSN2) 7:00pm: Astros vs. Dodgers
U.S. WOMEN’S OPEN (TSN3) 3:00pm: Final Round
NBA SUMMER LEAGUE
(SN360) 3:30pm: Toronto vs. Cleveland
(SN360) 8:00pm: San Antonio vs. Portland
(SN Now) 10:00pm: New Orleans vs. Golden State
CALGARY STAMPEDE
(SN1) 3:30pm: Rodeo - Day 3
(SN/SN1) 10:30pm: Calgary Stampede: Rangeland Derby - Day 3
CFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN4) 7:00pm: Alouettes vs. Lions
FARMING FOR LOVE (CTV) 7:00pm: The one-on-one dates see romance reach a new high, but for some, a low awaits when the farmers face an unexpected decision.
BACHELOR IN PARADISE CANADA (City TV) 8:00pm (SEASON FINALE): As the sun begins to set on Paradise, "Bachelor" stars Noah Erb and Abigail Heringer arrive with a surprise and a warning.
SHARK BELOW ZERO (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm: White Sharks move north to Canadian waters where scientists investigate.
LITTLE BIRD (Crave) 9:00pm (FINALE): After much love and sorrow, the Little Bird family come together to mourn death and celebrate life.
COMING HOME (Crave) 9:50pm: Going behind the scenes of the production of the Crave Original drama series "Little Bird," and the groundbreaking movement for Indigenous narrative sovereignty as experienced by the series' creatives, crew and Sixties Scoop advisors.
BEACHSIDE BRAWL (Food Network Canada) 10:00pm: The battles continue as Antonia Lofaso takes the brawl directly onto the beach; Brian Malarkey and Eric Adjepong try to win an advantage for their team with handheld grilled treats before each team makes their coasts' rendition of a beachside feast.
#cdntv#canadian tv#cancon#canadian tv listings#farming for love#bachelor in paradise canada#little bird#tennis#mlb baseball#golf#nba basketball#calgary stampede#cfl football
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San Francisco 49ers Fuck The Rest Unisex T Shirt
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LIMOTEES LLC
San Francisco 49ers Fuck The Rest Unisex T Shirt
I really like salt cod, baccalà in Italian. There is an easy and delicious Portuguese recipe Bacalhao a Gomes de Sá (you simmer the San Francisco 49ers Fuck The Rest Unisex T Shirt and then bake it in a casserole with potatoes and onions). Or you could make a spread like the French brandade de morue. Fishcakes are another dish in which you can use multiple kinds of seafood – you can use any crabcakes recipe you like but mix in some cooked white fish or canned clams. Canned salmon works well for this. Make sure to use lots of Italian parsley in the mix. Don’t forget the Italian Strongman, Mussels Marinara. Just steam mussels in your favorite tomato sauce. I prefer ceviche to Italian crudo, YMMV. But it’s easy to make with just about any kind of seafood. Grilled or stuffed squid is delicious, as is grilled octopus (you make have tyo simmer the octopus for a couple of hours to tenderize it first. If you find baby octopus, grab them and grill them.
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Monster Match — Baptiste the Rougarou x F Human, SFW
Monster Match for @kwat01
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You could see them, just ahead, at long last.
Normally, the sounds of squawks and chirps accompanied your work, leading the way as you followed with your camera, but not this assignment.
Not the cajun flamingos.
The colorful birds were nearly silent, making only the odd low grunt, none of the ebullient chatter you’ve come to expect in your years working for the nature magazine. The spoonbills were foraging in the brackish shallows of the swamp; white heads bobbing and weaving, searching out food in the murky water as the fan boat drifted.
It was a perfect evening–the air was thick and balmy, as you’d determined it always was, here in Terrebonne Parish, and the bayou was perfectly still. Overhead, the sky was awash with color as the sun slowly set, leaving a rosy, crimson flush to add to the backdrop of your photos, matching the brilliant plumage of your elusive subjects. An ancient live oak, draped in spanish moss, dipped her long branches into the water, and the only movement was that of the birds.
As you waited, the perfect shot presented itself: one of the birds reared up, flapping its wings, and two of its fellows followed suit in a brilliant display of color that you captured with a rapid series of clicks.
When you turned back with a beaming smile, Baptiste was watching you with one of his own.
He’d told you about bayou magic, and damned if he wasn’t right.
.
You’d arrived in Louisiana more than a week earlier, with little more than a duffel and your camera gear, used to traveling light and in a hurry. Your accent set you apart, as it did almost everywhere, but you discovered the only people making the same tired “shrimp on the barbie” and dingo jokes were tourists announcing how excited they were to be in Nawlins, walking around with beads around their necks and blinking souvenir cups from the Bourbon Street bars. Everyone else was too busy living their lives to pay you any mind.
The drive from New Orleans to Terrebonne Parish took less than an hour in your rented car, always an adventure in different countries, although finding a guide turned out to be slightly more challenging. The contact that had been set up through the magazine had bailed sometime during your transpacific flight, and the message from your office had been to “feel out the locals.”
Wildlife photography was easy peasy over here in the colonies, when compared to the hassles and dangers you’d encountered in parts of Africa and South America, but the few offices you’d dropped into seemed reluctant to take you on.
Roseate spoonbills, diamondback terrapins, and the ubiquitous alligators were your main focus for this trip, and you’d be back later in the season, to capture the critically endangered red wolf…but you had let it slip that you were very interested in another wolf you’d heard about; one that made the wild hogs cower and the gators keep to their swamps.
The stories had come to you during your initial research on the area, via online message boards: nested threads buried deep within innocuous conversations about the local fauna. A creature with claws like steak knives and teeth to match, one that prowled the bayou beneath the light of the full moon each month, leaving a trail of slaughtered hogs in its wake. The people on the message board seemed grateful for the beast, for the hogs were dangerous and a nuisance, and you were intrigued, having never heard of anything like the creature, nor the name they called it.
Rougarou
You had typed the unfamiliar word into your search bar enthusiastically, eager to find something potentially more interesting to search out and photograph…but the results yielded you nothing but legends; a cryptip, a monster creature of myth, a story taken from France to Nova Scotia and passed down from the Acadians as they resettled in the bayou. That doesn’t make any sense! You couldn’t believe that it was all a hoax, not when people seemed so sincere about the wolf-like creature. Maybe it’s just a red wolf, maybe some giant hybrid…
You’d mentioned your interest in finding this rougarou to the genial woman who ran the first tour operation you’d visited…had watched the smile freeze on her face and her eyes harden. It had hardly been a surprise when she announced just a few moments later that all of her guides were booked and she couldn’t help you. It had been a mistake you’d only made once, but evidently some sort of old-fashioned phone tree had been activated, for none of the local travel and tour outfits seemed particularly interested in giving you the time of day after that.
Except for Baptiste.
A fifth generation Acadiana cajun, as he proudly proclaimed, you’d found Baptiste in a small luncheonette in Houma, as you groused on the phone to your editor back in Melbourne. Or rather, you thought ruefully, he had found you.
‘I don’t know what to do, Ray! I’m telling you, there’s something bigger here than turtles. It’s a wolf as big as a man! How has no one heard of it, I don’t understand! But none of these people will talk to me. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to find the spoonbills as this point.”
“Excusez-moi, miss…I couldn’ help overhear that you’re in need of a guide? There’s no one in Terrebonne Parish tha’ knows the bayou half so well as me. Baptiste Thibodaux, for your service.”
He was tall and broad, with an unhurried way of moving, and the blazing afternoon sun had winked on his dark brown hair where he’d followed you to the sidewalk, bowing with a flourish of his hand. He had a languid smile and lovely hazel eyes, bright in his smooth, latte-colored face. You conceded that it was amazing luck for every other guide in the area to be refusing your call, leaving you stranded with this handsome stranger who professed to know the parish like the back of his hand.
You were immediately taken with him.
Over the course of the next several days you’d shot terrapins sunning on rocks, gators blinking thoughtfully from brackish shallows, and some slithering snakes you hadn’t even planned for, all in tucked away little corners and forgotten waterways. The spoonbills were a bit more elusive, at least, for what you were looking for. “Anyone can see one or two pecking for garbage in a drainage ditch on the side of the road,” you explained. “I want to see the flock.”
The time spent together was interesting and companionable, and you found yourself enjoying the time away from home far more than you had on any other assignment. You learned about life on the bayou and Cajun traditions, that his grandfather had been the one to teach him all of the hidden nooks and crannies when he was a boy.
“Save up your toys, boy. We’re gone fishin’,” he imitated as you laughed. “Ol’ Alexandre knew it all.”
Each day you pressed him for information about the mysterious rougarou, and each day he danced around your questions with a smile.
“Can’t say I’m friends with any wolfman out there in the swamps,” he’d chuckled the second day he’d taken you out, after you eagerly told him about the things you’d read and the creature you sought. “Sure you’re not thinkin’ of some red wolves?” You’d flapped your arms in frustration, and he’d laughed again. “There’s magic in the bayou, chèr…just gotta know where to find it.”
