#405 highway

[eternalcalifornia]

#rosecoloredsunsets #eternal california #eternalcalifornia #mine #california #aesthetic #beachside #los angeles #beach #nature #cars #highway to heaven #highway #405 highway #santa monica #work views

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part

—--

You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago. 

Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind. 

He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.

“What?”

He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.

“You hungry?”

You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.

“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”

Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all. 

“Just checking.”

After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.

“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”

He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat. 

“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”

Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.

“No worries at all, Buttercup.”

His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.

Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.

“I want…”

That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either. 

“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!” 

You were as happy as a clam.

“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!” 

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”

“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.” 

You grinned at him and he shook his head.

“Still living dangerously, I see.”

You raised your chin.

“I’m still living,” you replied.

An understanding passed between you.

“Amen.”

Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.

“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”

He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.

“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”

Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.

“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”

You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”

Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.

“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”

You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.

“Sy, that’s sweet.”

He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.

“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”

 His eyes ran over your body posessively. 

“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.

“Got your food here!”

Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?

“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”

You reached out and arranged an errant curl.

“Looks good on you, Sy.”

He just grinned and then turned to get the food. 

Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”

He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.

“What the hell. You only live once, right?”

“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”

— 

You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.

Il tuo fedel

Sospira ognor

Cessa, crudel

Tanto rigor

Ooh

Ooh

“You ready?”

You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.

“Let’s go.”

Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened. 

“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”

“Yeah.”

“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”

Your heart clenched.

“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”

There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.

“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.”

He looked at you long and hard.

“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”

“What?”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”

“Unhhunh.”

Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.

“I am so sorry Sy.”

“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”

Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.

“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”

Sy’s voice lowered.

“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”

“Scott. Yeah…”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.

“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”

He saw the look on your face.

“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”

Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.

“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”

He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom. 

“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”

You needed his answer like air.

“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”

You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.

“What about you? How has your life been?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”

Sy winced. You chuckled.

“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.” 

You shook your head at your gullibility.

“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.

“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”

Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”

You smiled at him. 

“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”  

You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.

“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”

You looked him in the eye again.

“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”

“I’m glad, Buttercup.”

Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.

“You sharing this good life with anyone?”

Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.

“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”

Sy seemed to let out a breath. 

“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh.”

Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.

“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”

“Hmmm.”

You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate. 

“Please look at me Buttercup.”

You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.

“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”

Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.

“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”

—-

The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?

“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”

“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”

He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.

“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”

You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.

“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”

He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.

“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”

Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.

“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”

You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.

Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away. 

“Mmmhm.”

Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control. 

“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”

“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.” 

You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice. 

Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.

“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”

And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.

“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”

Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.

Holy fuck, was he a goner.

You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.

“Look who’s getting spicy no-”

Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.

“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”

You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?

Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.

“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”

Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”

Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.

“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”

You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone. 

“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”

Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more. 

“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”

Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.

“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”

Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.

“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”

You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most. 

He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.

‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’

He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”

“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”

Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.

“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”

Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“Why?” 

He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.

“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”

The stutter did you in.

“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”

Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”

“Go for it.”

You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.

Sy looked up at you, offended.

“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”

He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy. 

“So fucking good for me.” 

“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”

“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”

“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”

“I love this pretty little pussy.”

His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.

“Syyyyyy!”

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”

He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.

Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.

“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”

Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.

“C’mere, Baby…”

You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing. 

It was your turn to pleasure him.

“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”

You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.

“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”

Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.

“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”

His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.

“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”

“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”

Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing. 

“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”

You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.

“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”

“Ummhnnghhh!”

There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.

“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”

Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.

“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”

He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.

“That was…”

You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.

“That was hot.”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“I love you, Buttercup.”

There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.

Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.

“It’s getting chilly out.” 

He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.

“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”

You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.

Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.

“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”

“Jacob Syverson!”

You swatted at his chest.

“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.” 

He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening? 

In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips. 

“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”

It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.

“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Okay.”

Why were you so breathless?

Sy was anxious at letting you go.

“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”

You smirked at him. 

“Alright.”

Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.

“G’night, Buttercup."

He licked those sinful lips of his.

"Sweet dreams.”

He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”

----

Next part Here

If you like it, hit reblog!

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[beardedmrbean]

A Los Angeles woman fatally stabbed her partner and possibly threw her two children from a moving SUV on the freeway before she fatally crashed into a tree Monday morning, authorities said.

An 8-month-old girl died and her 9-year-old sister was injured in the violence, which began around 3:40 a.m., Los Angeles police said Tuesday.

The children’s mother, Danielle Johnson, 34, got in an argument with a man whom she lived with, Jaelen Chaney, and stabbed him with a knife, police said.

Johnson then took her two children in a Porsche SUV, and at 4:30 a.m. that car was seen driving on Interstate 405 "when the two children were expelled from the vehicle while it was moving,” police said in a statement.

Investigators believe the children fell or were thrown out of the moving vehicle, the California Highway Patrol said. The infant died, and the 9-year-old was taken to a hospital with what police said were moderate injuries.

Johnson then sped into a tree in Redondo Beach, a coastal city in the Los Angeles region, at more than 100 mph, police said. She did not survive the crash, which occurred around 5 a.m.

Investigators later found Chaney, 29, dead in the Woodland Hills home where they lived with Johnson's children, police said. The deadly incidents were later connected and determined to be a double murder and a suicide, police said.

“We really don’t know why this incident escalated to such violence,” Police Lt. Guy Golan said, according to NBC Los Angeles.

The highway patrol said it was broadcast a medical emergency at 4:29 a.m. about the injured children on the freeway, and authorities found the infant with major injuries. The Culver City Fire Department pronounced her dead at 4:44 a.m., the highway patrol said.

Redondo Beach is around 30 miles south of Woodland Hills, which is in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. The 405 Freeway is the main artery linking the western part of the valley to the Los Angeles basin.

The surviving child is in the care of Child Protective Services, NBC Los Angeles reported.

#nunyas news #cw: child death

[justforbooks]

David Crosby, who has died aged 81, was a premier-league rock’n’roll star twice. In the mid-1960s he was a founder member of the Byrds, the Los Angeles band often credited with inventing the genre “folk-rock”. This was defined by their shimmering recording of Bob Dylan’s Mr Tambourine Man, its distinctive harmonies and chiming 12-string guitar carrying it to the top of the charts in Britain and the US in 1965.

Arrogant and argumentative, Crosby was sacked from the Byrds in 1967, but, after producing Joni Mitchell’s debut album, Song to a Seagull, he found an ideal berth with Crosby, Stills and Nash. It was a group of distinct individuals who wrote their own songs, but together they created one of the great harmony-singing blends in pop history. Their debut album, Crosby Stills & Nash (1969), was an immediate smash, and proved hugely influential on a rising generation of west coast artists. Crosby’s long hair, walrus moustache and buckskin jacket made him look like a frontiersman for the Age of Aquarius. Their second album, Déjà Vu (1970), with the addition of Neil Young, and the band becoming Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young (CSNY), felt like the crowning moment of a California golden age. It topped the US chart, reached No 5 in the UK and has sold 14m copies.

The members then embarked on solo ventures and their reunions grew increasingly rare, though they reformed for a stadium tour in 1974, a lavishly wasteful affair that Crosby nicknamed “the Doom tour”. A major obstacle was that Crosby, a regular marijuana and LSD user, would succumb to a ferocious addiction to crack cocaine, with near-fatal consequences. This came to a head on 28 March 1982, when he was arrested by the California Highway Patrol after he crashed his car into the central divider on the Interstate 405 highway. Police found freebasing paraphernalia and a .45-calibre pistol in the car, and it was later determined that Crosby had suffered a seizure from “toxic saturation”.

A couple of weeks later he was arrested again on similar charges, this time at a Dallas nightclub where he was performing. A spell in a rehab facility in New Jersey failed when Crosby fled the premises. His decline from prince of west coast rock aristocracy to struggling addict was halted only when he was jailed in Texas in 1986, following yet another drugs-and-firearms arrest.

In 1985, Spin magazine had told its readers “The Tragic Story of David Crosby’s Living Death”, but after being paroled from Huntsville prison in August 1986, Crosby staged a remarkable comeback. He marked his return with the enthralling autobiography Long Time Gone (1988) and the solo album Oh Yes I Can (1989). He would make six further solo discs, in addition to Crosby & Nash (2004), two albums with Stills and Nash (Live It Up in 1990 and After the Storm, 1994) and American Dream and Looking Forward with CSNY (1988 and 1999). In 1987 he married Jan Dance, who had survived her own addiction purgatory alongside him. Shortly after being diagnosed with hepatitis C, in 1994 he underwent a liver transplant, the operation paid for by Phil Collins (Crosby had sung on Collins’s 1989 hit Another Day in Paradise), and bounced back with renewed energy.

Born in Los Angeles, he was the second son of the cinematographer Floyd Crosby and his first wife, Aliph Van Cortlandt Whitehead, a scion of the influential Van Cortlandt dynasty. Floyd came from an upper-class New York background, his father having been the treasurer of the Union Pacific Railroad, and his mother the daughter of a renowned surgeon. He had tried his hand at banking in New York before working on documentary films in the South Pacific (including FW Murnau’s Tabu, for which he won an Oscar) and eventually moving to Hollywood, where he won a Golden Globe award for his work on Fred Zinnemann’s western High Noon and made numerous films with Roger Corman.

David’s early musical influences included classical music and jazz as well as the Everly Brothers and bluesman Josh White, and he recalled how he would take the harmony parts when the family would gather to sing extracts from The Fireside Book of Folk Songs. A trip with his mother to hear a symphony orchestra “was the most intense experience I can remember from my early life” (as he wrote in Long Time Gone), because it illustrated how musicians could collaborate “to make something bigger than any one person could ever do”.

He attended the exclusive Crane school in Montecito, California, then Cate boarding school in Carpinteria. Though intelligent, he regarded academic work with contempt and refused to apply himself. One area where he did shine was in musical stage shows, such as his performance as the First Lord of the Admiralty in Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. He subsequently attended Santa Barbara City College, but quit and moved to LA to study acting. However, music was becoming his true focus, and he began playing in folk clubs with his elder brother Ethan (who would take his own life in 1997). When a girlfriend became pregnant, Crosby hastily left town and worked his way across the country towards the folk-singing mecca of Greenwich Village, New York, where the likes of Peter, Paul and Mary, Phil Ochs and Joan Baez were breaking through, while Dylan was about to transform the musical climate entirely.

