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nessituran · 3 months

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❛❛ 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 , who wears black and speaks her mind . So powerful , she leaves her prints on everyone she touches because she is both: a savage and a sweetheart . –––––––––––––

FULL NAME. Neslihan Beyza Turan

NICKNAMES. Nes, Nesli

STAGE NAME. Nessi

BIRTHDAY. tba ( 31 )

OCCUPATION. Singer/Songwriter for Red Bedroom Records

RESIDENCE. Downtown

GENDER / PRONOUNS. Cisfemale ∘ She/Her

HOMETOWN. Covington, Georgia ( born in Turkey )

VOICECLAIM. Kelsea Ballerini

PINTEREST ╱ CONNECTIONS

personality .

zodiac chart: ?? sun, ?? moon, ?? rising

mbti personality: isfp

moral alignment: neutral good

ennegram: ???

hobbies / interests: music/songwriting, horseback riding, reading, painting

positive traits: creative, caring, empathetic, free spirited, optimistic

negative traits: insecure, naive, sensitive

family .

parents: Sevda Turan (mother) and Ekrem Turan (father)

siblings: kelebek "bek" turan

children: none

pets: a cat named ________

breakdown .

tw: tba

She's lived in Covington for a majority of her life but was originally born in Turkey like her older sister.

The Turans grew up with modest means. They weren't rich but, they got by. They were very supportive of their children and made sure to celebrate their successes.

Bek was the scholar, the shining star. While Nesli was a star but in her own right. From an early age she loved music. Loved listening to it, playing it, and writing it. She knew one day she'd see her name in lights and she'd stop at nothing to get there.

While Bek transcended in school and was considered something of a child genius, Nesli struggled. She suffered with reading dyslexia but tried her best to overcome it.

She got decent grades in hopes of making her parents just as proud but in someway or another, she always came up short. She knew it was because her gifts were different.

So around the time she got to high school, she begged and pleaded with her parents to send her to an art school rather than to a regular school. With the help of scholarships, her first ever job and an apprenticeship she got with a local musician - she was able to go. Avoiding not only the ridicule that would be waiting for her upon being labeled "Baby Bek's little sister" but an atmosphere that wouldn't serve her.

Turns out she excelled, as any young aspiring musician would and later left her hometown to pursue music at Vanderbilt University in Nashville.

In between her studies, she would perform at local bars and coffee shops in hopes of landing a bigger gig and getting recognized. It took two to three years of strenuous hustling and making connections to gain some traction. But, it wasn't until she started posting videos of her performances on TikTok and clips of her singing covers in her bedroom for her career to take off.

A music rep at Red Bedroom records came across her page and was blown away by what they saw. Although young, she had something that most seasoned musicians could never emulate. They signed her a few weeks later and she immediately started recording songs she had tucked away in journals over the years.

Her first album when platinum 13 months later and in the height of her so called "fame" she'd accumulated a wide audience ranging of close to one million followers.

From there, she spent the next 2-3 years traveling and touring across the world. She even broadened her range by working with other artists in the industry, some even from the same label.

Around this time of collaborating, she'd met her then boyfriend - a country singer - who furthered her career and helped her rake in new fans and followers. The internet couldn't get enough of them together. And while on the outside everything seemed picture perfect, there was a dark side lurking beneath their relationship. Like all great things that shine brilliantly and brightly, their relationship faded fast.

Heartbroken, Nesli fell into a deep funk. And before she knew it, her label was pressuring her to put out her sophomore album. The only problem was, she couldn't write to save her life. Her first record consisted of a body of work she cultivated since she was a preteen. How was she ever going to top it? The more they pressed her for new songs, the more she cracked under the pressure, resulting to some very bad habits.

They recently gave her 3 months to clean up her act and come up with new material or they would be forced to drop her for good. Afraid and confused, it's forced her to return home with her tail tucked between her legs and the weight of her entire world on her shoulders. Nesli is hoping that being around her friends, her family, and her hometown might actually knock a few screws loose so the floodgates to new material would pour open but she's not holding her breath.

At the very same time, she'll do whatever it takes to carry on. Because if there's one thing she couldn't bear to lose, it's the only dream she's ever truly had or been great at.

headcanons .

tba

character inspirations. haley james scott (one tree hill)

#𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 〉 intro.#pinned.#intro.

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olivemac · 3 years

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1300 miles | chapter four | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink, very slight somnophilia], minor angst, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Tags | @mrs--barnes

Citation | Vernon, Justin, Dessner, Aaron, Mitchell, Anaïs. “Latter Days.” How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? Jagjaguwar/37do3d, 2021.

A/N | This only took 800 years to finish. Sorry for the wait. Hope it’s worth it. Xoxo

A/N, pt. 2 | Made some very minor edits to the previous chapters – nothing that changes storyline, etc.

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

🎶 1300 miles playlist 🎶

_____

previous chapter

_____

After breakfast, Bucky returns the borrowed motorcycle to Sam and grabs his backpack from Sarah's house. Sam only badgers him about if for a few minutes.

"So, you're abandoning us for Jo?" he asks Bucky teasingly.

Bucky grunts in reply. "It's not like that," he says.

“I get it,” Sam shrugs. “After eighty years, you’re finally getting some.” Bucky glares at him. “Just remember, bros before hoes,” Sam concludes, laughing and clapping Bucky on the back. Then he adds, "Don't tell Jo I said that."

Bucky's been debating how much he should reveal when he finally says, "I really like her, Sam."

Sam smiles. "Good," he says. "You deserve someone who makes you happy."

Bucky returns the smile.

"Come on," Sam says, "I've got errands to run in town. I'll drop you back at Jo's place." Bucky tosses his backpack into the bed of Sam's truck as Sam tells him, "Just remember, we promised AJ and Cass we'd take 'em out on the boat on Saturday morning."

"I'll be there," Bucky says.

_____

Bucky stays with Jo for the next two days, wearing sweats during the day while he lounges in her apartment – something he isn't used to, just lounging – and sitting alone at the end of the bar at night, watching her serve drinks with Danny.

They're inseparable for those 48 hours. There's an impending deadline – a sense that they need to fit everything they can into the next few days before Bucky returns to New York.

He slips out of her bedroom Thursday morning, still smiling from the night before, to find her practicing yoga in her living room. Bucky stops and leans against the wall to watch Jo move from one pose to the next, his eyes lingering on her hips and backside. When she moves into downward dog, she spots him from between her legs.

“Morning,” Jo says, sinking deeper into the pose and working to keep her feet flat against the mat. She notices the smirk on Bucky’s face. “Enjoying the view?” she asks.

His smirk only grows. "I am."

She walks her hands across the mat to meet her feet and stands. Before she can turn around, Bucky is behind her, his front pressed against her back and his hands on her hips.

"Best part of the twenty-first century," he says, "is skimpier clothing." His thumbs rub upward across the soft skin of her exposed belly until they're moving beneath the band of her sports bra.

Jo laughs and turns in his arms. "Not the medical or technological advancements?"

"Nope," Bucky says, "definitely this." He pops the band of her sports bra with his thumbs, then pulls her even closer, one hand sliding down her back.

"Breakfast?" she asks.

Bucky hums. "I'd rather eat something else," he says with a smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her neck.

Jo laughs loudly. "No," she exclaims, "you can't expect sex after you say something so cringeworthy."

Regardless, she lets Bucky lower her to her yoga mat and hover over her prone body.

"You were saying?" he smirks against her lips before kissing her.

Jo hums and snakes her arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him closer. His lips move across her jaw and collarbone down to the tops of her breasts. Bucky pushes her sports bra up carefully to reveal her breasts before taking a nipple between his teeth. Jo scratches her short nails across his scalp and holds him to her chest. He worries his tongue over the hard peak and around the barbell ends on each side of her nipple.

“Bucky,” Jo sighs, arching her back.

Bucky smiles against the skin of her stomach as he kisses lower. He likes hearing his name on her lips. After not having control of himself for so long, he likes that he has this small amount of power over someone else, this ability to make Jo fall apart so easily.

He peels her leggings and underwear down and off before lowering his face between her thighs. He blows warm air across her cunt, making her tremble.

"Open your legs a little more," Bucky says, pressing his large hands against the inside of her thighs. "Good girl," he praises as her legs fall further apart. Jo sighs again as Bucky looks up at her. "You're beautiful like this, doll," he says. Then he licks a thick stripe across her folds.

Jo keens and her back arches off the mat. His tongue meets her clit as his hands grip her thighs, holding her open. Jo reaches down and cords her fingers through his thick hair, pulling slightly. Bucky moans against her cunt and continues to circle his tongue across her clit before sucking it between his lips. Jo rocks her hips against Bucky's face, and he reaches up to take her hips in his hands and guide her movements. She pulls his hair again, harder this time, and Bucky grunts. He alternates his movements against her clit until she's coming hard against his face.

"Bucky," Jo moans, her mouth falling open.

Bucky pulls back and slides up her body. When he kisses her, she can taste herself on his lips. She snakes her hand into his hair and holds him close against her mouth, kissing him deeper.

"Favorite meal," Bucky smirks when they finally break apart.

"That's it," Jo says, laughing and pushing at his shoulders, "leave. Get out. Go." She points to the door.

Bucky laughs. "You wouldn't," he says, with mock hurt in his voice, as his fingers tickle against her sides.

Jo squeals and squirms against his onslaught. "Fine, fine," she shrieks, laughing, "you can stay! But no more of that!"

"What? No more of this?" Bucky laughs. He rolls onto his back, pulling Jo on top of him to straddle his face, and rips another two orgasms from her before he finally releases her, helps her redress, and follows her to the kitchen to start breakfast.

_____

In the late afternoon, before the bar is set to open, Jo takes her guitar out onto the balcony to practice. After a while, Bucky sets down the book he was reading and joins her. He watches cars and pedestrians pass below them on the street while Jo plays a song with a sleepy pace and melancholy lyrics on lost innocence. Bucky thinks it sounds pretty in Jo's soft tone.

Stacked yourself against the odds

Talking back to an act of God

You and your clever mouth

You were laughing when the lights went out

When Jo finishes and sets her guitar aside, Bucky pulls her chair closer to his and leans in to kiss her, cupping both her cheeks softly in his hands.

"What was that for?" she asks, smiling.

Bucky shakes his head, then says, "Sam said you had a record deal."

"So, you and Sam were talking about me, were you?" she teases.

Bucky looks sheepish, but Jo just smiles.

“Yeah, I had a record deal. Years ago. In Nashville. Then Danny got hurt, and we didn’t know for a while if he was going to make it or have long-term complications or what. So, I came home. He got better. We bought the bar. I still get to do what I love, and I get to be with the people I love,” she shrugs.

Bucky can sense a "but" coming.

“But…Danny blames himself for me not following my dreams. When the truth is, even if he hadn’t gotten hurt, I would have come home. I had an ex tell me once that I'm only happy when I'm failing." She rolls her eyes.

"And now?" Bucky asks.

“I’m just waiting to fuck this up,” she whispers.

Bucky snorts. "If anyone is going to fuck this up, it'll be me, doll," he replies. "I'm a 107-year-old ex-assassin who can barely use a smart phone and hasn't dated in eighty years."

Jo cocks her head to the side and says, "We could fuck this up to together?"

Bucky smiles. "Deal." Then he kisses her, his hand cupping the back of her head and his tongue sweeping into her mouth.

_____

When things are slow at the bar on Thursday night, Jo grabs her guitar and plays an acoustic set for the small crowd of regulars. Bucky watches from his seat at the end of the bar top, nursing his beer. The thought that this is somehow all too good to be true, that he doesn't deserve Jo or any of this, creeps back into his mind. He takes another sip of beer and clenches his vibranium fist, willing the thought away. By the time Jo's eyes sweep the bar to meet his, the thought is gone.

He follows her up to her apartment after closing time, and when the door is locked behind them, he pushes her up against it, his arms on either side of her head, caging her in. He takes a moment to admire her, her green eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and lust. He leans down and nudges his nose against hers, his breath soft against her lips.

“You gonna be good for me, doll?” he whispers.

Jo nods.

“Say it,” Bucky says, his voice dark.

“Gonna be so good for you, Buck,” Jo whispers.

Bucky smashes his lips against hers, rough and demanding. Jo moans into Bucky's mouth. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, and his hands wander to her hips and down to her thighs to lift her into his arms. He doesn't stop kissing her until he has her on her bed.

Bucky presses hot kisses against Jo's neck, then tugs her faded Nirvana t-shirt up and over her head. The rest of their clothes follow quicky until they're both naked. Bucky kisses between the valley of her breasts and licks at the tattoo beneath her sternum before taking one nipple into his mouth. His flesh hand comes up to pluck at the other nipple, and Jo cries out. Bucky pulls his mouth from her breast with an obscene pop and scratches the stubble of his cheek across her tender flesh.

Jo's hands thread through Bucky's hair, and she tugs him back up to her mouth for a kiss.

"Thought you were gonna be good," Bucky mumbles against her mouth. Jo whines. She can feel him smirking.

His hand comes up to graze against her cheek, and he kisses her softly, taking his time now. He's demanding, but gentle, and Jo feels as if every inch of her heated skin is on fire. But she wants more.

"You can be rough with me, Sarge," she whispers.

"Yeah? You like it rough?" Bucky flips Jo over onto her stomach. "On your knees," he growls, pulling her hips up.

When she's on her knees in front of him, he uses his flesh hand to push her chest further into the mattress. His vibranium hand holds her hips in place as he slides into her without warning. Jo gasps and shudders.

“You look so good taking my cock like this,” Bucky praises. His grip on her hip tightens as he guides her back and forth over his cock before holding her still and slamming into her, setting a swift pace. Jo keens and her walls flutter around him.

"Harder," she gasps.

"What do you say?" Bucky warns through gritted teeth. His right hand moves upward to tangle into her hair, wrenching her head backwards.

Jo whines, "Please."

When he pulls himself almost completely from her body, then slams back in, Jo's eyes roll to the back of her head, and she sobs. She's consumed by the feel of him.

Bucky leans across Jo's back and whispers in her ear, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” His right hand slips down beneath her body to toy with her clit. "Fuck, you're so wet."

Jo cries out, and her body shakes. Bucky feels the way she tightens around him.

“I got you," he whispers against her ear, "I got you.” His soft tone clashes with his rough movements and makes Jo’s head spin.

Jo comes with a cry of his name, and it sends Bucky over the edge. His vibranium hand whirs as it clenches her hip, holding her still as he spills inside her with a low groan. He falls onto his side, pulling Jo with him and holding her tightly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Not at all,” Jo replies, squeezing his hand.

He presses gentle kisses against her shoulder until she slides from the bed to clean up. Then he slips into a dreamless sleep.

_____

Jo wakes Bucky up Friday morning with soft kisses across his jaw.

"Hmph," Bucky grunts, not ready to open his eyes.

"Danny and I are going for a run," Jo says. "Do you want to join us?"

Bucky cracks one eye open to look at her. "Why?"

"Because I like you, and I like spending time with you," she says, rolling her eyes.

The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up and he opens his other eye. "No," he says, "why are you going for a run?"

"Not everyone has the metabolism and stamina of a super soldier, Sarge," she says, poking him in the ribs. “Some of us need the exercise.”

"What's in it for me?" he asks.

Jo rolls her eyes again before answering. "You can run behind me and stare at my ass in tight leggings."

Bucky hums and slides his vibranium hand down Jo's back to cup her left buttock.

“How long do we have until this run?” he asks, letting his other hand trail up and down Jo’s right side.

“Half an hour,” she answers.

“Good,” Bucky says, rolling her onto her back and hovering over her as Jo laughs.

They end up being a few minutes late to meet Danny.

When they finally emerge from Jo’s apartment, Danny is standing at the bottom of the stairs with Greta. Jo reaches out and scratches the dog behind the ears.

“Morning,” Jo greets Danny.

Danny yawns before responding, “It is indeed.”

“Late night?” Jo asks.

Bucky doesn’t hear Danny’s response. He’s too caught up watching Greta sniff his vibranium hand. When she seems satisfied with her inspection, Bucky strokes the top of her head. There was a dog at the small farm where he stayed in Wakanda, and it was nice to have the company at night when his brain wouldn’t shut off and he kept reliving everything he had done as the Winter Soldier. He wonders if maybe he should get a dog. Or maybe a cat.

“Hey,” he hears Jo say from beside him.

He turns his head to find her watching him curiously.

“Where’d you go?” she asks. “Looked like you were stuck in your head.”

Bucky shakes his head and give her a reassuring smile. “I’m here,” he replies.

“Good,” Danny says, turning toward the door, “Because we’re not gonna take it easy on you on this run, Barnes.”

Bucky sees Jo roll her eyes and smirk behind Danny’s back.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says. “How far are we running?”

Danny’s smirk mirrors Jo’s. “On Fridays, we run until we're hungry, and then we stop for beignets,” he says.

And that’s just what they do. They run three miles in the park before heading to a local cafe. Jo grabs a table for them on the patio while Danny pops inside to order after insisting on paying; Bucky joins him to help him carry their orders. Outside, Greta laps water from the cafe’s outdoor dog bowl, then curls up at Jo’s feet and waits for Danny to come back.

When Bucky and Danny join Jo at the table, their arms laden with plates of beignets and fruit and coffees in to-go cups, Bucky sits as close to Jo as he can. She's wearing an olive-colored sports bra and matching leggings, and she shivers in the cool early morning air. Bucky hesitates before shrugging out of his hoodie and handing it to her. Jo's smile and the sight of her dwarfed by his sweatshirt is worth exposing his arm in public.

Bucky's phone vibrates from the pocket of the hoodie Jo is now wearing. She pulls it out and hands it to him. It's a text from Sam: "Don't forget about Saturday morning."