Everywhere you went, you questioned the locals, grilling busboys and mail clerks alike. As you’d experienced with the tour outfits, the townsfolk met your questions with uneasy evasiveness. If they’d laughed at you, had flat out called you crazy, you might have let it go. As it was, their shifty eyes and changed subjects let you know that you were on to something, and the whole town was in on the coverup.
“Why you interested in some ol’ wive’s tale anyway?” Baptiste asked with that slow smile, the sixth day he’d taken you out on his fan boat. “Come see, chèr.”
He smelled like pipe tobacco and worn leather, with a splash of bay rum, and the intoxicating trio made your stomach twist and bunch when you leaned in close to follow his outstretched finger.
He had been courtly and charming every day, and you’d lying to yourself if you pretended you weren’t wildly attracted to him. You’d made mention that afternoon at the small restaurant where you’d met for a late lunch before heading out for the evening that he would need to invoice his time so that you could forward it on to your Melbourne office, and he’d scoffed at your words with a wave of his hand.
“Saints alive, you’d best save the ink writin’ up that invoice. Showing a beautiful woman around my home is a pleasure, not a job, chèr.”
As you followed the sightline his long finger pointed out, your breath caught in your throat. There, snuffling at the base of a tree, was a red wolf. Few in numbers, rare to be spotted, and not seen in Terrebonne Parish in decades, but somehow Baptiste had known just where to go.
The wolf froze, spotting you bobbing in the water, but you continued to click as its hackles raised. Baptiste was silent beside you as gleaming fangs were bared.
A sudden breeze from the gulf lifted your hair, carrying your scent to the wolf on the rocks and the creatures beyond, further alerting them to your presence, when without warning, the red wolf lowered its head, whimpering. The sudden change in its demeanor caused you to whip around, expecting an even more dangerous predator slinking up behind you, but there was nothing there.
Nothing but Baptiste’s eyes, glowing like flames in the growing darkness.
Your breath had caught for the second time that evening.
Raising your camera once more, you took advantage of the solitary wolf, until it backed slowly into the brush, melting into the shadows.
“That was incredible,” you’d exclaimed that night, still bouncing giddily on the tips of your toes. It normally took weeks setting up a shot like that, yet you’d glided up to the bank easy as you please, taking the shots you needed. “Thank you so much, I can’t believe you knew just where to find him!”
You’d stood on the stoop of your rented room, gazing up at his wide, white smile, feeling a frisson of heat move through you. You should invite him in…the heady smell of leather and bay rum caught your nose once more as you stepped closer. He had a scar, you saw, cutting through his eyebrow from his hairline, running in an uneven line across his cheek to disappear into his dark hair once more, just above his ear. Baptiste grinned down, taking your in his own with a delicate touch. The feeling of his thumb running down your palm nearly turned you inside out, but before you could act of your desire to invite him in, your hand was raised to his mouth, his lips lightly gliding over your knuckles and released.
“Tomorrow we’ll be findin’ your spoonbills, chèr…then you’ll kick your feet up, Acadiana style.”
It wasn’t until later that you’d pondered on the unnatural luminescent glow of his eyes in the darkness.
Breakfast was at the little diner up the block the next morning, and when the waitress who’d been giving you the stink-eye all week ducked her head as you entered, you weren’t at all surprised. When the same waitress stopped by your table to refill the hot water for your tea, you’d raised an eyebrow.
“Have you talked with Adeline Boucher yet?” the woman hissed. “She’s the one who can tell you what you want to know.”
.
.
“I remember I was seventeen, “ the old woman sighed wistfully.
The Fair Oaks retirement community was where you finally tracked down Adeline Boucher, a silvery-hair octogenarian with a bevy of tales to tell. It had taken the better part of an hour to get her back on track with your line of questioning, but what she revealed had been exactly what you’d been trying to unearth since your plane had touched down.
Teeth and claws, long and sharp and lethal; a painful looking change beneath the bright, white moon, leaving a wolfish creature in the place of her sweetheart, on a night more than sixty years earlier.
“Alex was so handsome. Always a perfect gentleman, you know. We would have gotten married, if my parents hadn’t sent me away. Didn’t want me raisin’ any babies with the curse. I had a good life, and it’s too late for complaints…but Alexandre Thibodaux was my first love.”
.
.
The spoonbills continued to graze through the shallows, dozens of pink streaked wings and bobbing white heads, beneath the crimson-streaked sky.
It was perfect.
“We should head back, chèr,” he murmured, once you’d lowered the camera for the final time. “You don’t want to be missin’ your first fais do-do, do you now?”
The boat bobbed in the water, and you nodded. He was right—you did not want to miss your first fais do-do. “What if I stay?” He was close, close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell that intoxicating smell, but he still wasn’t nearly close enough. “What if I stay through the end of next week?”
His smile was a bit sadder, but he maintained eye contact as your hands drifted to his shoulders. “Well…I’m afraid I’ll be a bit indisposed form most of next week.”
You nodded, already having checked the date of the full moon. You’d been searching for what had been there all along, and now that you’d found it…it didn’t matter at all.
“I’ll be back then. To shoot the wolves, it’s already scheduled.” When he reminded you that you’d already captured one of the elusive wolves on film, you shrugged. “There are other wolves I’d like to get to know better.”
His lips were warm against yours, a hand at your waist and another in your hair, as you chased the giddy sense of anticipation that had cloaked your entire visit to Terrebonne Parish. You would be back, you’d be unable to stay away.
As your mouth moved against his, the spoonbills took wing. The silent air was rent by a hundred flapping wings, brilliant color taking to the sky, and you were unable to hold in your laughter, leaning against Baptiste’s warm side.
Bayou magic.
.
.
Monster Matches available on ko-fi!
#Exophilia#monster boyfriend#monster lover#rougarou#terato#monsterbait writes#monster match#monster matchmaker
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Spinning Sunday or: The Haul 4/3/21
Spinning Sunday or: The Haul 4/3/21
Salutations™!!
The BCPF and I had a busy morning/afternoon yesterday. We got up and out to Underdog Records, the first two through the door, then went to brunch at one of our favorite spots. We saw Chef Travis Myers, sat in Bailey Park for a minute or 15, got an updated tour of 600°, Chef Travis’ restaurant coming soon, then some rekkid listening and dinner at Diamondback Grill, which is always…
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#A Tribe Called Quest#Aram Khatchaturian#Discogs#EPMD#Lauryn Hill#Music#Record Store Day#The Andrews Sisters#The BCPF#Underdog Records#Weezer
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Welp, I got tagged to do this by my old buddy old pal @acesofspade, so let’s get to it then...
Name: Katie, Kate and typically online, Cobra. There are also some who call me Radar.
Zodiac: Gemini
Favourite musicians or bands: Well ah, basically every drum corps, The Who, Rolling Stones, Glen Miller, George Straight, Alan Jackson, The Eagles, John Williams... basically I have wide and varied tastes and if I like it I listen to it
Favourite sports teams: Arizona Diamondbacks, New York Yankees, Arizona Cardinals, US Womens National Hockey team, Canada Womens National Hockey team
Other blogs: I can’t remember them all off the top of my head, but ah two that I do recall are @uboatcaptainninth and @warehousenextgen, mostly RP (and the Claudia Donovan one is the one I have access to from my cell phone, so I’ve been known to occasionally live blog things from there)
Do I get asks: Once in a blue moon
How many blogs do I follow: 841
What am I wearing: black Doc Martens, blue jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a black Star Wars hoodie
Dream vacation: Honestly, just a road trip cross country, but also just going around the world.
Dream car: Well... a classic VW Bug, a modern Ford Mustang with a custom paint job, and a classic Mustang fully restored. And a truck, because truck’s are just really fucking useful.
Favourite food: Well, I’ve got a few, but shrimp, roast beef, Steak Grilled Stuft Burritos from Taco Bell...
Drink of choice: Chocolate milk, root beer or sasparilla, Coke, cranberry juice
Languages: English, and I’ve got bits of Spanish, Russian, and German (and I’m technically taking a German class this semester, but like, I know I’m doing so horribly in that class)
Celebrity crush: I’m just sayin’, I’m a little bit weak for Haley Atwell
Random fact: A relative of mine was a Radio City Rockette
I tag: Whomever is interested in doing this, I don’t feel like tagging anyone ATM
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Here’s Where to See Fourth of July Fireworks in Metro Phoenix in 2021
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After taking in 2015 off due to restrictions on public events, various cities throughout city Phoenix are preparing huge fireworks reveals throughout the Fourth of July weekend in 2021. Some will even have huge occasions to support all the skyrockets in flight.
Fireworks display screens are set up to occur in cities and towns from Scottsdale to Surprise throughout the nights of Saturday, July 3, and Sunday, July 4, with numerous big occasions returning for 2021. (The super-popular Fabulous Phoenix Fourth and Tempe Town Lake Festival are canceled, though.)
Here’s a collection of all of the occasions Phoenix New Times has actually verified are taking place for the Fourth of July weekend in 2021.