Crosby formed a partnership with the Chicago-born folk singer Terry Callier and they performed frequently together, before Crosby travelled down to Florida in 1962 to sample the folk scene in Miami’s Coconut Grove district. He then worked his way back to Los Angeles via Denver, Chicago and San Francisco. In LA he met Jim (later Roger) McGuinn and Gene Clark, all of them fascinated by the Beatles and the idea of mixing folk with rock’n’roll. They became the Jet Set, which evolved into the Byrds with the addition of the bassist Chris Hillman and drummer Michael Clarke.

Signed to Columbia, the Byrds had already built an enthusiastic local following by playing in clubs such as Ciro’s on Sunset Strip by the time Mr Tambourine Man was released in April 1965, and its success was followed up by their debut album, released in June. Crosby’s distinctive tenor voice was integral to the band’s vocal blend, and he began to develop an idiosyncratic songwriting style.

Influenced by jazz as much as rock, his songs used unusual chords and unconventional melodies. On the band’s third album, Fifth Dimension (1966), one of his most significant contributions was co-writing Eight Miles High. This psychedelic milestone gave them a Top 20 US hit, and also reflected Crosby’s infatuation with the jazz saxophonist John Coltrane. Their next album, Younger Than Yesterday (1967), featured Crosby’s ethereal Everybody’s Been Burned as well as his self-indulgent sound experiment Mind Gardens, while the song Why reflected his admiration for the sitar maestro Ravi Shankar. When the Byrds met the Beatles, Crosby’s enthusiasm for Shankar helped spark George Harrison’s interest in Indian music.

Crosby’s green suede cape and Borsalino hat had made him a Hollywood Hills style icon, but his days as a Byrd were numbered. He had irked his bandmates at the Monterey pop festival in June 1967 by making rambling speeches about LSD and the assassination of John F Kennedy, and also by getting on stage with Stills’s band Buffalo Springfield in place of the absent Young. Crosby’s song Lady Friend (1967) flopped as a single, and during the making of the album The Notorious Byrd Brothers he was fired after arguments over the choice of material. His song Triad, depicting a menage-a-trois, was vetoed by his bandmates as being too risque (Jefferson Airplane subsequently recorded it). Nonetheless, Crosby played on and co-wrote several tracks, and The Notorious Byrd Brothers is arguably the Byrds’ finest album.

Borrowing $25,000 from Peter Tork of the Monkees, Crosby bought a 74ft schooner called Mayan, where he would write some of his best-known songs including Crosby, Stills and Nash’s Wooden Ships. The obvious potential of CSN immediately won them a deal with Atlantic Records, which released their debut album in May 1969. Their second-ever live appearance was at the Woodstock festival that August. Though dominated by the all-round wizardry of Stills, the album showcased the different writing skills of each member. Crosby’s Guinnevere demonstrated his fondness for unusual scales and harmonies, while the bluesy Long Time Gone was a heartfelt response to the assassination of Bobby Kennedy and indicated the group’s willingness to embrace political and social issues.

Déjà Vu, released nine months later, brought another strong showing from Crosby. The hanging chords and mysterious time changes of his title track made it one of his most mesmerising compositions, while Almost Cut My Hair was his battle cry for the counterculture. However, personality clashes within the group while on tour in 1970 prompted them to split.

All the members made solo albums, including Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name (1971). Additionally, he formed a successful duo with Nash, which brought them US Top 10 hit albums with Graham Nash David Crosby (1972, also UK No 13) and Wind on the Water (1975), and they reached No 26 with Whistling Down the Wire (1976). In 1973 Crosby reunited with his previous band for the album Byrds, and in 1977 Crosby, Stills and Nash released CSN, which reached No 2 on the US album chart and outsold the trio’s debut. However, by the time they made Daylight Again (1981), another US Top 10 hit, Crosby was in the throes of addiction. Allies (1983), a patchwork of live and studio material, was the group’s last effort before he was jailed.

Crosby’s post-prison renaissance continued with regular tours with CSN, who went on the road almost annually from 1987, with Young joining them in 2000, 2002 and 2006. He released the solo album Thousand Roads (1993), which gave him a minor hit single with Hero, then picked up the pace dramatically in the new century with Croz (2014), Lighthouse (2016), Sky Trails (2017) and Here If You Listen (2018). For Free, featuring Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen and Michael McDonald, came out in 2021. His final release, in December, was David Crosby & the Lighthouse Band Live at the Capitol Theatre.

One of his regular musical collaborators was James Raymond, his child with Celia Crawford Ferguson, whom Crosby had left pregnant in California in the early 60s, and who had given her baby up for adoption. She later moved to Australia. Raymond met his birth mother in 1994, then in 1995 introduced himself to his biological father at UCLA medical centre, where Crosby was having treatment following his liver transplant. An accomplished musician and composer, Raymond played in the jazz-rock band CPR with his father and Jeff Pevar (they released four albums between 1998 and 2001), was music director for Crosby’s solo live shows and also became a member of Crosby, Stills and Nash’s touring band from 2009.

Yet Crosby’s creative rebirth coincided with a calamitous breakdown in relations with his old comrades. In 2014 Young said CSNY would never tour again after Crosby described his new partner, Daryl Hannah, as “a purely poisonous predator”, and in 2016 Nash, who had always gone the extra mile for Crosby throughout his addiction years, also announced his estrangement from him.

In 1991 Crosby was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Byrds, and in 1997 with Crosby, Stills and Nash. He won the 2019 Critics’ Choice movie award as the “most compelling living subject of a documentary” for AJ Eaton’s film David Crosby: Remember My Name.

Crosby continued to be plagued by health problems. He suffered from type 2 diabetes, and in 2014 was left with eight stents in his heart following major cardiac surgery.

He was the sperm donor for the children of Melissa Etheridge and her partner Julie Cypher: their son, Beckett, who died in 2020, and daughter, Bailey.

Jan and their son, Django, survive him, as do James, a daughter, Erika, by Jackie Guthrie, and a daughter, Donovan, by Debbie Donovan.

🔔 David Van Cortlandt Crosby, musician, singer and songwriter, born 14 August 1941; died 18 January 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #David Crosby #in memoriam

[smurphyse]

The End of a Long Day

Masterlist

Part 13 of Room 405

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3217

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, violence

Summary: Reader gets a handful of surprises when she comes home… and all she wants is to be in Spencer's arms.

As soon as you got onto the highway, Charlie called you. Willow and Ivy squabbled in the backseat while Poppy watched a show on the minivan’s little tv screen. There was a problem at the club, one that he wouldn’t discuss with the kids in the car, so you rerouted and drove to the Nocturne.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you spotted Agent Hotchner leaning against his car, waiting for you. Your heart dropped into your stomach like burning lead, and you hurriedly hopped out of the van and shut the door behind you so the kids wouldn’t hear whatever he was there for.

“Did something happen? What’s going on?” 

Hotchner blinked slowly and frowned, “I’m here to talk to you about Tulip.”

You groaned in annoyance as the weight shifted again in your stomach. Something else was going on inside that Charlie needed you for, and here you were stuck outside with this asshole.

“She’s not talking to you,” you said, standing up straight and crossing your arms over your chest. “I told you, the answer's no.”

“It’s been weeks since she found the body, and I need to know what she saw,” he pressed. His demeanor toward you, on the phone and in person, had always been kind, but for some reason you found yourself only able to be hostile toward Agent Hotchner.

"Fuck. You," you snarled.

Agent Hotchner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again. When he spoke, it was level and firm, "I have no interest in traumatizing your daughter further, Mrs. Arends. My team does this every day and we are the best-."

"My kid is not just another thing for you to deal with," you growled, taking a predatory step toward him. He didn't back away, and soon enough you found yourself nearly chest to chest with a man who could easily take you down. "She didn't see anything."

He looked down at you softly, and it jarred you for a moment at the kindness in this hard man's eyes, "You and I both know that's not true. If she didn't see anything, she would probably be sleeping. I'm assuming she's not?"

"She, I-, she's fine," you stammered, thrown off balance by the pity he seemed to have for you. 

"She probably wakes up screaming when she does. She's been withdrawn, moody, and not in the way teenagers are, but in the way that someone damaged is."

Your hand lashed out before you could even think to stop it, but Agent Hotchner caught your wrist easily just before your palm struck his face. Your chest heaved as you watched him with tears in your eyes, waiting for the inevitable slap of handcuffs on your wrists in front of your watching children.

His grip on your wrist eased up, but he didn't let you go, "I know you're just trying to protect her by keeping her hidden, but you're not doing her any favors. 

"I know what you went through with her birth father. My mom was your age when she had me, and my dad was a lot like your ex." 

You said nothing, your body coiled into steel to protect yourself from his words, your memories. He swallowed thickly, like this was difficult for him to admit, "You remind me of her. She did everything she could to hide what he was from us, to let us believe we came from something good."

"She's never even met him," you said quietly, "she has no idea what he was like."

"You can't protect her from this. It's already happened and it's already changed her." Agent Hotchner gave you a hard look, but his dark eyes were soft, "I can get the information I need, and then I will help you get her the help she needs. You can be in the room, I'll even come to you."

His hand was warm around your wrist, and he made no move to let go. You did your best to keep your resolve up, but you wanted to help Tulip, you just didn't know how. 

"You're the only one she talks to. I'm not taking her back to that police station," you said finally, barely above a whisper. 

"Deal," he agreed, and finally let you go. You coiled your hand into your chest and held it close. "Wednesday, 8 am, I'll be at your house."

He said nothing else, just turned and got in his car and drove away. It took everything you had to keep from crying in front of your kids, but after a few moments of staring at empty space you gathered them up and brought them inside to where Charlie waited for you.

How the hell were you going to tell Charlie that Spencer had met them? You had a plan… an agreement with him, that the kids would meet either of your significant others after having the approval from each other. 

You just hoped he wasn't angry. This had never happened before. 

You handed the kids off to Tessa, warily making your way up to your office to talk to Charlie. When you opened the door, your jaw dropped.

Charlie kneeled on the floor while one of your girls, Corrinne, sobbed in an armchair. He met your gaze as you stepped in quickly and shut the door behind you. Her face was swollen and bruised, caked with makeup and tears as Charlie rubbed a soft hand up and down her arm.