Bucky responds, assuring Sam he'll be there, and sets his phone on the table next to his plate. Jo glances down and snorts.

"Why is Sam your phone background?" she laughs.

Bucky purses his lips. "He thought it was funny. And I haven't gotten around to changing it. I'm good with tech when it comes to covert missions, not," he holds the phone up, "this."

Jo laughs again and takes the phone from his hand. She holds it in front of his face to activate the facial recognition, and then opens the camera app and takes a picture of the two of them.

Danny reaches across the table for the phone. "Here," he says, and their breakfast shifts into a photoshoot that leaves them all in stitches from laughing so hard at their own antics. Even Greta gets pulled into some photos. At one point, Jo pulls a piece of hair from her ponytail across her upper lip like a mustache, and, for some unknown reason, Bucky suddenly thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen.

He probably has a hundred photos on his phone now, just from breakfast. He watches as Jo scrolls through them, and when he sees one of her laughing with her head thrown back, he says, "That one." Jo smiles and shows him how to set it as his background. Bucky takes his phone from her and looks at the picture again. It's perfect.

They're almost done with breakfast, and Bucky has forgotten about his bare arm when a teenage boy approaches their table.

"Hey man," the boy says to Bucky, "You're Sergeant Barnes, right? You work with Captain America? That's so cool, man," he says, barely taking a breath. His excited energy reminds Bucky of Peter Parker. "That shit with the Flag Smashers in New York," the kid continues, "that was crazy. You're, like, a real hero, man."

He moves closer to Bucky to snap a selfie, then holds his fist out, and Bucky knocks his own fist against it, hesitantly.

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles, not used to the praise.

"Tell Captain America it's cool he looks like me," the boy says, pointing to his skin, before heading inside the cafe.

Jo just smiles at Bucky, watching the blush creep down his neck, but Danny says, "You should start charging for pictures." Jo rolls her eyes, and Danny laughs. Bucky can see the similarities between the two of them, and for a moment, he misses his own sister.

"Ready to head out?" Danny asks, breaking Bucky from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Bucky says, standing, "yeah."

When they're two blocks from the bar, Jo slows down.

“My legs are sore. Carry me?” she pleads jokingly, and before she can argue that she was only kidding, Bucky's bending down in front of her and pulling her onto his back, guiding her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Jo laughs.

"You're going to spoil her," Danny says, but Bucky just smiles.

Inside her apartment, Jo pulls off Bucky's hoodie and returns it to him.

"Looked better on you," he says and kisses her gently. "I need to head back to Sarah's," Bucky continues. "Sam and I promised AJ and Cass we'd take them out on the boat tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"I'll drive you," Jo responds, and she's grabbing her keys before he can protest.

_____

Bucky returns to the bar on Saturday night with Sam in tow. Jo's band is playing, and the smile she gives him from the stage when he enters the bar makes up for Sam's constant teasing throughout the day. He likes watching her like this. She’s free, uninhibited, beautiful. Too good for me, he thinks. The thought has been creeping in more and more lately.

Later that night, after Sam has left and the bar has closed, Bucky lets Jo lead him up the stairs to her apartment and into her bedroom.

"Let me take care of you," she whispers, running her fingers beneath his t-shirt. Bucky nods and allows her to strip his clothes off before he helps her out of her own. Jo maps each scar on his body with her fingers and her mouth, and Bucky's heart swells at her tenderness.

She pushes him backward onto the bed and tries to take his cock in her mouth, but Bucky stops her. He's not ready to give up that control just yet, worried he won't be able to stop himself from being too rough with her. When she straddles his hips and sinks down on his cock, he holds her hips with his hands and guides her movements. He guides her own fingers to her clit and watches as she falls apart above him before flipping her onto her back and driving back into her. When he comes, it's with a shout of Jo's name, and he drops his head against her shoulder, panting.

As he holds her while she sleeps, the thought he's been having – that he doesn't deserve this – returns, and Bucky lays awake brooding.

When Jo wakes on Sunday morning, Bucky is gone.

_____

next chapter - coming soon

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x original character #bucky x original female character

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soysauceharry · 3 years

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Old Nashville Tea

When I lived in Nashville I had dated this older guy for 4 years. He was way older (in his late 40’s) and had 2 grown kids. No judgment, please OK? Lol.The daughter was married to this investment banker and they lived in his hometown of Overland Park, Kansas. My ex had mentioned how his son-in-law grew up with Jason Sudeikis and how they were really close friends. I didn’t care at the time because I wasn’t familiar with him, I just knew he was an actor of some sort. But I was like, ok that’s cool I guess. My ex would go visit them and their kids pretty often, and on one particular trip he stayed for about 2 weeks. I was supposed to go with him, but didn’t feel comfortable because the area is pretty Republican and I was black and he was white, not to mention the age gap. I picked him up from the airport after though and was like oh how was it? He was like oh it was good, ‘Jason was there with his new girlfriend, she’s nice but she’s kind of too out there for me’ (He and his kids are really conservative and Overland Park is too). I was like okay whatever, you say that about everyone including me and he was like no she was really out there even more so than you. He was like I just can’t see Jason with someone like that long-term. So then I was intrigued and was like what exactly rubbed you the wrong way about her and he was just like she would say really strange things that you wouldn’t normally say, he was like she kept joking about how many hoops she had to jump through to meet him because she had had a crush on him and stuff like that. She really liked being the center of attention. I was like yeah, kind of weird but everybody’s different. I dropped it after that. At that time Jason had recently gotten out of a relationship with his previous girlfriend so my ex said his son-in-law was worried his friend (Jason) was rushing into another relationship too soon. But Jason thought she was way out of his league and didn’t want to miss his chance to date her. Flash forward a year later and I’m logging into my Yahoo email and on the front page of trending celebrity stories (does yahoo even still have that?) is a story about how Olivia and Jason are the hot new celebrity couple. My ex was nearby and I was like, he moves on fast, and he was like who? I showed him the Yahoo page and he was like he didn’t move on, that��s the girl that was with him that I told you about back then. He was like her name is Olivia right? I was like, yeah but it’s not just Olivia, she’s an actress ha ha. He was like I didn’t know that at the time, I just thought she was a regular person he met at a bar in New York City or something. I was like I can’t fault you for not knowing, because I only know her from The O.C. Then he was like oh, now that you said that Paul did mention something to her about maybe working on a project in the future with someone from that show. So I’m like, who the hell is Paul? He’s like Paul Rudd, he’s an actor from the 90’s, you probably don’t know who he is……..I was like, stop playing with me! He’s like what? I was like of freaking course I know who PAUL RUDD is! Why was he there????? He was like, I told you my son-in-law grew up with him and Jason. I was like no, you only mentioned Jason! He was like oh, well, yeah they all grew up in the same friend group because their families all know each other. He was like they both go back to Overland Park pretty often. He was like see you should’ve came on the trip you could’ve met him. Then I was REALLY confused because the article I was reading about Jason and Olivia said that they had just started dating and had only met a few months before that. BUT my ex’s trip had taken place over a year prior. Plus it said she had recently gotten divorced. I mentioned that and he was like yeah apparently his (my ex’s) daughter knew that at the time that she was still officially married from googling her, but Jason kept assuring them she wasn’t because that’s what she had told him and he believed her. I was like damn ok that’s interesting. Then I see in the article the prior girlfriend he had dated before was January Jones, who I knew at the point from Mad Men. It said they had broken up in January. I asked my ex about it and he was like you should really talk to my daughter about it she knows more than I do. His daughter and I were not like besties or anything because she was only like a decade or so older than me, so that made our relationship a bit weird, but we did text each other and keep in touch. So I text her and I’m like did you see the article and she’s like yeah and then she precedes to fill me in and she’s like Jason and January was just a hook up situation but their teams pimped it out to the media as an actual relationship for PR, Jason hated it but did care about her. When he started seeing Olivia his team didn’t want it out there because she was still married (on paper at least) so they continued to portray that he and January were together and Olivia was fine with that. However, Jason soon found out that she was still married and her husband didn’t know anything about a divorce until months later when she finally filed and blindsided him. Jason broke up with her because of it, but he really loved her and eventually took her back. She also told me that Jason had told her and her husband that Olivia had basically went through a bunch of channels to try to meet him and work with him on a film or something while he was at SNL because she had a huge crush on him while she was very much still married and he was too. But he never took the bait until after he and Kay divorced. I was like he didn’t find it strange and she was like, no he was flattered by it. I was like that’s a typical guy for you and she was like definitely. So like 3 years after that her dad and I have ended things but we’re all still really close. She’s in town with her husband and we all have dinner at my ex’s house. Her husband gets kind of drunk and she’s talking about wanting another child (they have 3). He doesn’t want anymore kids, then he goes please don’t pull an Olivia on me. She starts laughing and my ex and I are like? What the hell are y'all talking about? She’s like Olivia wanted kids, but Jason wasn’t ready yet because they were both so busy and then Olivia wound up pregnant. I was like OK TMI. There’s also other things, but that’s what I know personally.

#nashville anon #i will need to read this another 10 times #submission

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jonismitchell · 4 years

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Love dies in the city; or the romanticism v. modernism conflict on folklore

In my humble opinion, Taylor Swift’s 2020 album folklore is about the conflict between romanticism and modernism. It sets up the natural as a place of freedom and unrestrained love, contrasting this with the city (presumably New York) as a place of hiding and secrecy that ultimately dooms the integral relationship. In the end, Swift expresses her deepest desires to return to the natural world, to restart the timeline that began with her move to New York, something I will elaborate on when discussing “hoax” and “the lakes.” This storyline is the crux of the album, and the motif I’ve used to classify its songs into six distinct sections, which follow a vague plot that is not represented in the track list order.

the natural (seven, invisible string, betty) I would argue that “seven” represents the heart of folklore, containing what seems to be the album’s mission statement (“passed down like folk songs / our love lasts so long”) and describing the earliest point in Swift’s timeline. This song is the one most directly linked to nature, describing a childhood friendship that takes place in the woods. One lyric, “before I learned civility / I used to scream ferociously / any time I wanted,” implies that Swift found freedom in nature, when her secrets were mere promises to friends instead of the pain she had since hinged her life on. In addition, this song is pure romanticism. The interest in childhood is implied, we can reasonably assume both main characters to be seven years old. To support this, the song states “although I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you,” implying that much time has passed since the events. There is awe of nature (the “beautiful things” are the creek and the trees), emphasis on the importance of imagination (your dad is mad because the house is haunted), and a celebration of the individual (“just like a folk song, our love will be passed on,” where the love is the individual she speaks of). This is the dream that Swift wants to return to, and yet her characters already face conflict (the keeping of secrets, hiding in the closet, an angry father). She romanticizes her past into something she can escape into, creating a sort of mythos around an upset childhood.

Our next nature-intensive song is “invisible string.” She again makes a callback to childhood, citing a park where she used to read in Nashville. It would not be incorrect to categorize this as a love song, perhaps the most lighthearted one on the album. Swift emphasizes time and fate, both recurring themes in her discography. Like “seven,” “invisible string” draws attention to nature as a freeing and healing space, which sets the stage for her romance. Lines such as “gold were the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park” draw attention to the ‘invisible’ connection the song depicts. In the bridge, she notes that there was “a string that pulled me / out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar,” implying a protection from the dangers of interpersonal conflict. Throughout the verses, mentions of any city stay tangential (“your first trip to LA… an American singer”) while the focus lies on her freedom. It is a dreamlike song, which implies that the city can be glimpsed but not detrimental, and showcases an utter belief in things working out.

It is, then, rather ironic that the final song with unique ties to the environment highlights an unanswered apology after the foundations of romance have been shocked. “betty” is ostensibly narrated by a teenager, James, who plans to make up for her mistake in a garden. This perspective ties into the album’s greater focus on time, in this instance equating innocence (“I don’t know anything”) with a natural setting (the garden, which is explicitly removed from society). At first, James wonders if Betty will allow an apology, but wants it to happen without anyone watching (“if I showed up at your party… would you lead me to the garden”). She then casts this hope aside, dreaming about being able to broadcast her love to the world without fear of judgement (“will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends”). It is also, then, relevant that the relationship is ruined when scrutinized (“rumours from Inez”). When considering how themes of secrecy and hiding come into the picture once the narrative travels to the city, it is interesting to look at how the hope of an public relationship prevails here. But in the end, James still dreams of going back to any relationship with Betty, no matter how private (“kissing in my car again”). Of course, Taylor Swift herself is James, and James is Swift, so we know that the secrecy dooms the relationship in the end.

the romance (august, illicit affairs) “august” describes a doomed relationship, perhaps meant to be the affair James has that prompts her apology to Betty. However, the story of a love that was never built to last has been referenced multiple times in Swift’s discography (“Wildest Dreams” and “Getaway Car”) and even expressly linked to summer on 2019’s “Cruel Summer.” These songs show distinct lyrical similarities to “august.” Hence, I feel comfortable describing this song in the context of those, rather than within the storyline of Swift’s fictitious love triangle. (Which is flimsy as it stands, but that’s for another analysis.) While there is no set location, this song describes one kind of coming-of-age (“whispers of are you sure”) and delves into the hope associated with a short-lived romance. Here, there is no secrecy to speak of, but a fear of what will come when a return to society comes (“will you call when you’re back at school”). My contrast for this song is saying it is “Cruel Summer” without the ‘happy’ ending. There is a privacy here (“meet me behind the mall”) but it is the instability of the romance that dooms it (“you weren’t mine to lose”). “august” is a time capsule, a reflection on the love that always would’ve ended regardless of the locale.

The next song, “illicit affairs,” is another one that ‘visits’ the city (for lack of a better term) but places the primary conflict in a largely undetermined setting. In fact, there seems to be a rejection of the urban (“take the road less traveled by”). In the sorting of tracks as they relate to different sub-themes, “illicit affairs” is the first song that says, without preamble, that secrecy is the death of love. While the word ‘illicit’ simply means forbidden, the verses describe sneaking around in a way that has been attributed to cheating since album release. There is virtually no acknowledgement of another character outside of the two lovers, save for the ‘him’ referenced in the perfume line. But it is not this person that the narrator seeks to hide from, it seems to be almost everyone. It could be construed as a song about adultery, but taken in the context of the rest of the album it reads as a lament for having to hide a relationship (most likely a romantic one between two women, but this is extrapolation).

the city (the last great american dynasty, mirrorball, mad woman) Now we approach the slew of songs that deal with the actual location of the city. The first song is “the last great american dynasty,” which seems the most removed from Taylor’s viewpoint and yet involves her directly (“and then it was bought by me”). We get an actual move to the ‘city’ (“Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train”) which is reminiscent of Swift’s own move to New York in 2014. Rebekah is immediately disliked by the people around her, blamed for her husband’s death to the extent where she flies in “bitch pack friends.” (1) Keeping with the theme of folklore’s similarity to a time capsule, one could see this song as Swift retelling her own purchase of Holiday House (and by extension much of the events from 2014/2015) through the lens of someone else’s life. Indeed, part of this theory is directly corroborated by the song through the lines “then it was bought by me” and “I had a marvellous time ruining everything.” In relation to the conflict between secrecy and survival of love, “the last great american dynasty” does not offer much insight. However, it effectively sets the scene for songs to come.

(1): I don’t know anything about Rebekah Harkness’ life, this is just how I interpreted the song.

After the initial move, “mirrorball” establishes the new dynamic between the lovers. In turn, it introduces the performative nature of romance in the city (which is referred to and combatted with the line “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret” from “peace”). Swift expresses interest in a lover who is “not like the regulars,” who wants more than to watch her turmoil. Still, this song finds her drawn into the nature of performing, consistently showcasing her tragedy to let others see themselves to the extent where she cannot even let her guard down when “no one is around.” Even after the circus has been called off, she seems to have entirely integrated with the role of the mirrorball. This provides some introspection on her viewpoint: digging into insecurities under the viewpoint of desperately trying to save a sinking ship. Almost as a counterpart to “seven,” the lyrics to “mirrorball” show some characteristics of modernism. Individualism is represented through the focus on the person who is the mirrorball, while unrelated characters do not warrant much elaboration. In terms of formalism and experimentation, the format and structure of the song deviate from Swift’s usual manner. The concept of a person being a mirrorball (shown in the music video as a disco ball) is both a symbol and verges into the absurd. All the imagery in this track is based in large crowds; featuring a disco, a circus, and masquerade revelers. It both establishes the setting where love dies and assures that the relationship will end (“the end is near”).

“mad woman” is the final song which establishes setting more than storyline. It proves the city as a angry and dangerous place, one that is not sympathetic to “people like” Swift. We find her contemplating revenge on someone who has done her a great wrong, which is less attached to the general storyline but serves to depict the setting as actively hostile and worthy of contempt. When compared with other tracks, certain lyrics imply that the narrator is hell-bent on getting the last word (“they say move on but you know I won’t” / “you know I left a part of me back in New York”). There isn’t much else notable about this song in terms of what we are talking about, but it does frame several absurdist tendencies in the context of a destructive setting.

the death (cardigan, exile, my tears ricochet, epiphany) In “cardigan,” Swift reminisces on a long-past relationship, which has been interpreted to be James and Betty’s teenage melodrama. This is the first of many breakup songs, which idolize what has passed and mourn the loss. We observe many signs of the city (“chasing shadows in the grocery line”) and individualism (“I knew everything when I was young”). As referenced in “betty,” the cardigan becomes a symbol for the relationship at large. Moreso, the idea that the relationship was cursed to end as it begun is elaborated on here (“I knew you tried to change the ending”) even if it is not ascribed to secrecy yet. In reflecting on Swift’s past work, we see many signs of her being accustomed to this thought (“I can see the end as it begins” from Wildest Dreams and “I knew (...) we were cursed” from Getaway Car), but “cardigan” comes across with deeper pain regarding the whole affair. In tying different lyrics together (“back when I was living for the hope of it all” from “august” and “I hope I never lose you” from Cornelia Street), we begin to paint a picture of the true narrative behind the love triangle. Swift knew her greatest love would end—desperately hoped it wouldn’t, prayed they could ‘get away with it’—and finally channels her anger and sorrow into this retrospective. She almost accepts it: love dies in the city.