Anthem’s Independence Day Celebration
Anthem Community Park, 41703 North Gavilan Peak Parkway, Anthem, 623-879-3011
Residents of Anthem and other neighboring neighborhoods can take part in water slides, music, food, a beer garden, and trips at this occasion from 6 to 10 p.m. on Saturday, July 3. The fireworks are set up to start at 9:30 p.m. Admission is complimentary, however some activities have an extra expense.
Phoenix Rising FC
Phoenix Rising Soccer Complex, 19593 South 48th Street, Chandler, 623-594-9606
A fireworks reveal will occur after the Phoenix Rising FC’s match vs. the LA Galaxy II on Saturday, July 3, which will likewise be the regional group’s “Military Appreciation Night.” Kickoff is at 7:30 p.m. Tickets are $20 to $75.
Arizona Celebration of Freedom
1425 West Southern Avenue, Mesa
This yearly occasion beyond the now-defunct Fiesta Mall will rollover its drive-in format from in 2015. It’s set up for Saturday, July 3, with a fireworks amazing occurring from 9 to 9:30 p.m. as guests can see from their automobiles while listening to a patriotic soundtrack broadcast on 94.5 FM. No suppliers will exist this year however food will be enabled (grills and other heating gadgets aren’t allowed, though). Admission is complimentary.
Fireworks over Chase Field in 2016.
Arizona Diamondbacks
Arizona Diamondbacks Fireworks Spectacular
Chase Field, 401 East Jefferson Street, 602-514-8400
Chase Field will have lots of all-American staples throughout the Fourth of July weekend, consisting of hotdogs, baseball, and a plethora of colored surges over the arena. The Arizona Diamondbacks’ post-game fireworks display screens will go off following their video games versus the San Francisco Giants on Saturday, July 3, and Sunday, July 4. First pitch times differ and tickets start at $25. All that stated, you do not always require to go to the video games to take pleasure in the fireworks, however — simply be anywhere within seeing range of the arena.
Star-Spangled Fourth
Goodyear Ballpark, 1933 South Ballpark Way, Goodyear, 623-882-3120
Activities at this occasion will consist of a zipline, damp and dry bounce homes, water slides, free gifts, live music, and (obviously) fireworks. The reveal itself begins at 9 p.m. It’s complimentary to go to and gates open at 6 p.m. Tailgating in the parking area will be enabled and masks are motivated, however not needed.
Celebrate America 2021
Pleasant Harbor at Lake Pleasant, 8708 West Harbor Boulevard, Peoria
This event on Saturday, July 3, will occur on the coast of Lake Pleasant and have live music, food trucks, household and kids’s activities, bounce homes, and more. It goes from 5 to 10:30 p.m. and the fireworks are set up for 9 p.m. Admission expenses are $20 to $50 for each lorry.
Red, White & BOOM!
The Wigwam, 300 East Wigwam Boulevard, Litchfield Park, 866-976-6894
You don’t require to be remaining at this classy turn to take a look at its yearly occasion on Sunday, July 4, however just signed up visitors will have access to parking at The Wigwam. (Local locals generally park on neighboring streets.) Food and beverage bundles for the resort’s internal dining establishments are readily available for $40-$100. The occasion ranges from 7 to 8:30 p.m. with fireworks following later.
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Fireworks over Schnepf Farms in 2017.
Max Marlow & Co.
Hometown Fourth
Schnepf Farms, 24810 South Rittenhouse Road, Queen Creek, 480-987-3100
Schnepf Farms’ event on Sunday, July 4, will be distinctly homemade, which befits its agrarian setting out on the edges of the southeast Valley. Expect regional craft and art suppliers, hayrides, food trucks, a beer and white wine garden, live music, a bubble pit, and other diversions. The centerpiece of the night will be the fireworks, which begin at 8:30 p.m. Patrons will be enabled to bring American flags, pop-up camping tents, blankets, chairs, little ice coolers, water bottles, video games, and umbrellas to the occasion. The begin time is 4 p.m.
General admission will be $25 per carload. “All-American” VIP tickets are $75 and consist of access to unique watching locations and the air-conditioned Big Red Barn, a catered supper, an unique entryway and parking area, and personal toilets. Admission to the bubble pit is likewise $5 per individual.
July Fourth Fireworks Spectacular
Tumbleweed Park, 2250 South McQueen Road, Chandler, 480-782-2900
You can take a look at the fireworks from the security of your lorry at this drive-in occasion from 7 to 9:40 p.m. on Sunday, July 4, which will have automobiles located in Tumbleweed Park’s huge lot. A $5 parking pass can be acquired beforehand through the city of Chandler’s site.
Scottsdale fourth of July Celebration
WestWorld, 16601 North Pima Road, Scottsdale, 480-312-6802
Attendees of this occasion can take part in live home entertainment and numerous food and beverage suppliers prior to the screen starts around 9 p.m. on Sunday, July 4. If you seem like spending lavishly, the VIP plan for $36 per adult functions a buffet-style barbecue supper with all the mendings, a huge snow slide for kids, deal with painters, balloon artists, and live music by luxury yacht rock band Some Like it Yacht. (You’re needed to acquire 2 or more tickets). Children’s VIP admission is $18. General admission is $21 per lorry and guests can bring yard chairs, blankets, and other seating. Premier parking on the WestWorld polo field is likewise readily available for $36.
Gilbert fourth of July Celebration
Gilbert Regional Park, 3005 East Queen Creek Road, 480-503-6200
A 20-minute fireworks show will be the emphasize of this family-friendly occasion on Sunday, July 4. Gates open at 5:30 p.m., the program begins at 8:45 p.m., and food trucks will be readily available. Admission is complimentary.
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Fireworks flower above Westgate Entertainment District in Glendale.
Jennifer Conway with Mark Skalny Photography
Fireworks for the fourth
Westgate Entertainment District, 6751 North Sunset Boulevard, Glendale, 480-387-5678
A “fireworks spectacular” will occur at 9 p.m. in the skies above the west Valley shopping mall on Sunday, July 4. There will be face-painting, balloon artists, and live music in Westgate’s Fountain Park and a patriotic photo-op screen and chalk walk in Waterdance Plaza prior to the program. Live music will likewise be used, beginning at 5 p.m. with a set by 3 Alarm followed by KC Angels at 7:30 p.m. Admission to the occasion is complimentary.
All-American Festival
Peoria Sports Complex, 16101 North 83rd Avenue, Peoria, 623-773-8700
An efficiency by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers will heading this star-spangled occasion on Sunday, July 4, which will likewise have food and beer suppliers, family-friendly home entertainment, a cornhole competition, and a set by rock band Micky and the Motorcars. The fireworks will begin at 9:15 p.m. Hours are from 5 to 10 p.m. and admission is complimentary.
Fourth at the Fountain
Fountain Park, 12925 North Saguaro Boulevard, Fountain Hills, 480-816-5100
Festivities at this occasion on Sunday, July 4, will consist of live music from cover band Rock Lobster at 7:30 p.m. and a choice of food suppliers. The fireworks are at 9 p.m. Lawn chairs and blankets are enabled. The begin time is 7 p.m. and there’s no charge to go to.
Apache Junction’s Fourth of July
Apache Junction High School, 2525 South Ironwood Drive, Apache Junction, 480-982-1110
Horses won’t be enabled at this event on Sunday, July 4 – as the sound from the fireworks, which start at 8:30 p.m., may scare the animals – however everybody else is welcome to go to. Live music, video games, household activities, and face painting are likewise prepared for the complimentary occasion, which will begin at 6 p.m. Early arrival is suggested, as there are a restricted quantity of parking areas.
Keep Phoenix New Times Free… Since we began Phoenix New Times, it has actually been specified as the complimentary, independent voice of Phoenix, and we want to keep it that method. Offering our readers open door to incisive protection of regional news, food and culture. Producing stories on whatever from political scandals to the most popular brand-new bands, with gutsy reporting, elegant writing, and staffers who have actually won whatever from the Society of Professional Journalists’ Sigma Delta Chi feature-writing award to the Casey Medal for Meritorious Journalism. But with regional journalism’s presence under siege and marketing profits obstacles having a bigger effect, it is very important now more than ever for us to rally assistance behind moneying our regional journalism. You can assist by taking part in our “I Support” subscription program, permitting us to keep covering Phoenix without any paywalls.
Benjamin Leatherman is a personnel author at Phoenix New Times. He covers regional night life, music, culture, geekery, and fringe pursuits.
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Delicious Exotic Meat
Delicious Exotic Meat
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Discovering Candida diet food sources can be overpowering and baffling. Do you require help?
Possibly you have quite recently been advised a not insignificant rundown of food to keep away from on a candida diet and now you are thinking, "What's left to eat?", a typical situation for somebody simply being acquainted with a way of life pointed toward crushing those yeasty beasties.
Entirely, real eating regimen food varieties can be fun, fulfilling, delightful and invigorating leaving you feeling spotless, solid and awake.
Along these lines, we should foster a mentality to discover the candida diet food varieties that feed us without taking care of the yeast. At the point when we feed the Candida yeast life forms, they crap and pee within us, delivering their harmful results into our bodies. These harmful results cause us to feel yucky - intellectually confounded, fractious and crotchety. We just can't think straight. On top of that our gastrointestinal parcel rebels with a ton of gas, bulge, agony, the runs or stoppage (or both) and general dis-ease.
