#log cabin and a brewing fire series

[chaneajoyyy]

Pls sis help me find the fic it’s trevantae Rhodes he’s in the army but he’s staying with y/n bc he tried to kill himself , my dad is his commanding officer?? I hope I explained this enough 😫😫

You sure did explain it enough! It’s called Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire series by the good sis @madamslayyy . And it’s 🔥🔥!

Scroll down it’s all there on her masterlist!!

https://madamslayyy.tumblr.com/post/184416580750/smut-x-written-before-the-release-of-black

#the plug #librarian at your service #let’s chat #sip tea #talk fanfiction #trevante rhodes x black!reader #crush!trevante #log cabin and a brewing fire series #trevante rhodes fanfiction

[a-d-curtis]

Chant

I just realized I never posted this here. It is the first chapter of my series “Memories in the Wind” (Chapters 2: Incense & 3: Artifacts have already been posted here. Good thing chronology doesn’t matter in these little stories =) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Other works in this series:

Incense

Artifacts

…………….

“Be careful, Bumi!”

Katara pulled protectively at her toddling son as he leaned disconcertingly over the edge of Appa’s saddle to rub his chubby little hands in fistfuls of Appa’s fur.

Aang looked back over his shoulder from where he held the reins on Appa’s head and smiled.

“Oh let him have some fun, Katara! You know I’ve got him if he falls overboard.”

Katara’s grip on her son tightened as she sent an exasperated looked toward her carefree husband. “Aang, I just don’t think it’s safe for Bumi to think that every time he falls off of Appa he gets a ‘fun airbending ride with Daddy’ back up here to safety.”

“But I’ve got him, Katara. I don’t want him to be afraid of heights.”

Katara huffed. “But for those of us who don’t command Air, Sweetie, a dose of that kind of fear is not unhealthy.”

“You don’t know yet that Bumi doesn’t bend air,” Aang said casually. “He’s too young to tell.”

Aang smiled with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Or maybe he’ll be splashing his mom with waterbending before we know it! Wouldn’t that be great?”

Katara couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her mouth. She did like the idea of teaching waterbending to her son one day. At a year and a half Bumi hadn’t shown any signs of either waterbending or airbending, but he was young yet.  

“Maybe he won’t bend at all,” Katara proposed thoughtfully.

Aang smirked cheekily, “As long as he doesn’t bend Fire or Earth, I think we are good.” He looked at her with mock-seriousness as he teased, “Because then you’d have some ‘splaining to do.”

Katara rolled her eyes at Aang dramatically, but couldn’t help but smile at him, shaking her head at the preposterousness of the idea. With Bumi’s open, carefree spirit and his ‘run before he walks’ and ‘leap before he looks’ tendencies, Katara wondered how anyone could ever doubt that Aang was his father. Personality wise, Bumi was undeniably Aang’s son.

Katara looked at her son as she held his torso with two hands, his fat little fingers still buried in Appa’s fur. Bumi laughed and babbled “Ap-pa, Ap-pa, Ap-pa” to himself as his dark hair blew wildly in the wind.

It had been a sore spot for Aang that Bumi had spoken the word “Appa” before “Daddy” -- a fact that Aang insisted his sky bison lorded over him constantly. “You don’t know what its like, Katara! I’ll catch a smug look in Appa’s eye and just know he’s laughing at me. How could my own son betray me this way?!” It was all in jest of course, but Katara suspected that any real feelings of hurt didn’t fully dissipate until Bumi started babbling “Da-da” at which point Aang seemed to forget the snub completely as he instead, glowed with pride. “Katara did you hear that?! He’s so smart!” Then continuing with a loving look at his wife, “A genius, just like his mom!”

The little family currently flew over a forested area in the northwestern Earth Kingdom. This part of the Earth Kingdom was pretty far north, the vegetation consisting of mostly evergreens and other tenacious plants that didn’t mind the rocky ground and the cold winters. But it was summer now, and the air was clear and cool, the breeze bringing the delightful scent of pine as Katara inhaled deeply.

Suddenly, Appa let out a groan and veered sharply down and to the right. Katara reflexively pulled Bumi protectively into her lap as she grabbed the saddle with one arm to steady herself, her innards giving that strange lurching feeling that felt like her stomach had jumped into her throat.

“Whoa boy!” Katara heard Aang say as he pulled the reins, trying to get his animal guide back on course. “What’s up, Buddy?” Appa groaned something at Aang as he leveled out again.

But a moment later he lurched again, this time turning them all the way around and descending toward the forest below.

Katara looked over the lip of the saddle to see Aang laying flat on his stomach on Appa’s head as he spoke to his bison. “Do you hear something, Buddy?”

Then sitting up, Aang called back to Katara. “Looks like Appa wants to land here for some reason, Sweetie. I guess we’re going down.”

As the giant bison landed six-footed onto the rocky ground amid the sparse but towering trees, Aang hopped back up into the saddle with his wife and son. Then taking hold of Katara around the waist as she held Bumi, Aang airbend-jumped all three of them down to the ground.

“Why did we stop, Aang?” Katara asked.

“I’m not sure. I have no idea why Appa wanted to stop here.” But Aang’s perplexed look quickly turned to an open smile that he turned to his wife. “Well, shall we have a look around then?” Katara could see that Aang’s disposition for adventure and his naturally flexible sense of ‘destination’ were taking over.

“I suppose so,” Katara said as she set Bumi down to let him walk around a bit, smiling affectionately at the way her son held his hands out for balance. “It is a lovely forest.”

They had not taken more than ten steps into the trees when Aang stopped Katara in her tracks. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

The sound was faint, but as Katara strained her ears she thought she could hear the sound of… what was that? The sound was long and solemn, resonating out a continuous melancholy whine. Katara didn’t know what would make a sound like that; certainly not an animal. Maybe some sort of instrument perhaps?

Aang seemed to have frozen, a wide-eyed look on his face.

Appa bellowed again and walked forward, nuzzling his head into Aang, snapping Aang out of his trance.  Aang put his hand on Appa’s big head and affirmed with semi-stunned excitement, “Yeah, I hear it too, Appa!”

“Let’s go find it, Buddy!” Aang said enthusiastically to Appa as he scooped Bumi giggling up into his hands and grabbed Katara’s hand and pulled her back onto Appa’s back. Appa didn’t wait to hear “yip, yip” before he took off into the sky.

Katara still did not know what the sound was, but it clearly meant something to Aang and Appa. She wanted to ask her husband about it, but she didn’t want to interrupt the single-minded concentration Aang was giving to following the sound at this moment.

Appa flew low, the toes of his six legs often skimming the tops of the trees. Aang half straddled, half stood on Appa’s head, like a jockey standing up in the stirrups, all the while moving his arms in wide sweeping motions, as though he was pulling the air towards his chest. Katara knew that Aang was pulling at the surrounding air, willing the sound to come to him, amplifying it so they could follow it to its source.

It didn’t take long to follow the sound to a tiny settlement nestled among the trees. There were so few houses, and each spaced so far apart, that it couldn’t really even be called a town. Appa had to circle around the roof of the source of the sound a couple of times before needing to land a short distance away from it in the only clearing big enough for his large body.

The sound rang out clearly from inside a small log dwelling.

But even after Appa landed with a huff, Aang remained still, staring unmoving toward the dwelling just visible through the pines. He didn’t move from Appa’s head. Katara began to feel a little apprehensive as she observed the blue tattoo on Aang’s tense back.

“Sweetie?” Katara asked after another long frozen minute listening to the melancholy brass song through the trees. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Katara was unprepared for the intensity of emotion on Aang’s face when he turned toward her. His grey eyes were wide, almost haunted, some complicated set of emotions brewing behind them. Anticipation? Hope? Dread, perhaps?

Aang turned his gaze back towards the dwelling before climbing down slowly from Appa’s head. Something about his climb down seemed so strange. For one thing, Katara wasn’t sure if she had ever actually seen Aang climb down before, not like this anyway; he usually just jumped or floated down. But this movement seemed to be in slow motion, and as though his body was suddenly heavy, each step taking effort. Like he dreaded what lay before him.

Aang began to move toward the trees leading to the log house.

“Sweetie?” she tried again.

Aang turned back to her, the solemn sound ringing through the air around them. “It’s a singing bowl, Katara. An Air Nomad instrument. I haven’t heard one in…” his sentence drifted off absently as he turned back towards the sound.

But then he just stood there, not moving forward. Appa grunted and took a couple steps toward him -- exhausting the extent of space this clearing left for his big body to move -- and nudged Aang with his head as though pushing him toward the sound. Aang shook his head slightly, as if recovering from a trance, and reached out a hand to stroke his oldest friend’s furry cheek. Aang forced a fleeting smile and a “Thanks, Buddy”, before stepping into the forest toward the cabin.

Katara just watched the strait back of the last known air nomad walk away toward the small dwelling that vibrated with a sound both ancient and presumed extinct. For a moment Katara just sat there before she came to herself, and scooped Bumi (who had been uncharacteristically still, as though spellbound by the sound singing through the mountain air) onto her hip and scrambled down Appa’s side to hurry after Aang.

Katara, with Bumi in arms, wound her way through the fragrant evergreens, the light crunch of dried pine needles snapping under her soft boots as she followed after her husband. By the time she arrived at the small dwelling, Aang was nowhere to be seen.

“Aang?” she called as she ducked around the building to the open front door.

Katara stopped, her hand on the rough wood of the open doorframe. Aang stood a few steps inside the small home, his body unnaturally still. She couldn’t see his face, just the rigidity of his stance. The wailing sound vibrated full and long all around the small room.

Beyond Aang, sitting serenely on a mat on the floor was a very old, bald man. A young child at his side ran a wooden mallet around the edge of a brass bowl perched on a folded cloth on the ground in front of him. The ringing was clearly coming from the bowl. Eyes closed, the old man spoke softly – no chanted, almost like he was singing – words that Katara could not understand.

Katara boosted Bumi a little higher on her hip and took a few tentative steps forward inside the hut until she stood at Aang side. She touched his shoulder tentatively with the tips of her fingers. “Aang?”

Aang didn’t turn to look at her, but he exhaled as though it was long overdue, his eyes still staring at the old man.

The old man finished his mantra and then opened his eyes. His withered old hand reached over and gently stopped the circling hand of the child at his side, stopping the singing bowl’s effervescent wail. The sound seemed to echo in the small structure for a moment even after the vibrations had dissipated. The child looked up at them with bright grey eyes, expectant.

The old man brought his hand together with a fist and bowed his head slightly toward Aang. “Bhu-la”

Katara could see Aang’s adam’s apple bob once before he too brought his hands together and bowed respectfully, replying, “Jolak”.

The man motioned with his hand to the empty space on the floor across from him and Aang sat down in lotus, facing him. They both said nothing at first, but Katara could see that Aang’s throat bobbed again as if holding back great emotion.

“Bhu-la”, the old man addressed Aang again (Katara seemed to remember from her stilted efforts to learn Aang’s Air Nomad language that this meant “younger brother”), “I am honored to have you in my home. At first I thought my old eyes had deceived me. I never thought that I would again behold another Kushow La in my lifetime.”

Aang’s face fought valiantly against some strong emotion. “Jolak…” Aang addressed this elder brother and then paused, needing a moment to find his voice before he could continue. “Are you… are you a Kushow La? Are you also an Air Nomad monk?”

Katara’s eyes darted back to the old man in hopeful surprise, even though she saw no arrow tattoos on the old man’s forehead or hands.

The old man sighed, “Alas, I am not.”

Aang’s head bowed, his eyes clenched tightly as he fought to keep his obvious disappointment within. A moment later, Aang’s face became a stone wall. The same stone Katara saw whenever he was keeping some strong emotion to himself.

“I see,” Aang replied.

“I am not. But, young Bhu-la, my father was,” the old man said.

Aang’s eyes opened eagerly, his whole body leaning forward. “Your father? Was an Air Nomad monk??”

“Yes,” the old man chuckled at the eagerness of the tattooed young man before him. “My father was a Kushow La. Like you.”

“My father was not even yet twenty years old at the time of Sozin’s massacre.” The man took a long inhaled breath before continuing. “He told me that his bison had fallen ill, and he was tending to him, which is why he was late for the festival that would have taken him home to the Northern Air Temple at the time of Firelord Sozin’s first attacks. Having not been at the temple, he avoided the first wave of fire.” The old man looked somberly down to his lap. “But he and his kind were hunted afterward. His beloved bison was cut down before word of the slaughter had even made it to my father’s ears. My father only narrowly escaped that attack with his own life.”

The man looked knowingly at Aang, a well of sympathy behind his old eyes as he continued, “My father did not talk much of those many years of fleeing from the Fire Nation. But I know he saw great atrocities and his personal losses were great.”

Aang listened intently, nodding minutely in understanding, his face stone again (although Katara could see the pain behind his eyes).

“My Earth Kingdom grandfather’s family provided my father a temporary refuge for a time. While my father was staying with my grandfather, he and my mother fell in love. But when their union was opposed by my grandfather, the two fled together to these very forests. They built this home, far from civilization, with the hope that they could hide from those who sought to destroy them. I was born within these very walls.” The old man looked up at the small wooden structure, as though a lifetime’s worth of memories were written upon it.

“My mother and father and I lived here happily for many years. Until whispers of Airbender survivors began to circulate, even making it out here to our remote location. My father ignored them for a long time. Until one day he told my mother he had to go and see, to find one of these ‘havens’ in the mountains for himself. I was twelve at the time.”

The old man looked Aang strait in the face. “I never saw my father again. I never found out what happened to him.”

Aang winced, as if he understood more than he wanted to. Katara was not sure what “havens in the mountains” the man spoke of, but she did not have much trouble imagining the end fate of this man’s father.

Aang spoke, “I am so sorry for your loss, Jolak.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, Bhu-la. I accept your shared mourning.”

Aang turned his eyes toward the child and with a kind smile said, “Thank you for your music, Bhu-la. You play just like I remember it from when I was your age!”

The little boy’s face burst into a wide, charming smile. The old man smiled and patting the child’s leg with unobscured pride as he introduced, “This is my great-grandson, Aanpa. He is named after my father, the Kushow La.”

Aang’s eyes moistened, but he smiled at the boy again. “It’s a good name, Aanpa. I had a friend my age who shared your name too.” Aang bit his lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. “It’s a good name,” he repeated again.