Another reflection on a past relationship is folklore’s only duet; “exile.” This song discusses an inability to communicate, the concept of determined endings (“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending”), and plenty of ‘hiding in the city’ imagery. This sees one narrator (Swift) faking a relationship (“just your understudy”) to hide her true lover (in this context, Iver). Both agree on various facets that caused fallout (“didn't even hear me out... never learned to read your mind… couldn’t turn things around”) until the final disagreement (“you never gave a warning sign / I gave so many signs”). So while the song is fundamentally about a miscommunication, it is evident that much of the misunderstanding comes from ways of signalling the secret relationship. Presence of the city is acknowledged through lyrics such as “I’m leaving out the side door,” “out here in the hall,” implying that the narrators share an apartment. Nature also gets a brief mention here (“breaking branches”), but this usage explains that the freedom of the narrators is fading, just like their connection to the natural.

Most do not connect “my tears ricochet” to romantic fallout, but there is no denying that the song hinges around prominent death metaphors. Many metaphors used imply that the narrator has broken up with their lover, but still haunts the hope of what could’ve been. In the line “we gather stones, some to throw, some to make a diamond ring,” a connection to marriage is implied, divorcing the meaning from the loss of Swift’s masters. A crowd of people is repeatedly referenced (the ones in a sunlit room, for instance) and the lover must “save face” in front of them. This external pressure contributes to the greater theme of death of love in the city, which Swift equates to her own death. She describes herself as a recalcitrant ghost (“you know I didn’t want to have to haunt you”) but one her lover must have around (“when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies”). This song is another one that recognizes Taylor Swift the writer within the lyrics; within this interpretation the “stolen lullabies” are the songs that the ex-lover inspired, work she can no longer look proudly on. While no explicit connections to the city are formed, it is obvious that some external pressure resulted in a damning betrayal, which was painful enough to describe as death.

The final song in this death theme is “epiphany,” which does not discuss the romantic timeline at all. Instead, “epiphany” is the culmination of two sub-motifs on folklore: water and war. In nature, water gains a passing mention in “seven,” but does not truly become relevant in this organization until “the last great american dynasty.” In “epiphany,” the water reference is “crawling up the beaches now,” which serves to distance it from the overall storyline. The song also deals with the war motif (evident in most of the songs, but “ease your rifle” is very literal) and contrasts soldiers at war to doctors during the pandemic. All of this builds on this section’s burgeoning theme of death. It fits in with the album theme, but does not display obvious modernist or romanticist hallmarks.

the chance (the 1, this is me trying, peace) Opening the album is “the 1,” a frequently disliked song but a very telling one. It is similar to “cardigan” in that it reminisces on a past relationship, but the narrator feigns contentment with her current situation. If all of folklore can be considered a time capsule, “the 1” perhaps describes the headspace of the narrator before they begin reminiscing: convinced they are alright, but not holding up very well. This song involves much city imagery (“I hit the Sunday matinee,” “I thought I saw you at the bus stop”) and deals with the aftermath of many events in the album. It is interesting that this song was one of the last written, as one can imagine the narrator went directly from “it would’ve been fun” to “don’t want no other shade of blue but you” (as described in hoax). The love has died here; but there’s a desperate hope to return (“if one thing had been different, would everything be different”).

Much like “betty,” “this is me trying” is another last-ditch attempt to save a failed relationship. Both songs find Swift in a doorway, ready to apologize, but “this is me trying” bears the weight of experience and less expectation that they will have a second chance. The increased maturity finds acknowledgement of faults without excuse (“my words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that”) and an attempt to come to terms with the death of the relationship despite pain. This, of course, breaks apart in the bridge (“all I want is you”) but, as Swift consoles herself, at least she’s trying. Setting-wise, this seems to be in a smaller locale (“the one screen in my town”) which calls to mind the “the only thing we share is this small town” from “Death By A Thousand Cuts.” There is also what appears to be a bar (“pouring my heart out to a stranger / but I didn’t pour the whiskey”) and an influx of people (“it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound”). It is not necessarily the city, but rather a recovery period that does not go well.

If the painful instruction of “illicit affairs” acts as a foil to 2014’s “How You Get The Girl,” then the anxiety of “peace” complements 2017’s “Delicate.” While “Delicate” expresses the sufferance of an early, undefined relationship (“is it cool that I said all that”), “peace” begs the lover to reconsider the end one last time. As “hoax” makes undoubtedly clear, it wasn’t enough. We see the dangers of outside influence (“I’d sit with you in the trenches”) and the strength of the romance (“the silence that only comes when two people understand each other”). It is a final plea for someone to stay, a list of the success and a fatal acknowledgement of the worst. There is a declaration that sums up much of the album: “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret.” As we’ve seen from other songs, it is the secrecy and the hiding that has doomed them. Swift sees this, she briefly suggests a return to the free and safe woods (“give you my wild”) but is ultimately stuck on the question of peace, which she wishes she could give her partner.

the return (hoax, the lakes) The original album closer, “hoax,” finds Swift leaving a part of herself in the destructive city that has become home. She makes an attempt to return to her home, only to find that it is not the way she’s left it (“my barren land”). With her lover, she has gone through a journey that changed her too much to return to innocence (“I can go anywhere I want, just not home” from “my tears ricochet” contrasted with “you’re not my homeland anymore” from “exile,” where the lover becomes the homeland). She turns to a bleak setting, using sparse lyricism and simple constructs to describe her pain and betrayal. While Lover highlights themes of likening one’s love to a religion, the Swift we see on “hoax” has given up on any sort of healing coming from her romance. All she acknowledges is that the circumstances of her love have “broken her down” and “frozen the ground” (from which she hopes a “red rose” will emerge in “the lakes”).

In “the lakes,” Swift tries to move forward but still sets her sights on the natural world, citing a deep desire to escape the scrutiny that destroyed her romance completely. This is a call to action for her former lover, a final request for shared freedom that reminds the listener of the lyric “would you run away with me?” from 2017’s “Call It What You Want.” Swift continues to call on aspects of romanticism she’s referenced on reputation and Lover to make her point. It then tracks that she has been inspired by this muse all along, and is finally asking for a return; both to the early romanticism her albums are built on and to her lover’s “homeland.” Her desire for a new home is evident, her conviction that her former lover should join her too great to be overcome.

The response of the muse to this, of course, is unclear.

#arden speaks #my analysis #taylor swift analysis #this is more than three thousand words #arden's essays

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burkymakar · 4 years

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here’s my rant about why Nathan MacKinnon should have won the hart trophy

(i don’t mean this in a way to diminish either Leon or Artemi but like... i wanted Nate to win)

so first off mackinnon got snubbed AGAIN. this is like his second time getting nominated for the Hart but not receiving it. So he’s consistently good.

But let’s focus on this season.

After a tumultuous four years and a WOW 2019 Stanley Cup Playoff appearance where NO ONE expected them to get far, the Avs were rolling at the start of the regular season with five straight wins. (thanks a LOT crosby)

While the Avs finally had depth with recently acquired players like Kadri, Burakovsky, and Bellemare, a lot of this was due to the amazing top line of Landeskog - MacKinnon - Rantanen, a line forged over several years with amazing goal scoring capabilities and chemistry.

During that time, the depth is shining, and at least partially because of MacKinnon. After studying his stats, MacKinnon told Burakovsky to shoot the puck more and, taking that advice, Burakovsky went on to have his first 20-goal season, beating his previous high of 17 (and that’s with several massive injuries and the season being cut short).

But then in November, both Landeskog and Rantanen fall due to injury, and MacKinnon pulls the whole team to many great wins after a lot of people thought the Avs would crumble. But no, MacKinnon (with Johnson) lead the team well in his captain’s absence and ended up winning one of the stars of the month, without his iconic linemates.

And those weren’t the only devastating injuries. Their biggest defenseman took a puck to the face in a Nashville game, and then a week later, Calvert got hit in the head with a puck during gameplay and went down on the ice bleeding. The refs didn’t blow it down and the Canucks scored a goal, forcing overtime. And less than fifteen seconds into that overtime, MacKinnon scored, ending the game.

But it was more than his GWG there. In the postgame, MacKinnon barely talked about his goal and was focused on Calvert. He said that while he understood the refs made the call they had to, he accused the league of being unsafe, defending his teammate and calling for more safe practices.

In January, there’s an amazing article by Ryan S Clark where Calvert talked about MacKinnon inspired him to make better eating choices, and how he does that with all his teammates. This is a team that eats turkey burgers and sweet potato fries at the bar together, while Calvert was used to greasy beef.

When he heard the Calvert credited him with his amazing season, MacKinnon said, “I think Calvy since last season has grown so much. He’s already got 10 goals and he’s such a good player and he’s such a huge part of our team in the locker room, on the ice and he’s such an effective player. I am not going to take credit for that. He’s doing that out there.”

Later on in February, more injuries plagued the Avalanche offense. Kadri, Rantanen, Burakovsky, Calvert, and more were out. But the Avs were doing amazing, both due to their defense pulling through and because of MacKinnon pushing his team.

And then, in one of the last games before the pause, MacKinnon got injured and was gonna be out. Another forward gone. But the Avs pulled through and won against the Rangers.

Their season was amazing. Number 2 in the Western Conference, only getting shutout twice over 70 games, fourth most goals scored in the league.

MacKinnon got 93 points, best on the team. Makar was second with 50.

During return to play, with the Avs all healthy, the Avs dominated in the round robin and again in the their series against the Coyotes (who were awesome). Then the St*rs...

In Round 2 against that southern green team, the Avs were down 3-1 and came back to force game 7. And that game 7 went to overtime WITHOUT key players: Landeskog, Johnson, Grubauer, Francouz, Calvert, Donskoi and Timmins.

MacKinnon had the longest playoff point streak in Avs history. He beat a Gretzky record. And, unlike Draisaitl and Panarin, actually made the playoffs this year, not just the play-in.

the only game in return to play where MacKinnon didn’t score a point, and they lost it, losing the whole thing and sending them home.

Even though I was devastated and righteously angry, I was so proud of the Avs, and MacKinnon. and i know they were sad but they’re gonna be so great next year.

But when you asked MacKinnon, it was about the other players. When he’s asked about their offense, he highlights their blueline, and how much better it had gotten over the season. He celebrated Kadri’s buzzer beater in the first game back just as hard as he would for his own amazing goal (maybe harder). He fought for Cale to join him at the All-Star game. He compliments his teammates when they do well, and when he’s getting all the questions he asks the media to direct some to his teammates. And when asked about what changes he made, he said he wouldn’t change a thing. And when Yote went after his rookie, he threw that guy around like a fucking rag doll.

He could ask for over ten million dollars AAV (or 8 mil like Draisaitl) but no he gets 6.3mil a year, and said he’d take less if it would help the Avs. This guy cares about his team. This guy leads his team. This guy fights for his team. I really just don’t think u can say the same about Draisaitl or Panarin, no disrespect to either.

#colorado avalanche #long post #nathan mackinnon

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johnboothus · 3 years

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The Differences Between Bitters Tinctures and Shrubs

Finishing touches define art. “A Day in the Life” loses masterwork status if the Beatles don’t add the song’s final lingering piano chord. Without the slightly mischievous upturn in her mouth, Mona Lisa is merely a pretty portrait. Hell, the room in “The Big Lebowski” isn’t tied together without the rug, per the Dude’s infinite wisdom. In the world of cocktails — mixologists’ own form of art —bitters, tinctures, and shrubs are a bartender’s version of these coups de grâce. The right number of drops, drips, or dashes from these power-packed elixirs elevates a libation from mundane to magic, leaving the imbiber little choice but to acknowledge the sublime craftsmanship in the glass.

The shared source of their sorcery is their intensity, which is why they’re typically doled out in teensy amounts. “All three are designed to be highly concentrated ingredients,” explains Gareth Moore, beverage director of Home & Away in San Diego. “Because of this, they can drastically change a drink’s flavor profile with just a few drops. Once you know how to use them, you can build a drink to a specific flavor profile efficiently.”

Originally, the trio’s shared purpose was intended to make those consuming them feel good in a whole different way. “I think it’s important to know that all three started out as medicines,” states Jamie White, co-owner and bartender at Pearl Diver in Nashville. “Even though they have these similar backgrounds historically, it’s important to understand they all have different profiles of ingredients and use.” The best way to get a handle on these differences is by looking at how they’re built. Bitters are made with a pure grain spirit inundated with bittering agents like fruit peels, spices, or funky stuff like bark or cassia. Tinctures act as straight-up botanical, fruit, or vegetable infusions without any bitterness. A shrub adds sugar to fruit juice and uses vinegar to cut the sweetness.

Many imbibers and bargoers these days have an awareness of how these ingredients are used, but this hasn’t always been the case. Those of us who muddled through the bad old days of the pre-2000 bar scene had a vague sense of Angostura bitters’ existence back then, but that was only because we had one friend smart enough to order an Old Fashioned while we did Kamikaze shots. Regardless, bitters were a misunderstood ingredient. Tinctures and shrubs, on the other hand, were fully unknown substances.

This changed with the craft cocktail movement’s nationwide explosion in the 2010s, when bartenders from Orlando to Omaha dug deep into drink history and resurrected their usage. This coincided with a bitters boom marked by several upstart companies experimenting with unique and funky flavor profiles. This one-two punch created a renaissance of cocktail enhancements, one that fully blossoms when you look at each ingredient separately.

Bitters

Cocktail bitters (as opposed to digestive bitters like Amaro Montenegro or Fernet Branca, which are their own beasts) are highly concentrated concoctions designed to add flavor depth and balance to a cocktail. They can also occasionally act as a drink salvager, even for the professionals. “They’re sometimes used as a savior to fix a cocktail that I didn’t nail the first go-round,” White says. “It’s one of the reasons why they usually come in at the end of a drink for me.”

Angostura, Peychaud’s, and orange bitters are the holy trinity of bitters, and they’re essential if you’re making classics like Old Fashioneds or Sazeracs. But they can (and should) lay the groundwork for the kind of alchemy that leads the home bartender to more advanced voodoo.

“Don’t be afraid to experiment!” says Ashlyn Miyasaki, bar manager at Bar Henry in Los Angeles. “Next time you make Moscow Mules at home, try adding a couple dashes of Angostura bitters and see what you notice. Add orange bitters to your Martini. Try different brands of orange bitters and use them in tandem. Once you’ve got a feel for it, then you can branch out to different drinks and unique bitters.”

You can even go beyond the recommended two dashes of bitters — if you dare. Bartenders love the Trinidad Sour, a delicious yet brazen concoction that calls for a whopping 1.5 ounces of Angostura. It tastes like how prog metal sounds: bold, burly, and relentlessly complex.

Making Your Own Bitters

Making bitters is fun, and is easier than you might think. Here’s a recipe to get you going:

What You’ll Need:

16 ounces Everclear

4 teaspoons of botanicals, preferably four different botanicals

Four 4-ounce Mason jars

In each jar, add 4 ounces of Everclear and one teaspoon of a botanical. Label each jar with the botanical used, and seal. Let botanicals steep for about two weeks, shaking the jars daily and tasting them regularly. Strain out the matter with a coffee filter. Dilute with water or sweetener if desired. Mix the contents of each jar.

NOTE: Common botanicals used in bitters include juniper berries, cardamom, ginger, cloves, caraway, rose hips, and fennel. Your neighborhood spice shop should have ample supply. When you get the hang of it, you can also throw in flowers, legumes, or dried fruits to achieve extra funky goodness.

Tinctures

Tinctures are the metronomes of the bartending world, a steadying beat that bartenders break out to achieve singular flavor precision. “I use tinctures when a drink calls for something super specific, like black pepper,” White explains. “I can make a black pepper tincture and use a drop of it in a drink instead of trying to use a pinch of pepper. The drop of a tincture will always be more consistent.”

This sense of control can make it an ideal homemade ingredient if you fret about getting the drink’s flavor just so. And they will be homemade — the only tinctures you’ll find on the market are for medicinal use or are made from cannabis (which has its own medicinal purposes). But that’s no big deal. All you need to make a tincture is alcohol, the agent providing the infusion, and the patience for the infusion to do its thing. There’s no limit to what the infusing agent may be; people use everything from fruit and veggies, to herbs and flowers, so wander around your garden and see what looks delicious.

Making Your Own Tinctures

If you’re new to making tinctures, keep things simple. Here’s how:

What You’ll Need:

4 ounces high-proof vodka (at least 100 proof)

Infusion agent, such as fruit (for this example, use one a whole mango)

1 Mason jar

Place the mango in the jar. Pour in the vodka and seal. Put in the refrigerator for about a week, stirring and tasting each day.

NOTES: Using a higher-proof spirit could expedite things. If using berries as the infusion agent, fill the jar halfway with berries.

Once you get the hang of the process, though, you can push the boundaries of creativity a bit. This recipe from Gareth Moore is a great place to start:

Cinnamon Bourbon Tincture (Courtesy Gareth Moore)

What You’ll Need:

1 part cinnamon bark

4 parts high-proof bourbon (at least 100 proof: the stronger the proof, the better)

1 Mason jar

Fill a jar with the cinnamon bark. Pour in the bourbon and let sit in the refrigerator for one week. Strain out the cinnamon bark and transfer to a dropper bottle.