You knew exactly who did this. It was the same man who’d done it to her a hundred times before.

“Where’s Kinzie?” you asked, moving over to your desk and grabbing a bowl and some epsom salt from one of the drawers. You’d been through this enough times yourself, and with the other dancers. You knew what to do.

Kinzie was only five years old, her mother the poor victim of domestic abuse, as many of them had been. It was a sad cycle in your line of work, but you had spent the better part of a decade trying to forget where you came from and help the girls move on from their pasts.

“She’s with Tessa and the girls,” Charlie said, but he never took his eye off Corrinne. You’d known for a long time that Charlie was in love with her, but he never said anything because she was in a relationship… with an asshole who beat her if she sneezed wrong. 

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Corrinne cried as you came over. You poured the salts into the bowl and handed it to Charlie.

“Go put some warm water in this. Warm, not hot.” You waved him off, and he left reluctantly, trusting you to help Corrinne in a way he couldn’t. You brushed back some of her hair and gave her a soft smile, “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. Her chin wobbled as you watched her blotched and pained face, your heart bursting into a million pieces. 

You sighed heavily, deciding enough was enough. You were tired of finding Corrinne like this, and seeing Charlie so upset over it. “You’re going to come stay with me for a bit, that’s what you’re going to do.”

Her eyes went wide and petrified, “No, I can’t! He’ll kill me if I leave.”

“No he won’t,” you soothed her. You brushed her hair back again, making sure to swipe a gentle thumb across her cheek. “He’s not Kinzie’s dad, you’re not married. You don’t have anything to separate from him.”

Charlie came back in the door, softly knocking on the frame. Corrinne gave him an embarrassed smile, but she quickly looked away. You knew Corrinne liked Charlie too, she was just in a situation she didn’t know how to get out of. 

You took the bowl from Charlie, and he handed you a bag of cotton balls having seen you do this enough time to know some of the procedure. You went about dipping the cotton in the water, then pressed it gently to Corrinne’s bruises so they wouldn't be quite so dark tomorrow.

“Charlie’s going to go to your apartment,” you told her softly. “He’s going to get your clothes and jewelry, Kinzie’s stuff too, and bring them back to my house. Kinzie can room with Poppy for a bit, you can sleep with me. When I’m not there, Charlie will stay so you’re not alone.” 

“I don’t wanna be a bother…” she whimpered, “you’ve already done so much for me, I can’t be a burden for you, Mama.”

All your girls called you Mama, as did the boys, the drag queens and kings and the “in-betweens” as your genderless dancers liked to call themselves. You did what you could for all of them, whether it was helping them leave the club and go to school, or getting them good housing. 

"You've never been a burden," you whispered, and you meant it. All your dancers and performers had been gifts after all. They had no idea how they saved you. 

You sniffed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to come. Clearing your throat, you looked over at Charlie. 

"Take the boys over to Corrinne’s house. Get her things and bring them to my place."

"Sure thing, boss," he said, and turned to leave. 

"Chuck?" you stopped him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a serious look. You needed him to know you meant what you said. 

"Don't touch him unless he touches you, you understand me?"

Charlie rolled his eyes, "Seriously? This guy deserves-."

"I've never been more serious in my fucking life," you snarled, and Charlie’s jaw snapped shut. "The FBI is poking around for whoever is killing those rich assholes. Agent Hotchner is gonna be at the house on Wednesday so no, you can't be there with bruised knuckles."

"I don't want anyone to hurt Mike," Corrinne said quietly, and both of you looked to her. "I just want to get away from him. I want to get Kinzie away from him."

You shot Charlie a look, raising your brows. He glanced sheepishly down at his feet and nodded, "Okay, Coco, then that's what we'll do."

Corrinne smiled brightly for the first time since you arrived. Charlie was the only one who ever called her that. She stood shakily from the chair and made her way over to him. 

His face turned bright red as she kissed his cheek, "I'll go get Kinzie ready. I'm assuming you're not going to let me dance tonight."

"Not on your life, kid," you said with a grin. "You're coming home with me and we'll make the kids some lunch."

Charlie gave you a dazed look as Corrinne left the room, and you stepped over and kissed his other cheek. 

"You're gonna have to take that slow, real slow. She's been through a lot."

He nodded shyly, "You're okay with that?"

"Baby, I want you happy," you smiled softly. You really truly wanted that. 

"You're happy? With your guy?"

"Yeah…" you sighed, "about that…"

------------------

You didn't get the chance to call Spencer that night. With Corrinne and Kinzie at your place, and Charlie insisting he sleep on the couch, you had exactly five seconds to yourself all night. 

After a fitful night of sleep with Corrinne and all the kids in your bed, you slipped out from under the weight of seven girls and padded softly into the bathroom. 

It was about 3 am, but you figured, why the Hell not? You dialed Spencer's number and waited anxiously for at least his voicemail while sitting in the bathtub and staring at the ceiling. 

He picked up on the third ring, groggily groaning into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Hey," you said quietly. There was a shuffling of the covers and some books hitting the floor, then a grunt as he sat up. 

"Hey," he said back, and thankfully you could hear the smile on his face, "how you doing?"

"I'm hiding from my kids in the bathroom. How about you?"

Spencer chuckled tiredly, so you quickly followed up with, "I can let you go. I know you were sleeping."

"Don't you dare," he scolded. Spencer sighed and there was some more shuffling as the covers adjusted again. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I was gonna call earlier but-."

"You don't have to explain, sweetheart. I know today probably didn't go the way you expected it to if I ever met your kids."

You grinned, he was so sweet. "You actually fucked me. The girls won't stop trying to figure out how you found those quarters. I have no idea how to do it and neither does Chuck."

Spencer laughed softly, that sleepy grumbling of his tired voice igniting something wonderful in your chest, "I can teach you. Was uh, Chuck upset that happened?"

"No, actually," you told him, "he was a little at first, but it wasn't like we could help it. We had this plan, you know? If we had a significant other we wanted to have around we'd meet them before the kids. But he thinks it's funny that I'm dating a nerd who does magic."

He gave a huffing laugh, "Well there's that at least. Are you okay with what happened? I didn't want to overstep and JJ was just trying to be protective-."

"I'm okay with it," you insisted. You bit your thumb, trying to gain some bravery. "Thank you for keeping my… situation to yourself."

"I'd do anything for you, sweetheart, you know that."

You swallowed thickly, fighting back the tears that welled in your eyes. You couldn't believe how much you loved this man. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt, full of trust and giving and you just wanted to live in it. 

"I miss you," you said quietly. 

You heard Spencer's breathing pick up, the ruffling of sheets, and you knew he was probably abusing the back of his neck with his hand like he did when he was thinking. 

"You should come over, then," he whispered back. 

Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared wide eyed at the ceiling. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

You had never been to Spencer's place, had never really thought about going or expected to. You wanted to go, though, wanted to hold him in your arms after the day you'd had. 

Charlie was downstairs afterall. Corrinne would feel safe and the girls would have him to wake up to. 

"Uh, I mean…" Spencer sighed in annoyance at himself. 

"Text me the address."

--------------

Spencer didn't realize how messy his apartment was until he was faced with the knowledge you were about to see it at three in the morning. 

In just his sweats, he found himself hurriedly stacking the many books that wouldn't fit on his various bookshelves in a corner and finally picking up his piles of discarded clothing and putting them in the washer in the hallway. 

He had been going over the DC case when he fell asleep, and he tried to organize his files and stuff them in his bag so you wouldn't see them. He shuddered at the thought of your reaction if you saw those crime scene photos. 

He knew you were scared of him judging you and your life, but he was terrified of it as well. The few subs who had known what he did ended up questioning his motives in bed and that was the last thing he wanted to happen with you. 

He was just taking one last look around when a knock came at the door, hesitant and small, and he stared at the door for a moment before heading over to answer it. 

You stood sheepishly on the stoop, dark circles staining your under eyes as you looked tearfully up at him. Your coat hung open, wearing only your little night slip and your hair in a sloppy ponytail. You usually dressed up for him, but there was something about the way you stood before him now, bare and exhausted… vulnerable in a way you rarely let him see.

“I had such a long day,” you murmured, your jaw wobbling as you tried to keep it together. 

Spencer pulled you inside and shut the door behind you. He locked it, then slipped your coat from your shoulders and hung it on his coat rack. He took your bag and set it over the back of the couch, all without a word. 

Spencer cupped your jaw and kissed your forehead, and a choked sob burst from you. As the tears began to fall, Spencer scooped you up and settled you on his waist. You immediately wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his shoulder, and his heart cracked in his chest.

You needed him, and he was so glad he’d had the courage to tell you to come over. He’d almost rescinded his offer when confronted with your silence on the phone, and he was proud that you were so much braver than he was. 

He slipped off your shoes and tossed them aside, then carried you in the bedroom, flicking off lights as he went. Spencer pulled back the covers and settled into the mattress, maneuvering you to lay on his chest. 

“You need some sleep,” he whispered into your ear as you cried softly. He rubbed his fingers lightly between your shoulder blades. Kissing your temple, Spencer held you close and tried to be the strong man you needed him to be. “I’m here, you just get some sleep.”

You sniffled hard and nodded into his neck, “Your apartment is really messy, Spencer.”

He laughed, far louder than he meant to, “Yeah, I’m not home very much.”

“I’m scared to see this in the daylight. I may have a stroke.”

Spencer pulled you somehow even closer, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and reveling in the fact that you were here at all. He’d dreamed about it many times, thought about what it would be like to have you in his bed and not the hotel’s. He hadn’t imagined you crying, but your ability to still make fun of him told him this was okay.

“Go to sleep,” he said firmly. Spencer really couldn’t seem to help himself, and he pinched your backside playfully before smoothing his palm over it. “Things always seem a little better after a bit of rest.”

Kissing your temple again, Spencer closed his eyes. He wanted to commit this moment to memory, as eidetic as his was, he wanted to burn it into his brain forever. The feel of your slip against his belly and hip, the soft breathing in his ear, your leg slung over his hip, your ponytail tickling his arm… he wanted to live in it forever. 

For the first time, Spencer fell asleep with you in his own home, in his own bed, his poor heart swelling painfully in his chest. Full of love and awe in the face of you and your trust, he let himself drift off in the safety of your arms, satisfied and more in love than he’d ever thought was possible.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Notes:

o.O

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[loveydovey-leviathan]

Below is a list of events happening in New Zealand in support of Palestine. All events can be found on the official PSNA website (Palestine Solidarity Network Aotearoa).