At this point Bumi bucked in Katara’s arms, reaching for the floor. He wanted to get down. Katara knelt down on the ground as well, a step to the side of Aang as she pulled Bumi to sit on her lap. Aang looked towards her and introduced, “Jolak” then nodding to the little boy “and Buh-la, this is my wife, Katara, and our son, Bumi.”

The man palmed his fist and dipped his head towards Katara and Bumi. The man’s great-grandson just smiled bigger. Katara smiled back, dipping her head in respect as well.

Seeming to remember, Aang added, “Oh, and I’m Aang.”

The old man’s eyes twinkled, traveling once up to the blue tattoos on Aang’s arms and forehead. “I’m aware of who you are, Bhu-La Aang. Even way out here, we are aware.”

Aang opened his palms upward, motioning toward the singing bowl, “May I… join you? To chant the Time Mantra again?” Katara saw him swallow past his emotion. “It’s been a long time since…” but Aang’s voice seemed to fail him then.

The old man looked at him kindly; Katara seemed to see an Understanding in his old grey eyes. “Of course.”

The man nodded to his great-grandson and the little boy hit the brass bowl with his mallet, then rubbing the wooden handle around the bowl’s edge, the metal began to  sing. Bumi bucked again, trying to get out of his mother’s arms to grab at the bowl, but Katara pulled him back to sit on her lap.

Aang and the old airbender’s son both closed their eyes and breathed deeply. Even as their eyes remained closed they both lifted their right hands up, palm facing forward, their left hands resting palm up on their folded knees. For a time they just sat this way, eyes closed, breathing deeply as the singing bowl rang out. Then without any signal that Katara could see, they both began to speak in unison.

Katara had heard Aang chant to himself frequently. And Aang had told her often of the daily chants and joint meditations of the monks. So she was familiar with the sing-song of the mantra. But she had never heard an Air Nomad chant in tandem before, and the sound of it, the way the words resonated through the little log house was incredible. It was like their voices were one layered voice, but somehow even more potent. The sound of it brought a catch in her throat. Even Bumi sat listening, watching his father’s face intently.

As the chant filled the small wooden dwelling, the chorus seeming to sink within her, Katara couldn’t help but imagine how this sound would have echoed gloriously in the great meditation halls of the Air Temples. With a hundred voices reciting the words together.

For the thousandth time Katara felt a great swell of compassion for all that Aang had lost. There was no accompanying anger this time, as there had often been in the past, just a great sense of loss, like a gaping hole opening in her abdomen.

Compassion stirred within her as she saw tears begin to stream down Aang’s face from under his closed dark lashes. Bumi’s little hand reached up to her face, and she realized that she was crying too. She looked down into her son’s wide perplexed eyes, and took his chubby little hand in hers and kissed it, reassuring him that everything was all right.

Katara could not understand the words of the chant, although she recognized the intonations as Aang’s native tongue, the long-lost Air Nomad dialect. She bit back regret that she had not learned more of his language, so that she could know the meaning of the chant. Silently she vowed to try harder to learn.

But knowing the meaning of the words or not, there was no doubting the sacredness of this moment:

Aang, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face, chanted in his own language a mantra of his youth with another living being for the first time in over a century.

…………..

Katara looked up from her place at the kitchen counter when she heard a knock on the front door. “Just a moment,” she called out as she quickly set the sliced lotus root she was preparing for dinner into a bowl of water to soak. Wiping her hands on her apron (that bulged comically over her rounded tummy) Katara walked toward the door of their home on Air Temple Island.

With an angry yell coming from Kya’s room, Bumi and one of his friends came barreling from the back of the house, bumping into Katara on their way to the door. “Sorry Mom!” he quipped with a charming crooked smile as the two of them jostled out the front door, nearly knocking the man standing outside it over in their haste.

Katara sighed in exasperation as she saw the door swing shut after them, muffling her son’s “oh, sorry!” to the man he nearly knocked over on the doorstep. She shook her head at her son, now verging on teenagehood, but still just as unwary and haphazard as when he was a toddler.

Opening the door again, Katara saw a young man with a light pack on his back and a parcel wrapped in a cloth in his hands, watching Bumi and his friend running pell-mell down the path towards the docks. As he turned his attention back towards her, she smiled. “Hello. Can I help you?”

The young man smiled nervously. “Um, hi. Are you Master Katara? I’m here to… to see your husband.”

Katara was not surprised by the man’s request – people frequently sought an audience with the Avatar – although she was surprised that he had not been stopped by one of the Acolytes before coming strait to her door. No worry, she would be happy to see what he wanted.

“Aang is in the sanctuary at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”

The young man tapped the parcel in his hands idly and looked around. “Um, sure. I guess. You see, I’ve come to, um, to maybe join your, um, your Air Acolytes.” His eyes flicked unsurely to Katara for a moment.

Katara’s heart warmed as she smiled at the boy. She never ceased to be amazed at the generosity of those willing to give their lives to keep the Air Nomad’s culture and teachings alive. “Of course. Welcome to Air Temple Island… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. But it’s Aanpa. My Great-great-grandfather was an Air Nomad. I don’t know if you remember, but I met you once, when I was very young. You and the Avatar came to my Great-grandfather’s house.”

Katara’s eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Oh yes! I remember that day well. Are you the little boy who played the singing bowl?!”

Aanpa smiled widely, and held up the parcel, unwrapping a corner to show her what was inside. “I have it with me now! I wanted to… to um, maybe give it to Avatar Aang. Since it belonged to his people…”

Katara ran her fingers delicately over the edge of the bowl, remembering that day. She remembered the sound of it, how it had called to Appa. How the sound had spiked in her husband a hope that pierced a hundred year of empty looking.

She knew how the hope had hurt Aang, how believing that ‘maybe’, only to be disappointed again, had left his heart raw and exposed. He had tried for days afterwards to build his walls ever higher in an attempt to hide his grief, even from her. But she could see through it. And she understood. And her unwavering embrace had said more than any words could have when he finally leaned into her for strength.

When he was ready, Aang admitted his disappointment. But also his joy to have found a descendant of his people. And how much it had meant to him to Chant with the Kushow La’s son. Despite the pain, Aang felt it was a blessing.

Katara was used to her husband’s ability to see Light. And how he accepted the shadows that, for him, so often accompanied it. Even Aang’s fondest memories carried shadows. But something that Katara loved most about Aang was that even though nothing would ever restore what he had lost, no one was more grateful than he was for every shard of Light to be found.

Katara gently folded the fabric back around the bowl and pushed it back towards Aanpa. “No. This belongs to yourpeople. It is a heritage you and Aang share. Aang will be touched that you would consider giving it to him, but I know he would want you to keep it.”

Then, setting aside her apron and stepping out onto the porch, Katara beckoned to Aanpa to follow her. “Come with me. Let’s go and find Aang.”

The pair could hear the chant carried on the pleasant spring breezes long before they reached the end of the upward winding path that led to the sanctuary. As they reached the entrance, the many-paneled doors swung wide open allowed for the sound to travel freely outward. Many voices spoke as one, the words singing out with the great brass bowl -- this one the size of a barrel -- that was rung carefully by an old Acolyte in saffron robes.

Aanpa stared at the group of Acolytes sitting on the temple’s mosaicked floor, their eyes closed tranquilly as the words of worship and unity spoke from their lips. Katara’s eyes found one blue arrowed brow amidst them, his face peaceful as he joined the chant.

The Acolytes knew many chants. But how fitting that today they would be speaking this one. The same chant that Aang had shared with Aanpa’s great-grandfather all those years ago.

While the pair watched and listened, Katara, supporting her heavily pregnant belly with one hand, leaned in towards the young man and asked, “Do you recognize it?”

Katara smiled compassionately as Aanpa turned to her with tears in his eyes. “This is the… it’s the same one my great-grandfather… used to…” Aanpa looked back into the sanctuary. “But I never understood it. I don’t know what it means.”

Katara looked back towards the worshippers, sunshine falling freely upon their brows as their many voices in unison resonated out.

“It’s called the Time Mantra. Let me translate it for you.”

Katara paused as she listened to the words as they rang out vibrantly. “Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course,” she translated. “Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul.”

She paused listening for the next line, “See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas.”

Katara could see the young man swallow thickly as she continued. “How will I let it move me, what will I let Time bring?”

The last of the chant came to a pulsating stop as Katara’s voice spoke the last line in silence. “Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me.”

The two stood together, hearing the echo of the chant in the silence. Katara felt the baby kick within her. She watched to catch Aang’s eyes when they opened, a giant smile bursting on his face when he saw her standing there. He looked happy, a fullness of peace in his demeanor.

Katara turned to Aanpa and took his elbow kindly, moving him forward into the sanctuary. “Come, Bhu-la Aanpa. Let’s go in and say hi, shall we?”

…………

The Time Mantra

Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course.

Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul.

See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas.

How will I let it move me? What will I let Time bring?

Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me.

………..

Incense

Artifacts

..............

To read this series on AO3:

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159106"><strong>Memories in the Wind</strong></a> (13682 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis"><strong>ADCurtis</strong></a><br />Chapters: 3/3<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Avatar:%20The%20Last%20Airbender">Avatar: The Last Airbender</a><br />Rating: General Audiences<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)<br />Characters: Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Bumi II (Avatar)<br />Additional Tags: Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Air Nomads (Avatar), Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Aang (Avatar) Needs a Hug<br />Summary: <p>A sound carried on the winds lead Aang and Katara to hope for something seeming long lost.</p>

#aang love #avatar aang #the last airbender #ALTA #kataang #cloud babies

[webcricket]

Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1525 (Ch. V) Story Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. Chapter Summary: Coffee and a conversation - neither the reader or the angel suspects how a sweetly simple start will lead to heartbreaking complications.

Series Masterlist

V.

Castiel notices the alteration of a week’s long routine immediately upon entering the cabin; his final armload of tinder teeters when he perceives in his preliminary survey of the space he expects to see you occupying the you-sized void located beside the stove.

Every morning prior you huddled as a human pillow fort there; blanket draping your bulwark frame, despotic frown armoring your aspect, you dwelt near the heat source prepared to catch his eye as soon as he sought for yours to commence his daily plea for armistice to end that siege of silence.

The composure ruffled for a moment by the dread of a renewed isolation returns to the angel in the galvanizing sound of a heartbeat resonant somewhere within; casting his focus backward along the wall, he hones in on the owner of that soothing pulse.

On this morning, you sit at a rustic stout log-legged table constructed from the lacquered cross-section of a hundreds of years old oak not unlike the one you nearly perished under; the rings signifying the tree’s longevity multiply like ripples of a stone tossed in a stream, so tightly stacked as to be indiscernible from infinity itself. Situated beneath a square western facing window, gauzy gingham curtains pinned aside permit both a wash of light and the wintry view an entrance.

You seem lost in the vista; outward gaze unperturbed, your lips purse to cool the coffee raised to them. The dimmed gold diffusion that suffices for a sunrise these days radiates in halo effect around your profile.

Of secondary - albeit curious - concern to the relief he feels in what appears to him to be a positive and heavenly amendment of attitude in a heretofore dourly resigned disposition, a second untouched mug occupies the tabletop. Dwelling out of your easy reach, the significance of the surplus cup puzzles him.

Even more so unnerving to him is the enigma of the chair opposite you shifting suddenly asunder the table; in his distraction, he perceives the movement as occurring seemingly of its own volition rather than relating to the slide of your socked foot inviting him to fill the seat.

“I made you a cup of coffee,” is all you say, outward glance through the glass unbroken.

Balancing the heaped wood long enough to pivot and let it loose in a controlled, but raucous, roll from his arms onto the stack adjacent the door, he mostly manages to stifle the shock subverting his angelically stoic sensibilities over the scene.

When he wheels round, your focus is fixed on him; amusement hints in laugh lines skirting your mouth and a glint of mischief in your gaze.

He doesn’t drink coffee, but he’s astute enough to understand the gesture is more than just a cup of coffee - it’s an olive branch. He brushes off the bits of bark and incorporeal clumsiness clinging to his vessel and crosses the room in a brisk stride.

Sinking onto the seat, spine rigid, he clasps his fingers on the glossy ringed surface in an effort to affect an appearance of relaxation; fidgeting in their ill-feeling fitment, he ultimately relegates the difficulty of the calloused and uncalm digits into his lap and out of your sight.

“Um-” peering into the mirrored surface of the murky brown drink, bright block of window light shimmering your reflection thereon, he recalls the human proclivity for niceties in lieu of satisfying outright an inquisitiveness to know what caused your reconsideration of his charity- “thank you.”

You wince a little at that; the judder of the table undulates your image in his cup. It’s you who should be thanking him. You wouldn’t even have coffee if he hadn’t resupplied the cupboard a few days ago from God knows what resource he found in his wanderings.

All subtle trace of gaiety flees from your features; your chin bobs once under the burden of the guilt-ridden acknowledgement. Bringing the rim of the mug to your mouth, you sip, swallow hard against the throat thickening reminder of your boorish behavior, and permit a sliver of apologetic humility to emerge as a quiet murmur. “It’s the least I could do.”

Following your cue, glad to give one of his hands a useful purpose, he takes a tentative sip from his cup. The heat and acidity of the molecular explosion tickles his vessels tongue. While the impression is by no means a pleasant one, it’s one he bears out by forcing a compact semblance of gratitude into the curvature of his standard pout.

“It’s-” he clears the cough contracting his lungs- “uh-”

“It’s terrible.” You chuckle, allaying his stuttered struggle to maintain diplomacy. “Trust me, the taste improves with cream and couple pumps of cinnamon dolce and vanilla syrup, but even the Starbucks on every corner business model couldn’t survive in the present market climate.”

Your attempt at levity face plants in the slow-motion tilt of Castiel’s head and introspective tapering of his lashes that tell you he doesn’t get that particular reference.

He watches you endure another self-deprecatory gulp of the scalding stuff. “I’ll take your word for it,” he determines, although the doubt deepening his tone insinuates he’s not at all convinced.

No longer able to mince matters of caffeine with those regarding his celestial origin - the elephant in the room trumpeting caution in affront to your humanity - you set your mug and elbows before you to put his intent, once again, to the test.

Intensity shines in your irises as you lean forward on your seat, asking, “What’s really your deal anyway?”

He doesn’t so much as blink those blues at the rapid difference of direction from the realm of the mundane to more mortal concerns. He also misconstrues your meaning by offering a curt correction that, “Deals are for demons.”

You clarify. “I mean, what’s an angel doing patrolling out in the middle of no man’s land?”

The drop of his gaze and slouching of shoulders betray his discomfort, yet no immediate reason springs to his mind to evade providing an honest answer. “It’s a punishment.”