Shrubs

Because vinegar is involved, shrubs offer a little more food and drink-based versatility than bitters or tinctures. “Shrubs can make a nice base for vinaigrette salad dressings,” Miyasaki says. In a cocktail, shrubs’ mélange of vinegar, fruit, and sugar creates a bright, bold complexity that adds sweet, tangy, and tart notes, making it a favorite ingredient for bartenders when they’re behind the stick. “I prefer working with shrubs at my bar, but that’s because I know I’m going to be making a large volume of drinks every night,” says Moore.

Indeed, there is a bit of a conundrum with making shrubs at home. They don’t have the staying power of bitters and tinctures, which can both keep their integrity for about a year on a home bartender’s shelf. Shrubs are also designed for shelf life, but last half that long and will lose their mojo quicker the more they’re used. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make shrubs at home — you should, because they’re delicious. Besides, the vinegar makes shrubs a killer fruit preserver — a property that made them a hit back in the American colonial era. If given the choice between turning a past-its-prime peach into a superb cocktail ingredient or chucking it into your garbage in a few days, there’s only one good answer.

Making Your Own Shrubs

There’s a little more prep work involved when making shrubs compared to tinctures and bitters, but they’re still relatively easy to make. Besides, every shrub you create gives fruit a second life. Here are a couple of recipes to get you started:

Strawberry Basil Shrub (Courtesy Ashlyn Miyasaki)

What You’ll Need:

4 cups ripe strawberries, hulled and halved

1 cup fresh basil leaves

4 cups sugar

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

4 cups white wine vinegar

Place the strawberry halves and basil leaves in a large bowl. Add sugar and salt, then cover. Let set at room temperature, stirring occasionally, until liquid begins to form. Add vinegar, and stir until sugar is dissolved. Fine strain the liquid, and store in the refrigerator.

Grilled Peach Shrub (Courtesy Jamie White)

What You’ll Need:

1 peach, sliced and pitted

1 cup sugar

½ cup apple cider vinegar

½ cup regular vinegar

Grill peach slices until they have slight char marks. Mix all ingredients in a pot. Cook on low for 15 minutes or until sugar dissolves. Blend ingredients with a hand blender. Put back in the pot, and let simmer for five to 10 minutes. Strain and refrigerate.

The article The Differences Between Bitters, Tinctures, and Shrubs appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/guide-bitters-tinctures-shrubs-differences/

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theycallmebecca · 5 years

Note

Hey! Can I have 32. "What if I love you?"

You know what happens when your mind is free to think about stories while you spend close to five hours of a work day (including commuting to and from work) in a car? You get an idea that starts out small and becomes MASSIVE. So this drabble is the longest one I’ve written for this whole collection. Thanks to @nomadicpixel for her help with this one.

And since this behemoth took me like three hours to write, I haven’t had a chance to work on any of the three remaining prompts. Which means that I will be taking this weekend off from posting again with the goal of writing the said three remaining prompts to share with you all next week. Since Tumblr can sometimes be a brat about links, I will reblog this post with a link to the masterlist, prompt list and tags.

Title: Band of Misfits

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: a little bit of angst

Prompt #: 32 - “What if I love you?”

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Coming out of the bathroom, you glanced back at the door to the bedroom where you’d left Steve sleeping and silently wished him a good night. A small part of you wondered what it would be like staying all night with him, but that would break rule number one, always sleep at home.

Quietly, you made your way across his Brooklyn apartment and had almost reached his front door when you heard his voice, not from his bedroom but from the dark living room.

“What if I love you?”

His question hung in the air and you froze.

“What if I love you?” He said, again, his tone clear and to the point, letting you know that he wasn’t asking you a question, but stating a fact.

Turning around, you saw him step out of the shadows, revealing his naked body to you. The very same body that had just pleasured your own for the last couple hours.

“Is this really a conversation you want to have naked?” you asked him.

“We both know the second I turn my back, you’ll leave,” he stated.

He was right. Damnit.

He was also waiting for you to give him an answer, but you didn’t have an answer for him.

You didn’t do the love thing. Hell, you weren’t even sure what love actually was. You’d been abandoned as a sick infant and had grown up in the foster care system because you hadn’t been the perfect child every set of perspective parents had been looking for. No one had wanted you and you’d left the system at age eighteen with the desire to see the world.

The next ten years had seen you moving from city to city, state to state and, eventually, country to country. You’d only stayed in a place long enough to plan your next move and make the money, usually by waiting tables or bartending, to go. You’d met people and had hooked up, but nothing had ever lasted.

Then you’d come to New York City and gotten a job at a bar in Brooklyn. That’s where you’d met Steve and, eventually, his band of misfits (or so you called his group of friends). That had been two years ago.

You’d felt a kinship to Steve and his friends almost instantly; a feeling that had been strange and somewhat unnerving to you, but you hadn’t run away from it. Instead, you had embraced it, to a certain extent, and, for the first time in your life, had been part of a group.

And, for the last eighteen months, you and Steve had been hooking up on a regular basis. Always at his apartment so you could go home and sleep in your own bed afterwards. It had been perfect.

After taking a deep breath, you spoke as calmly as you could manage. “Steve, you know I don’t deal with that stuff,” you told him, unable to even speak the word ‘love’. “Why do you have to complicate this? Everything is perfect.”

“Everything is not perfect when you break my heart a little bit each time you leave,” Steve replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I love you and I want to have a relationship with you. The real kind where our friend’s don’t pretend they don’t know that we’re having sex three nights a week before you go run home because of a stupid rule you made up when you were -”

The pressure built inside of you had he spoke and finally you couldn’t take it anymore. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” you exclaimed.

Steve shut up instantly and watched you.

“You know what I went through as a kid,” you reminded him. “You know why I am the way I am. Why I have to protect myself from the world. No one cares -”

“I care,” Steve interrupted you. “I love you and so do our friends. We’ve all experienced the world telling us we’re not worth it and had those times when we had no one else to turn to. But look at us now. We’re our own, chosen family.

"You’ve been a part of our family for two years and I want you and I to make our own branch of this new, amazing family tree,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “My heart is yours.”

You shook your head as a sense of numbness surged through your body. “I can’t, I just can’t,” you told him. You opened your mouth as if to say something else, but no words came out.

Steve stood on the other side of the room for a moment longer before he spoke again. “I’ll wait for you.” Then he turned and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

You stood by his front door for a long time, trying to process everything that had just happened. Finally, a single word came to mind:

Run.

You’d left that night, taking everything that would fit in your backpack. It had been hard, parting with some things that reminded you of the misfits, but dropped some stuff off at Natasha’s apartment on your way to the train station. Including a letter to her, asking to take care of a few things for you.

Like telling Steve you’d left.

Wanting to get out of New York, you’d taken the first train that left the state and had made your way down the eastern seaboard. Then you’d headed out west, ultimately ending up in Nashville, Tennessee, where you only stayed for a couple weeks. Too many songs about unrequited love and broken hearts.

Unlike your previous travels, you found yourself finding a fault with every town new town you found yourself in and unable to settle in any of them. None of them seemed like the right place for you.

It took three months of traveling around the United States and a month traveling in New Zealand for you to admit to yourself that there wasn’t a place that could replace New York City for you. Further revelations had come to you in Australia when you realized that it wasn’t the city that was magic to you, but the people you had left behind.

It had taken you another few weeks to admit that the person you missed the most was Steve. But you were still adamant that you weren’t in love with him. At least not in the type of love that was described in sappy movies and books.

With six months of traveling between you and Steve’s declaration, you found yourself backpacking in Europe. You’d gotten used to the strange looks people gave you when you told them that you were traveling alone. It was how you preferred to be.

Most of the time.

It wasn’t until you were walking down an old cobblestone path and saw someone who reminded you of Natasha that you suddenly felt like you weren’t where you were supposed to be. You longed, not for your tiny apartment, but the bar where you’d met the Misfits. Natasha and her tough girl attitude. Bucky and his ability to charm the pants off of everyone. Sam and his stupid jokes. Maria and her ability to see right through you. And Steve…

You missed everything about Steve. Right down to the stupid way he put his hands on his hips when he was disappointed in you.

It was there on the cobblestone streets that tears rolled down your cheeks for the first time since you were a kid. And you realized you were homesick for the first time in your entire life.

You returned to your hotel room and had the sudden urge to hear a friendly voice. You picked up the receiver in your room and started to dial Steve’s number, but chickened out before dialing the last few numbers. You couldn’t talk to him. Not yet.

Instead, you dialed Natasha’s number, hoping you’d catch her at a good time. She answered on the third ring. You timidly told her who it was and felt your heart skip a beat when she exclaimed that she missed you.

Then the connection started to break up and you only caught three words:

“Steve-”

“-wedding-”

“-Saturday.”

The line went dead after that and you felt your stomach drop.

Steve was getting married on Saturday?

“I’ll wait for you.”

Steve’s final words to you came back and you shook your head. Natasha had to be mistaken. Unless your disappearance had opened the door for Steve to find someone new. Or maybe develop new feelings for someone he knew?

You slept fitfully that night and gave up before the sun made its appearance with your mind made up. You were going home.

Two long train rides later, you found yourself in Paris, France, waiting for your flight to New York City that was scheduled to land in New York City sometime Saturday morning. You just hoped you could find Steve in time.

You managed to sleep some on the flight, but the adrenaline to get to Steve in time kept you going as you all but ran out of the airport. You weren’t sure what you were going to tell Steve, but you had to see him one last time before he got married. If he got married.

As the cab driver made his way towards Steve’s Brooklyn apartment, you tried to gather your thoughts, but they were sporadic and refused to come together. It wasn’t until the driver was around the corner from Steve’s place that one word seemed to fight it’s way through the mess:

Love.

“We’re here,” the driver announced.

And you looked up in time to see Steve coming down the stone steps of his building wearing a black suit. Your eyes met his and he missed the last step, but caught himself before he could hit the ground.

“Are you getting out?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” you managed to reply. You paid him and then grabbed your backpack before you opened the car door.

The cab merged into traffic seconds after you closed the door. Leaving you and Steve alone on the sidewalk.

“I’m back,” you announced, instantly feeling like an idiot.

“So I see,” Steve replied. “You look good.”

“Thanks, you look good, too,” you said and gestured to the suit. “Big day today.”

He nodded his head. “It’s about time, too,” he said. “I didn’t think Sam was ever going to work up the courage to ask Maria out and now they’re getting married.”

“Sam and Maria!” you exclaimed, feeling the lead weight that had been sitting in your stomach for the last three days all but vanish.

Steve studied you for a second before saying, “Who did you think was getting married today?”

In the past, you had learned how to read his emotions based on his expression and his stance, but you found yourself unable to as the two of you stood on the sidewalk. You’d seen the initial shock that had crossed his face at your appearance, but had masked his emotions since and you knew you just had to go for it. He’d told you where his heart and mind were months ago. Now you had to do the same.

“I took two trains and a plane to get here in hopes that I’d be able to talk to you before you got married,” you confessed, feeling hints of your exhaustion seep into your body. Or maybe it was more of the emotions you’d tapped into on that cobblestone street.

“You know my background, Steve, you know that I’ve never had a home or a family,” you continued. “And then I met you and your band of misfits. And you guys took me in under your wing and let me experience what it’s like to truly be loved. Only, I didn’t realize it until I walked away from you all.”

“What are you saying?” Steve asked.

“What if I love you?” you said, repeating his question from that night months ago. “Do you still love me? Can I be with you? Can I be a part of your misfit family?”

Instead of answering verbally, Steve closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you, his hands cupping your face in a firm but gentle manner. You’d kissed him before, but it had been nothing like the kiss he gave you now. This kiss told you everything you needed to know.

He still loved you.

He wanted to be with you.

And you were part of his family forever.

The sound of a phone ringing interrupted the kiss and it took Steve a moment to realize it was coming from his pocket. He answered the phone and then glanced at you before telling whoever was on the other end that he was running late but had a surprise for everyone.

Then he led up you to his apartment and opened the coat closet door, revealing all of the clothing and personal items that you had left behind in your furnished apartment because they didn’t fit in your backpack.

“I knew you would come back eventually,” he told you as he watched you grab a dress. “And you’d need clothes.”

Turning towards him, you pressed your lips against his briefly. “I could get used to that,” you said with a small laugh.

“We might not get to if we aren’t at the church around the corner in the next fifteen minutes,” Steve said with a smile. “Nat is stalling for us, but you know how Maria is.”

You changed quickly and then you and Steve all but ran to the church. Bucky was pacing the lobby when the two of you burst through the doors and he stopped when he saw you. He stared at you for a second before he shouted with glee and ran to give you a hug.

His shout brought Sam out of the groom’s room and he greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He then had Steve lead you down to where Maria and Natasha were getting ready, knowing that the two women would be happy to see you, too.

The moment Natasha opened the door and saw you standing there, she yanked you into the room and slammed it closed in Steve’s face. Then she wrapped you in a hug and told you off for disappearing into thin air. You got the same response from Maria, who, after scolding you, started crying saying she was so happy that the whole family was there for her wedding. Then she insisted that you be a part of the wedding party.

After spending nearly seven months running away from your family, you openly cried as you watched two of them exchange their vows in front of the small group that had gathered for the ceremony. You still had a lot to learn about love and family, but you knew you had the right people around you to learn from.

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billiemarquez · 4 years

Photo

stats: Billie Marquez, 26 (b. July 16th, 1993.) she/hers (cis woman.) occupation: session musician at Gold Star Recording Studios (guitar, vocals) / singer-songwriter working the Nashville scene drinks: Sidecar, Corpse Reviver, whiskey sour, pomegranate margarita

sounds like: Lera Lynn, Marika Hackman, Larkin Poe, Billie Marten, Ruby Friedman

+ driven. charming. adventurous. observant. – fickle. self-destructive. macabre. private.

misc. likes banter, likes fun, is laidback and Chill TM. bi af. loves a good boot, enjoys bolo ties, has a pen on her at all times. lighter, too, though she doesn’t really smoke. enjoys a good Bad Idea. dresses like if morticia addams was into southern / southwestern gothic and disco, with a pitstop at hollywood glam & marty robbins’ wardrobe. macabre. likes a good murder ballad. jokes to Cope.

history

( tw physical/verbal domestic / child abuse, murder and suicide, death of parents, implied self-destructive behavior. tl;dr at the end )

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie willingly presents, is this:

City like Nashville, everyone’s got a sob story. Hers isn’t any different – her parents were fucked up, and they fucked her over in the process, but now, it’s water under the bridge, nothing to worry about. She’s got a job, got a roof over her head, and hey – I’m here, ain’t I? Dig a little deeper, get to know her a little more, and she might tell you that her uncle took her in when she was 16. She’ll tell you her parents died in a way that implies it’s an accident, and she’ll tell you that the guitar’s the only constant in her life, ‘sides her aforementioned uncle.

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie has tried to bury, is this:

She remembers it with startling clarity: the sound of crickets in the nearby field, the buzz of the street lamp flickering out overhead. The car that drove past her some ten minutes before she stood out on the porch, red taillights burned into her memory, by virtue of being the last thing of note before her existence upended itself.

If her life was a movie, she’d be saying I’d felt something was off ever since I got off my shift. Couldn’t shake the feeling the whole ride home – but truth is, that evening didn’t feel any more wrong than usual. Her parents fought and Billie drowned it out with her guitar; that was how shit went. For as long as she could remember, the two of them would scream themselves hoarse, eager to break something – themselves or each other, two ill-fitting pieces who had tried and failed to make a home. Hell, she came away with a couple bruises of her own; could smell the booze rolling off them, even on the good days. It was bad, sure. But she still didn’t have a clue about what she’d be coming home to, that night.

The gunshot echoed through her, left her cold as a ghost despite the warmth of a Texan summer.

Mama, dead on the kitchen floor, long-gone by the time Billie came in. Daddy, in his arm chair, shotgun still warm.

She called the cops. Then she threw up, right in the kitchen sink, the stink of hot bile and fry grease clinging to her like it would never leave.

No note. Nothing to explain what had happened, why it happened – if she might have died, too, if it hadn’t been for the extra shift she’d picked up at the last minute. (Could she have stopped it? Done something different? Changed the outcome? She hasn’t found the answer, yet.)

They had no family to speak of in Texas, and besides, Billie didn’t want to stay. Calling her uncle was a last minute idea, the plea of a kid at the end of the line. Mama rarely spoke of her older brother, but when she did – when she had – it had been highly, and never in the company of daddy. Things had gone sour, that much Billie knew. The band hadn’t worked out, and when her uncle kept booking jobs, it had left her father bitter.

“Hey– is this Stavo Marquez?” “—Gabriela? Is that you?” “No. It’s– Billie. I’m your niece? I, uh..”

Mama was right. Her brother was a good man, decent and kind, the type who took in his estranged niece and came all the way to Texas to bring her back to Nashville. The kind of man who may not have fathered her, but who became her dad, who saw the talent in her and mentored it further.

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie likes most, is this:

She booked a job because she’s Billie, not Stavo Marquez’ niece; and then she kept booking them because she’s fucking good at what she does. Her guitar and her singing got her through her childhood, got her through those first months in Nashville, and has kept her going ever since. It’s her most singular obsession, the woman a devil at the strings. She’s happiest when she’s working, and her hours in-between her steady gig as a session musician, or going over her own material, are spent roaming oddity shops and the two bars closest to Gold Star Recording Studios – Coyote Ugly and Claddagh. She’s been a regular that bounces between the two for a few years now, leaving her well-acquainted with both scenes. She’s known to be flighty – she falls in and out of love, and while she never tries to be cruel about it, it’s a known fact around the neighbourhood that Billie’s not the kind that sticks around. She likes fun, likes to feel mindless, enjoys the banter and spectacle of the two bars; fuck it, she even participates in it, sometimes. She works hard and plays hard, because if she stops, she’ll have to think about that house back in Texas, and that’s the last thing she wants.