North Island Rawene Saturday 4 May 10:00 am Meet outside No 1 Gallery Opononi – Gathering for Palestine Sunday May 4 1:30 pm Outside the Four Square, Opononi Kerikeri, Bay of Islands - Rally Rally on the First Saturday of the month from now on Saturday 4 May 9:00 am Kerikeri roundabout, State highway 10 Whangarei – Rally Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Whangārei Town Basin in front of Hundertwasser Building  Auckland – Mystery Picket Friday 3 May 12:00 mid-day Email [email protected]  for more details Auckland – Banners around Tamaki Makaurau Saturday 4 May 10:00 am Gather on Carrington Road, Point Chevalier, south of the overbridge over State highway 16. Text Steve on 021 256 511 For further details Auckland – Ride for Palestine (hosted by Progressive Cyclist Movement) Sunday 5 May 11:30 am Te Komititanga – Britomart Square Returning in time for the 2:00 pm Rally Auckland – Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm Te Komititanga – Britomart Square Tauranga – Rally – World Press freedom Day Friday 3 May 1:00 am Outside NZME office, 405 Cameron Rd, Tauranga Hamilton - Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm Flynn Park, Hamilton Rotorua – Flags for Todd McClay Thursday 2 May 4:00 pm National MP Todd McClays Office - 1301 Amohau St, Rotorua Napier - Rally Saturday 4 May 11:30 am Marine Parade Soundshell Roundabout Hastings - Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm Hastings Town Clock – Hastings CBD Palmerston North - Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm The Square, Palmerston North New Plymouth – Flags on the Bridge Friday 3 May 4:30 pm Paynters Ave Bridge, New Plymouth New Plymouth – Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm The Landing, 1 Ariki Street, New Plymouth Whanganui - Rally Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Riverside Market, Whanganui Carterton Every Tuesday 12:00 midday Memorial Square. Martinborough – Gathering for Palestine Every Wednesday 11:00 am The square at the top of Kitchener St, Martinborough Masterton Every Saturday 9:30 am Town Hall Lawn Featherston Every Saturday 11:00 am The Squircle (opposite the op shop). Wellington No Rally this weekend

South Island Nelson – Rally Saturday 4 May Check out the Te Tau Ihu Palestine Solidarity Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/TeTIPalestine/ Blenheim Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Blenheim Railway Station Christchurch – Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm Bridge of Remembrance, Cashel Street Timaru – Painting for Palestine Sunday 5 May 10:00 – 3:00 pm The Art Hangout – Woolcombe Street, Timaru Dunedin - Rally Saturday 4 May 2:00 pm Otago Museum Reserve to the Octagon, Dunedin Queenstown - Rally Sunday May 5 1:00 pm Earnslaw Park, Queenstown Invercargill - Rally Friday 3 May 5:30 pm Wachner place Invercargill

#palestine #free palestine #palestine solidarity #palestine aotearoa solidarity

[typical-simplelove]

What Would This World Do? -> Tyson Jost

Summary: When your life flashes before your eyes after a sudden accident, you can't help but wonder, what would this world do if you didn't have Tyson?

Author's Note: As a part of @antoineroussel's Summer Fic exchange, this is for the ever-amazing @bqstqnbruin. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: car accidents; my rant on the Monsterverse movies; hospitals; mentions of alcohol; mostly proofread

Word Count: 9.3k (including song lyrics)

Note: Non-italicized texts are flashbacks

There's a billion stars in the midnight sky  There's a million cars on the 405 Spinning like it will till the end of time

From the moment you first learned to drive, you never paid any attention to the deer crossing signs along the highway. The diamond, yellow signs never really meant anything to you because, after all, how many times did you actually see a deer in the vicinity after seeing that sign? Like, what were the odds? 

This time, though, you barely noticed the sign out of your peripheral as you turned down the music, and it turned out to be one of the biggest regrets of your life. 

As the final tunes to the old Justin Bieber song played through the speakers of Tyson’s car, you reached to turn down the music to continue the conversation you and Tyson were having just a few minutes prior when Tyson so rudely interjected by blasting the song. 

“I’m telling you,” you continue, “Mac Jones is by far superior to anyone that might come out of your mouth.” 

Tyson snorts. “Seriously, you’re still on this?”

“I refuse to rest until you acknowledge that I’m right,” you say, standing firm in your opinion. Because, truly, Mac Jones was your favorite, and you weren’t letting anyone’s opinion sway that, especially Tyson. 

“Fine, then I think Josh Allen is the best, and I stand firm in that.”

“Yeah, okay, why is Josh Allen better?”

“Why is Mac Jones better?” he mocks, a smirk curling on his face. 

“Because I like him; isn’t that enough of a reason to call him the best?” you ask.

He laughs. “That’s the exact reasoning I use for Josh Allen.” 

“What do you say, agree to disagree?” you question. 

“Sure, let’s agree to dis—”

“Tyson! Look out for the deer!” you interrupt. At that exact moment, Tyson swerved the car away from the frightened animal as it was too late to press the brake. Thankfully, there was no one else on the highway as it was late at night, but Tyson couldn’t regain control of the car. He tried as he might, but the wheels weren’t responding to the steering wheel, and the brakes, too, weren’t responding. 

With fear coursing through your body, you place your hand on Tyson’s thigh as everything went dark. A loud crash was heard next. 

Everything was dark when you opened your eyes which confused you because the highway was very well lit. You weren’t thinking about that, though. Your arm that was on Tyson’s thigh was throbbing with pain, but none of that mattered because one thought was echoing through your head. 

What would you do—what would this world do—if that moment a few seconds prior was the last moment you ever had with Tyson? 

But what would this world do without you?  The leaves will turn when the air goes cold  And the birds will fly to Mexico

Normally, when you made the trip back to Connecticut, you were less than pleased. Recently, whenever you’d head home, your parents and relatives would begin to question when you’d be planning on meeting someone and then getting married. Didn’t they get that dating was difficult? Didn’t they get that maybe everyone you’ve met just wasn’t someone you wanted to date? Didn’t they get that you were mostly okay with being single? Honestly, just to spite them, you might plan on being single for a lot longer than they’d appreciate. Serves them right for constantly questioning you. 

You didn’t plan on traveling home for this cousin’s wedding, but she made you promise to show up. It was the summer, so you had more flexibility with your schedule, so you hopped on a flight from Minnesota and made your way to Connecticut. There were so many better ways you could have spent this weekend, but you were going to show up for your cousin and pretend you were okay with the probing questions about your dating life. 

This time, though, everything was different. 

You were seated next to someone named Tyson Jost. He, he was the one who changed family functions and everything for you. He was the one who you knew you’d want to bring home to your family. He was the one who you’d want to sing guilty pleasure songs with. He was the one who you’d want to sit and watch trashy reality TV with. He was the one who you’d want to get drunk with on a random Tuesday. He was the only one who seemed to make everything make sense. And you’ve only had a small glimpse at him. 

When you took your seat and did a quick survey of the table, you realize most of the people there were other relatives who you’ve sat with at other family weddings. The person next to you, though, was someone you knew. He was way too handsome to be in your family. His back was to yours, talking to one of your aunts, so his head of curls you soon grew to love was facing you. You turned to glance at his name card and noticed the name. You recognized the name. Tyson Jost. He went to college with your cousin’s fiance. So, they were trying to set you up with Tyson, it seemed. As you realized this, you took a long sip of your drink and rolled your eyes. Of course. 

You’re about to get up and grab another drink when Tyson turns to look at you. You glance at him for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The intensity in his eyes shocked you but also warmed you. Who was he? Who was he to make your insides warm and bubbly? Who was he to make you feel like you were eight drinks in instead of four sips? Who was he to make your world kilter off its axis? You haven’t even technically met this man yet, and he was throwing you in for a loop. 

“Hi,” he says, softly. 

“Hi,” you reply. Well, you think you reply to him. You’re not really sure what’s happening. You’re on autopilot. Tyson has this effect on you, and it’s only been two minutes. 

“Tyson,” he says, holding out his hands. You shake his hand while you tell him your name. “That’s a really nice name.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” you say, your attempt at flirting. Mentally, you face plant. That was the most awkward thing ever. Often, you wish for the world to swallow you whole while at these family weddings; normally, your cousins or relatives were embarrassing you. This time, though, you were embarrassing yourself, and it needed to stop. Who let you try to talk to this man when you could barely control your bodily functions? 

He chuckles to himself quietly. “That’s why I complimented your name.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing at your empty drink. You really wished your drink was full right now. Maybe some liquid courage will cause you to take your head out of the gutter. 

Tyson noticed you glance at your empty glass, so he asks if you want to accompany him to the bar. You nod your head and follow Tyson. Once you both have a few sips in your systems, it feels like all the gates have opened up. Now, you only wished you could stop talking. Tyson didn’t seem to mind, though. He listened to everything you said with an intensity you never knew existed. He was attentive and constantly asked questions about what you were talking about. 

“And now I live in Minnesota,” Tyson says when he finished giving an abridged version of his life story. 

“No way! I live in Minnesota, too!” 

And just like that, everything fell into place. There was no question about the connection between you and Tyson. It was meant to be there. He was meant to be there. The tug and the pull between you two were there. It was tangible. It was present. It was pure. It was everything you’ve ever wanted. There was nothing else in the world that would or could relate to it. 

It was you and Tyson. Only. Nothing else. And that’s the way it was always going to be, it seemed. 

But there's answers I don't wanna know  Like what would this world do without you?

“Are you going to murder me?” 

Tyson laughs. “What?”

“You’re driving me out to the middle of nowhere it seems, and I don’t really know you, so like, are you going to murder me?” 

He shakes his head. “Are you always like this?” 

“I mean when a guy who is taking me on a date but doesn’t tell me where the date is, yeah, I am like this.”

“I apologize; I probably should have told you. Star gazing.” 

“Star gazing? That’s very sappy of you.” 

“Yeah, I like doing sappy things for people I like.” 

“Oh, you like me?” you ask, half-teasing and half-flirty. 

“Was that not obvious?” Tyson questions, worry in his voice. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his thumbs start to nervously tap the steering wheel. 

You can’t help but laugh at his nervousness. “You’re really cute; you know that?”

“No?” 