“For what?”

Pain dampens the countenance that rises to resolve on yours. “Pride.”

Your brow quirks, “Pride?”

He nods; hesitance to speak aloud for the first time about his past and how much to share stymies his tongue. He runs a broad fingertip along the outline of a blackened ring on the tabletop, relaying the outermost layers of his remorse as he absentmindedly follows the ashy line.

“When I realized angels were purposely abetting the breaking of apocalyptic seals, I rebelled. It was already too late to stop that seizure of power which was set so precipitously in motion, but I thought absolute disaster might be mitigated. Many of my brothers and sisters died because they followed me believing we had a chance to save this world for humanity. We– I- failed. And now-” He averts lashes wetly damned by sorrow to the window and all the barren ‘and now’ plainly evidenced beyond it.

You slump backward into the chair, astonished by the unguarded anguish of a being whose species as a whole you lately considered as incapable of feeling genuine emotion. “This … this isn’t what I expected.” The muffled acknowledgement of his outstripping your expectations isn’t one you necessarily meant to utter aloud.

He sniffs against the well of tears he thought long ran dry and looks once more at you. “I don’t think this is what any of us expected.” He judges the confusion contorting your forehead at his restatement as a want of further elucidation rather than his misunderstanding yet again what you’ve said. “That is to say except maybe the Apostle John, but he always was something of a catastrophic thinker. None of us could have guessed the Book of Revelation would prove so, well-” he pauses to exhale a sigh redolent of regret at not heeding the warning- “prophetic.”

“I meant you. You’re not who I expected you to be,” you add fuel to the foray of misperceived meanings hovering in the air between you. “That’s a good thing,” you reassure the fret of his brow; a small smile brews on your lips as you raise your cup. “So what happens now? I know you said angels don’t do the whole deal thing, but this seems a little unfair, you taking care of me. What do you get out of it?”

Mimicking the casualness of your sip, he picks up his mug and swirls a mouthful; there’s a subtle sweetness he could grow accustomed to underlying the molecules this time. Adams apple bobbing as the coffee trickles down his gullet, he says, “More of this, I hope.”

“Stale coffee?” you tease; sloshing the grainy dregs around the bottom of your emptied cup, the porcelain emits a hollow thud when you set it on the table.

Tone softened by a sincerity of want toward your continued company, he corrects, “Conversation.”

“I think I can do that.” You accept terms that, despite their being undemanding on his part in exchange for his invaluable protection, leave the angel feeling he’s gotten the better end of the bargain.

Next Chapter: VI

#castiel x reader #au!castiel x reader #apocalypseversecastiel #castiel x you #castielxreader #castielxyou #spn x reader #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel reader insert #castiel #au!castiel #castiel fanfiction #cricket writes cas

[melaninmarvelficrecs]

Nebraska Williams Fic Recs

Angst 😭

Fluff 🥰

Smut 😈

Series 📚

Original character 👸🏽

Au meme 🎀

Social media edit 📱

Moodboard 💝

  📚😈😭Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire 2 3 4 5   by @madamslyyy

#melaninmarvelficrecs #melaninmarvel #nebraska williams #nebraska williams imagines #fic recs

[ducktracy]

33. moonlight for two (1932)

release date: june 11th, 1932

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising

starring: n/a

our old pal goopy returns! or does he? that’s not actually him, just some standard harman ising yokel dog. as you may have noticed, each of the 1932 cartoons has alternated between looney tunes and merrie melodies consecutively, until now! two merrie melodies in a row. moonlight for two has the dog and his girlfriend going to a dance, but, as always, trouble brews.

look at that beautiful background! already getting a beautifully atmospheric start. the little poodle from freddy the freshman and goopy geer meets this lanky goopy doppelgänger, who’s leaning against a tree and playing the harmonica while the poodle hums “she’ll be coming around the mountain”. smitten, the dog greets her with a “howdy, y’all!” and doing a little dance reused from goopy geer. some birds atop a tree branch twitter and tweet, indicating there’s a flame between the two. lovebirds.

since it’s a merrie melody, the happy couple launch into the song “moonlight for two”. as is standard, the vocals aren’t the greatest, but the music is catchy regardless. there’s also a scene where they skip and frolick to an interlude of “spring song”, complete with the bird’s chirping in the background. what a creative little interlude! it certainly reminds me of carl stalling’s scores (he comes into the scene with porky’s poultry plant in 1936, which is also frank tashlin’s first directorial credit).

just because, the two of them hop on a cart that goes barreling down a hill towards a log cabin. they crash into the cabin but remain unharmed, the cabin logs neatly stacking up one by one to reassemble, good as new. a cartoon staple!

another obstacle blocks them in their path, this time a tree. they crash, and the cart turns into a wheelbarrow, with the lanky dog pushing his sweetheart around. they go over a bridge (that sags into the water, borrowed from hittin’ the trail for hallelujah land).

cut to a good ol’ fashioned barn dance. we have some shots of two dogs square dancing (above), a goat using his foot as fiddle strings (strange substitute), and two mules with their tails tied together, forming a jump rope for a little cat to jump with.

nighttime shots with a giant moon and the appropriate lighting like here make me so happy. they’re so beautiful! i love how rustic the setting is here, very nostalgic and cozy. the lovebirds arrive to the dance and crash the party.

cue the dance sequence! the lovebirds do their thing, and in early 30s fashion, a wood stove takes a life of its own and shows off a jig of its own. these inanimate objects coming to live gags amuse me to no end, just because of how corny and trite they are. the background vocals for this scene are divine! good music is so important to me in a cartoon. it can totally make or break a short. a bad cartoon can be saved with a good music score, but even the best of cartoons suffer if the music score is poor.

a wiener dog couple is happily dancing together, when one of the dogs chugs some alcohol (moonshine?). the alcohol is potent, and literally burns his abdomen, making him short and squat instead of tall and skinny like his girlfriend. no matter, they continue to dance. disparity in height also makes for a good source of comedy, and here we see it work. highlights also include a goat using his banjo as a spittoon and the goopy doppelgänger dancing rhythmically with the stove.

is it a harman and ising cartoon without a villain? of course not! enter this rifle sporting villain, who immediately flirts the lanky dog’s girlfriend. the lanky dog cries “stand back, villain!” (self aware of the tropes in these cartoons? 🤔) and receives gunshots in response.

lanky dog tries his best to dodge the array of bullets coming at him hot. as shown above, he lands in some spittoons in the midst of his panicked scramble, and dashed away, spittoon clad and all. he kicks them off, decking the villain squarely in the face.

enraged, the villain throws himself on top of the dog, and the two of them tussle (complete with some blinding flashing action going on in the background).

anthropomorphized wood stoves come in handy! the stove leans over and burns the villain twice, threatening to spit fire in his face. the wood stove corners the villain and blocks the dog from any harm, turning to the side to expose a crank. the dog turns the crank and hot coals shoot out of the stove at the villain like a machine gun, sending him running.

thus, our story ends with the stove and the dog shaking hands. iris out!

this cartoon is relatively average as far as harman and ising cartoons go. the pacing is a little slow at times, primarily towards the beginning, but it picks up as time goes on. the backgrounds were stunning! they were very moody and beautiful, so that’s always a plus. the underscore was gorgeous, and the harmonized voices during the dance sequence with the wood stove were captivating. unfortunately, a lack of distinct personality in the characters (and the female counterpart disappearing for half the short once more—seriously, it feels like every cartoon the woman just disappears!) does bring down the rating of this short, but there’s more personality in it now than there was a year ago or two years ago. slow and steady! so, average cartoon, not terrible, but nothing outstanding either.

#lt #moonlight for two #reviews #long post

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 13: "Which Witch Is Which?"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 13)

AKA "That Voodoo You Don’t Do"

In a misty marsh, a strange, hunch-backed figure pushes a punt boat through the water, pausing to look behind him so the camera can see his face. 

What a looker.

Not far away or long after, the gang are taking a shortcut on their fishing trip. They've gotten lost due to Fred’s terrible route-planning (seriously, I may need to start keeping track from here, i feel like the gang getting lost while on the road becomes a trope later on), and catch sight of a figure by the road, holding a lantern but apparently not visible enough to register as anything strange. While Scooby “fishes” in the back of the van by dipping a line tied to his tail into a bucket full of water, the Mystery Machine pulls to a stop so Shaggy can ask for directions.

Fleeing in terror from the “zombie”, the gang arrive in a community evidently named “Swamp’s End”, if the sign on the General Store is any indication, still quite badly lost. 

While Scooby raids an open tin of beans (wouldn’t they be dry? I can’t imagine wet beans being left out for sale in a non-refrigerated environment), the gang speak to the store owner, a thickly-bearded fella by the name of Zeke. He tells them that the zombie was created by an old witch with “voodoo magic”. Zeke and his buddy Zeb Perkins first caught sight of her six months back, having gone into the swamp for some frog gigging. 

Seen above: the landscaping concept for my fallback retirement plans. The witch chants above her fire, “Smoke of darkness, demon of evil, take the form of the living, and come forth from the flame!” and the logs and fire fade away, replaced by the zombie. He’s even already got his lantern!

While Zeke relates that the town is abandoned except for the two of them and that Zeb has been scared so bad he won’t go outdoors, Scooby’s inattentive eating wind up giving him a mouthful of jumping beans, leading to him bouncing around and hiccuping.

This was a popular bit in older cartoons, especially Hanna-Barbera ones, but it seems like nowadays, “jumping beans” aren’t really part of popular culture. It’s probably because the reason they “jump” is that they’re parasitized by a caterpillar, and novelty items powered by insect larvae are not as popular as @bogleech​ might hope.

While Fred, Velma, and Daphne clean up Zeke’s shop after Scooby’s bug-induced hopping fit, Scooby and Shaggy are tasked with checking on Zeb. They arrive to find his cabin showing sings of having been inhabited, but dusty and full of cobwebs—there’s no sign of Perkins himself.

Well, except for one.

Shaggy assumes that Zeb’s been shrunk, but Velma explains that it’s a “voodoo doll” made in his likeness. “Voodoo” is tossed around a lot in this episode, and that could be blamed on it being the mistaken assumptions of white people and pop culture about any folk magic practices, but pretty much everything observable about the swamp witch except her zombie servant is actually rooted in European and especially English and Germanic folk magic and superstitions. 

Her “Halloween witch” looks draw on the typical mishegoss of stereotypes of feminine villainy that include a vaguely antisemitic hooked nose, and a hat style that i’ve ranted about before (and others have noted is linked to the beer-brewing traditions in Europe, along with things like the broom, solitary old women, and having cats around); the “voodoo doll” is in fact an English-style poppet and most of the connection to voodoo/vodou is based in racist propaganda. Even her hut looks more like something illustrated by Arthur Rackham or Ivan Bilibin.

The gang take a boat out into the swamp and catch sight of their targets, but lose them among the reeds and waters. Continuing further on, they find signs warning them to BEWARE and GO BACK, but press onward, and find the witch’s "shack”—complete with pin-pricked poppets in the likeness of Fred, Daphne, Velma, and Shaggy propped up against a mirror! .

Velma thinks it’s “phony baloney”, but  Scooby can’t resist testing it out.

Ah, the loyalty of Man’s Best Friend. “Coincidentally”, Shaggy backs into a fork just as Scooby literally stabs his likeness in the back, and the witch appears in a puff of smoke. “So, you dared entered the swamp in spite of my warning signs!”

Daphne’s response?

Everyone else is stunned by her sick burn, but i notice in this moment that there’s a portrait of the witch up on the wall. What an oddly extra touch on the part of the villains! How long do you figure it took them to make it, or did they acquire it somewhere and tailor the witch disguise to match it?

Enraged, the witch casts a spell on Daphne, bidding the “smoke of evil, make her vanish!” and causing the redhead to disappear in a puff of smoke, leaving only her footprints behind on the rug where she was standing.

The bright pink rug that was not visible in any prior shots, in spite of Daphne’s full body and shoes on the bare wood floor being on-screen. 

But Velma and Fred realize that the way Daphne’s footprints seem to slide backwards mean that there’s a trap door, and find it when investigating below the house. Following footprints further into the swamp in hopes of finding their friend, they catch sight of a derelict river boat and the zombie’s punt... which has an odd little extra.

The end of the punting pole is embellished with a metal tip that has clearly had more intent and care put into its design than the episode’s villains themselves (not to mention such things as bright pink rugs), with extra little indentations and rivets that are far from necessary to convey its role in the scheme.

The gang go to investigate the riverboat, unknowingly watched by the cackling witch and her undead minion, who begin to terrorize the foursome as they split up and search the boat. 

While Shaggy and Scooby flee the zombie, Fred and Velma hear a muffled voice behind a wall with no clear entry, and try to find a secret entrance. Velma tries tugging on a lantern because “it’s always done that way in the movies”, but instead pulls it clean off the wall and tumbles backwards, knocking over an old bucket and sending a bar of soap flying at an emergency axe mounted on the wall—which was the actual trigger for the secret door.

Why is there always a secret door? It’s never just that the door is somewhere else and they happened to take a wrong turn, there’s never just a dead end.

Finding a grunting sheet-clad shape inside the secret room, Velma initially mistakes it for a ghost, but pulling away the sheet quickly reveals it’s Daphne... and a search of the room finds a very modern electrical winch, cutting torch, and set of power tools.

An aside for observation on characterization: i’ve joked a lot about Velma being not as skeptical as she makes herself seem, but i think the “credulity to skeptic” scale of the gang goes something like this:

Shaggy

Daphne

Scooby

Velma

Fred

I rated Scooby in the middle, though it varies in later series, because he actually seems to wind up noticing something isn’t supernatural faster than the others, either due to circumstance or canine senses. When he doesn’t, he usually reacts to a threat because the others are reacting to it, taking cues on what to fear based mostly on Shaggy. Much of the time, he seems innocent to what something could be except “big and angry”, and only really reacts with terror when one of his human friends says something.

Speaking of fear: the witch and zombie take advantage of being a team to terrorize both divisions of the gang at the same time, including the witch seeming to fly after them. But the discovery of a modern fan-powered airboat tucked into a passage in the riverboat also leads to the discovery that the flying witch is nothing more than a painted sheet thrown over a balloon, a cheaper trick than most Halloween decorations.

The airboat’s throttle gets stuck, and Scooby tosses down an improbably large anchor. The jarring stop brings up a lot of swampwater... and an entire armored bank car. Soon, the gang have improvised a rope-and-pulley system with some sturdy trees, and pull the truck to shore, finding sacks full of money with big old dollar signs drawn on, in case you were confused about what the enormous bags secured inside an armored bank car could possibly be.