TL;DR

– grew up in an abusive home in Texas with two alcoholic parents. – the year Billie turned 16, her father killed her mother, and then himself. she doesn’t know why, and it haunts her more than she wants to admit. – she moved to Nashville to live with her uncle, a well-known musician among the Nashville industry. she took his (and her mother’s) last name. – she’s a very talented artist in her own right, and has a steady job at Gold Star Recording Studios as one of their most-booked session musicians. she does guitar (both electric and acoustic) and vocals, and has been dabbling at the piano as well. – loves love, loves to be loved, fucking Sucks at loving others: she doesn’t keep people around for long, and is the kind of dummy that would like to somehow stay friends with her exes. as much as it’s true that Billie’s better at being friends, she’s the one that breaks things off, and it tends to leave people with a sour taste in their mouth.

wanted connections (more TBA)

( i’m super into just seeing where characters go, so if you want a thread but wanna check the chemistry before you hit the past connections, don’t be afraid to hit me up! we can just toss ‘em together and see where it goes✨ )

friends – Garrett ‘Doc’ Reese, ? While Coyote Ugly’s her current go-to, she’s been flitting about for years, Claddagh right across the street. She’s friendly, likes people, tips as well as she can depending on what the cash flow’s like that month, and doesn’t mind when people have rough edges – she doesn’t have a whole lot herself, but she grew up around people who did.

exes – Sonny Taylor, Talon Ayers, ? Billie’s.. flighty. It’s not that she’s purposefully cruel, which might be easier to handle. She’s genuinely sweet, genuinely caring, but she can never seem to stomach the idea of settling down. If she doesn’t break up with them first, it’s likely that they’ve met the Billie Marquez Wall: she’s spent years perfecting the easiest version of her story, and she has genuine trouble letting anyone in.

colleagues – Nashville’s firmly a music town – so who else does she know from the open bars and studio sessions? Any collaborations in the works, people she’s played with?

#coyoteintro #abuse tw #murder tw #suicide tw #alcoholism tw #nothing that's incredibly detailed but! to be safe #shipper #biography #billie.

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blackkudos · 4 years

Text

Rufus Thomas

Rufus C. Thomas, Jr. (March 26, 1917 – December 15, 2001) was an American rhythm-and-blues, funk, soul and blues singer, songwriter, dancer, DJ and comic entertainer from Memphis, Tennessee. He recorded for several labels, including Chess Records and Sun Records in the 1950s, before becoming established in the 1960s and 1970s at Stax Records. He is best known for his novelty dance records, including "Walking the Dog" (1963), "Do the Funky Chicken" (1969) and "(Do the) Push and Pull" (1970). According to the Mississippi Blues Commission, "Rufus Thomas embodied the spirit of Memphis music perhaps more than any other artist, and from the early 1940s until his death . . . occupied many important roles in the local scene."

He began his career as a tap dancer, vaudeville performer, and master of ceremonies in the 1930s. He later worked as a disc jockey on radio station WDIA in Memphis, both before and after his recordings became successful. He remained active into the 1990s and as a performer and recording artist was often billed as "The World's Oldest Teenager". He was the father of the singers Carla Thomas (with whom he recorded duets) and Vaneese Thomas and the keyboard player Marvell Thomas.

Early life

Thomas was born in the rural community of Cayce, Mississippi, the son of a sharecropper. He moved with his family to Memphis, Tennessee, around 1920. His mother was a "church woman". Thomas made his debut as a performer at the age of six, playing a frog in a school theatrical production. By the age of 10, he was a tap dancer, performing on the streets and in amateur productions at Booker T. Washington High School, in Memphis. From the age of 13, he worked with Nat D. Williams, his high-school history teacher, who was also a pioneer black DJ at radio station WDIA and columnist for black newspapers, as a master of ceremonies at talent shows in the Palace Theater on Beale Street. After graduating from high school, Thomas attended Tennessee A&I University for one semester, but economic constraints led him to leave to pursue a career as a full-time entertainer.

Early career as a performer

Thomas began performing in traveling tent shows. In 1936 he joined the Rabbit Foot Minstrels, an all-black revue that toured the South, as a tap dancer and comedian, sometimes part of a duo, Rufus and Johnny. He married Cornelia Lorene Wilson in 1940, at a service officiated by Rev. C. L. Franklin, the father of Aretha Franklin, and the couple settled in Memphis. Thomas worked a day job in the American Finishing Company textile bleaching plant, which he continued to do for over 20 years. He also formed a comedy and dancing duo, Rufus and Bones, with Robert "Bones" Couch, and they took over as MCs at the Palace Theater, often presenting amateur hour shows. One early winner was B.B. King, and others discovered by Thomas later in the 1940s included Bobby Bland and Johnny Ace.

In the early 1940s, Thomas began writing and performing his own songs. He regarded Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller and Gatemouth Moore as musical influences. He made his professional singing debut at the Elks Club on Beale Street, filling in for another singer at the last minute, and during the 1940s became a regular performer in Memphis nightclubs, such as Currie's Club Tropicana. As an established performer in Memphis, aged 33 in 1950, Thomas recorded his first 78 rpm single, for Jesse Erickson's small Star Talent label in Dallas, Texas. Thomas said, "I just wanted to make a record. I never thought of getting rich. I just wanted to be known, be a recording artist. . . . [But] the record sold five copies and I bought four of them." The record, "I'll Be a Good Boy" backed with "I'm So Worried", gained a Billboard review, which stated that "Thomas shows first class style on a slow blues". He also recorded for the Bullet label in Nashville, Tennessee, when he recorded with Bobby Plater's Orchestra and was credited as "Mr. Swing"; the recordings were not recognised by researchers as being by Thomas until 1996. In 1951 he made his first recordings at Sam Phillips's Sun Studio, for the Chess label, but they were not commercially successful.

He began working as a DJ at radio station WDIA in 1951, and hosted an afternoon R&B show called Hoot and Holler. WDIA, featuring an African-American format, was known as "the mother station of the Negroes" and became an important source of blues and R&B music for a generation, its audience consisting of white as well as black listeners. Thomas used to introduce his shows saying, "I'm young, I'm loose, I'm full of juice, I got the goose so what's the use. We're feeling gay though we ain't got a dollar, Rufus is here, so hoot and holler." He also used to lead tours of white teenagers on "midnight rambles" around Beale Street.

His celebrity in the South was such that in 1953, at Sam Phillips's suggestion, he recorded "Bear Cat" for Sun Records, an "answer record" to Big Mama Thornton's R&B hit "Hound Dog". The record became the label's first national chart hit, reaching number 3 on the Billboard R&B chart. However, a copyright-infringement suit brought by Don Robey, the original publisher of "Hound Dog", nearly bankrupted the record label. After only one recording there, Thomas was one of the African-American artists released by Phillips, as he oriented his label more toward white audiences and signed Elvis Presley, who later recorded Thomas's song "Tiger Man". Thomas did not record again until 1956, when he made a single, "I'm Steady Holdin' On", for the Bihari brothers' Meteor label; musicians on the record included Lewie Steinberg, later a founding member of Booker T and the MGs.

Stax Records

In 1960 he made his first recordings with his 17-year-old daughter Carla, for the Satellite label in Memphis, which changed its name to Stax the following year. The song, "Cause I Love You", featuring a rhythm borrowed from Jesse Hill's "Ooh Poo Pa Doo", was a regional hit; the musicians included Thomas' son Marvell on keyboards, Steinberg, and the 16-year-old Booker T. Jones. The record's success led to Stax gaining production and distribution deal with the much larger Atlantic Records.

Rufus Thomas continued to record for the label after Carla's record "Gee Whiz (Look at His Eyes)" reached the national R&B chart in 1961. He had his own hit with "The Dog", a song he had originally improvised in performance based on a Willie Mitchell bass line, complete with imitations of a barking dog. The 1963 follow-up, "Walking the Dog", engineered by Tom Dowd of Atlantic, became one of his most successful records, reaching #10 on the Billboard pop chart. He became the first, and still the only, father to debut in the Top 10 after his daughter had first appeared there. The song was recorded in early 1964 by the Rolling Stones on their debut album, and was a minor UK chart hit for Merseybeat group the Dennisons later that year.

As well as recording and appearing on radio and in clubs, Thomas continued to work as a boiler operator in the textile plant, where he claimed the noises sometimes suggested musical rhythms and lyrics to him, before he finally gave up the job in 1963, to focus on his role as a singer and entertainer. He recorded a series of novelty dance tracks, including "Can Your Monkey Do the Dog'" and '"Somebody Stole My Dog" for Stax, where he was often backed by Booker T. & the MGs or the Bar-Kays. He also became a mentor to younger Stax stars, giving advice on stage moves to performers like Otis Redding, who partnered daughter Carla on record.

After "Jump Back" in 1964, the hits dried up for several years, as Stax gave more attention to younger artists and musicians. However, in 1970 he had another big hit with "Do the Funky Chicken", which reached #5 on the R&B chart, #28 on the pop chart, and #18 in Britain where it was his only chart hit. Thomas improvised the song while performing with Willie Mitchell's band at a club in Covington, Tennessee, including a spoken word section that he regularly used as a shtick as a radio DJ: "Oh I feel so unnecessary - this is the kind of stuff that makes you feel like you wanna do something nasty, like waste some chicken gravy on your white shirt right down front." The recording was produced by Al Bell and Tom Nixon, and used the Bar-Kays, featuring guitarist Michael Toles. Thomas continued to work with Bell and Nixon as producers, and later in 1970 had his only number 1 R&B hit [and his second-highest pop charting record] with another dance song, "Do the Push and Pull". A further dance-oriented release in 1971, "The Breakdown", climbed to number 2 R&B and number 31 Pop. In 1972, he featured in the Wattstax concert, and he had several further, less successful, hits before Stax collapsed in 1976.

Later career

Thomas continued to record and toured internationally, billing himself as "The World's Oldest Teenager" and describing himself as "the funkiest man alive". He "drew upon his vaudeville background to put [his songs] over on stage with fancy footwork that displayed remarkable agility for a man well into his fifties", and usually performed "while clothed in a wardrobe of hot pants, boots and capes, all in wild colors."

He continued as a DJ at WDIA until 1974, and worked for a period at WLOK before returning to WDIA in the mid 1980s to co-host a blues show. He appeared regularly on television and recorded albums for various labels. Thomas performed regularly at the Porretta Soul Festival in Italy; the outdoor amphitheater in which he performed was later renamed Rufus Thomas Park.

He played an important part in the Stax reunion of 1988, and appeared in Jim Jarmusch's 1989 film Mystery Train, Robert Altman's 1999 film Cookie's Fortune, and D. A. Pennebaker’s documentary Only the Strong Survive. Thomas released an album of straight-ahead blues, That Woman is Poison!, with Alligator Records in 1990, featuring saxophonist Noble "Thin Man" Watts. In 1996, he and William Bell headlined at the Olympics in Atlanta, Georgia. In 1997, he released an album, Rufus Live!, on Ecko Records. In 1998, he hosted two New Year's Eve shows on Beale Street.

In 1997, to commemorate his 80th birthday, the City of Memphis renamed a road off Beale Street, close to the old Palace Theater, as Rufus Thomas Boulevard. He received a Pioneer Award from the Rhythm and Blues Foundation in 1992, and a lifetime achievement award from ASCAP in 1997. He was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 2001.

Death and legacy

He died of heart failure in 2001, at the age of 84, at St. Francis Hospital in Memphis. He is buried next to his wife Lorene, who pre-deceased him in 2000, at the New Park Cemetery in Memphis.

Writer Peter Guralnick said of him:

His music... brought a great deal of joy to the world, but his personality brought even more, conveying a message of grit, determination, indomitability, above all a bottomless appreciation for the human comedy that left little room for the drab or the dreary in his presence.

Thomas was honored with a marker on the Mississippi Blues Trail in Byhalia.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Rufus Thomas among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

In popular culture

Bobby Brown portrays Thomas in the BET television series American Soul.

#12/15 #03/26

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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just let me adore you (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 4136

AN: Haven’t written a boy fic like this one in a while, too caught up in all the lesbian aus. Thank you writ and barbie for helping me with this and making me laugh my head off while writing it. Hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think if you want to! Title from ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles. Thank you writ for betaing <3

Brock’s new LA apartment, despite being half the size of his Nashville place, feels bigger. Emptier.

Maybe it’s all the boxes he hasn’t gotten around to unpacking. Maybe it’s the way his cats are still nestled in their kennels despite the opened doors, too afraid to leave the fleece blankets and explore their new home. Or maybe it’s the fact that even though he’s spent a lot of time in LA, he’s always had somewhere else to go back to. Somewhere else that’s considered ‘home’.

Except now, LA is his home. Or it will be, eventually, once he gets used to it.

The move makes sense, career wise, because being anchored to Nashville when he’s outgrown it isn’t logical anymore. It’s a city of too many bachelorette parties at his home bar and way too much country songs playing on the radio, and the subtle southern twang in everyone’s voice that he’s been afraid of accidentally adopting himself, these last few years.

LA is where his booking manager is based out of. LA is where he can make stronger connections that’ll help catapult his career in the direction that it deserves to be in. LA is warm - as warm as Nashville, yes, but now he’ll have regular access to the beach, a chance to let his curls get wilder than usual in the ocean air, and to let his skin get a sunkissed glow, provided that he won’t burn to a crisp first.

Brock doesn’t have any connections left in Nashville anymore, either. Most of his friends have moved on to bigger things, left the city that had kept them in touch in the past. His family isn’t in Nashville, and neither is his work. But LA has many fellow queens and some friends, too, and even some distant cousins and-

Jose.

Brock hasn’t told Jose about the move. They haven’t really been talking much, and it makes sense that they’re growing apart, no longer tied down by NDAs and keeping up a storyline or by having to share a tour bus. It’s given them space to breathe, yes, but it also feels strange, no matter how freeing it is.

Brock doesn’t get a morning text when he wakes up anymore, texts that used to be filled with so many nonsensical emojis that he would have no idea where Jose even found them. But then again, Brock doesn’t send any himself, either. He and Jose don’t have their late night phone calls or facetimes that they used to when they’d miss each other just a little bit too much, and it’s not out of the ordinary, the fact that they’ve drifted. Because it’s been awhile, and the rubber band that had tied them together has snapped. They’re free floating, and apparently the paths drawn by their newfound ability to move aren’t meant to cross with one another.

Why would they? When they both travel, they both are free to involve themselves with other people, and they used to be based in different cities. Except that they’re not anymore.

They have the same home base now, because Jose lives in LA too.

Brock thinks back to a year and a half ago, when they were sprawled on Jose’s couch in his apartment and Jose had been poking his shoulder, trying to convince him to move to LA. Saying that it would be a good career move, and why was he still in Nashville, anyway?

Back then, things had been so fresh and new. They’d finished filming Drag Race, and their season wouldn’t air until the next year. Being able to wrap his arms around Jose, hold him close without any cameramen trying to capture the moment had been thrilling, almost freeing, even. But it had felt too soon. Too soon to leave Nashville because it still had been his home.

But now? It’s not Brock’s home anymore. Not when being able to perform, to do what he loves to do and dance every night gives him that same feeling of comfort, of security, that his bed in Nashville used to provide. The fact that he’s in control, the fact that he doesn’t have to be tied down to a certain place, but rather just needs that feeling of satisfaction in his heart to feel like he’s complete.

Brock wonders what the Jose from a year and a half ago would think. He wonders what Jose will think now.

He debates on whether he should tell Jose. Let him know. Do exes do that? Let each other know that they’ll be in the neighbourhood for the foreseeable future? A warning of sorts, or maybe a homecoming?

Brock’s not sure which one it’ll be, which one he even wants it to be.

The clock on his oven is reading 11:00 pm and he’s tired, way too tired to unpack much more than some of the clothes and toiletries and silverware and plates he’d gotten to taking out earlier, stuff he’ll need sooner than later. Everything else can wait for the morning daybreak, when the flashing lights of the cars outside are replaced with the LA sun that burns just a little too bright for his night loving eyes.

It would be too late to bother Jose, anyway, if they were in any other profession. Except all of their work is done in the evenings and nights, when the lighting is just a little bit more forgiving on their harsh makeup and the loud beats of the music are socially acceptable. Still, texting Jose to say that he’s in town feels a little bit strange, a little bit presumptuous.

He’s going to pull a Gatsby instead. Hope that Jose gets the message.

Instagram story posted by @bhytes. A panning shot of an empty apartment, stacked high with boxes against the walls and two kennels with open doors, one which has a grey tail sticking out of it. Location: Los Angeles.

It doesn’t take long until Brock’s phone lights up with an Instagram direct message notification. He’d fiddled with his settings to have most notifications turned off, his account too bustling to handle the onslaught of fan comments and messages and likes. Most of them, that is, except for his close friends, his family members, and Jose.