“I’m teasing, Tyson; I promise. I hoped you liked me considering you’re taking me on a date.” 

“Oh, okay, good.” Tyson lets out a deep breath and continues driving. Silence overtakes his car, but you don’t mind. Although the conversation is enjoyable, it’s nice, sometimes, not talking all the time. Besides, it gives you time to observe and watch Tyson. 

When you first met Tyson at the wedding, you knew he was attractive. Someone would have to be blind not to realize just how attractive Tyson truly is. You never knew someone could be cute, beautiful, handsome, and breath-taking all at the same time. Just moments ago when he didn’t get that you were teasing him and was questioning everything about himself, Tyson was cute. You wanted to kiss his cheek and nuzzle your face in his neck and breathe in his scent. At the wedding, in his suit, Tyson was handsome. He knew how to wear a fitted suit just the right way, and the way he styled his curls? Handsome, and he knows he’s handsome but doesn’t gloat about it. After a deep dive on Getty Images of Tyson, he was breath-taking in his hockey uniform and as he played. All around, though? Beautiful. He was just so beautiful from his curls to his eyes to his hands. He had it all. And when he blushed? He was cute. 

From your experience, when someone was this good-looking, they didn’t always have a personality you could tolerate. Tyson, however? You could talk to him for hours and not get bored. Cute, funny, and a good conversationalist? Everything you could possibly want. 

“We’re here,” Tyson tells you, taking you out of your thoughts. 

Once you’re both out of the car, Tyson is leading you to a small clearing. He seems to know where he’s going, so you can’t help but ask, “Do you bring all the girls here?”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” he admits. “I’ve come out here a few times since I got traded because the sky is the same regardless of where you are. Like, sure the stars you see might be different, but in reality, you’re still looking at the same sky.” 

“Deep.”

He chuckles. “It took a sudden life change for it to happen, but yeah, I’ve got a few deep thoughts in my head.” 

“Care to share anymore?” you ask, laying down on the blanket and staring up at the sky. 

“Nope, I’ve got to save them for the next dates.” 

“Oh, so there’s going to be more dates?” you ask, a teasing tilt in your voice. 

“Obviously,” Tyson sassed. “Remember, I like you.” 

“I’ve never had a guy tell me he likes me twice on the first date.” 

“Were those dates the first time you’ve met the guy? Because we’ve met before and talked a lot at your cousin’s wedding.”

“Fair point,” you relent. “Now, shall we look at some stars?” 

He chuckles. “Let’s look at some fucking stars.” 

I know the sun will set into the ocean  And I know we're gonna get to where we're going  But I still got just one question that I can't work through

“Place the chairs with top of the legs at the edge of the blanket,” you direct. “It’ll keep the blanket semi in place if there’s a strong gust of wind.” 

“Oh, smart,” Tyson remarks and moves one chair as you move the other. “Are you speaking from experience?” 

“You have deep thoughts, and I have mostly good advice.”

“This is the first piece of advice you’ve ever given me, so I don’t think that can be your thing in this relationship.”

Your stomach flip-flops when Tyson says relationship. It’s been a couple of months since the star-gazing date you and Tyson went on, but things have been going steady. There weren’t any labels yet, but you’ve both had the “exclusive” talk. 

With the hockey season about to start with training camp in a few days, Tyson figured it was apropos to have one more planned date, so it was a beach date on the slate. 

“Hey, let’s go swimming,” Tyson proposes once you’ve both set up the chairs, beach blanket, and umbrella. “It’s warm, and the water is beckoning.” 

You snort. 

“What?” 

“Beckoning?” 

“It’s a fun word,” Tyson defends, meekly. “Not the point. Do you want to go swimming?” 

“Sure,” you respond, shakily. As much as you love the beach, you should have proposed a different activity because you spent the past two days surrounded by your insecurities about wearing a bathing suit around Tyson. 

Slowly, you take off your shirt, shorts, and sandals and take Tyson’s hand. He leads you towards the water, his warm hand squeezing yours in comfort. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and whispers in your ear, “you look beautiful.” His words send you into a happy haze that puts you on autopilot. You’re taken out of autopilot when your toes touch the water. The cold water cools your skin from both the sun and Tyson’s warmth. 

“I’m going to stay here for a bit to get used to the water,” you tell him. 

He gives you a curious look. “Seriously?” 

You nod and gently push him towards the water. 

He shakes his head with a small smile on his face and turns toward the water and walks to it. You watch as he submerges and emerges as the waves lap over the water. They were calmer today than most times you’ve been to the beach. Your eyes glance up from Tyson and stare at the horizon and the other swimmers. 

You’re distracted, so you don’t see Tyson walking up toward you. You notice his presence, though, when you feel a pair of wet, muscular arms wrap you in a hug. “Come swimming with me, now?” Tyson asks, a pout on his lips. 

“Okay,” you answer and let Tyson lead you out. You stop when the water hits your waist. “Here’s good.”

He nods and stands behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest. Your bodies are sticking together as your dry back meets his wet chest. Tyson is placing soft kisses on your neck that, too, send you into a small haze. When the kisses abruptly stop, you turn your head to ask him to continue, but you don’t get the words out as Tyson pushes you into the water. 

When you emerge and wipe the water from your eyes and fix your hair, you playfully glare at Tyson as he’s laughing at you. 

“I had to!” he defends. “You were being difficult, and I wanted to swim.”

“Oh, you’re so dead,” you proclaim and rush over to Tyson. He’s quick to start moving away, so you decide to jump into his arms which causes Tyson to stumble backward which causes you both to fall into the water. Once you both take a breath, you both fall into a pit of giggles. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hands rest firmly on your waist. “That’s what you get.” 

“Uh-huh?”

In one swift motion, Tyson scoops you up and walks deeper into the water. 

“Tyson! Put me down!” 

He shakes his head and proceeds to keep walking. 

“Tyson!” 

“Fine,” he says, a devilish smirk on his face. Instead of putting you down so that your feet can touch the sand, he drops you right into the water. When you emerge from the water, you find Tyson laughing. You wrap your arms tightly around Tyson’s neck and glared at him. 

“Oh, you’re so dead; you know that?” 

“Am I?” Tyson asks, still giggling. 

“Like so dead to the point where no one will be able to identify your body, so you’ll just have an empty grave.” 

“Morbid.”

“I did say you were dead.”

“Fine. How about a truce then?” Tyson proposes, resting his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. 

“Okay,” you murmur and give Tyson a soft kiss. As you both deepen the kiss, you can’t help but think that you never want to let this man go. You never want to spend a day where you don’t have Tyson in your life. 

What would this world do without you?  What would this world do without you?

Where was this man? When he stepped out to go to the washroom, you assumed it wouldn’t take eighteen million hours. Granted, that was an exaggeration, and it’s probably been like five minutes, but you were getting angsty. 

In the past few months following the beach date, you and Tyson have found a nice routine for the days and nights he was in town and not on a roadie. The evening routines were more solid because of your work schedule and the team’s practices and social calendar. 

Most evenings where there wasn’t a game, you’d alternate who’s home you’d be spending the evening at. If you were going to Tyson’s apartment, you’d head straight to his place after work. Sometimes, he’d text you that he ordered some food and asked if you could pick it up. Other times, he actually had food in his house and cooked. After eating and cleaning up, you and Tyson always somehow made it onto the couch just in time for the 6:30 pm evening news. It was a nice way to rewind after the day. Once the first commercial break passed, you and Tyson would resume conversation because, at that point, the important news has been relayed. 

If Tyson was going to your apartment, you’d alternate dinner. Sometimes, you’d cook, or you’d have Tyson pick up dinner on his way over. Similarly, you and Tyson would manage to sit for the evening news. Once the news was over, you’d either get some work done as Tyson sat next to you, or you’d both argue over a movie choice and watch the one you’ve both settled on. 

It was an undisputed fact that cooking, eating, and cleaning had to be done by 6:30 because there was the unspoken tradition of watching the news together. 

On this particular day, you were at Tyson’s apartment and were currently sitting on his couch watching the news. At one point, he excused himself to use the washroom. He went during a commercial break, but when the news resumed and Tyson hadn’t returned, you barely noticed until a news story began to be reiterated that you know that Tyson would like. Quickly, you reached for the remote, paused the news, and rewound appropriately. One minute more passed. Then two, then three. The minutes kept passing until Tyson was in the bathroom for eight minutes. The fan wasn’t on, so you assumed he wasn’t in extreme discomfort, but where was he? 

You were about to get up and knock on the bathroom door when you heard it open and Tyson came and sat next to you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask, concerned. 

“Yeah, why?” Tyson responds, confused. 

“You spent a lot of time in the bathroom.” 

He laughs. “I didn’t know that my bathroom choices were going to get psychoanalyzed.” 

“Well, I got worried.”

Tyson kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry. I had to take care of some bathroom business.” 

“No shit,” you murmur, moving in closer to Tyson. 

“May I ask why the news is paused?” Tyson asks when he notices that there’s no sound coming out of the speakers and the video is still. 

“Oh, they were starting this news story that I thought you’d particularly enjoy,” you explain, pressing play on the remote. Tyson gives you a small but grateful response as he settles into the couch and pays attention to the news story. 

As the news story begins to play, you can’t help but think about things that make sense right now. People have always said that the little things are what make a relationship work. You never took that advice or mantra too wholeheartedly. However, seeing Tyson’s small smile in gratitude for your small action made you realize that relationships really are based on small things. And if those small things helped you to fall in love with the man in question, then you’d take those small things any day of the year.

They'd still run the evening news  And the brides will walk the aisle in June

At first, the evenings you and Tyson spent together resulted in one of you going home close to midnight. It was understood that your relationship wasn’t at that point yet. That all changed, though, when Tyson was at your apartment in the middle of a blizzard. When Tyson told you it was time for him to head home, you walked him down to your building’s lobby and kissed him goodbye. You stayed down there and watched as Tyson walked to his car parked on the street and waited for him to turn on the car. When he didn’t and started the trek back to the lobby, you were confused. 

“So,” Tyson begins, shaking off the snow, “my car isn’t starting. It’s probably too cold.” 

“Do you want to spend the night, then?” you propose, nervous for his response. “I doubt there will be any tow trucks that can make it out here to help start your car.” 

“Are you okay with that? I know we haven’t done that yet or discussed it, but if you’re comfortable with it, then I will. If not, then I’ll just stay here. Or, I can sleep on the couch.” 