Fred’s trap this time around is to leave some of those bags out in the open, where the witch and zombie—who the gang rightfully conclude have been hunting for this, using the metal-tipped pole to sound out the swamp floor for the metal roof of the car—can find them. Without breaking character, the gruesome twosome run up to the bags, cackling and mumbling with glee.

Of course, the bags are mostly filled with Scooby and Shaggy.

Kasem’s delivery on this line is magnificent, by the way. Leading the costumed crooks into a trap, the plan almost goes off without a hitch, but as usual, Scooby gets knocked along with the villains into a waiting wagon that rolls downhill towards the open back of the armored car. It’s only Shaggy demonstrating improbable line-casting skill that keeps Scooby from being trapped with the villains, as he uses a fishing pole to snag the bag Scooby is still wearing and pull him back uphill.

Jinkies, but Shaggy is strong. Why is this boy scared of anything? He could probably lift most of the villains of the week with one hand. I feel like there’s a lot to be said about the fact that Shaggy is a jock who doesn’t realize he is one, especially when we get into the episodes and movies where he actually competes in sports.

The gang meet up with a sheriff outside of the General Store, and it’s unsurprisingly revealed that the witch is Zeke, while the zombie is Zeb, explained as having hijacked the armored car in the first place, sinking it to find it later after the heat died down. The Scooby wiki notes that this episode seems to feature a rare example of a character from outside of the gang being reused: the Sheriff originates in the very first episode, as seen in this model sheet from a now-defunct Cartoon Network page, though the episode number doesn’t match up.

The episode ends with the gang musing on this having begun as a fishing trip, and Scooby is still dipping his tail-strung line into a bucket in the back of the Mystery Machine. “Give up,” says Fred, but less than a second later, Scooby pulls a hooked fish out of the water!

As Scooby defies the laws of physics and common sense once more, the gang share a laugh, and... fade to credits.

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order) 

#scooby doo #KRAOSD

[84reedsy]

50 Shades of Christmas: Bam

Part 5 of 5, the finale of the holiday series!

Characters: Bam/OC

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: Steam, language, slight smut

Description: Bam has shown Michelle a side of him that she wants to use the holiday to explore more.

Michelle awoke from her cat nap. Stretching, the blanket moved, almost uncovering her bare body from the trickle of dusky light that filtered through the window curtain gap. The sun was almost set and it was Christmas eve. She smiled as she saw the little rustic tree tucked into the little corner of their little bush cabin.

Other than her stretching moans and the crackle of the wood stove fire, no other noises were around. She was sure Bam was still helping chop wood and ready the middle of the family’s compound for the great Christmas bonfire. The sun set early so even as dark fell they’d still have at least a couple of hours. She glanced at the glimmering purple package beneath the tree boughs. Iridescent snowflakes caught the light and cast reflections on the hewn log walls.

Bam would shake his head at her excitement over the trimmings and trappings of the holiday, though every time she’d wish aloud for some decoration, he’d show up with it shortly after as if he’d just accidentally stumbled across it. She knew he was secretly a ‘Santa’s little helper’ at heart, but didn’t call him out on it as he’d only square his shoulder and deny it.

“They don’t call me Bam Humbug for being the harbinger of the season.” He’d say.

She stretched her muscles again, their slight soreness a welcome reminder of her morning wake-up call. He wasn’t always as kinky as other times, but he clearly had a plethora of stored energy that he could barely wait to expend. She’d been so spent, she hadn’t even been able to redress before resting. Michelle couldn’t fathom the thought all of that love-making and then going to chop wood or any other hard labor for that matter.

She slipped on a baggy t-shirt that sank down one shoulder. She began to brew some peppermint tea, knowing that as much as Bam liked the cold, he would return chilled and would more than appreciate the gesture. She was a little giddy, albeit slightly nervous as well as she glanced again at the purple package beneath the tree. The gift tag had Bam’s name on it, but it certainly wasn’t a gift only for him.

The door swung open and she barely missed spilling hot tea on her hand, startled by the noise and the rush of cold air that swirled through the cabin. Bam’s cheeks were tinged pink, small snowflakes hung in his curls, but his arms were bare as was usual for him. She never could understand how he didn’t have hypothermia on a daily basis.

“Good morning..” She smiled coyly, sipping her tea. Bam’s lips cocked into a smug grin.

“Good afternoon, wife.” His voice seemed unrealistically deep, she had to contain herself from shuddering in its wake. She rose from perching on the chair, bringing him the tea, perfectly steeped. He took it in his hands, inhaling it’s aromatic notes, “You certainly know what I like.”

He sipped the tea humming as it warmed his belly.

“I see you’ve dressed, barely.” He fingered the hem of her shirt that barely dropped below her hips, but just enough to maintain the slightest bit of modesty.

“Well, I thought we could go ahead and do our one gift on Christmas Eve. I figured being naked for that wasn’t appropriate.” She slightly twisted from side to side with excitement.

“With that gorgeous body, covering it is what isn’t appropriate.” He winked, settling in the chair. He reached for a small package wrapped in brown paper with cedar boughs and a pinecone adorning it; Michelle grabbed the purple package. He patted his knee and she happily sat herself in his lap, eagerly exchanging the boxes.

“You first.” He grinned, taking another sip of tea, watching as she opened the package quickly. Inside was a beautiful pair of mittens in green with delicate cabling.

“Oh Joshua! They are beautiful!” She slipped them on immediately, folding her fingers to move the mitten, “I love them!” He beamed slightly, proud she liked his gift. He slowly began opening his, slow enough that it seemed to drag on for hours.

“Joshua! Just open it!” She bounced in his lap a little as he cut the tape on the box open carefully. Moving aside the tissue paper, his hand grasped the leather clad handle inside, pulling out the item, his eyebrows raising slightly.

The leather wrapped tendrils from the device swayed lightly from the handle. Her eyes flashed excitedly as she looked from it to him, waiting for his reaction.

“It’s…wow.” He was stunned. She’d always seemed to like his kinky games, but she hadn’t been as bold as to suggest anything. Apparently her kink had been awoken as well, “It’s a cat-o-nine tails.” His grin spread across his face, slightly devious.

“Yep. Do you like it?” SHe worried her lip a bit, hoping the gift didn’t come off demanding.

“Oh, Michelle…” He flipped it over in his hand, the tendril snapping slightly against the air, “Girl…you know you’re way to this man’s heart.”

She hugged him, giddy; her excitement bubbled over.

Bam looked over the device, turning it in his hand, studying. Slowly he brought it to her calf. The leather was cool, but supple as he slide it up her leg at a snail’s pace. The tickle was intense, her shiver uncontrollable. At her thigh, he lifted it slightly and brought it back with a flick of his wrist. The leather knotted ends of the ropes snapped lightly against her skin, a small sting from each littered across her skin. She jumped but her desire celebrated the slow, warm burn that spread from each point of contact. Bam’s low, lusty chuckle rumbled in his chest. He lifted her shirt upwards, flinging it to the floor. He flicked his tongue over her aroused nipple as his new toy continued it’s ascent up her form.

“Well, what a Merry Christmas this will be for me.”

#alaskan bush people #alaskan bush people fan fic #alaskanbushpeople #alaskanbushpeoplefanfic #alaskan bush people fan fiction #abp #abpfanfic #abpfanfiction #abp fan fic #abp fan fiction #bam bam brown #bam brown #joshua bam bam brown #50shades #50 shades #50shadesofabp

[theopenrhode]

The Ultimate Road Trip Guide To Alaska: Denali (part 2)2

(This is part 2 of our 4 part Alaska Series)

After our long drive of the Dalton Highway through the Alaskan wilderness, we felt back to civilization in a sense and returned our Jeep to Arctic Outfitters trading it for a “normal” rental car and headed south to Denali National Park. We chose to visit Alaska in September for a few different reasons…avoidance of the crowds and flies associated with summer travel and a chance to spy the Northern Lights. Note though that Denali’s summer bus service stops the second week after Labor Day each year. Thus, our visit was the final day of the busy service. Once the bus service ends for the season, cars are only permitted to drive the road up to 30 miles and then must turn around. The exception to this is the Road Lottery, an event wherein winners of a lottery system may buy a permit to drive the entire road (if weather allows) on the second weekend after Labor Day. Once significant snowfall accumulates, the park road frequently can’t be driven further than Mile 3, Park Headquarters. 

Denali Bus

We chose the transit bus which is a non narrated bus that travels into Denali’s interior as far as Wonder Lake, 85 miles from the start of the park and about a 5 hour bus ride. These are green buses that you can hop on or hop off throughout the day for one set fee of ~$60. Because we traveled on the last day of the park’s summer bus schedule, it was crowd free AND a surprise 8 inches of snow made for a different Denali than most people experience. While the snow blanketed everything in a beautiful white; unfortunately, it completed obscured any chance of actually seeing Denali (formerly Mt. McKinley). Cloud cover commonly obscures Denali and statistics say that only 1 in 3 visitors see and unobstructed view. However, we witnessed many moose and saw a glorious grizzly bear happily rolling in the snow as well as a herd of Dall sheep. Wonder Lake, if the weather is perfect, affords amazing views of Denali which can be seen in reflection in the blue waters of the lake. Also, at the end of the bus route is the McKinley Bar Trail. This trail takes you from the Wonder Lake Campground to the McKinley River gravel bar. It’s an easy flat out and back with acres of spruce trees. As it was the last day of the season, we cut it much closer than we should have to catch not only the last bus of the day, but of the entire season..we had to run that last mile and caught the bus as it was pulling away. Close call. This bus is pretty no frills, so bring whatever you’ll need for the day (food, drinks, clothing layers, etc). We hopped on/off with zero waits, though in the summer, the bus is first come, first served, so you may have to wait until a bus has free seats in the direction you are heading (either into or out of the park). 

Savage Alpine Trail

Our second day in Denali, we drove in to Mile 13-15 and parked our car at the trailhead for the Savage Alpine Trail. This trail is four miles, and connects the Savage River area with Savage River Campground. In the summer season, you can use the Savage River Shuttle to travel back to your starting point if you need to pick up a car, or use it to return to the park entrance if you have no vehicle..given the time of year, we walked about two miles along the park road back to our car. This hike has a bit of a vertical ascent at the start and likely has beautiful views, but all that snow made staying on the trail difficult and marred the views quite a bit. When hiking in Alaska, I would strongly suggest bear spray. We bought our at Fred Meyer, which sells just about everything you could possibly imagine…food, clothes, bear spray, and they’ll even make you a sandwich. Definitely stop here to stock up. Fortunately, we never had to use that bear spray! though I worriedly carried mine in a little holster on my hip the whole time. 

49th State Brewing Company

Our lodging in the Denali area was at the Denali Princess Wilderness Lodge. We chose this lodge as it was less than a mile from the park’s entrance, it is located on the banks of the Nenana River, and they have a charming log cabin atmosphere with expansive decks that jut out over the river. They do have on site dining options, but we chose a couple of local establishments. A word of caution though, like the bus tours, this lodge closes September 16th and so do many of the surrounding eateries. The Black Bear is a cafe/coffeehouse that is worth a stop..I can personally recommend a delicious homemade apple cake. We also dined at the The Denali Park Salmon Bake which gets great reviews, though we only experienced late night snacks at the bar. In my opinion though, the can’t miss local restaurant is the 49th State Brewing Company located 8 miles from Denali. They have an award winning brew, an outdoor beer garden and you can even see a replica of the bus that Alex McCandless from the novel, Into The Wild, called home. They have a sophisticated pub menu and welcoming atmosphere and you can buy some cool merchandise. 

Talkeetna

From Denali, we made a pit stop at Talkeetna en route to Anchorage. Talkeetna is small town Alaska at it’s finest. There is only one paved road, Main St, lined with clapboard stores, funky local galleries, and a brewery. There is way more to do in Talkeetna than our brief lunch stop permitted. Flightseeing tours of Denali leave from the local airstrip and it’s a jumping off point for Denali climbers. One of the best pullouts to see Denali is just before driving into Talkeetna. We dined at the Denali Brew Pub (see pics!) where my husband had an amazing beer infused with coffee and I had a spiked root beer. 

We concluded this leg of our journey with a short stay in Anchorage which consisted of one an overnight stay at the Hotel Captain Cook. We scored a corner room and ironically, miles from Denali National Park, here we had our first view of Denali! Despite being hundreds of miles away, the towering mountain reached into the clouds and was still impressive in its size. We also saw a very brief but bright display of the Northern Lights that shone through the light pollution of Anchorage. After a long day of driving, we stretched our legs on the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail which is an 11 mile trail that you can pick up at various points in the city and walk as much as you’d like and glimpse Denali from a distance. Dining here in Anchorage was at the Glacier Brewhouse a short walk from our hotel which is known for Alaskan seafood and roasted meats and has a warm ambiance and crackling fires. 

Denali...finally! Denali did not disappoint. Granted, we did not see the mountain from the park, but a grizzly rolling in the snow surpassed our expectations and gave a chance to see a side of the park that few experience. Furthermore, our favorite parts of Alaska were still to come!

Click Here for Part 3 of our Alaska Series After our long drive of the Dalton Highway through the Alaskan wilderness, we felt back to civilization and returned our off road Jeep to Arctic Outfitters, trading it for a “normal” rental car and headed south to Denali National Park. Along the way we were greeted with amazing views, never ending mountains, and beautiful blue winding rivers. You could spend a whole week in Denali National Park and Preserve. There are amazing hikes, wildlife, fantastic restaurants, and much more.  Our guide will help plan your Denali, AK adventure.  Get out there and explore Alaska. (This is part 2 of our 4 part Alaska Series) You can read the whole series on our adventure blog: http://champagnetraveling.com/category/adventure-travel-destinations/united-states-and-canada-travel/united-states/ #Alaska #Hiking #NorthernLights #wildlife #ChampagneTraveling #roadtrip #Denali #Daltonhighway #alaskatravel #alaskatraveladventures #alaskatraveled #denalinationalpark #denalihighway #denalinationalparkandpreserve #DenaliStatePark #denaliprincesslodge #denaliparkvillage #travelblog #travelguide Read the full article

#HIking #NorthernLights #wildlife

[seasauvage787]

A Heart To Come Home To The Jonsa Gift Exchange:Milestones

for @geekprincess26   hope you enjoy!