He’d never gotten around to turning Jose’s notifications off after they’d broken up, not when he dives for his phone the same way that he used to, back then.

vanessavanjie: LA huh

vanessavanjie: ur ass finally listened to me

vanessavanjie: all those boxes, ur ass just get here or what

bhytes: something like that

bhytes: drove over yesterday with everything, finally free of the u-haul

vanessavanjie: damn i thought it was only lesbians who u-hauled lol

bhytes: you around LA these days?

vanessavanjie: i see u watching my stories bitch u already know

bhytes: fair

vanessavanjie: u tired of unpacking everything or what

bhytes: a little, honestly

vanessavanjie: come out

vanessavanjie: can’t be a hermit already before ur even properly moved in

Brock doesn’t know why he says yes. Maybe, just maybe, in the back of his mind he does, because the lack of inhibitions from some alcohol and loud music creates the perfect setting in which to see Jose in again, after months and months of only seeing his face behind an Instagram profile. A club setting means no need for the awkward small talk, no conversations about the weather that always happen with people that feel too far away, unreachable, when they used to be close enough to touch.

Jose’s not hard to find. Not by the way he’s yelling up a storm in the corner of the club with a drink in each hand, surrounded by fellow queens and dancers and spinning in place as if no one’s watching him. And it’s true, no one really is, too busy wrapped up in their own conversations and dance moves.

Except for Brock, because Jose’s like a magnet, one that grabs his sight from far away and refuses to let him go and be free from his pull. Brock can’t tell if his heart is beating faster and faster because of the deep bass of the music, or because of Jose’s smile that lights up his whole face, one that Brock used to see all the time. He fiddles with his baseball cap as he walks over, because his curls had been too hopeless to be tamed by any amount of pomade.

Not that Jose really cares. He never did, not when Brock used to wear the same sweater for days in a row because he didn’t feel like rifling through his closet, not when Brock couldn’t tell apart Jose’s various outfits even if he tried. Brock’s energy for styling himself is just enough to get himself looking decent in drag. Out of drag? It doesn’t matter much to him.

Doesn’t matter, until Jose spots him and drops his drinks into the hands of those beside him, walking over with a glint in his eyes and a onceover that’s enough to make Brock pull in a breath.

It’s irrelevant that they’re not together, that they’re better off not as a unit. Because there’s something about Jose that’s magnetic and always manages to pull Brock in, makes him want to sidle up to him, close enough that the familiar scent of Jose’s cologne washes over him from head to toe and makes him close his eyes.

“Sleeping already? You on LA time now.” Jose brushes his fingers along Brock’s wrist and it feels like an electric current, one that travels straight to his heart.

“Moving is tiring.” Brock’s a bit distracted as he answers because Jose’s features are still so stunning, so precisely cut, balanced with the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, the soft curve of his mouth.

Jose looks the same as he always does, still as if it’s two in the afternoon and he’s fresh after a nap, rather than taking on the weariness that adorns the features of their colleagues from all of the travelling that comes with the job.

“Ain’t thought about asking me for help? We in the same neighbourhood now.” Jose raises one perfect eyebrow and Brock has to resist the urge to reach out, smooth it over, the way that he always used to.

“Didn’t think your small frame would be able to handle the giant boxes.” Brock grins and the light dig is worth it, because Jose lets out a little yell, swats at his arm, the ice shattering as it always does if they spend more than thirty seconds with each other.

“Forgot what a shady ass bitch you were.” But Jose’s smiling, the kind that reaches his eyes, and Brock knows that he’s not really mad.

Brock catches at Jose’s hand before he lets it drop, turning it over. “Damn. So the tattoo is real, huh?”

He’d had his doubts, because the ink had looked extensive. But Jose’s impulsive, guided by his heart and rash decisions and so it makes sense. The lines are deep within Jose’s skin, pretty patterns along the top of his hand and his wrist and Brock would be mesmerized by it, he would, were it not for the flashing lights of the club making it difficult to clearly see.

“You think I’d play with some Sharpie just for fun?” Jose lets out a scoff as he wiggles his fingers, letting Brooke get a view from all angles.

“I distinctly remember the time on the season eleven tour when you drew a mustache on Silky while she was sleeping, so yes. You’d play with some Sharpie.”

The memory makes Brock grin, remembering the cramped tour bus and the things that the queens would get up to in order to pass the time. It feels like a lifetime ago, one that’s been marred by tours that followed and geographical distance and other flings in between.

“Don’t know if you’d be able to scribble so nicely, though.” Brock flips Jose’s hand over again and Jose pulls it back with a huff, a little pout on his lips.

“I’m a modern day Mother Teresa and invite you out and this is how you treat me. Hateful, truly hateful.” Jose crosses his arms, taps one of his feet and Brock snorts, because it feels like old times. How they always used to act.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Also how they used to act.

Maybe it’s a good thing that the dance floor is so crowded, that the WeHo gays have come out in full force on a Sunday night. It lets Brock pull Jose flush against him, a hand on the small of his back, without worrying about cameras or anyone else’s opinions. Because right now, the way Jose is looking up at him is all that matters.

Rihanna herself, Jose’s patron saint of music is blaring over the speakers and maybe that’s why Jose’s keening into his touch, losing himself in the music. The heat is radiating off of Jose’s body like a fire, and Brock’s not scared of getting burned anymore because he wants it, nights like this. Because he’s here in LA, and Jose’s here in LA, and there’s no rule that says that it’s bad to hook up with an ex after months and months and months, even though his sober mind likes to pretend that there should be.

Jose’s lips form the familiar pout that Brock knows so well, knows how to answer to. It’s as easy as breathing, kissing Jose. So familiar and right and yet somehow it still makes Brock’s blood pump just a little bit faster, makes his heart skip a beat when Jose whines into his mouth.

Brock ruts his hips forward slightly into Jose as he nips at his lower lip and it makes Jose gasp, open his mouth more as he deepens the kiss. Sure, they’re doing things on the dance floor that would make any good Christian woman weep but Brock doesn’t care, not when Jose’s in his grasp and so pliant and so willing to be there, wanting more and more.

Sue him, he’s missed this. Missed the way he can undo Jose so easily, pulling him apart with a strong touch and lips upon his skin. Not discounting how Brock can feel himself unravelling too, his brain only focusing on Jose and his cologne and his hands tugging on Brock’s belt loops and the way his stubble is gently scratching at his skin.

It’s inevitable, really, when Brock palms at Jose’s crotch, feeling the way he’s already halfway hard in the damn club, not unlike himself. Brock nips at Jose’s jaw before whispering right by his ear, close enough to be heard over the music.

“I’d invite you to mine but my mattress is sitting on the floor. No sheets, either.” Moving is hard, after all. Making a bed takes effort.

“Now ain’t you living like a prince? Mine, then. Reacquaint yourself with that headboard you chose.”

Brock tugs on Jose’s arm in lieu of an answer, already typing in Jose’s address for a Lyft because he still has it memorized, of course he does.

“When did you get that new mirror?”

“That really what you focusing on right now?” Jose tugs Brock’s head back down towards him, his kiss biting, taking, and Brock gives into it, lets himself get reacquainted with Jose’s breathing, his smooth skin along his hipbones when Brock pushes the edges of his shirt up.

“You redecorated, that’s all.” Brock lets Jose push him up against the wall beside the entrance closet, because he gets the feeling that Jose needs this just as much. This bit of release that no one else can even come close to providing, an itch that only the two of them can scratch for each other. The quickies in bathrooms and the rare nights in hotel rooms on tour that were so cathartic, so draining in the best way.

Brock needs it again now; they both do.

He pulls Jose close with fingers in his belt loops, catching the little hitch in Jose’s breath that matches the way his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You missed me, huh?” Brock bends down, kissing along Jose’s neck and oh, it’s already starting to bloom in maroons from Brock’s lips at the club. He knows Jose’s going to be pissed later, but he doesn’t care, not really, not when it’s so satisfying to see them there.

“Don’t get cute.” It comes out in a groan, an arch of Jose’s back, a flutter of his eyelids.

But then Jose regains his breathing as his eyes clear, and he’s pushing on Brock’s shoulders until he’s against the wall, like he has an agenda, like he wants to see it through. Jose’s on his tiptoes in his sneakers but Brock’s not going to make it any easier for him by bending down, because he likes it, seeing how bad Jose wants it, needs it, and is willing to make it happen. Except that he nearly does when Jose’s unbuttoning his pants and tugging on his zipper, dropping onto his knees, and it’s a miracle that Brock is able to keep himself up when he’s missed this sight more than he wants to admit.

Jose wastes no time in wrapping his hand around the base of Brock’s dick, swirling his tongue around the tip when a bead of precum leaks out and Brock has to squeeze his eyes shut, pull in a sharp breath because Jose’s too good at it, so close to making him come undone before they’ve even done anything. When he opens his eyes Jose’s looking up at him, keeping eye contact as he twists his hand, coordinating it with the movements of his mouth and Brock has to reach down, tug on Jose’s elbow roughly to pull him back up because he doesn’t want to come so fast, not like this.

Jose’s lips are swollen and his eyes wild and he looks satisfied already, and Brock kisses him partly to wipe that expression off of his face, and partly because he loves the low groan that leaves the back of Jose’s throat when he does.

Jose’s bedroom is the same when he tugs Brock down onto the mattress. There’s an unfamiliar scent of cologne coming from the pillow on what used to be Brock’s side, once upon a time. But Brock ignores it, pushes it away, preferring to focus his attention on Jose and on tugging his shirt off before pulling off his own so that they’re finally, finally pressed up against each other. Jose’s all taut underneath him, his skin hot like coals and it burns Brock in the best way, the heat warming his chest in a way that nothing else can.

“Hurry up.” Jose’s voice is gruff, his head lifting from his pillow to try and capture Brock’s lips but Brock pulls back, kissing down Jose’s chest and ribs and right above his hip bone. The broken noise that Jose lets out as Brock tugs on his shorts and underwear is worth it, a sound that Brock wants to be able to hear over and over again.

“Still kept in here?” Brock opens the first drawer on Jose’s bedside table and the lube and condoms are still there, like Brock remembers.

It’s a weird sense of deja vu - they’ve fucked all over the world, on tour and in between gigs but somehow being back in Jose’s apartment brings a feeling of familiarity, from when they were just beginning, when everything was still fresh and new. Kissing along Jose’s skin, the salty tang of sweat a taste that he remembers from their very first time, one that hasn’t changed.

Brock holds the condom packet up in question, and Jose shoots him a look. “What, you want me to do it for you, or something?”

“So impatient.”

“Shut up.” But Jose’s words are cut off in a groan when Brock pushes his legs open, teases his lubed up fingers by his entrance while he presses kisses along Jose’s hipbone, the crook of his thigh.

He loves seeing Jose come undone like this, so not in control of himself when he’s arching up from the bed, curses falling from his mouth already as Brock curves his fingers, along his prostate. Brock’s close enough himself, already on the edge because his own dick is leaking and he has to focus on the motions of his own fingers to distract himself, to keep going.

Brock pulls his fingers back when Jose whines, tugs on his arm until he crawls back up and captures his lips again. He lets Jose control the pace of the kiss, lets him deepen it but then hooks an arm under the small of Jose’s back, flips him over so he’s on his stomach, gasping and squirming underneath him.

He pushes Jose’s legs apart again after he rolls on the condom, kisses up Jose’s spine and by his shoulder until he’s right by his ear. “This okay?”

“Why you taking forever, bitch-”

Brock pushes into him suddenly, drawing in a breath because fuck , it doesn’t matter who else he sleeps with, who else he has close like this, because it’s different with Jose. Everything he feels so much stronger with Jose, and it makes his own body feel so much more electrified, so much closer to being bowled over. He tugs on Jose’s hips until he’s off the bed slightly, as close as possible so that he can drive himself deeper, faster. Jose is a mess of moans and swear words that blend into one another as his shaky hands fist in the sheets, his face burying in his own elbow.

“Fuck B, fuck-”

Brock makes up for lost time, the distance that’s been between them over the past few months, burying his face in juncture of Jose’s neck and gripping at his skin hard enough to leave bruises. Jose’s letting out broken noises beneath him that make Brock squeeze his eyes shut, push faster, harder, until the headboard is bumping up against the wall. Brock knows Jose’s close, he just needs a little bit more-

Brock lifts Jose’s hips up a little bit more so he can grab his dick, pump it while twisting his hand just the way Jose likes it, not letting up the motions of his hips. And then Jose’s whines become higher in his throat, until he’s coming all over the sheets and on his own thighs. Brock pulls his hand back, grabs at Jose’s hip again and speeds up until he’s gone too, shaking and trembling and trying to catch his breath, his lungs empty and gasping for air.

He turns Jose over, licks the come off his skin and crawls up until he’s at Jose’s lips, kissing him again and it’s less desperate from both of them now, slower. Calmer. Brock rolls off of Jose, rests on his side, and Jose’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, all breathless and fucked out but with eyes that are sparkling, warm.

Brock’s never going to tire of the sight.

“I just washed these sheets this morning, you ho. Gonna have to wash ‘em again now.” Jose’s voice is gravelly, a smile playing on his lips as he trails his fingers mindlessly along the veins of Brock’s forearm.

“I’ll help you in the morning.” The words roll off of Brock’s tongue without effort, as if it’s a given that he’s staying over, that trekking back to his own apartment as if this is a one night stand doesn’t make any sense. As if this is a normal occurrence for the two of them.

And maybe, just maybe, Jose’s on the same wavelength too, because he smiles, drops his head on his arm on the mattress. “You better.”

Brock should be worried, freaking out like he normally does, because this isn’t a random city on tour or an unknown dressing room backstage somewhere. It’s Jose’s room, Jose’s bed, somewhere dizzyingly familiar but Brock’s mind is clear, free of the buzzing thoughts that normally turn his brain into a highway of sorts.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, not yet, nor does it ever have to. Maybe it’ll just lead to their paths intersecting more often, crossing with one another more frequently because now they’ll have the chance to, living in the same city. They’re not tied down, nor do they have to be. But the way Jose’s already starting to drift off curled into Brock’s side, an arm over his waist, doesn’t feel restricting, not like it should. Not like it used to. It feels more like a homecoming, because Brock can already feel roots burrowing down into the LA soil and taking hold, anchoring him here, making it his home.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #smut #holtzmanns

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stenbrozier · 5 years

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Adult!Richie Tozier x Reader (Headcanons)

*Note: I have NEVER written for Richie before and don’t see a lot written for him so I’m gonna change that cause I love Richie more than anything 💗 (This from when Richie leaves Derry at 17 to him going back at 40)*

SPOILERS FOR IT CHAPTER 2 !!!!!

~ When you first met Richie, it was right after he moved to Hollywood from Derry.

~ He was auditioning for everything comedy, whether it be SNL or just as a regular act at a nightclub, which is where you found him.

~ You were a bartender at this rinkie-dink club on the outskirts of Hollywood that he had landed an act at, and when he walked on stage for the first time, his curly black hair caught your attention, along with his personality.

~ The way he lit up the stage and the audience made your stomach do flips, and when he saw you looking at him for the first time, you could see the light blush on his cheeks from about 50 feet away.

~ After his act, he came over and sat at the bar, winking at you before being bombarded by the smaller talent scouts that floated around. He gave them all his number before he turned to you, holding out his hand.

~ You took his hand and he kissed it. “I’m Richie, Richie Tozier.” You laughed at the cocky energy he gave off, but then you stopped when you saw the tiny little smile that came over his face.

~ “(Y/N),” you replied as you went and took the orders of a couple people that walked up. You went back to him when you fulfilled them, grabbing his hand again. “What nights do you perform?”

~ He shrugged. “Tell me your schedule and I’ll follow it.” Richie smirked and you just rolled your eyes.

~ When you were closing up, Richie offered to help and then walk you home, and when you told him no he said “come on I work here too”

~ While he walked you home, he would grab your hand and hold you close, shielding you from the cold winds.

~ “You wanna come inside? Have a drink?” He nodded eagerly, following you inside and sitting on your couch waiting for you. You brought him a beer and put on a random show, wanting to know more about him.

~ “Well, my hometown fucking sucks. I lost all of my friends at 14, so that’s the only reason I really moved out here.”

~ “Well, now you’ve made a new friend at 22.” You grabbed his hand, and he kissed your forehead, making you blush. “D-do you wanna stay the night? I don’t have to be at work tomorrow until 1 and I was thinking about maybe sleeping in. You can leave whenever you want of course I just...”

- Richie cut you off my kissing you, making your heart beat even faster than it was. When he pulled away, he pushed your hair out of your face. “I would love to.”

~ So that night you guys cuddled on the couch, getting to know each other more than you had ever gotten to know someone else.

~ Most nights after that were spent watching movies or reading or just being there together.

~ Midday dance parties in your underwear while you made breakfast when you were supposed to be making lunch.

~ “Richie, close the curtains.” “Who’s gonna see how sexy you are when we’re on the first floor? Plus, I like the way the sun lightens up your face.”

~ Fast forward a bit and you were now living in the heart of Los Angeles, your boyfriend of 3 years being one of the main comedians at the biggest nightclub on the West Coast.

~ He would be working till 1am and then would come home to lay in bed with you and cuddle, talk about his set, or just simply fall asleep in your arms.

~ You had quit the old bartender gig once Richie got hired, but you did work a babysitting business on the side, just so you weren’t sitting at home by yourself all day. One day, Richie came home from an interview and you were watching a couple kids, handling everything that was thrown at you with ease. One of them was throwing up and the other throwing a temper tantrum but you kept your cool and just handled it. That’s when Richie knew he wanted to start thinking about kids, but first, he knew he wanted to ask you to marry him.

~ He knew about your commitment issues and how worried about ending up like your parents: two drunk skunks who didn’t love each other and just decided to stay together for you when it would’ve been better if they just broke up.

~ When he asked you to marry him, you could tell he was nervous because his personality did a complete 180 flip.

~ You said yes, obviously.

~ You guys got married in Tennessee, where you were originally from, and it was the first time any of your family had seen you so happy.