“You can stay with me. In my bed,” you add. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t comfortable with it.” 

With that, you took Tyson’s hand and led him up to your apartment. From there, Tyson followed you into your bedroom as you pulled out a T-shirt you stole from him. 

“I don’t have anything else of yours, but considering you’re in sweats right now, I’m sure you can sleep in those if you want.” 

“What do you mean ‘if you want?’” Tyson asks, a small teasing tone in his voice. 

You shrug, trying to hide how frazzled Tyson’s question is making you. Can he feel how warm your face just got? “I don’t know if you wear pants to bed, but if you do, then you’ll figure something out, but if you don’t and just want to wear your boxers, I’m okay with that. Either way, you pick what’s comfortable for you.” 

“I’ll, um, go with the sweats,” Tyson responds, his face burning red. 

“Okay, then,” you respond and walk into your bathroom.

After that first night, you and Tyson began to spend the nights at each others’ apartments when your schedules would allow it. At first, it was an adjustment to comfortably fit the new addition into your routines, but after a while, it became second nature, and it was weird if you didn’t spend the night together on a night when Tyson didn’t have a game. 

Along with spending the nights together, you both began to slowly leave belongings in each others’ apartments. It started with a toothbrush. You left a toothbrush in Tyson’s medicine cabinet, and the next day, when he came over and spent the night, he, too, left a toothbrush. Then, you followed with a small bag of essential toiletries such as face wash, moisturizer, a hairbrush, etc. That was followed by Tyson leaving his own small bag of essential toiletries, too. Clothes followed with you both leaving pajamas and clothes for the next day. 

Piece by piece, and very slowly, you and Tyson inserted each other into your apartments. Your lives were so heavily and safely intertwined that it was only time that your living spaces reflected that, too. 

What shocked you the most was when you walked into Tyson’s washroom one night about to take a shower. You didn’t have any shampoo and planned on not washing your hair despite it going out of routine with your normal hair washing schedule. When you stepped into the shower, though,  bottles of your shampoo and conditioner were sitting on a ledge. It was a shock, a pleasant shock, so you washed your hair despite not having any of your after-shower hair products. 

Once you stepped out of the shower, you began to towel dry your hair and get it ready to air dry before bed. When you opened the drawer that Tyson designated to be yours, your heart warmed. He had bottles of all of your hair products. He had the products you use after your shower, in the mornings for when you got ready for work, and on special occasions or once in a while. It was all there. He took the time to document all the products you use and find them either online or in-store. 

You didn’t have any doubts about what you meant to Tyson, but seeing the effort he put into getting your hair products erased all those doubts. It reinforced the feeling that’s been ruminating deep in your heart. You loved Tyson. You loved him more than you could put into words, and it meant everything to you to know that he prioritized your life even when he had many, many obligations and priorities. What would you do if you hadn’t ever found this man?

And there's strangers that won't have a clue  What would this world do without you?

“Remind me of why we’re doing this?” Tyson whines as you’re holding up the polaroid camera. 

“My grandmother got in my head about memories and how the digital world could rise against humans, so we need tangible sources of remembering stuff instead of everything in a cloud that could try to murder us all. You know, robots are bad.” 

He snorts. “But can’t we just print photos instead of taking a whole set of them?”

“No, now smile, so I can add the first photo into the box of our memories.” 

“You bought a box?” 

“It’s black with gold stripes, and I think it’s pretty,” you say. “Ready? Smile.” 

After that first Polaroid photo, many more began to fall into the box. Despite his wariness at first, Tyson was the one who was always pulling out the camera and adding new photos to the box. Following Tyson’s advice, you both sat down one Saturday afternoon and went through each other’s camera rolls and picked photos to send to Walmart to get them printed out and added to the box. 

It wasn’t just photos that were added to the box, though. Receipts, postcards, and more found their way into the box. 

Any time you and Tyson went on a movie date, the receipt and tickets were firmly put into Tyson’s wallet. He was very delicate and made sure not to bend or crease anything. Immediately upon returning to his apartment (he liked to keep the box at his apartment because he felt he was more invested), he’d staple the tickets and receipt together so as not to lose them and would drop them in the box. Sometimes, he’d make you both take a photo (either polaroid or digital to later be printed out) to be added, too. 

Receipts were also saved from meals out. Even if you paid, Tyson insisted on taking the receipt when you were finished with it and made you rate what you ate out of 10. He wanted to savor the moment (pun intended). If it was a fancy meal where you were both dressed up, you and Tyson were taking a photo. There was no doubt about it. 

Instead of saving receipts from take-out, Tyson would take the menu the restaurant normally would give. He’d write the date, circle what you both ordered, and then place the menu in the box. Thankfully, there was no photo taken on take-out nights. 

At first, Tyson’s enthusiasm was a bit too much, and you asked him to dial it down a bit, and he did. Slowly, though, you let the practices ensure because it was nice to have him save so much. Whenever he was on a road trip and you were missing him more than normal, you’d use the key he gave you to his apartment and would go through the box. His messy handwriting was always a comfort as he wrote little notes here and there. The photos, both polaroid and printed digital, always put a smile on your face. The box was a comfort, but mostly, though, it was a comfort to have someone so attuned with the relationship. 

You wouldn’t want to have this box full of memories with anyone else because it was Tyson. It was only Tyson, for you. 

I know the sun will set into the ocean  And I know we're gonna get to where we're going  But I still got just one question that I can't work through

“What did you bring?” 

“A box with stuff in it,” Tyson answers, a smirk on his lips. He hands you the box as he moves to take off his shoes. “Go ahead, open it.” 

“Vanilla pasticiotti?” you ask. 

“Mhm, it’s your favorite, right?” 

“One of them yeah,” you respond, taking one out of the box and soaking your teeth into you. You moan in pleasure. 

“Good?”

“One of the best.” 

You and Tyson ended up finishing the box within the hour. By the time dinner rolled around, you and Tyson weren’t hungry. You didn’t regret it, though. The desserts were worth it. 

A few days later, Tyson came over with another box of desserts—an assortment of biscottis. 

“Aren’t you on some, like, strict diet because of the season and stuff?” you ask, taking a bite. 

He shrugs. “As long as I’m careful and working it off, I think it’s okay. I mean, what’s the worst they could do?” 

“Bench you?” 

“That could be bad,” Tyson responds. “I’ll bring stuff every once in a while; will that appease you?” 

“I mean, it’s your body and career. For me, though? I don’t care, and I’ll eat all the groceries you want to bring.” 

Tyson shakes his head. “Anything for you.” 

The next week, Tyson didn’t bring any desserts. The following he didn’t either. You felt bad at first, thinking you spooked him or freaked him out. Truthfully, though, with the amount of exercise Tyson did, he could eat all the sugar he wanted and wouldn’t gain a single ounce and his physique wouldn’t change. 

Three weeks after he brought you a box of biscottis, Tyson brought you desserts, again. Rainbow chocolate cookies this time. This time, you and Tyson didn’t eat all the cookies right away. Much of the box was gone, though. 

It continued. Tyson continued to bring you desserts. Different cookies, loaves, tarts, etc. Although you loved the desserts, you loved sharing them with Tyson. He seemed to know what your favorites were, so the fact that he made the effort to buy them and share them with you made you fall for Tyson even more. 

Who knew all it took was a box of cookies for you to know that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Tyson? 

What would this world do without you?  I'll keep all your polaroids hanging on display  And I'll drink all the wine you gave me on my wedding day

Just as you first started to add essential items such as a toothbrush, hair brush, or face wash to Tyson’s apartment, you began to add non-essential items, too. At first, the items consisted of a mug here and there or some clothes for work. You also added pajamas because those were needed to spend the night, but you did enjoy wearing Tyson’s clothes to bed. 

The books came next. You didn’t mean to leave the first book at Tyson’s apartment, but it kind of just happened. You had the book in your purse to read during a break at work, so it was there. You were sitting on the couch reading the latest release by Alice Oseman while Tyson took a shower. When he came out, you quickly placed your bookmark in the spine and closed the book. The book remained on Tyson’s coffee table as you both got distracted by the evening’s TV show choice. 

When you left for work the next morning, you weren’t concentrated on the book you left on the coffee table, so you left for work and paid no mind to the book. When you got to work and had a break mid-morning, you wanted to continue reading where you left off. When you searched through your bag and couldn’t find it, you were confused about why you didn’t have the book. Instead of fretting about the novel, you opened your phone and scrolled aimlessly through social media. 

That night, you went home to an empty apartment with no plans of Tyson joining you. The team left on a road trip that afternoon, so you’d be spending the next couple of days at your own apartment. After settling into bed for the evening, you bundled under your blankets and grabbed a book off of your nightstand, Lessons in Chemistry. Although you didn’t want to be reading two books at the same time, you weren’t sure where the other book you were reading was, so you started this new one. 

By the time the road trip ended, you finished Lessons in Chemistry. You went to Tyson’s apartment with a different book in your purse ready to spend the weekend with Tyson. He opted to go to the gym after arriving back in St. Paul, so you unlocked his apartment with the key he gave you. Once you were in his apartment, you took off your shoes and jacket and went to his bedroom to change into some pajama pants and one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. You then made your way to his couch and grabbed a throw blanket. On one hand, you had the other book you planned to read, but when you saw the Oseman novel sitting on Tyson’s coffee table. Oh, so that’s where the book went. Instead of reading the one you brought, you picked the Oseman novel and continued reading it. 

That began a pattern. 

The first time, it was unintentional. It was a lapse of judgment that left the book sitting on Tyson’s coffee table. The next few times it happened, though, it seemed to be unintentional, but deep down, you know you were leaving them on purpose. It was nice and comforting to see a few of your personal belongings littering Tyson’s apartment. 

Whenever you’d take a seat on Tyson’s couch and would see the books you’ve left at his apartment, your heart grew three times larger. You wanted Tyson in every part of your life, so seeing the books neatly placed and remaining there made you realize that Tyson wanted you to be in every part of his life, too. 

“Do you want me to just buy another bookshelf?” Tyson asks, eyeing the multitude of novels sitting on top of his coffee table and the shelf beneath it. “Or, at the very least, clear out a few shelves for you?” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you reassure. 

“As much as I love seeing all your books around the apartment, it’s starting to be a bit cluttered. The books are great reminders of you, but I’d like to have parts of my apartment back.” 