The first time Jon and Sansa meet.... or is it?

Sansa Stark took the phone call. The man on the other end hesitated before he spoke.

“Hello, I…um… am looking to purchase an older home that needs to be restored. Kind of a fixer-upper.”

“You are interested in moving up north?” asked Sansa trying to get some more concrete information.

“I’m kind of interested in finding a calm place, a place I can work on.”

“And you currently live in Kings Landing?”

“Kind of. Not really. I stay with my parents most of the time. I have to travel a lot with my job, so I live in hotels more or less.”

“We have plenty of older properties that we represent here in Wintertown and all the way up to The Gift. Winterfell Realty Associates pride ourselves in our selection of unique properties.”

“Yes, I was referred by a friend who relocated north. Brianne Tarth.”

“Oh yes, my sister worked with her. She found her a lovely home last year. In fact, my sister is currently working with Ms. Tarth to acquire an old armory to turn into a fencing academy.

“Ms. Stark, I have a tight schedule. Is there any chance that you could show me some properties? I will be out of the country for the next 2 or 3 weeks.”

“I can certainly make arrangements. Will the day after tomorrow suit?”

“Could we make it tomorrow? I’m already here in town visiting friends. Do you know the Tarleys?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I usually like to give a days notice for the sellers to ready their property.”

“Actually, since I’m looking for something that will be a project, I don’t think condition will matter.”

“Well then, Mr….? I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name. And we’ve had such a long conversation. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Sorry, I didn’t actually introduce myself. I’m Jon Snow.”

“Certainly, Mr. Snow. I’ll be busy setting things up today. What time will be good for you tomorrow?”

“I’d like to get an early start. Does 10:00 am work for you?”

“Yes, that will be wonderful. Thank you for calling Winterfell Realty Associates.”

“I’ll be at your offices at 10:00, then. Thank you Ms. Stark. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Thank you Mr. Snow.”

Sansa hung up the phone and literally screamed “Arya, oh my fucking gods where are you? Get over here! I just got off the phone with Jon fucking yes, Jon fucking Snow.”

“Yeah, how do you know that? I bet you just got pranked.”

“Because he said that he was friends with Brianne Tarth. Remember you told me that she was the fencing consultant on that gladiator or something movie.  And aren't you working with her right now to buy the old armory for her fencing academy? She referred him.”

“Yes, I am but that's beside the point. You are so shitting me. That can't be. This is the north. There's tons of people up here whose last name is Snow.”

“And are they all named Jon? Doubt that one.”

“Oh yeah. How many Jon fucking Snows are there? Google it.”

“I don't know how many Jon Snow's there are and I’m not going to google anything. It sounded like him. You know, that kind of husky... growly... sexy kind of voice.”

“All right Sansa, now you are imagining things. I bet you’ve never even seen his movies or TV show!”

“If you think I'm imagining things, then listen to this. He said he wanted to buy an old place that he could fix up. He said he travels a lot and needed a calm place.”

“I won't believe it till I see him.”

“You will tomorrow when he shows up to go looking at houses with me.”

“Then you better get your ass going and find some properties to show him. Maybe I should call him back. Ask him to be a little more specific and I’ll be the one showing him houses!”

“Oh no, you won't. This is mine. I took the call, I’m going to do the work and I get to take him to tour the properties.”

Sansa was on the computer and phone for the rest of the day. She looked through all of the properties they were representing and the MLS for the region. She was frustrated that she only came up with a handful of potentials.

Lucky for her the unique properties were all represented by Winterfell Realty Associates. She found a loft in the warehouse district of Wintertown, an ancient homestead with major wooded acreage on the edge of Long Lake, about 50 miles north, a creepy windmill with a couple acres of pasture 30 miles away, and an decrepit log cabin in the middle of the Wolfswood just 10 miles out of town.

She was sure from his vague description that he probably wouldn’t be interested in the loft, but it was located in the historic district where Brianne Tarth was looking to purchase. So it was worth a shot.

She ran a search on the Tarleys. They lived on the edge of Wintertown in one of the newer suburbs that were springing up around the University of the Northlands. They must be affiliated with the school. Why else would people move north?

Sansa left her office after everyone else had gone for the day. Since she finished her MBA a year early, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. So she went back to her family home at Winterfell and worked with her father and sister in the family’s real estate business. Actually, she was grateful. She had rushed through her BA in History, but at 20 she felt too young to be a high school teacher. Of course, she then rushed through her MBA as if the added degree would give her more direction. Not really. Not yet anyway.

All evening, Sansa was mulling these things over in her head.  She was glad that everybody was out of the house for once, even the boys. Everyone had someplace to go except Sansa. She had a glass of wine with dinner and another as she sat at her computer scanning the MLS again. Maybe if I watch his TV show, I can match his voice. I know what he looks like. What he looks like on TV in character, anyway.

Sansa signed into the family’s HBO To Go account and pulled up Jon Snow’s series. She didn’t really follow Path of Honor. It was a semi historical drama set in England and she hated when they got the history wrong. Her logical mind just refused to make that leap into fantasy. She didn’t like Lord of the Rings, either. Sansa cued up the latest episode and sat down on the couch with her third glass of wine.

She was standing in a huge drafty room. It was cold even though there was a roaring fire. She had her coat and gloves on, but she could still feel the bitter bone deep cold. Sansa looked down to rebutton her coat. There were no buttons, in fact she was wearing some sort of woolen and fluffy fur cape and a very heavy long dress that felt like leather armor. The dress itched where it caught her waist and down the front of her legs, even through the thick woolen stockings. She was definitely not wearing high heels.

The door at the far end of the room slammed open and a group of men in huge fur cloaks and similar leather armor strode into the room. This brought a strong gust of cold wind sweeping through, causing the candles to stutter. She watched the dark haired man at the front of the group stride assuredly toward her. He was frowning in the most handsome way. As he approached, she saw that his consternation was fading the closer he got to her. Sansa took in a deep breath as he knelt before her.

“My Lady Sansa. I am most humbly at your service.” he said and lowered his head.

She watched in stunned silence as he turned his head slightly to look up at her through thick dark lashes. He winked as he took her hand in his. He kissed it and whispered “My love.” into the palm of her hand.

Sansa woke up disoriented. She looked around. She was stretched out on the couch and the TV was on the home screen. Clearly she had slept through the show. It was 2:00 am, so she clicked off the screen and went upstairs to bed.

Sansa was looking out of a window on an upper floor of some sort of stone tower. There were people sparring with longswords below in the training yard. She could hear the metal clash and scrape. The two men moved like dancers and the arc of their swords careening toward impact was mesmerizing.  Did they know she was watching? She hoped not. She leaned out to get a better view. As she did, her elbow knocked a loose stone from the ledge. She watched it fall in slow motion and land with a thud. The two men froze, then looked toward the sky expecting an attack.

“Oops, sorry.” she called down to them feeling her face flush with embarrassment.

The man with the dark hair turned toward the sound of her voice. He smiled.

“Why Lady Sansa, I didn’t know you were interested in our daily training.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Everything that keeps us safe, I guess.”

“My Lady, I am always here to keep you safe.”

Sansa woke at the sound of her alarm. What crazy dreams!  She got herself together over a cup of Earl Grey that her mother had left in the teapot. After her shower, she did her makeup carefully. Too much blush or lip and Arya would accuse her of flirting. She could hear Arya upstairs and was determined to get out of the house before her. Sansa knew they were going to be driving around all day and walking each property, so she decided that a suit wasn’t the best idea. Instead she chose a pair of tan leather jodpers and cream silk blouse. She grabbed a fuzzy wool sweater and her trainers just in case, to protect her new suede boots. She stuffed everything into a huge bag she used for her yoga mat and gym clothes. There were already four bottled waters at the bottom. She gave herself a once over in the hall mirror and walked out to her car.

It was 8:30 when she unlocked the main door to the office. She flicked on lights on the way to her office and set the pot to brew up some coffee. Sansa walked around straightening things before going back to her office to check addresses, contacts, lockbox keys and anything else she might need. It was only 8:45. A bit more than an hour until her celebrity client arrived. Wouldn’t it be hysterical if it wasn’t THE Jon Snow. Arya will never let me live this down.

Sansa went back to her office. Curiosity was killing her. She googled Jon Snow and clicked images. Hundreds of them appeared instantly. Jon Snow in costume, in street clothes, publicity shots. Ok, so if it’s actually him, I’ll know it. She glanced at the clock. At 9:30, Arya walked into her office.

“I’m hanging with you until he comes. I’ve seen every episode of Path of Honor at least 4 times. I think I deserve at least a selfie, don’t you?”

“Since when are you a fan girl?”

“I’m a secret fan girl. Come on, any show with sword fights is my type of entertainment.”

“It’s about 10:00, he should be here.”

“He isn’t, so there. See, I told you that you got pranked. Probably by your crazy ex bae, Joffrey. Why is a ‘to die for’ celebrity going to want to buy a house up here? And a fixer upper at that. Come on Sansa.”

“I’m going to reserve judgement on that until I meet him.”

The minutes passed. 10:05, 10:10, 10:12....... At 10:24, the office door to Winterfell Realty Associates opened. By this time, they had migrated to the foyer in anticipation.

“This is quite the welcoming party. For me? asked Ned Stark. “Or are you waiting for the young man just parking his car?”

“The man parking the car, of course.” replied Sansa. “I have an appointment to show him some properties today.”

“Then Arya, you scatter.You both look like..... I don’t know what you look like but, it’s intimidating. You two look ready to pounce, that’s it, like girls waiting for an autograph from a movie star.”

“Dad,” started Arya “Autographs are out of style. Selfies are so much better.”

“Don’t you dare, Arya.” said her father with mock sternness.

“Then you know who he is?” asked Sansa.

“Of course, I watch Path of Honor every Sunday. Your mother and I wouldn’t miss it.”

As they were all talking, Jon Snow quietly walked in the door. He stood there waiting until Ned looked up. He stepped forward and extended his hand to Jon and shook it heartily.

“Nice to hear that you follow our show. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“I do, I do too.” added Arya extending her hand and energetically shaking Jon’s. “I love the sword fights. I’m a fencer.”

“Yes, I love the fight scenes. You’re working with Brianne on her fencing academy, am I correct?”

“Hi, I’m Sansa Stark. We spoke yesterday. I have some properties per your request. They range from from about 50 miles out of town on Long Lake to here in town.” She said in a very business like manner, hoping to get past any discussion about his show. She didn’t want to admit her lack of enthusiasm.

“Sounds like a day. Shall we get going, then. Do you mind if I drive?” asked Jon. “I love it up here.”

“Not at all. I’ll get my things and we can be on our way.”

Jon followed her down the hall and into her office. Sansa didn’t realize he was standing there as she turned with her iPad, purse and bag stuffed to the brim. Her bag caught on the desk corner and the contents began to cascade out. As she reached out, she lost her balance, falling awkwardly toward Jon. He caught her in his arms and held her for the longest 30 seconds of her life.

“Oops, sorry.” she said very flustered and embarrassed.

“I am always here to keep you safe.” he replied.

#jonsaexchange #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #AO3 #milestones

[annchumleigh]

Denver Colorado History

From its founding in 1858 until today, Denver Colorado has seen it all from the devastating fire to the flash flood that swept the city even after the famine it had suffered. Denver strived to get back to its feet and become a fastest growing urban community. From the humble beginnings of fur trappers and prospector gold miners, the city ranks as one of the most peaceful and livable cities in the country.

Early settlers

Arapaho Indians, fur trappers, and traders often stopped at an area because of its many resources, this particular site, is now called Denver. The city was named after James W. Denver who served as the governor of Kansa Territory, which the city used to be a part of.

June 1858, marked an astounding find with the discovery of gold. A small group of prospectors from Georgia crossed the Colorado Territory in search of this highly valuable mineral. Although not much gold was found in the area, the news spreads like wildfire, and by 1859, the gold rush reached far and wide. It didn’t take long before wagons, tents, tepees, and log cabins were erected on the banks of South Platte River as fortune-seekers flocked into the area. These people came from all corners of the country bringing all their possessions and families in search of gold. Its popularity earned a name for which many called the extraordinary discovery as ‘Pikes Peak or Bust’.  

Not long after, the founding of the rival towns of St. Charles and Auraria on the opposite sides of Cherry Creek. In 1860, Denver City and Auraria were consolidated and a year later Colorado state was established.

Denver famous Gold Mines

Denver started out as a gold mining town founded in 1858 which is located in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. With the abundance fish harvests of South Platte River, migrants flock to the area which grew rapidly. Most people who come to Denver were optimistic to struck silver and gold to many of its mining areas.

All dried up

Many did find gold in Denver but the supply quickly dried up and the city was transformed into a supply hub for other mines in the region. During the 1870s silver become more economically important than gold. Several mining fortunes were established right away but the period of opulence stopped in 1893. Soon, smelters closed, banks failed, and silver moguls lost all of their fortunes.

But instead of becoming a ghost town, it attracted another set of investors who quickly built a rail line from Cheyenne to Kansas. As the new rail became more accessible it brought fresh supplies of good as well as new people into the city. To prevent major decline, farming, cattle, and sheep ranching flourished providing a more stable source of income. By then, Denver became the new county set of Arapahoe County and eventually the state capital.

Catastrophic period

A devastating fire devoured the city in 1863 and a year later a ravaging flash flood swept what was left of the city. The catastrophe killed 20 people and causing millions of dollars in damage. An uprising by the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians forced the city to give up its seat from Colorado. When the Indian war broke out, it cut all supply lines which left Denver in just six weeks ration of food, causing a famine in the city.

Being a strong-minded people, these hardships made Denver more determined not just to survive the series of catastrophes but to thrive as a community. The city of Denver raised their own money amounting to $300,000 to build their very own railroad when the Union Pacific Railroad bypassed Colorado. The new railroad met with the Union Pacific in Cheyenne, Wyoming attracting more investors and residents. This turn of events greatly affected the economic boom of Denver with the increased population from 4,759 in 1870 to 106,713 in 1890.

A new beginning

The convenient public transportations like rail and air travel turned Denver into a wide city during the 20th century. Denver’s economy was purely in the shipping of minerals and other useful ranch products. But it all changed with the war brewing on the edge, the city is strategically an ideal place to conduct federal activity as it’s located far from either coast. The Cold War deeply contributed to the economic development of Denver but ended in the 1990s. After the war, gas and oil companies find Denver their ideal place to start a new with the vast constructions of skyscrapers. The economy of Denver immediately booms with the combined spending of major investors and the federal government. From a small mining town, Denver evolved into a buzzing town with modern buildings and amenities.