Is Chicken losing its status as "Ruler of Poultry?" Some say it has gotten typical and exhausting. Chicken may have worn the pants previously, however fascinating poultry, for example, Squab, Pigeon, Guinea Fowl and Quail is the most recent pattern and flying onto menus all throughout the planet.
Before, the accessibility of colorful poultry was restricted and discovered distinctly on bill of admissions in fancy foundations. Since most Americans were not raised on such treats, costly menu things like Pheasant, Duck and Partridge advanced uniquely to the privileged. While this run of birds has been around for quite a long time, today intriguing poultry is going through somewhat of an unrest. As the populace turns out to be more wellbeing cognizant and daring; it is quick turning into a delicious, nutritious and above all, reasonable option in contrast to chicken and turkey. Eating up fascinating poultry gives a significant wellspring of protein; it's low in cholesterol and simpler to process in contrast with hamburger.
I talked with a couple of culinary experts around Las Vegas to hear their thoughts on this most recent pattern. Throw Becker, the in-house Corporate Chef for Outwest Meats; the biggest meat organization in Las Vegas said, "Solicitations for intriguing poultry come from culinary experts who need to see it on their menu, or it's an exceptional solicitation from one of their visitors and afterward run as an uncommon. Cooks are hoping to offer their visitors something else on the menu; another type of poultry other than chicken, and food varieties like Ostrich, Quail and Squab are wonderful particularly for the wellbeing cognizant since these sorts of meats are low in fat and calories".
Wild game meats are getting increasingly more famous for their incredible taste, yet additionally how well they contrast wellbeing savvy with conventional meats like hamburger, pork, and chicken. To best appreciate wild game meats, appropriate cooking procedure is fundamental. Here are three mysteries you'll need to know...
Individuals these days are picky to the food they are taking in. They favor food with high dietary benefit but it tastes extraordinary. What's more, a large portion of us love to cook and eat meat too. However, here and there it stops us to eat what we need particularly meat since they are moderately high in fat. So here are some genuine instances of outlandish meats that are certainly scrumptious options in contrast to our sense of taste:
I have been barbecuing meat for right around 35 years, and I never become weary of eating a very much cooked piece of meat hot of the barbecue. After every one of the different meats that I've eaten, I think I know some things about what kinds of meat can be ideal for barbecuing. In this article we may be examining barbecued food sources. We will leave the investigation of grilled meat, like ulled pork, ribs and brisket for different articles.
Diamondback meat is turning out to be increasingly more mainstream since it poses a flavor like, well you got it, chicken. It is not difficult to cook, and truth be told you can set it up similarly as you would a chicken cutlet. The meat is somewhat chewy so it's a smart thought to marinate it for a few hours before readiness. One mainstream approach to get ready rattler meat is to cut it in reduced down pieces, player it with flour or some other covering, and delicately fry it. Serve it with your most loved plunging sauce as a hors d'oeuvre.
"It has an aftertaste like chicken" is perhaps the most well known platitude type phrases utilized, mishandled and abused when somebody attempts to portray a non customary, new piece of meat like gator, snake or crocodile to somebody who has never tasted it, yet as per a few group that I've addressed who have really tasted reptile meat, these dreadful crawlers truly taste like chicken. Be that as it may, how might one portray the flavor of Fox, Black Bear and Llama? How "extraordinary" would you say you will go with regards to attempting various sorts of meats; Would you arrange Lion, Porcupine, Bat or Hyena in the event that it was on the menu? A genuine smorgasbord of Moose Jerky, Yak patties, barbecued Snake kabobs; Caribou Tenderloin and Kangaroo Steak are only a portion of the strange food sources being included in eateries and general stores all throughout the planet.
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The Man Who Ate the Town Podcast Episode 231
In Episode #231, proudly recorded in the Such-N-Such Media Studios at Liberty Plaza:
Tim discusses:
Willow’s Bistro closes, and a new restaurant takes its place.
Lot 63 takes the place of the Moravian bookstore and gift shop in Old Salem. Some aren’t happy about it.
Que Vida is open!
Slappy’s Chicken is back, and so is the drama!
The latest from the soap opera called “Winston-Salem Eats.” This…
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#Diamondback Grill#Eat Local#Foodie#Mojito Latin Soul Food#PodernFamily#Restaurant Events#Restaurant News#The Less Desirables Network#The Man Who Ate the Town#Winston-Salem Strong#WSNC Food#WSNC Foodie#WSNC Restaurant List#Yamas Mediterranean Street Food
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Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars Review 2020
Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars
Do you love watching birds and animals in their natural habitats? Well, you need a sturdy pair of binoculars to get the best view without going close to the animals. Also, you can use binoculars for watching sports and for other purposes as well.
When it comes to powerful binoculars, the only brand that remains at the frontrunner position is Canon. Binoculars manufactured by Canon are of high-quality and have exceptionally well image stabilization. Here in this article, we have reviewed Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars.
Let’s find out why you need these superb binoculars right now!
Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars Review
Canon is here with a battery-efficient set of binoculars that can reward you with excellent views with ultimate image stabilization. Now there will be no hassles of a shaky view, and you can easily focus on the target without any difficulties when you have Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars by your side.
Features of Canon 10x30 II Binoculars
Powerful Magnification
The magnification power of these binoculars is what you need. With these 10X30 binoculars, you will get a zooming power with 10X magnification. The lens used in the binoculars is effective and has a ratio of 30mm/1.18 in. You can easily zoom-in or zoom-out with the help of the controls available on these binoculars.
Ultimate Image Stabilization
If you want to watch birds, then these Canon binoculars are handy for you. You can easily track the flying birds even if you have shaky hands. The binoculars will stabilize the image before reaching the eyepiece, and thus you will get a sable and clear image of the target.
Doublet Field-flattener
The doublet field-flattener of the binoculars ensures a clear image without any visual distortions. Also, the images get sharper and are visible from edge-to-edge without any losses. In short, there is no problem with visual distortions when you have these Canon 10x30 Binoculars.
Eco-friendly lead-free glass
The lead-free glass of the Canon 10x30 Binoculars remains clear even if you are in a dusty area. The glass prevents any reflection, so there will be no issues even if you focus these binoculars in the direction of direct sunlight. As a result, you will get a clear image every time you use these Canon binoculars.
Battery Efficient
These binoculars from Canon are more energy efficient when compared to the previous models. It would be best if you have some AA batteries to use with the binoculars, and the battery will last longer, which means you get more enjoyment without worrying about the draining battery.
Lightweight
The weight of these Canon 10x30 Binoculars is 1.33 pounds, so that you can carry them for a long duration without any hassles. Also, you get a better eye relief with the new and improved lens used in the binoculars.
Durable Body
The body of these binoculars is durable, so there is no need to worry about any easy damages. You will get a front cover to protect the lens while traveling. Moreover, the focus adjustment ring has a rubberized coating, and you can adjust the focus with ease.
Excellent Optics
The lead-free glass and the anti-reflective lens ensure superior optics. Whether you need these binoculars for watching birds or you need them for any other purpose, you will surely get the best views with them.
Verdict
With these Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars, you can enjoy the best views with excellent comfort. The binoculars are lightweight, so there will be no hassles in carrying them with you. You will get a neck strap, and thus, you can use it with the binoculars.
Is Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars Worth Your Money?
Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars come at a considerable price, so it is better to know whether these binoculars are worth the money or not! Our review team has tested these binoculars for bird watching and for other tasks to find out the performance and battery life.
Surprisingly, the image stabilization is so good that you can track the flying bird. The focus adjustment is also easy, and you can do that on the go. These binoculars are ideal for beginners as well as professionals because of the ease of use and image stabilization. The lens is anti-reflecting, and you can focus on the target even in broad daylight.
Final Words
Canon 10x30 Image Stabilization II Binoculars is a battery efficient device that consumes less battery than other similar binoculars. Also, these binoculars have ±3 dioptric correction and ±1° stabilization freedom that improved the field of view, and you get a better image.
The carrying case that comes with the binoculars is robust, and you can use it to pack the binoculars in your traveling bag. Moreover, lightweight binoculars are easy to hold, and you can use them comfortably for more time without getting exhausted.
If you are planning for a jungle safari, then make sure that you have these Canon 10x30 Binoculars with you.
Most Relevant Combination Products to consider before you buy:
Vortex Optics Diamondback HD 10×42 Binocular
Best Canon 10×42 L Image Stabilization Waterproof Binoculars
Nikon 7577 Monarch 5 10×42 Binocular
Canon 10x30 Reviews By Customers
-Jack
I was looking for a pair of binoculars that has powerful magnification, and thankfully I got Canon 10x30 Binoculars. These binoculars do what they promise; the image stabilization is so far working well. I also found that the battery lasts longer than the previous model. I am happy with the purchase.
-Andrew
Most of the binoculars I've used to have a reflection problem. Using them in daylight results in a distorted image, and that's why I was looking for some binoculars that can deal with the reflection problem. The anti-reflective coating of these Canon binoculars is superb. Now there are no issues of distorted images. Overall, I think these binoculars should be in the bucket-list of everyone who is a keen birdwatcher.