~ Your neice fell in love with him and was with him the entire reception. She cried when she left and couldn’t be with Richie anymore.

~ Your first dance was to “No Diggity” and it was no surprise to anyone.

~ When you guys got back to California, you tried having kids immediately. Richie wanted one so bad and you weren’t opposed to the idea at all.

~ Your mom made you a picture frame that said “(Y/N) and Richie Tozier, 1999” and you use it for a picture of you two when you first started dating.

~ It took you about 4 months to get pregnant and when Richie found out, he cried for a good 45 minutes. He would soon make fun of himself for that during his show.

~ When you were about 6 months pregnant, Richie got offered to do a tour of the United States, and he wanted to do it but didn’t want to miss the baby growing up. That was the point where you realized how truly important you were to him.

~ When you had the baby, Richie cried when he found out it was a little girl. Her name was Merin Rose Tozier.

~ He was so involved in Merin’s life. He did whatever he could to make sure she never cried, which basically meant holding her at all times.

~ When Richie went back to doing shows, you two were at every one. Richie always made it a point to make jokes about you, immediately followed by “She’s gonna kill me for these jokes. I love you, baby.”

~ Merin’s first birthday was just you three so you decided it would be the perfect time to announce that you were pregnant again.

~ Once again, emotional Richie.

~ This time, though, your pregnancy was a lot lore difficult. You had morning sickness for the first 4 months, and then you were diagnosed with the flu. While in the hospital, Richie and Merin sat with you, taking turns nodding off.

~ Being released a few days later, Richie insisting you still take it easy. So you weren’t allowed to get out of bed for an extra week, which made you roll your eyes.

~ When your water broke, Richie was in the middle of an act and you were rushed to the hospital, and you called Richie about seven times until someone answered and it wasn’t even him.

~ “So, uh, I was thinking...” Richie was interrupted by the intern that picked up his phone running out onto stage, whispering into Richie’s ear. “My wife’s in labor, sorry. G-get refunds or something.” He was being booed, but all he could think about was his family growing.

~ You were the one to name your daughter this time: Evangelina Lee Tozier. Richie just held her and looked up at you and Merin admiringly, loving his three girls more than he could ever love anyone else.

~ You guys got a dog when Evangelina was about 2, a big Saint Bernard, and Evangelina didn’t know what to do, which resulted in many cute videos of her trying to pick him up as a toddler.

~ You didn’t know about IT until Richie had a nightmare about him and explained their encounter to you, but he couldn’t remember who he was with, which was a bit weird.

~ Staying up late with Richie to either watch a movie or just simply make out until one of the girls woke up.

~ When the girls both were in school, you started up your babysitting business again, this time only taking on about two kids a day so you didn’t have too many kids to watch when Evie and Mer came home.

~ Richie helping out by getting the girls on his way home from his writing sessions.

~ When Evie turned 5, you guys’ celebrated by taking them back to Tennessee, it being the first time any of your family was going to meet the girls in person.

~ They loved it so much that you and Richie made the decision to move out closer to Nashville, where he could get work.

~ Bolton, your Saint Bernard, was found out to have cancer on yours and Richie’s 10 year anniversary and it made you cry big time.

~ But Richie stayed strong and held you and the girls and Bolton, knowing that his family would soon grow smaller, much to his dismay.

~ When Bolton passed about three months later , you and Richie both struggled so you decided to get another dog after a couple of months without one, this time a puppy.

~ The girls didn’t know they were getting one, so you surprised them on Christmas with a small golden retriever, who was lovingly named Pudge, cause of how chubby she was.

~ For a few years, your life was perfect. There were no troubles, your kids were healthy, the dog was healthy, but something completely unexpected and big happened.

~ Richie got a call from Derry. You got a call from his agent saying that something was up, that he threw up after a random phone call. You took the girls down to the arena, checking in on him. The only words he got out to you were “IT’s back” before he was on stage.

~ You insisted you all go as a family, leav Pudge with your mom and dad. Richie argued and argued, until you got your way, like usual. You packed the girls up, hopping in the car and waited for him.

~ His hands shook as you all made the drive up, your keeping your hand on his lap the whole 21 hour drive, reminding him to breathe.

~ Your first reaction to the town was how rundown it was, how in shambles it had become. Richie pulled into the parking lot of a small inn, taking all of your things inside before sitting your daughters on the bed in the room.

~ “You stick with Mommy or me, do you understand? You can NOT go anywhere by yourself. Hell, go with one of my friends if you can’t find either of us. But you have to be with an adult at ALL times, okay?” The girls nodded, but you knew on the inside they were very scared.

~ When you guys got to the Chinese restaurant, Richie took a breath, leading you all inside. Richie walked in to the small seating area for him and his friends, seeing the gong and not being able to resist himself. He banged it, signaling his arrival. You and the girls snickered, and all of the other adults in the room looked at you three with furrowed eyebrows.

~ A smaller man ran and gave Richie a hug, looking at you all again. “How much did he pay you? Blink twice if you need help.” He laughed full heartedly, the others following along. “I’m Eddie, what’s your name?”

~ “(Y/N). And for your information, I’m paying him.” The group howled in laughter again, and Richie blushed, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

~ Richie was surprised how well you and the girls fit in, and he loved that his best friends loved his family. But when the fortune cookie fiasco took place, he vowed to never come back to Derry again. He was so ready to pack up and leave, seeing the trauma on Evie and Mer’s faces, breaking his heart.

~ Surprisingly, you were the one who convinced him to stay: the person who had absolutely no clue what the fight with IT would entail. You knew you weren’t going to be involved in it, but you figured that since this was such a big part of Richie’s childhood, he had to face it.

~ When Richie was away killing IT, he texted you as often as possible. Like he text you when he got his token, when they were about to get to the house and when they were in the sewers. After that he lost service, but you also figured that his phone was probably soaked through and the mother board had short circuited.

~ When they all came back from the Well House, you and the girls met them at the quarry, your heart breaking when you didn’t see Eddie and you saw Richie sobbing.

~ You went in, leaving the girls on the shore and hugging Richie. He hugged back, crying into your hair. You knew he was in love with Eddie from the moment you saw them together, but you also knew that he loved you, so comforting him was important to you. Eddie was his first “love” and losing that must be so hard, you couldn’t even fathom it.

~ “I’m so proud of you Richie,” you whispered into his ear as he grabbed at your wet shirt, needing something to hold onto and cry. And he cried. And he cried even more when the rest of the losers joined the hug.

~ “I would thank you people, but I don’t even know who you are cause I don’t have my glasses.” You all laughed at him, separating. “No, like, seriously I can’t find my glasses.” You rolled your eyes and smiled, helping the others search for them before getting out and going back to the inn.

~ When you had all of your things packed, you gave each and every one of them a hug, growing close with them so quickly.

~ “You two better keep in touch.” Bill was adamant that everyone was going to continue talking this time, and neither of you were opposed to it. They accepted you and your family in the Losers’ Club, and what could you and Richie want anymore than a place to belong?

#richie tozier x reader #it movie #it richie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #it chapter 2 #headcanon #imagine #masterlist

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violetganache42 · 4 years

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I HAVE RETURNED FROM TENNESSEE!

God, this is like, what? The second time I've used this GIF?

Man, these past few days have been an enjoyable experience for me. I don't even know where to begin! Oh, wait… I actually do. I think it’s best for me to break it all down day by day.

* * *

Friday

As previously mentioned, Thursday night marked the start of the mini-hiatus because Mom and I had to make sure we could catch our 6:55 AM flight to Nashville on time. Needless to say, we only got a few hours of sleep; however, thanks to us getting the caffeine from our colas and trying to nap on the plane, we were awake enough to explore the downtown Nashville area.

As you may have guessed, Nashville is a popular place for country music and a lot of the attractions in the Lower Broadway area is full of clubs and honky-tory bars. No matter where you go, day or night, there is always a bar where people perform country music live for the patrons.

Nashville also happens to be the place that harbors the Johnny Cash Museum, which was the first stop of the weekend.

As you can tell from the first image, this artifact was made entirely out of steel that was salvaged from the destroyed World Trade Center, which is where the One World Trade Center/Freedom Tower currently stands. The second image is a piece of memorabilia: the Martin D-35 guitar Johnny Cash used when he was alive as it was his favorite Martin guitar to play on stage for two decades.

Speaking of country music, Nashville had recently hosted this year's CMA Music Festival and Garth Brooks took home the award for Entertainer of the Year. I wasn't even sure if it was coincidental or not since this weekend in Tennessee was primarily about his concert, but I'll get on that later. In the meantime, another neat place we checked out was the Country Music Hall of Fame… well, specifically some of the gift shops.

Yes, one of the gift shops has a wall filled with nothing but records from all kinds of country artists.

Outside of the country-related sights, we also checked out a couple more places within the Nashville area like a local candy store called the Candy Kitchen. Everywhere you look, there were all kinds of store-brand and local candy, caramel apples, fudge, ice cream, etc. Combine that with the aroma of pure sugar and you end up either feeling like you've gone to candy heaven or your teeth ended up rotting because of how many sweets this place had.

They even have giant ass Dum Dum lollipops for crying out loud! Like, how the hell are you supposed to eat something that huge?!

Later that afternoon, we weren't sure what to do in Nashville between the bars, party tractors, and what not, mostly because we weren’t in the mood to check everything out due to the little amount of sleep we got. As a result, we did a bit of online searching and found a pretty cool mall not far from the state's capital.

Yep. That's right. That is what this mall is called. The name alone was enough to give me Sonic vibes and I'm certain y'all know why. Hell, they even had three parking lots each labeled emerald, gold, and ruby; I lowkey wished they added four more parking lots and have them named after sapphire, amethyst, diamond, and aquamarine just so it can keep reminding me of Sonic, you know? Specifically the seven Chaos Emeralds? ...*coughs*...

Anyways, that's kinda how Mom and I spent the rest of our Friday: having dinner at the Cheesecake Factory and poking at some shops they had before returning to Nashville to see what it was like at night. I will say this right now: they fucking love partying.

Saturday

The next day of the trip was mostly spent driving up to Knoxville for the Garth Brooks concert, which I was able to get a decent number of photos because it was crazy. When Mom got the tickets, she said it was going to be a stadium concert and I thought it was going to be similar to Taylor Swift's concert at Gillette Stadium in terms of crowds, but holy shit! Was I wrong! When you've got a college football stadium filled with 84,000 people attending, it's bound to get fucking cramped, so comparing both stadium tours, this easily takes the cake for the wildest concert I've ever been to thus far. Nevertheless, I still managed to have fun.

Because the Tumblr app—as far as I know—only allows 10 photos per post, I decided to condense some of my favorite photos I've taken for the rest of the trip into collages to try and satisfy the limit, but it appears I may have made more collages than I anticipated, so the rest of this post will be typed via laptop. To kick off the series of collages, here are some of my favorites pictures I’ve taken of Garth.

Sunday

Sunday was the last day of our weekend in Tennessee, so having done the stuff mentioned above, how did we spend the majority of yesterday? By driving through Sevierville and Pigeon Forge, with the latter being the home of Dollywood!

Before going on this trip, Mom and I discovered Dollywood wasn't far away from Knoxville, the same town where the concert at the University of Tennessee was held. She tried to figure out ways to make additional plans to go to Dollywood to see their Christmas traditions, but we ultimately chose to save it for another time because we wanted to make sure we arrived at the airport early enough to board.

On that note, what proved to be the icing on the cake for this trip was what Mom would call a happy accident: viewing the Great Smoky Mountain Range.

The collage with the light blue background is a portion of the several photos I've taken of the Great Smokies as we were driving through a road in Sevierville that offered wonderful views from the distance. The one with a wooden background is during our trek through the mountain range; on top of the photo of the national park sign, we made a few stops along the way because those stops had some marvelous views.

And now comes the pièce de résistance. The happy accident of this trip. While taking pictures of the views at the first stop, we noticed some buildings down below; a couple of them resembled hotels, but we weren't sure what the rest were. As we were leaving the mountains, we immediately entered what we saw from above: Gatlinburg.

We didn't take a lot of pictures there because we were too mesmerized with what Gatlinburg had to offer as we were driving through: shops, an aquarium, museums, ski lifts, hiking, and so on. Everywhere we looked, there was nothing but endless entertainment, just like Pigeon Forge! They are even all decorated for the Christmas season, and honestly, I definitely wouldn't mind spending Christmas in Gatlinburg in the foreseeable future. Renting a cabin, seeing what the resort has to offer, my sisters and brother-in-law joining with Mom, my brothers, and myself to celebrate the holidays. That would be super amazing. ☺️

* * *

Anyways, that pretty much sums up the major events of my weekend hiatus. Posting and queueing on my main and Sonic blogs respectively will return to its regular schedule. Plus, a little something I've been thinking about doing, but what is it? You'll have to find out when the time is right. ;) Until then, see you guys later!

#my post #personal #update #nashville #johnny cash #knoxville #university of tennessee #garth brooks #sevierville #pigeon forge #dollywood #dolly parton #great smoky mountains #gatlinburg

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dangerousenthusiastwhispers · 4 years

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“John Prine’s Visit to Caymus Vineyards”

Rest in Peace John Prine – April 7, 2020

The General Manager of the Uptown Theatre in downtown Napa got a hold of me to ask for a tasting appointment for a singer coming to the Uptown. It was the peak of Napa Valley Harvest 2017 and Caymus had been booked in advance for three weeks solid. Since this singer could only come in the afternoon, and we closed pretty early, the only option feasible was for them to come at 4:30pm when the last guests were leaving.

The theatre manager, Erica, sometimes referred visitors to us while they were in town doing a show. Erica insisted that Caymus was the only winery this singer wanted to visit. As we often do with requests like this, we would do our best to make it happen. I said, “No problem at all. I can host.” That way, the regular Tasting Room staff wouldn’t have to stay late after a long, busy day on their feet.

This was all happening the same week we were a sponsor for the Safeway Open PGA tournament being held at Silverado Country Club in Napa and there were lots of events I needed to be at, but being busy during Harvest is normal for all of us in wine country. I guessed who the singer was and started doing a little homework. You can’t turn away John Prine.

I’m from a family full of musicians from Texas, but truthfully didn’t know much about John Prine except his name and that he wrote “Angel from Montgomery” made popular by Bonnie Raitt. I thought he was from Texas. That’s all I really knew. Two truths and a lie.

When I started digging into his discography and biography on the internet, I found out John Prine was NOT from Texas, but I’d better call my family for more detailed musical background information. They sang a few bars of some of his songs to me over the phone and filled me on his overall greatness. I have never been shy or starstruck with people, so I had enough information to not be clueless when he visited.

John and Fiona Prine arrived right on time with their road manager, Mitch, and his son, Christopher, who handled the merchandising on tour. They had worked together for many, many years and were excited to carve out time to enjoy the Napa Valley on their day off.

What a lovely afternoon we spent together at Caymus simply tasting wine and having a nice long chat outside on a beautiful day. We sat and visited in the area called The Palm Court named because there are four big Palm trees on four corners of the courtyard. Fiona, John’s wife, mentioned right up front that John’s taste buds had been compromised due to a bout with cancer, and it was hard for him to taste wine or find one he liked.

“Well, we’ll find one.” I said. “We’re gonna taste a lot of wine until we do!”

We all laughed and had a conversation that could have been among old friends or relatives. Getting to know each other, kidding around, and me going through the history, winemaking and taste profiles of Chuck, Charlie, and Jenny Wagner’s wines. Caymus, Mer Soleil, Conundrum, Emmolo.

I started in with the usual icebreakers -- “Have you ever been to Napa Valley before? Have you ever been to a winery?”

“Nope, this is it,” answered John. It was his first time visiting any winery.

I have a Texas accent, so before anyone asks me, “Where are you from?” I try to beat them to the punch so there’s no guessing. “I’m from Texas originally, but been in California all my adult life.”

Fiona Prine was from Galway, Ireland with an accent; John had a slow, Southern accent that reminded me in cadence and style of my brother-in-law, Bob Ackerman; Mitch and Chris had what I call Yankee accents, so we were all diversified. No big deal. Subject covered.

Over our first taste of white wine, Fiona shared the story of how she and John had met, a little about their family and life in Nashville. I shared a bit about my family of singer-songwriters. I have cousins in Nashville, so I asked if they knew them. I always ask if people know people I know, because the world is truly small. Often I find personal connections that are surprising to me and the person I’m asking.

Part of our conversation was about singer-songwriters we might mutually know and Glen Campbell and Guy Clark who had recently passed. “It was hard to lose Guy,” John said and shook his head looking downward as one does as you remember a loved and lost friend or relative. After a moment, I continued showcasing the wine and the conversation moved forward.

I could tell from the rhythm of John’s voice and his humor why he was a legendary singer and songwriter. I could see his mind working behind his kind and smiling eyes. He seemed “tickled” at things I’d say, too. I could tell he liked words and phrasing like a songwriter would always looking for a good line or a good joke. The ease of conversation made it clear that both he and I were pretty down to earth people. It helped that the relaxed and easy tasting at Caymus with the place to ourselves was the antithesis of a stuffy, fancy winery they might have been expecting and was appreciated. We were all feeling the love.

“How do you know when a wine is still good to drink?” John asked. “How long can you keep it?”

“You can keep a wine after you open it and just stick it in the fridge for a few days.” I answered.

“How many days?” John asked and laughed.

“Well… ‘til it tastes funny.” I answered honestly. John chuckled at that answer, and we all laughed. I was guessing he might have some half open bottles of wine in his fridge.

We didn’t walk to the vineyards, but I did my usual twirl of the barrel room, and showed off the Wagner family photos of farming, winemaking ancestors going back to 1857 in California. I told them about the French oak barrels using for aging, the Wagner family history, the accolades of Caymus through the years, etc.