After spending time exploring Denver Colorado and learning about its history, don’t miss the chance to drop by at LIVNFRESH shop for some awesome items.

The post Denver Colorado History appeared first on LIVNFRESH.

from LIVNFRESH http://blog.livnfresh.com/history-of-denver-colorado/ from Livnfresh Share Your State Pride. http://livnfresh.tumblr.com/post/175542186112 via http://livnfresh.tumblr.com/

#Livnfresh Share Your State Pride.

[sentrava]

On the Whiskey-Fueled Tennessee Backroads

The Tennessee Whiskey Trail has taken us from the pulse of Memphis—Beale Street, of course—right to five miles from my childhood home in Tullahoma. But it’s the Tennessee backroads that truly have my heart, so I was really looking forward to the middle leg of our journey the most.

This is the third post in a series about the Tennessee Whiskey Trail. To read in chronological order, start with the backstory of how the trail came to be, then follow us to the far corner of West Tennessee in Memphis and on into Nashville.

The limestone hills, deep wells of mineral rich water, and fertile soil for the production of corn and grains means that the history of this area is steeped in distilling, particularly straight down the middle division. But, Jack Daniel’s and George Dickel were the only two legal manufacturers in Tennessee to survive the political and social upheaval that followed the great purges of alcohol production during and after Prohibition.

The era of teetotalers—from the 1820s onward to its climax in the ratification on January 16, 1919 of the 18th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States—took unprecedented sledgehammers to the liquor laws of this country and virtually decimated the industry. Tennessee was on the bleeding edge of this movement, having adopted a statewide ban on the manufacture of alcohol as early as 1909, with earlier efforts in the late 1800s slowly squeezing the life out of the industry until the full ban could be implemented.

Even when the government sobered up (ha) and realized how big of a mistake it had made, the damage was done. While the 21st Amendment, ratified in 1933, was a relief to many thirsty Americans and businesses, the entire regulatory and industrial structure was turned on its head and elements of Prohibition still remained under the law (and still do to this day).

For Tennesseans this meant that, until 2009, the only liquor we could call our own were Jack and George. This has now changed and state tourism is beginning to absorb the tantalizing implications of upward of 30 manufacturers driving tourists into our smaller towns and backroads to explore and experience the glorious Tennessee Whiskey Trail, which we completed a few weeks ago. #braggingrights

For those of you touching down in Nashville with only a couple days to hit the trail, these are the parts I recommend if you want a true taste of the culture, history and of course, spirit that the middle section of Tennessee has to offer. And you know I have to say it, but always take a designated driver. You’ll have more fun, taste more things and there won’t be a chance your name and mugshot will appear in the local newspaper after being arrested by a smartly dressed State Trooper in a wide-brimmed hat.

THOMPSON’S STATION

H. Clark Distillery

A lawyer by trade, proprietor Heath Clark helped get the ball rolling with his law degree, but didn’t open his own distillery until 2014. H. Clark is a true micro-distillery in the very sense of the word: The distillery is just 1,200 square feet in size, the team focuses on producing a small selection of high-end spirits, and bonus, you’ll likely get to meet Heath while there (if you can pull him away from his lawyering). His Tennessee Dry Gin is an exceptional addition to anyone’s liquor cabinet, and if you’re lucky enough to corner Dixie, the distiller, he will patiently explain the process for making one of SVV’s favorite new whiskeys, the Black & Tan.

LEIPER’S FORK

Leiper’s Fork Distillery

One of the prettiest properties in the state, Leiper’s Fork Distillery has a stunning gift shop, tasting room, and log cabin fronting a 5,000-square-foot distillery with an event space on 27 grassy acres. Lee Kennedy, the master distiller, often conducts the tour personally at this mid-sized, family-friendly, small-batch operation, and you can’t go wrong with a full tasting of their Hunter’s Select and a sneak-peek sampling of their raw, wheated distillates, which will be embargoed inside a barrel for a few more years. These folks plan to have their first release of site-made whiskey and bourbon by 2021. This particular distillery gets SVV super animated about the future of the industry here, as LFD is putting up eight or more barrels of product every week with a heavy emphasis on the wheat for their bourbon and with a rye-forward recipe for their whiskey.

LYNNVILLE

Tenn South Distillery

The birth of this lovely little destination in the small town of Lynnville came from the minds of an engineer and a radiologist in 2011. As with many of the brains behind the business that we’ve met along the whiskey trail, the backstory of how a couple of friends or family members banded together to conquer the concept of brewing up liquor is a fascinating one, and a reformed scientist with itchy feet is definitely a trend we’re seeing. It’s encouraging and inspiring because they take an entirely different approach to the task.

Clayton James is Tenn South Distillery’s signature addition to the whiskey trail. The distiller Clayton Cutler makes deep cuts into the heart of the distillation process, keeping the purest spirits only, then runs his distillate through sugar maple charcoal chunks under pressure before it is barreled into new white oak barrels. This is an original way of reading the rules of the Lincoln County Process, which legally defines the how and the why of when whiskey can be called Tennessee Whiskey, and Clayton nibbles around the edges of this strict legislation to get his desired result: a filtering process that actually pulls flavor from the charcoal, resulting in a bit of smoke and sugar making their way into the taste and mouthfeel of this 90-proof spirit.

The distillery came out of the gate in 2013 with an All Purpose Shine, which harkens to an antique, white flour branding motif and uses just three local ingredients in a no-cook process that some have called the original method of making moonshine. Their All Mighty Moonshine was released shortly thereafter, and features a still-strength, 140-proof, light-your-pants-on-fire potion in the bottle.

In addition to cooking up ‘shine and putting away whiskey and bourbon, Tenn South also has a close relationship with Big Machine and produces the music label’s branded vodka on a custom-built Vendome that is unlike any that we’ve seen before. Besides being filtered through platinum beads, which is already sci-fi level stuff, the system uses a copper flying saucer type contraption for the continuous column apparatus.

FAYETTEVILLE

Southern Pride Distillery

Parked on gorgeous rolling countryside in the heart of Lincoln County, Southern Pride Distillery embodies the scrappy, Southern way of doing things. Randy Trentham, the proprietor of this classic small-batch distillery, owns the distinction of being the only facility to operate in the actual county (Lincoln) from which the Tennessee Whiskey designation originates.

His product is based around an old family recipe for moonshine with varying flavors but he’s also putting up some quality whiskey that’s just now coming of age. The Double Barrel Whiskey was SVV’s favorite. As with many of the distilleries on the trail, this tour is free and includes a judicious range of samples in the tasting room—not to mention, a one-on-one with Randy himself, who is one of the most animated characters we met on our trail journey.

KELSO

Prichard’s Distillery

Housed in an old elementary school, Prichard’s Distillery is an operation that spans a wide range of products, and they proudly lay claim to being the only distillery allowed to make Tennessee Whiskey without the Lincoln County Process. This is due to a grandfathering clause contained in legislation (Tenn. Code Ann. § 57-2-106 ) enacted in 2013 that defined the conditions for labeling a whiskey here. Prichard’s is best known for its rum, which is delicious, and has been in operation since 1999, though the family heritage in distilling—from Granddaddy Benjamin Prichard of Davidson County—dates back to the 1800s.

LYNCHBURG

Jack Daniel’s Distillery

You can’t even mention Tennessee Whiskey, or whiskey at all for that matter, in the same sentence without Old No. 7 entering the scene. Jasper Newton Daniel, Jack to his friends, broke the seal of legitimate distilling for everyone in this country. As the first registered distiller on the continent that was legally authorized by the federal government back in 1866, Jack Daniel’s leads the pack as the most recognizable brand in the world and is most certainly the largest distributor of whiskey, reaching all corners of the globe.

JD started offering tasting tours a little over a year ago, and there are now four different tasting tours and one “dry county tour” (read: no booze): We did the Angel’s Share tour and got to sample many of their single barrel products (read: there is booze and it’s delicious).

Over 280,000 visitors come to Lynchburg every year to experience its whiskey namesake; for a town of just over 6,000 in the heart of rural America, the tourism boom caused by this influx of people from around the globe brings needed juice to the economy.

TULLAHOMA

George Dickel Distillery

Surrounded by the bucolic Cascade Hollow just off Interstate 24 in Coffee County with lovely limestone hills, a clear spring-fed creek and dense hardwood forests, the newly expanded and upgraded distillery of George Dickel is keeping alive a once neglected brand. Diageo, the parent company, is one of the world’s largest alcoholic beverage producers, and is behind big names such as Johnnie Walker, Guinness, Crown Royal and Don Julio, to name but a few. It was only three years ago that George Dickel awoke from being a sleepy destination to become a powerhouse once again in the Tennessee whiskey industry. Following a rebrand and manufacturing line reboot, the property is poised to capture a large market and share tourists with the well-worn pathway to Lynchburg.

With a separate greeting house, bottle room and merchandise area due for further expansion to include a 2,000 person event space for porch session musical events, the VIP rooms, streaming one-on-one recording room and enlarged tasting room are on tap for 2018. They have a high-end barrel program, have put up some top notch whiskys with their barrel selects and even “found” a lost batch of whisky recently that was 17 years old and released under the label Distillery Reserve. Dickel also has a new rye whisky, which is spicy and smooth because it’s filtered through charcoal in the Lincoln County Process.

LASCASSAS

Jug Creek Distillery

As if his whiskey weren’t enough, Heath Frazier’s Jug Creek Distillery is worth visiting for a little quality time with the owner-distiller himself. Donning his signature Aviators, Heath might be able to pass as an Eric Church doppelganger, and we love his approach of producing unique flavors more through feeling than science—though make no mistake, he was a pediatric nurse practitioner for nearly 20 years, so the chemistry that accompanies distilling came naturally to him. Still, he plays around with different ingredients like chicory, bananas and cacao to produce fan favorites such as Granddad’s Coffee Creamer, Nana’s Nanner Puddin and a Wicked Chocolate Cranberry Oaked that we will be drinking from now on.

The property itself is a gem: At 54 acres, Jug Creek Distillery has plenty of room to grow, and the Fraziers use their scenic sprawl to host holiday shindigs and other semi-regular weekend events beneath the pavilion. There’s also a children’s playground, a pumpkin patch, an apiary and even a pair of pet pigs.

As country music lovers, we loved how Heath named his stills after the greats (Merle, Little Jimmy, Cash), and even his cats bear similar names: Loretta and Doolittle.

WOODBURY

Short Mountain Distillery

We’ve been paying attention to the thriving fermentation culture taking place just beyond Woodbury in an enclave called Short Mountain, and Billy Kauffman is one of the pioneers of the startup movement there, having owned a cattle farm for more than a decade and the distillery for nearly six years.

We’d been to Short Mountain before, but hadn’t gotten the chance to sit down and talk to Billy about how it came to be until our trail project. He was actually one of the driving forces behind the formation of the guild—as well as its first president—and the distillery has really upped the tourism profile of Cannon County since it opened in 2011. He’s just starting to release some aged whiskey and rye, and SVV stands by his claim that it’s some of the best product you’ll find on the entire trail.

Short Mountain isn’t just a distillery, though; it’s also a restaurant and a multipurpose venue. On weekends, it becomes a wedding site or a stage for Nashville songwriters, in the fall, it transforms into the Haunted Woods, and throughout the year, it plays hosts to numerous other events.

Where to Stay on the Tennessee Whiskey Trail

Because the Middle Tennessee section of the trail twists and turns and loops every which way, I’d suggest making your base as central as possible in Franklin. Be sure and check out Franklin’s historic downtown and Civil War monuments while you’re there.

For an up-close peek at the Middle Tennessee leg of the whiskey trail, check out the video we made from our experience:

This post is part of a partnership with the Tennessee Distillers Guild.

  PIN IT HERE

On the Whiskey-Fueled Tennessee Backroads published first on http://ift.tt/2gOZF1v

[chaneajoyyy]

hello and happy new year! do you know any good trevante rhodes fics?

Heyyy!! Happy New Year!!!! I sure do!! You came to the right place!!!

TREVANTE RHODES FICS

- it’s complicated series- @dacreskars

- cake series (and blurbs- including a “please” kiss), log cabin and a brewing fire series (nebraska williams x reader), touch down, heat, just a little something before the album, a “warning” kiss - @madamslayyy

- another life, get well soon- @ghostfacekill-monger

- illuminate series (with erik stevens), come through (Erik Stevens x Chiron) - @hearteyes-for-killmonger

-sacrifice series- @goddessofthundathighs

- vampire in brooklyn series, partition, good morning, nostalgia- @laketaj24

- cushion, close encounters, she’s yours?, kiddo (with kiddo hedcanon- trevante and reader from kiddo aobut thier kid having middle school hormones)  threesome with trevante and erik, makeup sex with trevante, tre as your boyfriend trying to train you and coming up with innovative ways to inspire your cooperation with his insane circuits and demands, coastal rota, trevante asking his crush out on a first date (college!tre) and it’s his first time asking someone out, trevante teaching reader about patience and control, halloween party headcanon- @tastingmellow (search trevante rhodes x reader)

- all night- @if-n0t-l8ter-when

- passion, making love, rule the world series (Chiron x Reader)- @babygirlofwakanda

- roll some mo’, rooftop (with mbj), the initiation series-  @bakarilennox

- naughty professor series, together in paris, pizza night series, mystery woman series, backstage madness, homestyle cooking, no longer needed,   @basickassandra (search trevante rhodes imagines)

- pulse series, nerdbae series, bm, 24 series (nebraska williams x reader), scared to love, scared straight, holiday love, a little something series (with trevante but mostly erik)- @artsninspo

- the boring are the most interesting series- @twistedcharismaaa

- always be my baby- @songficsbyrissi

- leading ladies series- @lady-olive-oil

- three’s company (trevante face claim)- @bribrisback

-  love thy neighbor series (with trevante)- @essaysbyciara

-  the girl is mine series (with erik stevens), issa prompt no. 2: tamed series (collegeboi!trevante), the breakdown series (with erik stevens and chiron), issa prompt no. 1 series, make me beg series (Chiron x Reader)-  @lostgalaxies

-  training series, the preparty series, nigh owl series, grown, series, aphrodisiac, food for all series (interactive series), six weeks, i need you, restrained, green eyed monster, too fast; babe, you cold?, oh, you a friendly nigga?, friendsgiving- @l-auteuse

- her series (future series so be on the lookout)- @lady-love-and-glitter-roses

- fake it ‘till you make it series- @calif0rnia-lovers

- wine and dine, come back to bed- @amelatonin

- going up- @eerythingisshaka

- black and gold series- @theblackandgold-series

- untitled Trevante Rhodes imagine, dirty drabble- @imagine-n-shit (search trevante rhodes)

**DON’T HESISTATE TO HIT MY LINE IF I FORGT ANY OF YOU/WANT ME ADD FICS AND WRITERS***

#the plug #librarian at your service #let's chat #sip tea #talk fanfiction #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes fanfiction

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin And A Brewing Fire VIII

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

Warnings: This is a SLOW BURN FIC. I’m going at what I believe is a realistic place via my perception. I know y’all want some steam but this is SLOW BURN. Please checkout my Masterlist for other works if you’re looking for a little raunchiness.