“Do you want me to bring the books back to my apartment?” 

Tyson vehemently shakes his head. “No, no way. I like them here. Just, you know, maybe we can declutter.” 

So, Tyson bought another bookshelf. It was pretty identical to the ones that were already in his apartment. 

Once all the books were added and a few knickknacks you brought from your apartment or purchased, the bookshelf was still pretty barren. 

“Just think of it as a reassurance that there will always be space for your books here,” Tyson tells you after everything is shelved to your liking. “And you.” 

Don't know what I would do if your tomorrow never came  The only thing I'm sure of is that I'll never be the same

“Are you asleep?” you ask, prodding Tyson’s chest. 

“Yes,” he grunts, turning over on his side. 

“Well, wake up,” you push. 

“What time is it?” Tyson sits up. 

“5:15” 

“Seriously?” 

“Come on,” you continue, grabbing Tyson’s hand and pulling him out of bed. You then proceed to throw Tyson a sweatshirt and pull him out of his bedroom. After giving Tyson a minute to put on his sweatshirt, you drag him towards his balcony and take a seat on his outdoor couch. 

“Please, I need some reason for why you have this much energy this early and why we’re up this early.”

“You’ll see,” you tell Tyson, a mysterious edge to your voice. 

“No, please don’t make me wait in suspense.” 

“The sunrise,” you answer. “I want to watch the sunrise with you.” 

“Oh,” Tyson replies, softly. “If you wanted to watch the sunrise, you could have told me, and I would have gone to bed earlier last night.” 

“Really? You wouldn’t have vetoed it?” 

“I probably wouldn’t have vetoed it,” Tyson replies, a teasing tone in his voice as he pulls you against his chest. 

“Okay, whatever, be quiet now, so we can watch the sunrise.” 

That became a pattern, a sequence, a habit. Your apartment didn’t have a good view. All you could see from your windows were another neighboring building. Plus, Tyson’s swanky apartment had a balcony that your apartment most definitely didn’t. So, whenever you were at Tyson’s apartment and he didn’t have a game that day, you’d wake up early to watch the sunrise. Sometimes, he’d watch, but most of the time, he’d throw on a sweatshirt, grab a throw blanket, sit on the outdoor couch, and go back to sleep. You didn’t mind. The fact that after day one he didn’t get upset when you woke him at the crack of dawn surprised you. You thought he was going to be grumpy, but he wasn’t. Tyson was a good sport about the situation. 

“I need you to promise me that you’re not going to wake me tomorrow morning,” Tyson asks one evening. “There’s snow all over the ground, and it’s going to be cold.” 

“You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, feigning innocence. 

“Come on, please? It’s more fun to stay in bed when it’s cold outside.” 

Tyson had a point. “I make no promises, but I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that I’ll abide by what you ask. Is that fair?” 

He sighs. “Fine.” 

The next morning, you abided by his wishes and didn’t wake him up for the sunrise. You were going to get up on your own, but Tyson’s hold on you and his comforter enveloped you in warmth, so you decided to go back to sleep. 

That night, though, you had a change of plans after dinner. Eating and cleaning up were done by 6:10 pm, so you and Tyson were sitting on the couch watching the news and discussing the movie you both should watch later that evening. When your phone went off at 6:15, you got up and went to put on your jacket and boots. Curious, Tyson followed you. 

“What’re you doing?” he inquires. 

“I’m going to watch the sunset,” you inform and make your way to the balcony. 

“Wait, hold up.” Tyson grabs your wrist and pulls you against his chest. “It’s cold outside.” 

“Duh, it’s winter in Minnesota.” 

“Yeah, but you might get sick,” Tyson pouts. 

“That’s why I’m wearing a jacket and boots.” 

“Still.” 

“When I’m done, I’ll come inside and take a hot shower, fair?” you propose, itching to get outside. 

“Fair,” Tyson answers. He pushes you toward the door as he begins putting on his boots and jacket. He’s quick to follow you outside as you’re standing on the balcony and watching the sunset leave its final colors on the snow from the previous night’s storm. The colors in the sky and turning darker and darker. 

Watching the sunrise with Tyson that night, too, started a new habit, sequence, routine. If you and Tyson didn’t wake up in the morning to watch the sunrise, then you’d both watch the sunset before returning to the couch to watch the news. This was when you and Tyson were at his apartment. When the two of you were at your apartment, you would both always watch the sunset. Tyson, actually, was the one who proposed that the two of you go to the roof of your building to watch the sunrise. That by far was the best way to watch the sunset, in your opinion. 

Mostly, though, you liked doing it with Tyson. You didn’t want to ever watch the sunrise or sunset with anyone else. 

You couldn’t really say why you loved watching the sun’s rising and setting patterns. It might have to do with the universe or something like that. For most people, staring up at the night sky and the stars and the constellations is what makes them feel small and put everything in perspective. Sure, the night sky and going stargazing with Tyson did that for you, but watching the sun’s morning and evening routines is what truly gave you that feeling. To watch something that happened every single day for millions of years was what made you feel small and made everything you were going through insignificant. It also puts life in perspective and helped you prioritize what was important in your life. 

When you used to watch the sunrise/sunset on your own, you’d always end up having this empty feeling in your stomach. However, once you’ve started having the same routine with Tyson, you no longer felt alone or empty. As long as Tyson was right there with you, regardless of how insignificant everything was in the grand scheme of things, Tyson was the one who made everything significant. He was your everything, and to have him appreciate your routines meant everything. Tyson was the one who made everything worth it. 

I know the sun will set into the ocean And I know we're gonna get to where we're going

“This movie’s got monsters and stuff,” Tyson tells you. 

“Yeah, so?” you respond. 

“That’s why I picked it,” Tyson explains. The movie to watch that night after the evening news ended was Tyson’s pick. He picked “Godzilla vs. Kong” because according to him, there are monsters. “The monsters are cool. Like, seeing how large those creatures are. Can you imagine seeing those things in real life?” 

“No, because they don’t exist, and it’s fiction.” 

“Imagine if Godzilla was swimming around the ocean right now,” Tyson begins. “Imagine if Kong was living on Skull Island if it exists.” 

 You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” 

“Oh, right, well, um, “Kong: Skull Island” is the origin story of Kong,” Tyson explains. “He was found on Skull Island, and that movie’s pretty cool.”

“Then why aren’t we watching that movie, instead?” 

“Because there are more monsters in this one,” Tyson tells you. It was all about the monsters for him. “If you want epic monsters, we can watch Godzilla: King of the Monsters. In that movie, there are so many monsters; it’s crazy.” 

“So, let’s watch the King of Monsters movie, then.” 

“But the first movie I suggested has Kong and Godzilla, and they fight each other,” Tyson responds, a pouty tone in his voice. 

You laugh at Tyson’s tone. “Then we’ll watch Godzilla vs. Kong.” 

Tyson puts his head in his hands and groans. “You’re making this way too difficult for me.” 

You snort. “How? You’re the one who’s questioning movies about monsters.”

“Really cool monsters,” Tyson adds. “I have an idea. We’ll just watch all four MonsterVerse movies.” 

“Don’t I get to pick movies, too?” 

“Sure, yeah, but on the nights I pick, we’re going to go through the monster movies.” 

“So, what’s the first movie?” 

“We’ll do the origin story, ‘Kong: Skull Island,’” Tyson explains. “There aren’t as many monsters in that one, but we have to get you educated.” 

You shake your head, a laugh popping from your mouth. “You’re such a manchild with your talk about monsters.”

Tyson rolls his eyes and finds the movie. “You better pick a movie next that lives up to the monsters you’re going to see.” 

The movie you picked, according to Tyson, didn’t live up all that much. For one, there were no monsters, and Tyson didn’t understand your fixation on Chad Michael Murray. Mostly, though, Tyson didn’t understand why there were remakes of the original Cinderella. 

“Tyson, it’s not a remake,” you explain. “It’s a different story with a similar premise. It’s based on the original.” 

“It’s literally called ‘A Cinderella Story.’”

“Exactly! A Cinderella Story. It’s a different version of the story. If you want a remake of the original, we can watch that one next time.”

“No, remember, next time is monsters again.”

You snort. Tyson and his monsters. “The next my turn. Besides, Chad Michael Murray is in this movie, and he’s dreamy. Way too dreamy.” 

“Hey, what about me?”

“You’re pretty, too, but not Chad Michael Murray from his time during ‘A Cinderella Story.” 

“Oh, I’m hurt,” Tyson teases. “Just play the movie.” 

Movie nights were common between you and Tyson. Most of the time, though, you and Tyson would just go with the flow. Sometimes, you’d play movies that were on cable, but recently, you and Tyson had been picking movies that the other hadn’t seen yet and felt that the other must watch. 

For you, Tyson insisted you needed to watch all the Monsterverse movies, and for Tyson, you felt that he needed to watch some of the Cinderella movies. Slowly, you made your way through all the monsters and different versions of Cinderella. 

After watching the Cinderella movie with Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray, the remake of the original with Richard Madden and Lily James was next. 

“He’s even more dreamy,” you point out. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if Richard Madden asked me to marry him, then I’d leave you for him.” 

“I’d leave you for him, too, so no offense taken.” 

You laugh at that. Tyson truly was everything to you. 

While Tyson was slowly relenting and enjoying the Cinderella movies you’ve slated, you began to take enjoyment to the monster movies. It was exciting to watch the monsters fight. As much as you tried to watch and pay attention to the plot, all you really wanted to see were the monsters. When you told Tyson that, he laughed. 

“Yeah, I like the monsters more than the plot, too,” Tyson told you. 

Despite the fact that the movies were out of your comfort zone, you’d watch them over and over again just for Tyson. Truly, though, you’d do anything for that man. He had a way of putting you out of your comfort zone in a way that still felt like your comfort zone. He had a way of always being the comfort you always needed. He was your rock, your wall, and your core. He was just about everything to you. 

When it came down to it, you’d do anything for Tyson, and you hoped he knew how much he meant to you and how much you loved him. 

But I still got just one question that I can't work through What would this world do without you?

What was the saying? Even when everything feels amiss, the world still spins. That might not be the saying, but it truly made sense. When someone dies, the world still continues. Everyone still goes to work and continues their day; everyone’s lives remain the same except for the family and friends of the deceased. No matter how happy or sad the change in one’s life is, everything keeps going. 