Mitch, the Manager kept asking me rapid fire wine questions and then answering them himself with wrong answers. I could be accused of being overly excited and talkative at times, so I knew the personality type well. Assertive redirection by me followed.

“Hey Mister, I’m the wine person here. Let me give the answers.”

Mitch’s bullshit was busted! By the sound of the laughs from the group, I bet that wasn’t the first time. We all laughed like old friends who knew each other even though we really didn’t.

After the little tour, we all sat at a rectangular glass table outside under a pergola of hanging jasmine and tasted more wine. We tasted through almost the whole portfolio of about 10 wines at that time including an older vintage -2009 Caymus Special Selection. That’s not the usual tasting, but it’s interesting to compare the color, taste, and finish of an older wine to the current vintage. It illustrates the effects of aging and helps people figure out their preferences.

The gardens at Caymus truly look like something out of a Disney movie. Butterflies, hummingbirds, tiny lizards, squirrels, beautiful trees and flowers, with a light dry breeze typical of an October day in the heart of Napa Valley. I think we even had a mom and two baby barn owls nesting right above the entrance to our barrel room that year.

The lighting is what I remember most. It was late afternoon and the sun was big and golden over the Mayacamas Mountain Range due West of Caymus in Rutherford and casting the most beautiful, yet surreal glow on the winery grounds and everyone’s faces. The shading made the Mayacamas ridge look like the “purple mountain majesty” mentioned in the song “America The Beautiful”. This particular afternoon was the epitome of what Napa Valley is advertised to be. Grapes and people sunkissed from head to toe and hanging heavy with the weight of the warmth. Little did we know that same warm breeze would grow and ignite the devasting 2017 Napa Valley fires just a few days later. Those same mountains would be lit up for weeks very soon.

As we sat at that glass table, I had a distinctive déjà vu of sitting in lawn chairs with my grandparents in late summer in Texas and wondering as a six-year-old child why they just wanted to sit, catch a breeze, have a cool drink, and talk at the end of a long day. That day, at that moment, at Caymus, with the company I was with, I knew why. It’s the peaceful pleasure and feeling of contentment that is a rare exception to our busy lives of clockwatching and obligations. I wasn’t just the wine. I think we all felt the moment.

In the end, John like our Mer Soleil SILVER Unoaked Chardonnay. He said he could taste it, and it was cool on his throat. Fiona and the guys liked the big reds.

At the end of the visit at about 6:30 pm when the sun was setting, John asked, “Are you going to the show?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I don’t have tickets.” I answered.

“Well, we’ll have some for you as our guest if you can come. Thank you for hosting us today.”

And then, they were gone with a few bottles that they could enjoy back at their hotel.

Thurs. Oct. 5, 2017

I got to the show with my friend, Susan Quinn, and realized we were in some of the best seats in the house. Second row, stage right, right up in front. Legendary Ramblin’ Jack Elliott opened for John Prine and his band, and it was a full house. The Uptown Theatre is one of the old movie theaters that’s been redone as a concert venue, and the acoustics are impeccable. There’s really not a bad seat in the house.

From our seats, I could see into the wings of stage left as John made his stage entrance for his set. Susan and I could see he was looking to see if I was there as he walked out and before his eyes were hit by the spotlights. It was a quick, but purposeful search. I didn’t think much of it, but Susan is very observant and pointed it out.

“He looked to see if you are here. He did. Right at you!” she exclaimed.

John and the band started the set and played a few songs to an audience mesmerized and soaking up every word. His voice and musicianship were unique and heartfelt. He looked like a guy who loved his job and loved his fans.

A few songs in, I hear, “I’d like to dedicate this song to Janet Thomas of Caymus Vineyards. We got to spend a real nice afternoon together the other day.” Short, sweet, and to the point just like his songs. John looked right at me in acknowledgement, then he played “Souvenirs”.

He really caught me off guard. I never imagined a dedication from him or anyone else- ever. I felt like a deer in the headlights and am sure I turned red in the face from shock and proud embarrassment. Susan squealed a bit and immediately leaned towards the people in front of us and bragged quickly, “This is Janet Thomas! Right here.” The couple quickly turned around to look at who the hell the dedication was for with excited smiles and awe. All I could think was, “I sure am glad I didn’t get up to go to the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

The dedication and the song he sang for me gave me a peaceful, warm glow from deep in my heart. I’m a sentimental person, but try to stay in the moment. Listening to John Prine sing “Souvenirs” put me in a place somewhere in between. That song mixes up the past and the present in a sentimental, forlorn way like a dreamy memory.

I’ve since listened to “Souvenirs” and learned the lyrics to sing with my family, but always wondered why he chose “Souvenirs” for me as his dedication. I will never know for sure why John Prine chose that song, but I’d like to think he recognized that we made a memory together- a souvenir of that beautiful afternoon we spent together at Caymus.

From “Souvenirs”:

Memories, they can't be boughten They can't be won at carnivals for free Well, it took me years to get those souvenirs And I don't know how they slipped away from me

- John Prine

#johnprine #caymus

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chloca-cola · 4 years

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Resonance Chap 3 Color My World

Chapter 3 of my The Last Of Us fic. Travel back to ten years ago, Joel and Mickey get closer and Gina is noticing this and isn't happy.

TW: None, a little bit of angst.

Word count: 2,665

~10 Years Ago~

Tommy and Joel were beginning to overstay their welcome as far as Mickey was concerned at first, but Gina had seemed to have taken a liking to the Texas born brothers quickly. They kept putting ideas in Gina's head about over throwing the camp here, and Mickey kept changing the subject.

She couldn't deny having the two men around was helpful, she was loath to admit it though. They helped fix up different things around their small house, that Gina nor Mickey were good at repairing. She learned Joel used to work as a carpenter in construction and even wanted to start his own business before everything went to shit.

She also was loath to admit that the more she spoke with Joel, the more she began to warm up to him. Before hell broke loose, if she had known him, she feels they would have been friends, or at the very least drinking buddies.

"So, what did you do before all this?" Joel inquired, Mickey chuckled, handing Joel another nail, holding the bucket against her chest, and she smiled up at him.

"I was a singer." She admitted, shrugging. "Nothin' big time, just local bars and shit." Joel lowered his hammer, looking down at her from his spot on the ladder.

"Seriously? You know I wanted to be a singer too." Mickey laughed, not at him, just at how they shared something in common, it genuinely surprised her.

"I did not know that. Why didn't ya?" His face became stern again, his mind going to his past once more, and he shook his head.

"Things just...changed, and I couldn't." Mickey's smile faded, wondering what happened but didn't want to pry, after all, she wasn't sharing all of her secrets either. The "bars" she had been singing at weren't regular bars, she had played in several gentlemans clubs because the money was good. She fucking hated having to sing there, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do to pay the bills that just kept mounting. She had to lie about her age and everything, luckily the clubs were very shady and didn't ask too many questions. As long as the girls were attractive enough and could perform, they didn't care.

"I wanted to go to Nashville, make it a career, but things changed for me too." She confessed, shrugging her shoulders again. "My dad got sick, and I had to work at...unsavory places." Joel's eyes were fixated on Mickey's face as she spoke to him, and he climbed down a few rungs to be closer to her.

"What happened to your dad?" Her eyes welled with tears, as she her gaze left his to look up at an eagle gliding along the high winds above them.

"Cancer. He didn't make it. About 4 years before the infection hit." Joel hung his head, moving the hammer to his other hand so he could place his free one on her shoulder. He nodded to her when she looked back to him.

"My girlfriend got pregnant in highschool. We ended up getting married and it didn't end well. I took care of our daughter, that's why I took up that carpenter job."

Gina watched from the window at the two of them conversing between themselves as she sipped on some mint tea, Tommy joining her soon after seeing how rapted in contemplation she was.

"What's going on?" He asked, following her gaze to his brother and Mickey, and he made a surprised noise. "Holy shit they look close, huh?" Gina looked over at Tommy, her eyes holding a feeling akin to jealousy, and it confused Tommy but he shrugged it off.

"Yeah, real bosom buddies." It was the first time Tommy heard Gina sound so negative, and he clapped her on the shoulder, nearly making her spill her tea.

"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it too much, girly, she's still your cousin, no matter what, right?" Gina eyeballed him again and Tommy sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a defeated manner. "I would tell him to leave her alone, but that would just make him talk to her more. He's stubborn like that. Besides, if they fall in love, y'all can come along with us." Gina frowned heavily at him, before turning and leaving him by the window. "What'd I say?" He asked, holding his arms out at his sides, confused, before he shook his head. "Women."

Tommy looked out the window again, watching how Joel was interacting with Mickey and he smiled to himself. He hadn't seen Joel look at any woman like that since his ex, and his older brother was dense enough that he probably doesn't even realize he's doing it.

"I'm sorry about your daughter." Mickey stated, softly, as Joel came all the way down from the ladder, and he nodded quickly.

"Sorry about your dad." Joel offered and Mickey shrugged, setting the bucket of nails down on the porch before leaning onto the railing on her forearms.

"Sometimes...when I really think about it, I think he was lucky." She admitted, blushing at her confession, because it sounded weird even to her, and she motioned out across the encampment. "To not have to deal with this. Sometimes bein' alive is exhaustin'." Joel leaned on the railing beside her, bumping his shoulder against hers, looking out over the small shacks and houses that dotted the area.

"I get that, but...if I had the chance to have Sarah back...I would in a heartbeat." Mickey turned her head to study his profile as he then looked up at the same eagle and a pregnant silence fell between them as they both thought about their past before Joel finally broke the silence with a small scoff. "Look at us, for the first time we aren't going for the jugular." Mickey softly laughed at him, bumping against him, before pushing off the railing to go inside.

"Don't get used to it, Tex, maybe I'm just gettin' ya to let your guard down." She joked, shooting him a finger gun, before waving for him to come inside. "We will finish this later. Let's get some food."

"You've never told me where you're from originally." Joel pointed out as he followed Mickey into the kitchen where Gina and Tommy were already eating.

"We are from North Carolina." Gina replied tersely, causing both Mickey and Joel to exchange a look of concern before Mickey sat next to Gina.

"Boone to be exact. Not too far from here." Mickey continued as she got herself a helping of baked beans and some of the fresh vegetables they had grown from their garden out back. Gina stabbed her food rather aggressively causing Mickey to look at her again, her face asking her what was wrong.

"You guys given any more thought to attacking this town?" She asked out of the blue, causing Tommy to choke on his water. He coughed and sputtered, wiping the liquid from his face, shooting a look at Joel.

"Well, no, because Mickey said that she wanted to stay here because you felt safe." Joel stated and Gina rolled her eyes, and Mickey finally cleared her throat.

"Yeah, I did tell him that. Because it's true." Gina scoffed and waved her hand dismissively to Mickey, before forking more veggies on her plate.

"I'm done with this town. I want to try." She placed her fork on the table, before stabbing her finger on the table repeatedly to drive her point home. "This place isn't living. They're controlling and I'm tired of it."

"We can just leave-" Mickey began but Gina held up her hand to silence her girlfriend, which caused Mickey's own anger to rise.

"I'm not leaving these people to suffer, we have to do something!" She slammed her palms onto the table, causing the plates to rattle, and Mickey just glared at her.

"I'm not gonna risk your life for these people either. We can't risk killin' ourselves for 'em, we can't save everyone Gina!" Mickey snapped back, slamming her own hands on the table with more force than Gina had, and Joel and Tommy just leaned back to watch. Joel was beginning to feel a little tinge of guilt because inadvertently he caused this fight between them. He rubbed a hand over his face as the two girls continued to argue.

"That's all you ever do, only think about us, never anyone else. That is...until he came along." Everyone at the table froze, Gina's green eyes glaring fire at Joel, and Mickey just looked at Gina in confusion.

"You're the one who wanted 'em to stay here!" Gina turned her green fire to Mickey.

"Yeah, and ya were fuckin' threatenin' him a month ago, and now look at the two of ya." Gina's normally tame accent grew thicker as her anger rose, and stood from the table so fast her chair toppled over and Mickey stood up not long after her, pointing up at her slightly taller girlfriend.

"Isn't that what ya wanted? Me to be miss popularity?" Gina growled turning on her heel quickly, storming off to their shared bedroom. Mickey pinched the bridge of her nose, before gathering all her blond dreads to her left shoulder, and she looked at the men. "Sorry, finish your dinner. I'm gonna go calm her the fuck down."

"Gina, what the actual fuck?" Mickey whisper shouted at her as she slammed the door behind her.

"I see the way ya look at him, Mickey!" She shouted, gesturing in Joel's general direction and Mickey was honestly confused.

"What are you talkin' about?" Gina gave her a warning look, balling her fists tightly, she would never strike Mickey, but the thought of punching Joel out has crossed her mind a few times.

"Like just out there on the porch! The way ya were smilin' at him! It's how ya used to look at me…it's just like how ya used to look at me." Gina's breath hitched in her throat and her sentence faded, and she hugged arms around herself, her anger quickly fleeting to heart break. Mickey's eyebrows were raised in surprise, until she barked out an incredulous laugh, slapping her own knee as she doubled over in her mirth.

"Me? Like Tex? Please Gina, be serious." Mickey reached out and placed her hands on Gina's shoulders, giving her a small shake to get her to look into Mickey's eyes. "Are ya really that worried about him? I'm just tryin' to like 'em both like ya do." She shrugged, pulling Gina in for a tight hug, which Gina was about to return when a knock on the door startled them both.

Mickey released Gina and turned to the bedroom door, opening it to reveal Tommy, who had a pretty concerned look on his face.

"Guy named Ansen is at the door." Mickey's pale face grew slightly more pale as she looked over her shoulder at Gina. Ansen was the leader of the cult, why was he here suddenly? Mickey brushed passed Tommy to find Joel at the door talking to Ansen, whose gruff face void of any emotion until his steely blue eyes landed on Mickey, and a dark smile crossed his face.

"Ah, Mickey, there you are. Just the girl I wanted to talk to." She tilted her head, smiling just as darkly at him, before motioning to the couch for him to sit. "Thank you." He nodded to her, moving deeper inside the room to the couch.

"Would ya like some mint tea?" Mickey offered, his tight smile was unnerving as he shook his head.

"No thank you, I have business to discuss with you and your...friends." His eyes slid to Tommy and Joel as Mickey motioned for everyone to sit. "You have been here with us for...a month now, is it?" Tommy nodded, trying to sit comfortably under this man's scrutinizing gaze. "Been using some of our resources as well." Mickey knew where this was going, and she sat forward on the edge of her armchair, waving her hand.

"We have been havin' 'em eat outta our own personal garden, Ansen." She corrected him, but all he did was smile, his eyes hard as he watched her as she spoke to him.

"They have used our water. Attended our feast two weeks ago. They have been interacting well with the others in town. I think the time has come to ask if they are planning on staying here permanently." Mickey cut her eyes up at Joel who had absentmindedly sat on the left armrest of her chair, her hazel green eyes trying to convey to him to tell Ansen they were leaving soon.

"We were all just discussing this before you showed up, actually." Gina interjected herself into the conversation, her voice and accent calmer now and Mickey glared at her girlfriend. She had no idea what Gina was trying to do here. "They want to join." Joel's hand gripped onto Mickey's shoulder to keep her seated, shaking his head subtlety at her when she glared up at him, now was not the time to lose their cool.

"Splendid!" Ansen cheered, slapping his palms down on his thighs, standing to his feet. "That's wonderful to hear. I'll get the preparations together and four days from now, we will set up the ceremony for them to join." Gina smiled at him, taking his arm as she lead him back to the front door, discussing how much fun this was going to be.

Mickey cursed under her breath, frustration mounting as Joel gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Tommy was watching them closely. Whatever Gina has planned, Tommy had a bad feeling about it all.

Gina came back in the house after walking Ansen away, smiling to herself, shutting the door behind her.

"We have four days to prep for this." She stated vaguely and Mickey made an incredulous noise. "This is gonna be easy. All we have to do is cut the head off the snake and everything dies." Mickey shook her head, standing from her seat, Joel's hand getting knocked away, and she glared at Gina.

"This is a bad idea. We should just leave. We could sneak-" Gina cut her off with a simple look, storming back into their room, slamming the door closed.

Mickey sighed heavily, slowly sitting back down in the chair, leaning back, rubbing her hand over her face.

"If you want, we could still sneak away." Joel suggested and she looked up at him as if he just spoke in another language to her.

"I'm not leavin' Gina here. After all this, if we turn up missin', they may decapitate her in front of the camp, usin' her as an example." She explained, punching the armrest on her right side. "She's basically fucked us all, and now ya guys either have to join this fuckin' cult, or we go through with your plan to overthrow them." She stood up from her chair, and walked outside to breath in the crisp early evening air.

"Joel...what have you been talking to Mickey about exactly?" Tommy asked, once they were in the spare bedroom and Joel hummed in question. "I'm assuming when you said 'we' you meant you and me, right?" Joel turned to Tommy then, looking at him strangely before shrugging.

"Obviously." Tommy blinked, chewing on the inside of his cheek, still feeling off put by this whole situation. Had Joel not noticed that Mickey had subconsciously included herself in this sneaking off scenario? Something is telling Tommy they shouldn't leave, because they would kill both of the girls, but something was also telling him they shouldn't fight these people either. What if Gina's thought of cutting off the head of the snake was wrong? There's so many people here that if they retaliated, they would all die. Those thoughts kept Tommy awake that entire night.

#the last of us #the last of us joel #the last of us ellie #tlou #tlou remastered #tlou joel #tlou ellie #tlou oc #mickey two knives #joel x oc #resonance

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