A/N: To everyone I trolled yesterday, April Fools! (Except it’s not April) I’m definitely finishing this series, just had to make y’all sweat a little bit 😂😘 If you haven’t caught up on the previous chapters, check them out here via MY MASTERLIST.

Also I usually put this at the bottom of the Chapter but I don’t think people actually read that so I’m putting it here, if you want to be tagged, THIS POST will tell you how. Please don’t come to my inbox asking or leaving it on the chapters because I always forget to check and I feel so guilty leaving people out when they ask or accidentally ignoring them.

Anyway I’ve rambled long enough, love y’all and hope y’all enjoy this.

~*~

“Training Day again, Mr. Williams?” Nebraska’s students whined.

“It’s either that or run laps.” He grinned.

“It’s too cold to run laps. And it’s snowing outside. Aren’t there like... child labor laws or something?” One of his students asked.

“Could always make you guys run laps inside until 12:00. You all prefer that?” Nebraska grinned at the chorus of “No’s” coming from his class.

“Alright, Training Day it is,” Nebraska put on the film and retreated to his office. Today was the last day of school before Thanksgivings break. It was the Tuesday before the holiday and the students were only required to attend a “Half” day before being dismissed at noon.

You actually had the entire week off for the holiday and were planning on going to see your Aunt and Uncle this week. Nebraska has insisted you go on alone and enjoy your time with your family but you had refused.

“I’ll only go if you’re going. No one should be alone during the holidays.”

In these last couple of weeks Nebraska thought he’d been doing a pretty good job distancing himself from you. The two of you no longer slept in the same bed together, he was careful not to get too close to you when the two of you had to be around each other and even then he kept that to a minimal. The two of you rarely ever saw eachother and he was trying to keep it that way.

You, on the other hand, had a different idea. It seemed like the more he retreated, the more you would seek him out. You were determined not to let things get weird between the two of you. Nebraska wasn’t sure if it was out of pity that you were still being so nice to him after his screw up but he knew it only served to further his guilt.

Nebraska used the hour or so he had left to grade papers and before he knew it, the bell rang at noon and his students began filing out the classroom. He walked out his office to stop the movie and put up the equipment. That was one thing he actually did love about teaching the JROTC students, they were typically pretty well behaved. Nebraska was also sure it was because the other coach, Colonel McNeal, even in his old age, had put the fear of god in these kids.

Nebraska was almost through with his stack of papers he’d been grading and decided to finish it out before leaving so that was one less thing to grade during the break.

“Knock Knock,” Tonya peeped her head in through the door before coming in fully and taking a seat.

“Ah I thought you’d be halfway to St. Mary’s by now,” Nebraska chuckled. St. Mary’s was the elementary school her sons attended.

“Well the boys’ father have them today and tomorrow but Mama gets Thanksgiving,” she grinned, showing all thirty two of her nearly perfect teeth.

“Always good to get a little peace and quiet before the holidays,” Nebraska nodded.

“Amen to that. Which actually brings me to my next point. I know you’re new in town and single and I would hate for a nice guy such as yourself to be alone for Thanksgiving. What do you say to coming to my house for Thanksgiving? You could even stop by the night before, help me do a little Pre-dinner Turkey stuffing,” Tonya offered cheekily and Nebraska knew exactly where she was going with this. Again.

“Thanks for the... um... generous offer T, but I won’t be alone for the holidays, I have Y/N,” Nebraska said trying to let her down as gently as possible.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you two were so.... close,” Tonya said, her smile faltering.

“Yeah we’re driving down to see her Uncle. He was... actually still is... my Lieutenant. Anyway we’re just gonna stay with them for the holiday,” Nebraska smiled but the atmosphere was awkward. It was awkward every time he had to reject her but she was persistent to say the least.

“I see. Well I’ll get out of your hair. Gotta get going to the store before all of the good Turkeys are gone,” she laughed dryly before exiting his office.

“Enjoy your break, T,” he called as she made her hasty getaway.

~*~

Nebraska awoke with a start. He glanced over from his position in the passengers seat to see you, your eyes in deep concentration of the road ahead. He yawned and your face relaxed a bit from its focused contortion as you were made aware of his wakefulness.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you chuckled. Nebraska glanced at the clock in the car and it read 12:34.

“That late huh?” He said sitting up.

“Yeah but the plus side is we’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I was out for that long? Sheesh,” Nebraska scoffed.

“Well you had been at work all day. I was snoozing the whole time.” You said in that melodic voice of yours. How were you this chipper even in the dead of night?

~*~

The two of you continued on the road until finally making it to your Uncle and Aunt’s home. It was well after 1 a.m. so you and Nebraska did your best to sneak in quietly. You were grateful they still kept a spare key in a potted plant just in case someone ever got locked out.

You and Nebraska creeped upstairs and made it to your room, it seemed, without being detected.

“Sheesh, I’m exhausted,” you said stretching out on your bed. Nebraska came in afterwards, carrying your luggage and his because he was still ever the gentleman.

“There’s a-“ Nebraska’s sentence was cut off by your bedroom door swinging open to reveal your Uncle carrying a steel baseball bat, eyes alert.

“Uncle RayRay!!!” You squealed jumping up to hug the man.

“Do you all have any idea what time it is? We weren’t expecting you to get here until Wednesday,” he croaked. He had clearly just woken up.

“It is Wednesday. And we wanted to get ahead of the traffic,” you pointed out.

“Well you nearly gave Mabel a heart attack. Williams, good to see you, boy. Let me show you to your room,” He said indicating for Nebraska to follow him.

“You as well, sir” Nebraska said, following your Uncle, his luggage in hand.

You had never really thought about it but you’d always just assumed Nebraska would stay in the same room as you, just like at home. Then it dawned on you, your Uncle had no idea how bad Nebraska’s sleeping patterns were. You thought maybe you should mention it but there was no way he’d willingly allow you and Nebraska in the same bed without a marriage certificate between you two. He was old fashioned that way.

So you reluctantly just resigned to your bed alone, the exhaustion from driving sending you immediately into slumber before you even had a chance to unpack.

~*~

The next morning you came downstairs to none other than your Aunt’s amazing home cooked breakfast. She was hovering over the stove still making Breakfast while Nebraska and your Uncle were seated at the table, already eating.

“So nobody was gonna wake me up?” You yawned, taking your seat next to Nebraska.

“Figured you’d be out til dinner the way you sleep,” your Aunt said putting down your breakfast in front of you. French toast, sunny side up eggs and her special fried hash browns. Your mouth began to salivate just looking at it.

“Thank you MaeMae,” you said, digging in. Breakfast carried on peacibly but you kept glancing over at Nebraska. He seemed tired, and quiet. Well he was always quiet but a little more than usual. Maybe he was a little uncomfortable here. The last time he saw his General, he had put a bullet through his brain. He never told you the reason why because you two never talked about it but you’d bet Raynard knew. And that’s probably what made it so awkward.

“Alright now Y/N I got a list here for you of things I need done today. I need you to run by the store and pick up some...” Your Aunt Mabel began naming off the various ingredients she still needed for Thanksgiving tomorrow and the other chores she’d assigned you for today. Even though you were an adult, she still believed in putting you to work.

“There. That shouldn’t be too tough,” she said finishing the list of tasks and handing it to you, “Maybe you could take that quiet fella with you, he’s pretty big, he can help you carry some of that stuff.”

“Oh Nebraska probably doesn’t wanna be bothered running errands with me,” you said shrugging off the notion.

“Sure I do,” Nebraska was on the other side of the kitchen leaning against the counter. Both you and your Aunt jumped in surprise, neither of you having heard him even enter the room.

“Good lord boy, anybody ever told you about sneaking up on an old woman! About to give me a heart attack,” Mae said clutching her chest.

~*~

“Why do we need so many flowers, again?” Nebraska asked as he watched the florist load bundle after bundle of fresh cut flowers into your car.

“Mae takes any holiday when family comes over serious. One time she ordered over 20 preplanted trees for Arbor Day. Ended up giving them away as party favors as everyone left.” You said smiling at the memory.

“So it’ll be pretty packed tomorrow, huh?” Tre said watching the florist load the last bundle into the car.

“You have no idea.”

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You’d tried everything from drinking tea to counting sheep but your body just couldn’t seem to fall into restful bliss without a certain burly figure wrapped around you.

You’d thought about going to see what he was doing, if he was still up but you refrained, not wanting to bother him.

He’d been... weird about things since the camping trip, even tried sleeping in his own bed again but you’d eventually broke him down by acting as if nothing had changed. That was a lie though, everything had changed. Where you merely acknowledged his attractiveness before, you now ached at the sight of him. The mere thought of his lips, so soft and inviting, was enough to send you into a frenzy. When his hand was on your stomach you could practically feel the strength beneath his fingers. You often thought of his strength and stamina. Fantasized about it actually. Fantasized about him getting rough with you, throwing you around before returning to his default sweet nature, making up for it in every possible way.

You were interrupted mid-daydream (or night dream since it was a little past 11p.m.) by a round of small knocks at the door followed by Nebraska peeking his head in.

“You still up?” He asked. You nodded and he came all the way in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked and you felt that familiar shimmer in your stomach as your insides intertwined.

“Of course,” you said a bit breathlessly. He crawled in next you and it was actually a bit... awkward.

“I missed you,” you quipped, interrupting the silence. A goofy grin instantly broke out across Nebraska’s face, which he tried to hide via scratching the back of his head and looking away.

“I, uh, gotta admit I feel the same,” now it was your turn to be bashful.

“Why are we acting like we never see each? Like we didn’t just spend the last two whole days together?” You giggled and Nebraska smirked.

“I guess this is..... different, you know.... more... physical....” he was staring at your lips and you unconsciously bit your lip in response. That seemed to break his trance and he glanced up, a look of guilt marring his perfect features.

“I should probably-,” he said shifting away from you to stand up.

“Nebraska please, don’t...go,” your arm was now wrapped around his chest in an attempt to keep him from leaving. He was so warm, the curls of his chest hair tickling your fingers. His muscles were tense, you could feel them flex beneath you.

“I need you...” you whispered and that’s when the dam broke between the two of you. Nebraska pivoted in your arms, crashing his lips to your own. This wasn’t the same kind of kiss as in the woods. This was something completely different; something hungry and desperate. You could feel him still holding back so you decided to go all in, returning the smooch tenfold, both hands leaving their position at his torso to cup his face.

“Y/N...” he moaned, you felt like you might pass out. His hands latched themselves to your hips, pulling you into his lap. Your hands shifted from his jaw to his shoulders in order to steady yourself, pulling him even closer, meeting his eagerness with your own.

“Take thi- shit,” he moaned as you perched your full weight onto his lap, his already awakened member there to greet you.

“Too much? Am I too heavy?” You asked, beginning to rise from his lap only to have him pull you back down.

“No, you’re perfect babygirl. More than perfect,” he began kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing against the base of your neck hard enough to bruise.

You were melting beneath his touch. He was so quiet and reserved in his daily life so to be succumbed to his passion in such a raw and unfiltered way made your head swim. You never thought a man of his beauty, candor, and strength would look twice at someone like you yet here he was, your touch alone powerful enough to leave him a moaning, whimpering figure of lust beneath you. It gave you a surge of confidence you’d never quite experienced in the bedroom before.

“Take this off,” Nebraska said tugging at your night shirt. That’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. Meaning you’d be completely exposed to him, pooch, rolls and all.

“Hey, it’s just us here, okay?” He said pecking your lips when he sensed your hesitation.

“O-okay. Can you get the light?” You nodded towards the lamp on you side desk next to your bed.

“As long as I’ve been dreaming about this moment? No way, I gotta see you,” Nebraska said biting his lips, his eyes gazing over you with pure karnal lust. Your stomach fluttered.

You took your shirt off and he was immediately in awe. He gently took one soft mound in his hand, plopping your already hardened nipple into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh. Nebraska smirked at your obvious arousal, the vision of his pristine white teeth against your brown areola was almost a work of art.

When he began to go for the other nipple you pushed him back gently, crawling off his lap but he swiftly pulled you back on.

“Where are you going?

“Shhh... just relax,” you said and he finally let you go, allowing you to maneuver yourself between his legs, pulling his boxers down. His swollen member sprang free of the fabric and for a second you thought you might be hallucinating. He was certainly bigger than any man you’d ever been with, and his girth definitely looked more delectable, the pigment from his shaft to his head all one even color that matched the ebony complexion of his skin.

“You were hiding... all this... this whole time?” Your eyes were fixated on his throbbing length.

“Didn’t think you would care either way,” Nebraska said in a breathy voice. You gazed into his brown eyes in utter disbelief before returning to the task at hand.

You kissed your way up his thighs slowly to tease him, dragging your nails lightly along the sensitive area. His dick jumped in excitement.

He was already leaking precum, the head glistening with his essence. You gripped his base and feathered kisses up his shaft, teasing his head with your tongue. The second you took his tip fully into your mouth, he shuddered, gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

“Relax, Braska, let me take care of you,” you said in what you hoped was a ‘sultry’ voice. It had been a while since you’d gave a man head and you were racking your brain, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything you forgot with the inexperience of time.

You slurped him from base to tip, taking your time to get it extremely wet so your hand could pump him easily. You made sure to spit on it just for extra measure and you swore you saw Nebraska’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

You took him into your mouth and immediately hollowed your cheeks, sucking his over sensitive tip while pumping his base. You alternated between this motions and deep throating him as far as you could take him, making quite the show of gagging on his incredible length. You traveled down further, making sure to not to forget his scrotum, sucking one half and then the other while your hands handled the main attraction.