Also, Read few other relevant Best Product Reviews that you many required in the newer future:
Callaway 300 Pro Golf Laser Rangefinder With Slope Measurement Review
TheraGun G3 vs G3Pro Review 2020
MedMassager MMF06 11-Speed Foot Massager 2020
BoSidin Facial & Body Painless Permanent Hair Removal Reviews
Coleman Roadtrip 285 Portable Stand-Up Propane Grill
Read the full article
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Chapter 5
“How could you do this to me?” Jisuk nearly yelled into her phone as she left the building on the university campus and walked to her motorbike.
“What do you mean?” Jinah’s voice was a little tired.
“You sent me to the fucking exam for the scholarship-program. You enrolled me into a university without telling me”.
“Why are you complaining? This way you will have to pay like half of the surgery expenses…”.
“Yeah, and can only earn half of the money I’ve earned before” Jisuk shot back and leaned against her bike.
“There are some student associate jobs that pay you a lot more – stop worrying about money already. I mean, hello? Seoyun-stockholder speaking?”
“Very funny – but I don’t want to use your money”.
“Then go and sell your damn kidney!” Jinah said annoyed, “You go to Yonsei – Period!”
“Then you go and find me one of these well-paid associates job!” Jisuk was about to hang up but moved the phone up to her mouth again just to bicker back: “Period!”
She hit the red phone-button and put her mobile phone into her bag before mounting her bike to head home.
It wasn’t even twenty minutes and Jisuk had her bike parked in the garage and walked inside the house. The shoes next to the door revealed everyone to be home and as she came into the living room she saw everyone sitting on the couch staring at a canvas put in front of the TV.
Hyunshik stood next to it, proudly laying his hand on the top of the wooden frame as if he took a photo with his graduating son.
“So, what do you think?” he asked the others who were still looking on trying to figure out what the painting portrayed.
Jisuk walked through the living room and halted as she saw the artwork being left speechless.
Kimiko was the first to speak: “I think it is very lovely”.
“Lovely?” Hyunwoo snorted and raised his eyebrow, “I don’t think that’s the best word to describe this…” he tilted his head a little, “…this strong message!”
“I don’t know what’s your problem – it is clear what the artist meant to portray” Kimiko shot back having everyone turn their back towards her. She coughed and continued: “The choice of color – the strong brush strokes between all the soft ones; it’s clearly about a young and passionate love”.
“Woah~” they murmured admiringly.
“I didn’t know you have an interest in art”, Hyunshik said feeling more than excited to finally have someone civlized in the house.
Kimiko smiled shyly, “My mother is an art dealer… so she made sure I had some knowledge on how to appreciate paintings the right way”.
Hyunshik nodded with a small melancholy look on his eyes and sighed, “Yeah, it seems that all art dealers are like that”.
“That’s amazing! Why don’t you introduce your paintings to Kimiko’s mother? You might be able to set foot on the Japanese market” Aejin jumped up excitedly and laid her hands on Hyunshik’s shoulder while smiling widely at Kimiko.
Kimiko was about o answer, however Hyunshik shook his head. “It’s okay the way it is” he gave his wife a genuinely happy smile and moved his arm around her waist. “Oho” Aejin chuckled, kissed him on the cheek and walked past Jisuk to the kitchen.
Kimiko tried to smile; however, she looked awkward and stared at the painting.
She knew the painting style – it was the same as the abstract hanging over the chimney in her living room in Japan. But there was no way she would tell Hyunshik that a painting of his was one of the most treasured belongings of her mother.
Jisuk walked up to her room and lay down on her bed. It was not long until her night shift delivering chicken would start, so she should get some rest.
Actually it wouldn’t be that bad to start going to college. She would learn more about computer and stuff – which was more in her interest than working in the convenience store.
But that would also mean cutting back a lot in her income. With three part time jobs she had a monthly allowance she could live with – after taking out the money for the rent, her aunt’s expenses and the columbarium fee for her uncle.
Going to college she would have to at least resign from the convenience store – the one job with the most income.
However, when the surgery on her aunt would be successful she wouldn’t have to pay for the Hyungwong Residence anymore – and she could have a proper job after graduating.
But before that were at least three years she had to survive… without enough money and time.
Her phone alarm went off two hours later and pulled Jisuk out of her dozing state. She washed up quickly, changed into the red polo-shirt with the logo of a chicken with burning eyes printed on her chest. Next was the incredibly ugly jacket – a loud red with the black lining showing at the collar and at the end of the sleeves.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She wouldn’t mind giving up this uniform – red absolutely wasn’t her color.
After tying her hair into somewhat a ponytail she walked down the stairs, slipped into her shoes and yelled her goodbyes before leaving through the front door.
Almost a week had passed and Jisuk had continued her part-timing as usual – even almost forgetting that the whole college-business was even a topic. At some points she had even forgotten that the college was mainly the idea to finance her aunt’s surgery. But then she would see the pamphlet from Hyungwong and have a guilty conscience again. It was an up and down.
So she returned from her café-waitressing on that Sunday late afternoon and lazily exchanged her fake Converses with a pair of slippers.
The house was loud as always. She could hear Hyunwoo in the living room playing some game again and Aejin was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner for seven people. Jisuk walked to the kitchen and peeked inside. “I’m home!” she announced and Aejin turned her attention away from stirring the pot.
“Oh, Jisuk! Your friend called – she’ll come over this evening after dinner”. Her voice didn’t sound that excited as she would normally do when guests came over.
But that might be due to her disliking towards Jinah. Jinah was way too wild for Aejin’s taste and even though she did something worthwhile with her job Aejin couldn’t get around the impression she got from her in Daegu.
“Alright – why didn’t she call me first?” Jisuk asked curious. “How would I know” she tried to sound indifferent and proceeded cooking the stew.
Jisuk would have loved to hear the conversation between Jinah and Aejin; both very stubborn personalities and not afraid to utter their disliking for the other.
“What are you making for dinner today?” Jisuk changed the topic and peeked over her shoulder.
“Sundubu Jigae”, she said and offered Jisuk to taste it. Jisuk took the spoon and fished out a piece of tofu together with pork belly and little bit of the broth and ate it; “Mmh, delicious!”
“Don’t tell Hyunwoo though, he loves soft tofu stew…”.
“Why? Is he going somewhere?”
“He is going to his friend’s place today – probably watching today’s football game” Aejin offered Jisuk a tired smile. “First Hyunshik and Yunhee are going crazy because of the baseball game beginning in…” she looked at her watch “… about one hour. And then comes the youngest and whines why we don’t have Pay TV so he could watch this American Channel. Be glad you weren’t home today”.
Jisuk nodded understanding, “Who’s playing today?”
“I am not sure – I think the Baltimore Orioles against Arizona Diamond-something…”
“The Diamondbacks?” It was more a rhetorical question. It would explain Yunhee and Hyunshik going crazy over the day. While Hyunshik was a huge advocate of the Arizona baseball team; Yunhee was a huge fan of the Orioles.
“But how come an American Baseball game is broadcasted in normal TV?” Jisuk filched another spoon with the boiling stew and let it disappear quickly in her mouth. Upon Aejin’s reprimanding look she just grinned innocently.
“There is this one Korean in one of the teams... the baseball idol of South Korea – that’s why” Aejin sighed and pushed Jisuk away from the pot before she would snack on the whole stew.
“Ahhh – Yunhee’s Mister number 50” Jisuk grinned knowingly and left for the living room where she found Yunhee and Hyunshik in a heated discussion to which team was the better one.
The smaller girl seemed totally prepared for the upcoming game with the well-known Doosan Bears tricot – a huge 50 covering the back.
Jisuk walked just past them without bothering to greet them. They wouldn’t hear her anyways and she had no intention to join this discussion whatsoever.
“Heyo, bro~” Jisuk sat down on the couch next to Hyunwoo who lazed about on the couch.
He glanced at her shortly before continuing to hit the buttons on the controller in his hands and stared on the screen again.
“What’s up?”
“I heard you are going to stay out late tonight?” she raised an eyebrow at him.
Hyunwoo nodded. “Are you sure it’s with a friend?” Jisuk wriggled her eyebrows thinking back how he had a crush on that class president girl.
“Yep – with Linus… why?”
“Ah, it’s nothing… I just thought that your sudden interest in football was a good excuse for you to date a girl without Aejin saying anything.”
“I wouldn’t plan a date on a Sunday evening” he chuckled – which died out quickly and was replaced with a quiet: “Chaerin has a boyfriend anyways…”.
“Oh” was all Jisuk could utter.
“It’s better this way… looking at her boyfriend I could have never offered her the same”.
“That’s bullshit – what does he have what you don’t have?”
“A modeling contract with Codes Combine” he said without hesitating. Jisuk snorted, “So he is just handsome? Then Chaerin might not be the best for you… she is way too superficial”.
“Don’t say that about her – she is not like that!”
“If you say so…” Jisuk shrugged and leaned back to watch him play his video game.
“Then is Linus your next love interest? Or why are you pretending to be interested in football?” Jisuk continued to grill him on that topic.