That then begs the question of what dictates someone’s world? One would say that each person’s world depends on the individual person. 

At the end of the day, the world still spins, people keep going in their daily lives, and everyone continues on as if nothing had changed. 

If someone were to ask you what your world was, you’d say your family and job. That’s what made your world spin. That was your reason to keep going, and it was your motivation to get out of bed. The definition of your world changed, though, when you met Tyson. Slowly, he inserted himself in your life, and Tyson became your world. He was the reason that your world spun. He was the reason to keep going, and he was your motivation to get out of bed. 

With each date, conversation, call, text, kiss, or hug, Tyson inserted himself into your life. He found your walls and slowly brought them. He opened you up to happiness you never knew existed. He took your insecurities and doubts and lifted you up. He took your interests and found a way to connect with you. 

Even if the stars continue to shine, it won’t mean anything if Tyson weren’t right there next to you. Even if the cars continued to drive along the interstate highway, it would be pointless if Tyson weren’t in the car next to you. Even if the sun rises and sets each day, unless Tyson was watching it with you, it won’t mean anything to you. Even if the birds continue their migration patterns over the years, it will have no meaning unless you could complain about the noises with Tyson. When wedding season comes and goes each year, you’ll only ever want Tyson right by your side. No fancy glass of wine or tequila or bourbon will mean anything to you if you can’t enjoy it with Tyson. 

After one conversation at your cousin’s wedding, Tyson Jost inserted himself in your life and was the reason your world spun. Tyson was your world, and your world would be nothing without him there with you. 

Oh, out of everybody, I'll only have one you So, what would my world do without you?

One moment, you were in the car, darkness surrounding you and swallowing you, and the next moment, you were erratically blinking as you tried to adjust to the bright lights of a hospital. You always told yourself if you woke up in a hospital, you wouldn’t do the blinking thing like in the movies, but you did because it was a shock, those lights. 

“Where am I?” you breathe out, but your voice was raspy. Really raspy. Like, you need some water or you might shrivel up and die. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tyson rushes out as he sits up from his seat. He’s blinking away tears as he looks down at you. “You’re okay; you’re okay.” 

“My throat hurts, so I’m not really okay,” you force to leave your mouth. Tyson chuckles and reaches to grab a styrofoam cup. You greedily drink from the straw as you quench your thirst. When you’re ready to talk, you ask what happened. 

“We hit a deer,” Tyson responds with a breathless chuckle. “Of all things, right?” 

“How’s the deer?”

“Last I heard, it had a broken leg and a local animal recovery shelter is helping it to rehabilitate.” 

“Oh, good,” you respond. You raise your left arm to scratch your forehead, but immediately, you scream out in pain. 

“You broke your arm, by the way,” Tyson clarifies. “And had a concussion that knocked you unconscious.” 

“How long was I out? Mostly, though, are you okay?” 

“A couple of hours,” Tyson chokes. He begins to blink erratically as tears attempt to force themself out. 

“Tys,” you whisper, gesturing for him to come closer. You scoot over in the hospital bed and let Tyson take a seat next to you. He gently wraps his arms around you and cries into your shoulder. Hearing Tyson’s sobs cause your eyes to water as you let the tears fall. 

“I dislocated a shoulder and broke my wrist. My neck is a bit stiff, but I’m okay. Physically,” Tyson answers when the sobs have slowly subsided. 

“Physically?” 

“I thought I lost you,” Tyson admits. “After the impact and the car stopped moving, I called your name, but you weren’t responding. Your arm was limp in my lap, and it scared me. When the firefighters pulled us out of the wreck, you were unconscious and the paramedics were going on about how they had to rush you to the hospital. No one would tell me what was happening. I was so scared that you were gone. I wouldn’t even know what I would have done if you were gone.” 

You rest your hand on Tyson’s thigh and squeeze it, tight. You had to remind him you were right there. Despite both of your fears, you were both present and right there. No one was going anywhere. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than hitting a deer to get rid of me,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work because once the final words were out of your mouth, tears started to fall from your eyes. Gently, Tyson holds you tight against his chest as you let out your emotions. 

“When I saw the deer, I thought I was going to lose you,” you recall. “I thought the last conversation we were ever going to have was going to be about Josh Allen and Mac Jones, who is by far superior.” 

“No, Josh Allen is superior,” Tyson interjects, a smile on his face. 

“Not the point, Tys,” you laugh. 

“I know, but, hey, we both survived, so let’s take that as a sign. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere, so we’re stuck with each other.” 

“Stuck?” 

“A good stuck,” Tyson counters. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.” 

You turn your head to Tyson’s and rest your forehead on his. You both close your eyes as you soak in the moment. 

If everything went the opposite way after the accident, the world will spin, but yours wouldn’t. Tyson was your world, and if things went any different, then your world will have been pushed off of its axis because there was no meaning to life if you couldn’t share it with Tyson. What would this world do without Tyson? Continue spinning. What would your world do without Tyson? Absolutely obliterate. 

There’s only one Tyson, and that’s the only person you’ll ever want to spend the rest of your life with. 

#tyson jost #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #hockey fic

[jellogram]

One violently Californian thing about me is that I have an extremely laissez faire attitude towards driving while also believing that other people cannot drive. Yes I will roll through stop signs. I will block traffic to wait for a parking space with no hesitation. And I can parallel park like a motherfucker. You will let me merge on the highway. If I see your out of state license plate and you're driving the speed limit I will assume the two are correlated. Yes there's four freeways intersecting here but you need to roll with the fucking punches. I have driven on the 405 in rush hour traffic and I no longer fear God or death. You could have made that yellow light.

[medicine-and-molly]

405? yeah i’ll sleep on that highway tonight

#gracie abrams #405 #music #good riddance deluxe

[the-bibrarian]

1987

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2008

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2010

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2013

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2014

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2015

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/transportation/rolled-semi-spills-load-of-bees-at-the-i-5-and-i-405-interchange/

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2019

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2022

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2023

🤔

#the bees are rising up against their oppressors!! #but seriously #maybe we should– #i dont know #stop carrying millions of bees in trucks??? #but I guess this is what happens when we wreck the environment

[zetorna]

Cleveland County Fair in Norman

An authorized ZETOR dealer attended the Cleveland County Fair in Norman, OK. If you liked our tractors and are interested in a demo drive, contact our dealer at: 405 Equipment LLC, 12777 Highway 77, 73051 Lexington, OK. Phone [phone], Email [email protected]

#Tractor #MAJOR #PROXIMA #ZETOR #agro #agrobusiness #farm #farming #harvest2022 #machine #machinery #nationalfarmmachineryshow

[eternalcalifornia]

#rosecoloredsunsets #eternal california #eternalcalifornia #mine #california #aesthetic #beachside #los angeles #beach #nature #highway to heaven #highway #405 #405 freeway #santa monica #work views

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

As Brazil starts repaving an Amazon highway, land grabbers get to work

Paving work has begun on a stretch of highway running through one of the remotest and best-preserved parts of the Brazilian Amazon — even as questions about the project’s permits abound.

BR-319 was built in the 1970s to connect the Amazonian cities of Manaus and Porto Velho, but a 405-kilometer (250-mile) “Middle Stretch” fell into disrepair, making the road virtually impassable and killing the flow of traffic.

Conservation experts have long warned against repaving the Middle Stretch, warning that improved access to this carbon-rich region will lead to a surge in deforestation, burning and land grabbing.

With the repaving underway, this is already happening, raising concerns about unchecked forest loss that would have massive ramifications for the global climate.

Continue reading.

#brazil #politics #environmentalism #environmental justice #brazilian politics #amazon rainforest #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

[mjcbddusa]

Business Name: Mary Jane's CBD Dispensary - Smoke & Vape Shop

Street Address: 2209 SW 104th St suite e

City: Oklahoma City

State: Oklahoma (OK)

Zip Code: 73159

Country: USA

Business Phone: [phone]

Business Email: [email protected]

Website: https://mjcbdd.com/top-tobacco-cbd-vape-shop-oklahoma-city-sw-104th

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Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maryjanes_family/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMg3Qa-TrMLB0b2e-FaFpig

Business Description: Mary Jane's CBD Dispensary - Smoke & Vape Shop is the top Tobacco shop in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Mary Jane’s CBD Dispensary is part of a chain of CBD Dispensaries specializing in providing the highest-quality CBD oil products thoroughly lab tested and meet our high standards of quality. Come see why MJCBD on SW 104th Street is the highest-rated Cannabis shop conveniently located just off US Highway 62 (between S. Pennsylvania Avenue and South May Avenue) near Veterans Parkway! MJCBDD specializes in the industry’s best brands and has led the industry standard in sales of CBD by dominating product innovation and customer satisfaction. If you're looking for a high-quality Vaporizer store near me, look no further!

Google My Business CID URL: https://www.google.com/maps?cid=17319770070102362555

Business Hours: Sunday 10am-9pm Monday 10am-9pm Tuesday 10am-9pm Wednesday 10am-9pm Thursday 10am-9pm Friday 10am-9pm Saturday 10am-9pm

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Products: Smoke shop, Delta 8, CBD Online store, CBD Oil, CBD Gummies, CBD for Pets, CBD Pain Creams, CBD Beauty Creams, Hemp Flowers, Vape, Puff Bars

Keywords: Smoke shop, Delta 8, CBD Online store, CBD Oil, CBD Gummies, CBD for Pets, CBD Pain Creams, CBD Beauty Creams, Hemp Flowers, Vape, Puff Bars

Location:

Service Areas:

#Youtube

[barbiemoviestrivia]

The Interstate 405 (I-405) is a major north–south auxiliary Interstate Highway in Southern California.

#BARBIE #barbie: it takes two

[axlaru]

Completely useless question but my brain is fixated on it

In northern California, when referring to the freeways we just say the number, so like "take five to 80 to go to tahoe" or whatever. In southern California, they say "the" before the highway numbers, so like "take the 405 to..."

Now I'm wondering where the line is between say "the" or not. Is it the grapevine, or santa Barbara or SLO or what? Or maybe not saying "the" is literally just a bay area thing?

Ironically this whole thing started churning in my brain while reading Malibu Rising, because in the book it kept referring to "PCH" instead of "the PCH" and it felt wrong to me, despite Mr being a norcal girl who normally doesn't use the before freeway/highway monikers.