Where Nebraska was tembling before, he was a blubbering mess now, moaning your name along with a string of curse words as he chased his own pleasure. He took one hand and brought it to the back of your head, guiding you back to his swollen tip. You knew he couldn’t keep his orgasm at bay for much longer so you switched into full concentration mode, paying close attention to what would get him over that edge. His hand on the back of your head was gripping you so tight, you thought he might snatch your headscarf off.

“Shit, Y/N, don’t stop. Please, baby, right there, right there,” he begged and you made sure to adhere to him. Right as he was about to explode in your mouth, he grabbed himself and took it out, opting instead to nut on your face. You graciously accepted his release , the warm essence coating your face. You couldn’t help but giggle as he smeared some of it across your lips with his head, tapping the semi-firm member against them.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Nebraska asked out of breath. You shrugged as you got up to go wash your face.

You’d were in the middle of wiping off his ‘gift’ when he followed right after you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Nebraska, I gotta wash my face and brush my teeth,” you cooed, grabbing a clean face towel and your night routine face wash. Nebraska turned your head to the side, capturing your lips in one of the slowest, sloppiest kisses you’d ever experienced, emphasizing his tongues presence in your mouth as a ‘Thank You’. When Nebraska finally let your lips go he continued clinging to you, only unwrapping himself once so that he could clean off his own member.

Once the two of you were clean, you took to bed. Nebraska, in a position much similar to earlier, engulfed you in himself, peppering you with kisses until he fell asleep. You fell asleep soon after, still not a hundred percent sure if what had just transpired was real or a dream.

~*~

You woke up noticeably cold. And alone. You glanced over to the other side of the bed to find it empty. That wouldn’t be that unusual any other morning but then the events of last night came flooding back to you. You couldn’t believe how brazen you’d been with him last night and the embarrassment immediately came crushing in.

Also why wasn’t he here? There wasn’t a single sign he’d ever been here. Even back home it was unusual for Nebraska to just silently wake up and creep out like a thief in the night. He probably came to his senses about you last night, which is why he’d ran for the hills.

What more could he possibly want anyway? You’ve already sucked him off. He doesn’t need to entertain you anymore. He got what he came for.

You tried to shake the negative thoughts from your head as you hopped in the shower but they were incessant.

What if he was in a relationship with Tonya. You were so desperate for him last night, you hadn’t even thought to ask. What if you made him a cheater because you couldn’t control yourself around him and just had to jump at the chance to show him you could be a slut. What would he want with one of those anyway when he has a woman like Tonya waiting for him back home.

As you walked down stairs you saw Nebraska moving tables with your Aunt supervising. You couldn’t bare to make eye contact with either of them. It didn’t matter because Mabel heard you anyway

“Y/N! About time you woke up girl, I need you to run down to Annie Sinclair’s- you remember Miss Sinclair don’t you? I need you to runs down to her place and pick up the four Pecan Pies she was supposed to have delivered yesterday,” Mabel said scribbling down the address. You nodded and grabbed your keys, leaving without a word. You didn’t notice Nebraska’s intense eyes longingly look after you as you left.

~*~

By the time you returned back home with your Aunt’s pies, there were cars filling up the driveway and parked on the street out front.

You carried them in but the kitchen was full of different dishes, along with her cooking and you had no where to put them. You sat them down on the dining table and hoped that would suffice for now.

You wandered around looking for her, speaking to various extended family members. Almost everyone here was from her side of the family but they didn’t treat you any different.

“So how’s that museum going baby? What is it you do there again?” You great Aunt Lettie asked.

“Well actually I-“

“Y/N! Girl I been looking for you everywhere! Come on in here and help ya Auntie in the kitchen,” Mabel said thundering down the stairs. You said your condolences to Lettie then followed your Aunt into the kitchen.

You looked around as she began stirring something in a pot, “So what exactly was it that you needed help with?”

“Oh child, nothing. I just know how Lettie gets and she’ll talk your head off all day if you let her,” she chuckled, throwing on her Apron. You sighed in relief, sinking down in a chair for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Tired?” Mabel quipped.

“You have no idea,” you rubbed the side of your temples trying to alleviate a potential headache in its tracks.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you actually slept at night,” you felt your heart drop as your eyes flew open.

“Save it. I went to fetch that boy this morning so he could move some furniture around for me. Imagine my surprise to see not only his room empty but that he’d some how stumbled into yours. Better be glad it was me who drug him out of there and not your uncle.” She turned her attention away from stirring the pot to... well... stir the pot.

“There’s nothing going on between us... we just sleep next to each other. But we’re not... like that,” you averted your eyes. Wait, did she say she drug him out of your room this morning?

“Sell that tale to some other simpleton, I’ve seen the way you been eyeing that man. And more importantly, how he looks at you. That’s love, honey, clear as day,” Was it that obvious that your heart ached for him every time you were in a five feet radius of the man?

“I... I.... I didn’t mean for this to happen...”

“For what to happen? To fall for him harder than a piano with a paper parachute?” She didn’t need an answer, your face said it all. “Look, I don’t know exactly what you two got going on rattling around in those big, pretty heads of yours but what I do know is if there were ever two people who needed a little love, deserved a little love in their life, I’m looking at them.”

You felt like you could cry. You’d been so in denial about everything you felt for this man for so long that now faced with your own feelings, they almost threatened to overpower you.

“I- if he doesn’t feel the same, if this is one sided- I- I’ve never really felt this way about anyone before. If he rejects me, it’ll tear me apart. I can’t risk the heartache,”

“Child the world is full of heartache the same way it’s full of rejection. That’s just the nature of life. But one things for sure, nothing will ever come of the two of you skirting around each other like a pair of mice. You need to clear things up even if it doesn’t go according to your plan, which knowing you, you probably don’t even have one. Go talk to the man.” And that was that on her lecture. She turned around and resumed stirring whatever she was cooking on the stoveto, only glancing over her shoulder when she noticed you hadn’t moved.

“I meant now.”

~*~

“And that’s when I told him, ‘look, I don’t care if the god damn Marshal himself rides up on a golden chariot and declares the sanction with feathers flying straight out his ass, I’m not moving my platoon for nobody!’” The table Nebraska was currently sitting at burst into laughter and he cracked a smile to be polite but he didn’t have the slightest clue what the conversation was about. Didn’t really care to be honest. His mind was on one thing and one thing only, that thing of course being you.

It all still felt like a dream to him, he’d almost believe it was if he hadn’t woke up in your bed. Correction, somebody woke him up and it wasn’t you. One look at your Aunt’s face and he knew the jig was up.

“Come help me move some tables, big fella,” she said closing your door behind her. He pulled on his sweatpants which had still been discarded on the floor and followed behind her. He stopped quickly in his own room to grab a shirt. Thank god you’d had the mind to cover up after last night’s escapade. That would only make the situation look worse.

Nebraska was sure he was in for a lecture but the older woman continued on as if she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, giving out various orders to get ready for the day. Preparation that was much needed by the way. In only a matter of hours the house was filled to the brim with more people than Nebraska could have possibly anticipated. But that was hardly a problem because that gave him ample opportunity to avoid you.

He didn’t know what was going through his mind last night but he had embarrassed himself beyond belief. Looking back, he wished he’d done so many things differently. He wished he had been man enough not to ejaculate so early. He wished he had took care of your pleasure first before obtaining his own. He wished he had thrown all the foreplay out the window and been inside you. When you came downstairs this morning and wouldn’t even look at him, he knew you regretted it. Of course you’d expected more out of him. He had expected more out of himself, but he promised himself if he ever got the opportunity for such intimacies with you again, he’d ravish you the way you deserved.

And oh did you deserve it and then some. The way your mouth had worked Nebraska last night, he could have died a happy man right then, right there. You sucked him off in a way he’d never been before, leaving him completely putty on your well-versed hands. You obviously must have had quite the experience in this area because you knew exactly what to do at every turn, getting him to his release faster than he could himself. Just the thought alone made him crave you, want to seek you out. It had been easier for him to deny his sexual urges for you when he had no point of reference but last night had only served to intensify his need to bed you. A need he’d probably never satisfy after his embrassing performance last night.

Nebraska realized he was completely lost to the conversation with the oldhead army men around him, friends of the Lieutenant no doubt, so he respectfully excused himself then went to head upstairs. He needed a moment to himself to collect his thoughts and stop obsessing over you. But it looked as if luck wasn’t on his side today.

As he began his ascension up the stairs you were coming down and suddenly, your eyes locked. You looked just as beautiful as ever, your mauve skirt and Jean button down accentuating your tempting chubby figure. His mind immediately went to the feel of your curves molding against his own physique, the memory of your delicious weight on his lap igniting a fire in him. He really needed to calm down.

“Hey...” you said in a voice he almost couldn’t hear.

“Hey,”

“Can, um, can we talk?” You asked tugging at the bottom of your skirt.

“Course,” Shit, Nebraska knew where this was going.

“Okay, um..... in here,” she tugged his arm and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“We need to talk about last night,” Nebraska’s blood went cold.

“I’m listening...”

“I didn’t mean to- That wasn’t my intention to- if you- I wasn’t trying to-“

“Save it, Y/N. Just forget it ever happened.” Nebraska couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t hear how much you regret being with him. What easily was a night of utter perfection for him was nothing more than an impulsive mistake for you and that realization hurt too much to hear verbalized.

“Nebraska please just... let me talk. Even if you don’t care about what I have to say, at least let me say it. Please...,” your voice cracked and he could hear the tears you were fighting back in your voice. He thought about storming out to save himself from having to watch this breakdown but he knew him leaving would only cause you to burst into tears and he just couldn’t do that to you. So Nebraska resigned to leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, indicating to you that you had his full attention.

“Ok look. I- I don’t know the full nature of you and Tonya’s relationship but I’m not an idiot. I knew something was going on with you two but I still went after you anyway and I just want to apologize profusely for impeding on your relationship with her,” you took a breath, “but I feel I owe it to you, and to myself, to be honest about my... feelings the last few months. I- I’m not the most experienced with men. I often read into things way too much. I’m anxious to a fault. But either way, I somehow deluded myself into seeing your kindness and gentleman-like ways for something they weren’t. I- I began developing feeling for you when I shouldn’t have. And for that I apologize.... again.” You took another breath, swallowing this time.

“You’re a great guy. One of the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Last night... I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so aggressive, especially sexually, and I’m sorry for coming at you like some sort of deranged animal in heat. It wasn’t right and I promise you it’ll never happen again. I know all hope for the two of us being as close as we were is out the window. And I don’t blame you for that, by the way. It’s my fault and I take full responsibility. I just hope, that maybe, in time you’ll be able to forgive me and I can move on from feeling like this. I promise you I’ll get over it, I just need a little time but until then I was hoping we could at least remain friends. I know that’s a lot to ask but I don’t really think I could handle if things continued like this with you ignoring me completely. I know I’m probably being overly sensitive right now but it just... hurts....” you trailed off. Nebraska hadn’t said a word, his body frozen in that spot while his mind raced to process everything you’d just told him.

“Are you finished?” His voice was low, rugged.

“.... yeah, I guess I am,” he could hear the disappointment.

Nebraska walked up to you, cupping your jaw with hand as he captured your lips in his own. You eyes bulged out of your head in shock and for a second he though you were going to push him away.

“N-n-Nebraska I-“

“Shhhh. You got your chance to speak, now it’s my turn,” he returned to your lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. His hands traveled under your skirt, gripping your thighs, undoubtedly his new favorite part of you. You let out a squeak of surprise when he suddenly pulled you flush against him.

“I’ve been agonizing over you since I met you. You think any man could be in proximity to all of this-“ he smacked your ass “and not want to break you in half? If you’re delusional then I’m in this fantasy right with you because I’ve been enamored with you for months. But you just seemed so disinterested I.... I couldn’t... I didn’t know...”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You cooed, cupping his face. He rest his forehead against your own, grateful for the intimacy.

“I just need you to know this isn’t one sided. You have nothing to apologize to me for, not now, not ever.” Nebraska wished he could say more. Wished he could articulate more coherently exactly how deep his feelings went for you. Wished he could express how you made him feel like he wasn’t such a monster, like he was worthy of his own personhood, even if he doubted it himself most times.

Nebraska opened his eyes to see you staring at his lips, the wanton look in your eyes making his cock throb. Yes he wanted to proclaim his undying love and affection for you but he also wanted to fuck you so good your pussy would need crutches the next day.

“C’mere,” he growled lowly and you almost bounced off the counter wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. He could appreciate his position of standing between your thighs however he knew realistically he couldn’t fuck you right here in the bathroom. Not with the house damn near filled to capacity. No, he’d have to show a little more restraint for your sake and his own.

“And, Y/N, about last night...,” Nebraska said breaking the kiss. You hummed in reply as you began trailing kisses down his neck.

“How did you expect to give head like that and not have a man fall in love with you?”

~*~

A/N: What y’all think? Told y’all I was gonna give y’all some action if you stuck with me 😘😘 I hope y’all liked this chapter because I actually worked harder on this one than any other chapter so far. As always please let me know what y’all think, it really helps me get ideas for the next chapter. 💕💕🥰

Everything Taglist:

@chaneajoyyy @queennanayaa @ultracrii @notsomellowmushroom@jesforpres @thehomierobbstark @thadelightfulone @amelatonin@quietstorm-73 @destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch@steampunkprincess147 @purple-apricots @macfizzle @caswinchester2000@marvelmaree @supersizemeplz @all-the-blog-names-were-gone @savagescorpion @ghostfacekill-monger @raysunshine78 @blessingz2x2@sydneebleu @erikaintdead @amazonian-strap-queen@acceptyourselfloveyourself @kenbieeereadss

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Old Masterlist: (Will Not Be Used After Completion Of This Series)

@chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy@killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots@blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73@sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles@bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks@blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88@labelletemps @wawakanda-btch @supersizemeplz @purple-apricots @musicloveand-pride

#trevante rhodes x you #trevante rhodes imagine #trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes

[madamslayyy]

Y’all sorry to gush on main but @twistedcharismaaa read my Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire series and really liked it and had beautiful things to say about it and I can’t tell y’all how much that made my heart swell. I wrote that series when I was going through ALOT in school and life when i wrote it and to know that y’all liked it so much and could even relate to it (which was even more touching because a lot of that series was just me and my own terrible projections letting out insecurities and to know y’all were relating to that was so heartwarming) so I just... y’all I’m speechless but it just really means a lot and a special thank you to @twistedcharismaaa for reminding me of that

#I still have to go back and respond to your chapter by chapter reviews bc they always crack me up! 😂😂 #lcaabf series