He vehemently shook his head. “No, he is the new transfer student – the girls dig him so I thought becoming close with him would…” Jisuk’s hand met the back of his head.
“What is that for?” he complained, “I died because of you!”.
“Serves you right! You shouldn’t take advantage of people like that!”
“Who are you? My mom?”
“wHo ArE yOu? My mOm?” she parroted him and crossed her arms, “You either become friends with him because he is an okay person or you don’t… with your lack of charms he wouldn’t be able to help you anyways” she stuck out her tongue at him.
“Stop trying to play the moralizer – you kind of scare me” he shuddered.
“Then don’t make me…” she was interrupted by the doorbell.
“That must be him!” he jumped up from the couch and left Jisuk in midst her now harmless threat.
Jisuk followed him curiously to the door where Aejin was already about to open it.
A young boy with fawn disheveled hair and a chic aura stood in the doorframe, “Oh my”, Aejin smiled at him and offered to come in. “Thank you” he bowed slightly and took a few steps inside casually waving at Hyunwoo. “I am Jung Linus, a friend of Hyunwoo” he introduced himself to Aejin and Jisuk. “What a nice name” Aejin clasped her hands together, “Are you a Korean American?”
“Mom!” Hyunwoo complained impatiently – he wanted to just leave.
Linus shook his head, “I am from Germany…”
“Mom, do you smell that?” Hyunwoo asked fanning air towards his nostrils. Aejin let go of Linus and smelled the air – “Oh no! The dinner” she hurried into the kitchen.
“Go quickly before she comes back!” Jisuk urged the two boys and waved them goodbye.
Linus and Hyunwoo walked from the door to a beige scooter and Linus coolly threw a helmet towards his friend who caught it casually.
“There is a slight change of plans” Linus began before starting the motor, “My parents decided to watch something else – we will be going to my sister’s place”.
Hyunwoo shrugged – he didn’t really care. “Alright”.
Jisuk closed the door after seeing the back lights of the scooter disappearing on the street and returned to Aejin bringing the stew on the table.
Hyunshik and Yunhee had postponed their discussions to some later time and set the table. “Where are Kimiko and Youngjae by the way?”
“The last time I have seen Kimiko was when I left her reading in our room.” Yunhee shrugged. “She surely is still there – she had a huge chunk in her hands.”
“Will you get her? Oh, and check if Youngjae is in his room”.
Yunhee nodded and slowly went up the stairs.
“What is he doing in his room all day long? He isn’t only playing games , is he?” Jisuk asked Aejin and Hyunshik who just shrugged, “You weren’t any better – if I remember correctly you were behind your computer screen all the time back in Daegu” Aejin replied dryly.
“Yeah, but I didn’t just play games…” Jisuk murmured back and sat down on her usual seat. Yunhee came back with Youngjae and Kimiko following her.
After everyone had eaten until their stomachs were about to burst they moved to the living room turning on the baseball game.
It hadn’t started yet – there were some interviews with trainers and last but not least the interview with the star of the whole broadcasting – Kim Hyun Soo.
“That’s your Mister number 50?” Jisuk asked a little disappointed - “I imagined him to be… a little bit more handsome”.
Hyunshik laughed out loud. “You can say what you want – but that doesn’t change a thing. He is still part of the reason why I started playing baseball seriously!”.
“Him? How is that?”
“That is a very long story…” Yunhee smiled reminiscing about her middle school days, “The game is starting!”
The door bell rang suddenly and Aejin looked at Jisuk and signed her to get the door. “Are we expecting someone?” Hyunshik put down his beer and looked at the young boarders.
“My friend is coming by – don’t mind us” Jisuk got up from the couch and walked out of the room towards the front door already seeing Jinah’s silhouette behind the frosted glass of the door.
“How you doin’?” Jisuk grinned at her best friend and let her in.
“Work was hell today - everything was a mess and you know, kids aren’t very helpful when they want to play with you non-stop”, Jinah sighed and slipped out of her high heels making her tall appearance shrink down up to Jisuk’s nose.
“Yeah - I have the problem all the time” Jisuk rolled her eyes at Jinah as if she was stating the obvious.
“However, the mailman brought something very pleasant”, she opened her handbag and fished out an envelope handing it over to Jisuk.
While examining it she walked into dining room hearing the rest of the house cheering for the game.
Aejin sat quietly at the side knitting and occasionally looking on the TV while Youngjae didn’t mind the game at all – he was too immersed in his phone. Kimiko walked past the two bowing slightly to the unknown woman and decided to go upstairs.
“Good evening” Jinah bowed at them – everyone except Aejin gave her a polite greeting.
“Who’s playing?” Jinah ignored Aejin and took a few steps towards them looking at the screen. “Ah, the Orioles are playing…” Jinah nodded and stood there for some time watching the game. Jisuk was way too occupied with the mail Jinah had handed her that she didn’t mind her friend.
The insignia of Yonsei University was printed on the upper left corner with Jinah’s address in the lower right one.
“It’s already opened…” Jisuk noticed and Jinah looked at her. “Duh, it’s my mail – of course I opened it”.
“Why does my result gets send to you anyways?” Jisuk raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, I was the one who registered you – so I have the right to be the first one to know”.
Jisuk glanced at her friend one last time before she took out the letter and tossed the envelope aside.
Without saying a word or even changing her expression in any way she read the letter and in the end looked into the glistening eyes of Jinah – who clasped her hands together.
“Amazing – isn’t it?”
“What is amazing?” the others sitting on the couch turned their attentions towards the two woman standing in the dining room.
“Jisuk got accepted at Yonsei as a scholarship student!” Jinah squealed excited.
Aejin was quick to jump on her feet and abandon her knitting-tools just so she could snatch the letter out of Jisuk’s hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for college?” Aejin hit her shoulder – but didn’t even give her time to answer before pulling her into a tight embrace.
“And on top of that: Yonsei! I am so proud of you!” Aejin’s excitement was way bigger than Jisuk who just shrugged it off – it was a pleasant feeling knowing she was cut out for one of the SKY-Universities in South Korea; but college had never been her goal so her happiness was limited.
Hyunshik also joined them in celebration and left the game behind with Yunhee being the only one left actually watching it.
“What made you suddenly change your mind?” Aejin asked remembering how Jisuk had always reacted annoyed every time she had tried to get her into college. And now she suddenly had a scholarship.
“You didn’t tell them?” Jinah asked nudging Jisuk’s arm. Jisuk shook her head and smiled innocently –“There’s nothing to tell them… “ An awkward laugh left her mouth and Jinah huffed.
“We’ll talk about that later”, Jinah whispered.
“Of course, we will” Jisuk mumbled.
Sudden yelling from the couch interrupted them and they saw Yunhee talking insistently with the TV ending with a dramatic drop on her knees. “Yaaas!” she victoriously put her hands up and Youngjae looked at her shocked from the back.
“What is happening?” he laughed at the situation.
“Homerun!” Yunhee imitated the batting and raised her hand to give the confused boy a high five.
“Is that good?” he confirmed before letting their hands meet in the air.
“You betcha!”
“No, no, no!” Hyunshik walked in front of the TV and tore his hair, “That can’t be!”
“Who’s the better team now?” Yunhee sneered and crossed her arms satisfied.
Hyunshik gave her a glare and sat down back on the couch again.
“Okay – let’s forget about this for a moment!” Aejin grabbed the remote control and turned the TV off even though Yunhee and her husband were complaining.
“Because we have something which a lot more worth celebrating for” Aejin pulled Jisuk to her side.
“My only child who is going to college” she praised her. “What about Hyunwoo?”
“I gave up hope long ago…” Aejin mumbled back.
“Welcome in the club of Yonsei Students!” Yunhee said, pointing from her to Youngjae and then to the upper floor.
Jisuk chuckled, “Yeah, sounds like a really cool club”.
Jinah parked her car on the parking lot in front of the faculty of engineering and turned off the motor before looking expectant at her co-driver.
“I am going to be honest with you – I am not very thrilled going in there” Jisuk said not even thinking about unbuckling herself yet.
“You don’t have to be thrilled about a boring preparatory course… you just have to attend it”.
“Ha ha” Jisuk replied dryly and removed the seatbelt. “It’s the best time to find some friends…” Jinah started but was interrupted by Jisuk: “Yeah, and we both know that I am very good in seizing this opportunity”.
“Don’t worry about that, you are studying computer engineering as an average pretty girl – you won’t have any problems finding friends”, Jinah smirked mischievously.
“Alright – I don’t think me being a girl would be an issue” Jisuk clarified making Jinah chuckle, “If you think so, just go in already – there are some people whose lunch break isn’t the whole day long” Jinah said impatiently.
“You are your own boss… you can extend your break as much as you like”
Jisuk opened the door, grabbed her bag laying in the leg room and got out of the car. “See you!”
She shut the door again and walked up to the building with no motivation whatsoever.
The room she had to go to was the same she had the surprise exam in and the docent giving this preparatory course was the one supervising the exam as well.
As soon as Jisuk had opened the door she instantly knew what Jinah had meant with her being a girl would help her a lot – and that it was an issue.
The room was filled with freshly graduated boys who one by one had sensed the other sex setting foot into the room and turned their head towards the door.
Jisuk was a little overwhelmed – she wasn’t used to so many people giving her attention.
They started murmuring and talking with each other while they occasionally but excitedly glanced at her. This definitely wasn’t helping in making the idea of going to college tempting for her.
“Okay, everybody sit down!” the professor came into the room – again wearing a knitted sweater. Jisuk hurried to the next empty seat in her reach and watched the professor writing his name on the blackboard.
“I am Professor Ji Gongyoo. I am happy to see some familiar faces here” his gaze shifted over the crowd of students and Jisuk swore that he was also looking at her.
“What I am going to tell you in this course might be nothing new to the majority here – but I’ll start with basic knowledge and vocabulary nonetheless. At the end of the week I’ll concentrate on organization of your schedule and the different study-portals we are working with” he summarized and Jisuk sighed leaning back. That sounded like a very exciting course.
She noticed some of the students hurrying to get paper and a pen ready – rushing off to take notes of every word the professor said as if their life depended on it.
Her neighbor however also leaned back relaxed and watched something on his mobile phone – giving the professor not even the slightest bit of attention.
Not even ten minutes had passed and Jisuk was bored – so she curiously leaned her upper body to the side so she could look unnoticed on the phone of her neighbor.
It was a foreign show, however, with Korean subtitles so Jisuk was able to follow even without the sound of the video.
Totally immersed into the show she chuckled at the jokes and called her neighbor’s attention to herself. He raised his gaze to look at her through his thick black glasses with a dry expression.
Jisuk noticed him looking at her and apologized quietly before turning her head towards the front again.
“You want?” he reached out to offer her the other part of the earphones. Jisuk wasn’t sure if she should take it – she didn’t want to seem rude. But on the other hand, she saw no prominent reason why she should not to.
“What’s your name?” he asked whispering.
“Jisuk”, she replied putting the earphone in her ear and instantly heard the typical sitcom background laugh.
“Nice to meet you, Jisuk. My name’s Bam Bam.” He reached out his hand for her to shake.
“For real?” she took his hand staring at him unbelieving. There were no such parents cruel enough to give their own child such a name. “No, of course not. It’s just a nickname…”
“You two seem to discuss a very important topic!” the professor suddenly called them out making them pull out the earphones quickly before he could notice them.
“Mind to share it with us?” he inquired making everyone turn their heads towards Jisuk once again. The two slowly shook their heads. “Hm, didn’t think so. Then please postpone your conversation to after this course!” he said with a warning tone resonating with it. “So where was I? Oh, right – programming…”
Jisuk blocked the professor out again and put the earphone back in exchanging an impish grin with BamBam.
Maybe going to college wasn’t that boring as she had thought.
#ch5#roaring 20s#got7#okay i don't know if everything makes even sense#I am just going to push through without caring anymore#so bambam finally got into the game#and who is Linus' sister who is also going to the great wedding?#and who is even marrying?#maybe its yunhee?#or youngjae?#or both?#maybe i will dice the ships around a bit#i am excited for the fluffy college au to finally begin#after five chapters
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Thursday, September 01, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)
WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?:
PANTHEON (AMC +)
THE SECRETS SHE KEEPS (Sundance Now)
WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT
RACE FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP (Premiering on September 05 on CNBC at 1:00pm)
THE MIGHTY ONES (TBD - YTV)
BLOODS (TBD)
NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:
AMAZON PRIME CANADA
THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RINGS OF POWER (Premiere and Episode 2)
CBC GEM
DAS BOOT (Season 3)
FAKES (Season 1)
ISLANDS
MALORY TOWERS (Season 2)
CRAVE TV
1 QUEEN 5 QUEERS (Season 2 Premiere)
2022 MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS
THE BIG BANG THEORY (Season 11)
DISNEY + STAR
MIKE (two-episode premiere)
NETFLIX CANADA
BARBIE MERMAID POWER
ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ
FENCED IN
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
HACHI: A DOG’S TALE
THE INTERPRETER
THE JACKAL
JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE STONE OCEAN (Episodes 13-24)
LISS PEREIRA: ADULTING
LOL HOUSE OF SURPRISES (Season 1)
LOVE IN THE VILLA
NACHO LIBRE
OFF THE HOOK
PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES
PRIMAL FEAR
S.W.A.T: SEASON 5
SAMURAI RABBIT: THE USAGI CHRONICLES (Season 2)
TYLER PERRY’S MADEA’S WITNESS PROTECTION
WATERWORLD
WELCOME HOME ROSCOE JENKINS
YOUNG SHELDON (Season 5)
IIHF WOMEN’S WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP
(TSN4/TSN3) 6:00am: Quarterfinal
(TSN4/TSN3) 10:00am: Quarterfinal
(TSN4/TSN3) 2:00pm: Quarterfinal
U.S. OPEN TENNIS
(TSN/TSN3/TSN5) 11:00am: Early Round Coverage - Day 4
(TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 7:00pm: Early Round Coverage - Day 4 Primetime
MLB BASEBALL
(SN) 1:00pm: Mariners vs. Tigers
(SN Now) 4:00pm: Dodgers vs. Mets
(SN1) 6:00pm: Orioles vs. Guardians
(SN) 7:00pm: Rangers vs. Red Sox
(SN1) 9:30pm: Brewers vs. Diamondbacks
KINGS OF THE WOOD (CTV Life) 8:00pm: Ella and Charis team up to build a sculptured sign language table; Alex creates a vintage-style bookcase; Saf works on a pair of stools.
THE INCREDIBLE DR. POL (Nat Geo Canada) 8:00pm/9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Mischievous, fun and friendly, it's no wonder dogs are Pol Vet's best friends.
THE PRINCES AND THE PRESS (CBC) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Amol explores the years following the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the positive media reaction to the emergence of a new generation of royals.
THE MIDWICH CUCKOOS (Showcase) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): A quiet town is hit by a supernatural event, leaving everyone unconscious and changing the area's fate forever.
NO DEMO RENO (HGTV Canada) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): The Widtfeldts want to renovate their forever home; the Hensleys need Jenn's advice on how to turn their office-bedroom into an oasis from their busy life with six kids.
STONE HOUSE REVIVAL (Magnolia Canada) 9:00pm/9:30pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Jeff and his team take on the Yardley Tavern; while renovating the mudroom, the team makes a historic find that gives clues to the structure's past. In Episode Two, Jeff and his team return to an 18th-century farmhouse where they had previously remodeled the kitchen; this time around, the team transforms a barely-used pass-through room into a functional and historically-correct dining room.
CANADA'S DRAG RACE (Crave) 9:00pm
CHEAT DAY USA (Food Network Canada) 10:00pm/10:30pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Robert Irvine starts his cheat day quest in New Orleans with a gravy-smothered roast beef and fried shrimp po' boy; in Los Angeles, the classic American grilled cheese gets a Mexican twist, and a barbecue sandwich is taken to new heights. In Episode Two, in Torrance, Calif., Robert Irvine tries a Korean-inspired burger made with beef bulgogi and crunchy kimchi and served with truffle fries; there's a blue milkshake in Boston and a sweet, salty ice cream burger with housemade tots in San Antonio.
THE ART OF VINTAGE (Magnolia Canada) 10:00pm/10:30pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Katie Saro tackles her first big project in her new home, transforming the attic into a bedroom for her daughters; meanwhile, her neighbors ask for help bringing color and light into the dark, wood entryway of their over 100-year-old house. In Episode Two, Katie gives an antique desk new life by transforming it into an island for her kitchen, and tackles the design for a client's basement.
CESAR MILLAN: BETTER HUMAN BETTER DOG (Nat Geo Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Cesar rehabs an aggressive Rhodesian ridgeback and an anxious mini schnauzer.
72 HOURS: TRUE CRIME (OWN Canada) 10:00pm/10:30pm (SERIES PREMIERE): A killer who believed he had gotten away with murder is caught with the use of DNA. In Episode Two, the killer of a homeless man is caught due to the determination of police and scientists.
1 QUEEN 5 QUEERS (Crave) 10:30pm/11:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Host Brooke Lynn Hytes and five panelists representing Canada's queer community break down and examine a variety of topics.
CANADIAN REFLECTIONS (CBC) 11:30pm: Fresh Meat; The Walk
#cdntv#cancon#canadian tv#canadian tv listings#kings of the wood#the midwich cuckoos#canada's drag race#1 queen 5 queers#canadian reflections#iihf women's hockey#tennis#mlb baseball
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USA Tour, day 16
Our final internal flight is from Seattle down to California and it’s a much more casual affair than flying international. Sat on the back row next to Lynn from Taiwan I trace the course of the Pacific coast, a clear view in a cloudless sky through the starboard porthole.
Back on Californian soil! I was last here a year ago with my pal Willie J Healey. He and the boys are back out on tour in the UK with Sundara Karma as we speak and as lucky as I am to be here I am missing the craic with the laddies. But I’ll be seeing them soon for the last couple of dates.
Meanwhile back in San Fran the air is warm and there’s a wonderful softness to the light. It’s another city that needs to be seen to be believed - the streets slope up at gravity defying angles (has anyone played Crazy Taxi?) and I hope the park brake on the rental van is secure...
We check in at the Casa Loma Hotel on Fillmore Street, one of the less glamorous residences of the tour but probably my favourite: it’s rich in California vibe and strikingly similar in name and ambience to the Alta Loma from Ask The Dust by John Fante.
However the wonky floor and sloping beds combined with the rolling San Fran streetscape meant I’d have to wait until we were beyond the city limits before I would really know which way was up again.
JMac (FOH) finds a restaurant a few blocks north and some of us head down the hill for dinner. The Alamo Square Seafood Grill is a family owned fish joint and the waitress does a glorious job of remembering all 6 of our starter, main, dessert and wine selections by memory. I have pear salad, grilled snapper and split a peach cobbler and a floating island with Gerard washed down with a few glasses of Napa Valley Grenache. The food is probably the bestest freshest of the tour so far and the restaurant is the perfect blend of quality fare and fine wine but with a comfortable casual atmosphere.
Afterwards we head back up towards the hotel and stumble across ‘Originals Vinyl’ on the corner of Fillmore and Hayes.
Watching Bob Stanley in a record store is witnessing Bob Stanley in his natural habitat. He fingers the records with speed and finesse, his digits rifling rapidly through the racks, eyes scanning the sleeve and his brain computing and analysing the results, cross-referencing artist, issue and condition against his mammoth internal database.
A sparkle in his eye - and his haul of 12″s tucked firmly under his arm (I hear rumours that his house started subsiding on the end that he kept his record collection...) - he leaps between Country and Soul, pauses over Rock to recommend me a Louden Wainwright III, before darting to Disco to dig out that illusive early Bee Gees seven-inch. There’s something almost athletic about his manner, and it’s clear I’m witnessing a master: like watching Picasso paint, Ronaldo in the air or Taylor at the oche.
The rest of the evening I spend back in the casa with the windows open, the cool Cali evening air wafting gently while the Yankees play the Twins on the TV.
Awaken the following morning to a room bathed in soft California sunlight that streaks through the blinds and bounces about every white surface. Gerard, Silvia, James and myself head first to ‘Brenda’s Meat & 3 Three’ for a southern-style breakfast followed by a long walk to the northern coast of the San Fran Peninsula, heading down Fillmore Street, west on Broadway, down the Lyon Street Steps, through Presidio park eventually emerging to gasps and guffaws beside the Golden Gate Bridge.
Yonder to our gig and it’s our biggest show of the tour at the iconic Fillmore. They have a tradition of designing custom posters for shows at the venue and much of the interior wall space is filled with the colourful pieces - the Grateful Dead, Tom Petty, Led Zeppelin, and The Who. Wilco, Sigur Ros, Radiohead, and among them even two for past Saint Etienne shows...!
Afore the show JMac and myself head out to catch the thrilling finale of the Diamondbacks/Rockies wildcard game but have to leave before it ends to catch Shawn Lee’s set. Shawn produced St Et’s recent ‘Home Counties’ album and will be supporting for the final three shows of the tour.
Sarah is in fine voice tonight and we have one of the best shows of the tour. It’s a touching moment when she hands her feather bower to a fan on the front row while all around him celebrate his acquisition and share in his joy. I felt like I was witnessing the very happiest moment of someone’s life and it is was a poignant reminder of just how much these gigs mean to people (another fan turned up in a home-made embroidered ‘Saint Etienne - Home Counties’ denim jacket!).
After the show Pete, John and myself head across the road to the Boom Boom Bar which is a classic dark Cali dive bar where the unseen of San Franciscan society gather to dance to the fantastic house band, a five-piece who’ve been playing here for twenty years. Pete has a hazy deja vu of a night in the same bar some years earlier and I swear there’s a twinkle of recognition in the bass players eye when he spots him sipping a Mojito on the dance floor...
Arise early, a little more shabby than normal, for the long drive down to Pomona Valley, in Los Angeles County. It’s a 6 1/2 hour drive (without LA traffic...), 410 miles: about the distance from London to Glasgow!
Stop at Denny’s for a round of their signature ‘Sizzlers’ followed by a gas station in the middle of Hicksville, CA that sells bumper stickers that say things like “Trump the chumps”, “Obamacare makes me sick” and “One Big Ass Mistake America”...
Continue south to a soundtrack of Jackson Browne. Fruit fields, oil derricks, farm land, a fleeting glimpse of a real-life twister and then more endless brush while an epic hazy mountain skyline scrolls slowly left to right on the horizon like a painted Hollywood movie backdrop.
Eventually the road rises up; traverse a final scenic mountain range; softly softly the rural becomes urban and finally we drop down via the I-5 into the Greater Los Angeles Area.
See signs for Santa Fe, San Bernardino and and Santa Barbara. Something called The Garlic Crab and something called Lemon Cuisine Of India. Pass the Rosebowl as featured in Depeche Mode’s 101 and the Santa Anita Raceway, Bukowski’s favourite track. Moments, snapshots, and characters from all of the greats: Paris, Texas, The Graduate, The Maltese Falcon.
A glimpse of a college football game. Modern American architecture and apartment buildings with communal pools. The LA river. Shopping plazas and strip malls. Interstate 10 and Highway 71. ARCO, Texaco, Petco, and AAMCO; hotels, motels, 7Eleven and Circle K. Endless suburbia, the most epic of all sprawling metropoli, people and their stories everywhere you look. The Tortilla Curtain; Columbo. Liquor stores and a coin laundry. Pawn shops, gun shops, El Pollo Loco. ‘Cadillacs of Crestview’. Palm tree upon palm tree and long shadows on pastel grey sidewalks.
It’s been a long day and it’s not over yet as we round a final No Right On Red and greet the stylish Glasshouse venue!
Yours at last from LA,
MM
(Middle pic by James Ball! Thanks James)
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Angels Outfielder Justin Upton Wants to Catch a Buyer for His $11M Arizona Mansion
Denis Poroy/Getty Images
Los Angeles Angels outfielder Justin Upton is taking a swing at selling his custom home in Paradise Valley, AZ. The majestic mansion is on the market for $11 million.
The 31-year-old All-Star built his “dream home” from the ground up in a location about 13 miles outside Phoenix, while he was starring for the Arizona Diamondbacks. He even took an ESPN reporter to the site to point out where the gym and roof terrace would be. The mansion was completed in 2013, just as he was traded to the Atlanta Braves.
The luxury home base is no longer Upton’s dream, but it will certainly work for a fan of upscale architecture and baller style.
For starters, there’s a gorgeous media room featuring the star’s sports memorabilia. In the ESPN article from 2012, Upton told the writer he “wants to decorate the basement with a series of clear mannequin-like figures on which he’ll hang game jerseys from players he respects.”
Mission accomplished. It’s not in the basement, but his impressive collection features 18 jerseys, neatly displayed in well-lit rows.
Justin Upton’s jersey collection
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Another view of the jersey collection
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Upton’s Arizona mansion
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Living room with fireplace and retractable glass walls
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Chef’s kitchen
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Dining room
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Pool and spa
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Master suite
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Indoor sport court
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Set on two acres, the 14,400-square-foot mansion features five bedrooms and seven bathrooms. Thanks to the open floor plan, the home can host informal gatherings indoors, as well as parties that can expand outside.
The chef’s kitchen includes high-end appliances, multiple ovens, warming drawers, beverage drawers, gas and induction cooktops, a Miele coffee machine, and multiple dishwashers.
The spacious master retreat has floor-to-ceiling retractable glass doors, a fireplace with a sitting area, and his-and-hers water closets.
Built for an athlete, the home boasts a sports center with an indoor basketball court, retractable batting cage, gym, and viewing mezzanine. The game room sports a golf simulator, billiards, wet bar, and a private patio.
Out back, the backyard includes a built-in barbecue grill, pool and spa, fire features, artificial turf, a three-hole putting green, and a rooftop deck.
Other perks include a theater, temperature-controlled wine wall, a four-car garage, and a one-bedroom guest casita.
The listing details mention that the home can be purchased fully furnished at an additional cost. We imagine the jerseys are not included.
Upton, 31, made his MLB debut with the Diamondbacks in 2007. Now in his 13th season, the Angels outfielder has been struggling with a toe injury this year. He’s been named to the All-Star team four times and won three Silver Slugger awards.
The post Angels Outfielder Justin Upton Wants to Catch a Buyer for His $11M Arizona Mansion appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.
from https://www.realtor.com/news/celebrity-real-estate/justin-upton-selling-custom-arizona-mansion/
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The Social Club Reborn or: A Great Night Out
The Social Club Reborn or: A Great Night Out
Salutations™!!
Tonight, The BCPF and I were able to get together with The Joneses, The Lowders, The Verners, and “Our Jim” Young at one of my favorite restaurants in town, Diamondback Grill.
We have all spent time together in our yard, socially distanced, but not in a restaurant (at least not all of us) since before the pandemic. Last night was amazing. A lot of laughter. A lot of catching up.…
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