#instead of cowboys its rustic houses

[20w14a]

This is Grian and NPC Grian's dynamic in my fucked up brain

[devilry-revelry]

Heart & Home | Male Ghost x Female Human {Part 1}

Mostly unedited rewrite of a thing I did way back when I was (happily) getting force-fed Red Dead Redemption 2 smut. It's a ghost cowboy. I'm not sorry.

: ̗̀➛

“Don’t need to be scared, girl. I’ll take good care of you—“

: ̗̀➛

The place had been on sale for nearly three years.

It was an old cabin resting on a rough half-acre space surrounded by mountains and farmland. The cabin was small. There were repairs that needed to be made to both interior and exterior, most of the electrical needed to be redone, and the plumbing needed to be updated. The bones were good though. The foundation was sturdy and unwavering. It just needed someone to show it a little bit of love – at least that’s what Maggie Whittaker, realtor, told each and every one of her clients after they drove the full 45 minutes out of town to see it.

“It just needs a little bit of love,” is what she told each and every single person that stared at the cabin and openly grimaced.

“It just needs a little bit of love,” is what she told the potential buyers that scoffed at the still-standing outhouse off to the side of the home.

No one took the bait though. Whether it was due to the commute time, or the plumbing issues, or the fact that the wiring threatened to burn the place down at any given moment. No one wanted to buy the place, but that didn’t stop Maggie from showing it at any given opportunity because she genuinely felt that the place held great promise. Every time she stepped onto the old wrap around porch she could imagine how inviting the space would be with a rocking chair, or a porch swing. She wanted to sit there with coffee and watch the sunrise above the trees in the morning, and watch as the stars came out at night. Maggie also liked to imagine how cozy the inside would be with a little bit of cleaning. She had decided long ago that the house would stay true to its rustic roots and she would salvage as much of the original materials that she could. She also decided that she would put a comfortable chair in front of the fireplace, and there would be old shelves with books, and a big bed with heavy blankets, and she would bake bread and cookies as fresh mountain air drifted through the kitchen…

Maggie could imagine all of those things, because that’s what she wanted. She wanted fresh mountain air, and cozy winters in front of a fireplace. Instead she had an awful third floor apartment sandwiched between a creep of a man and a nosy old woman. She had a cityscape that blocked the skyline, and the sounds of sirens and traffic accompanied by the acrid scent of piss and garbage. Meanwhile she sold people their dream homes. Homes with the backyard swimming pool, and the master bathroom with the male-height vanities and jacuzzi tubs and the shower with the six-plus shower heads that connected to wifi and Bluetooth. Even when she knew that no one in her clientele would show an interest in her cabin she showed the property every time she was able.

Perhaps it was because she hoped that someone would see the same potential that she did – or maybe it was just an excuse to spend more time at her own dream home. The cabin offered her a comfort that she couldn’t find surrounded by strangers at her apartment building. The cabin gifted her with the sense of belonging that she had been missing since she grew up and moved out of her familial home. When she wasn’t there she yearned to return, and when she had the opportunity, she often made the most of it she could. She structured her work schedule to offer her the most time at the cabin. If she could schedule the place for a showing, she saved the best for last, and when the not-so-potential buyers made their return trip to the city, Maggie often found herself taking up residence on the porch.

The little cabin offered Maggie all the comfort and warmth she craved, and she hated that every time she left, she didn’t know when or if she would be back; so she enjoyed what time that she had while she had it before leaving the one place she, somehow, considered home.

There were times where Maggie was lucky enough to return to the cabin weekly, if not daily but then there were times when business slowed, or a slew of clients steadfastly rejected the idea of living outside of the city, and so she didn’t get to return to her dream home for months at a time – and it was after one of those long stints of being away that everything changed…

During the winter months the already lackluster interest in the cabin waned. It was a long drive out from the city, and it seemed like all of Maggie’s clientele didn’t want to deal with the drive through the potentially inclement weather. It wasn’t until mid-spring when a potential buyer showed half-hearted interest and Maggie jumped at the opportunity to make the drive.

The buyer was a man from somewhere upstate. He was quiet, never really asking questions about the houses they visited, and never making a committal reply to any information she supplied. It served to make the day rather awkward, but when she mentioned the cabin overlooking the mountains he claimed that he wouldn’t mind seeing the place.

When they got to the cabin the man got out of his car with a camera looped around his neck with a strap, a camera that had been notably absent during the hours prior. Though it wasn’t uncommon for folks to snap pictures of the houses they toured, Maggie found the camera’s sudden appearance a little curious. A sudden and wholly unwelcome wave of paranoia washed away her excitement, and she found herself silently cursing the man for ruining her anticipated return to the cabin. She resolved to get through the showing as fast as she could for the sake of getting him to leave.

The building unease vanished the moment Maggie set foot on the porch, and it was very quickly replaced by a rush of warmth when she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“You really show this shithole?”

The comment kicked up Maggie’s ire, but she plastered on a bright and cheery smile, and forced an amused laugh as she said, “It’s got some great views. Right around back, you can watch the sunset.”

“One bedroom? No running water? Why bother.”

“It has running water; the pipes just need some updating. And I think someone will see the potential and spruce it up. I’m… um—“ she faltered as he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back near the old fireplace. His fingers found a lock of hair and pulled it in front of her ear then stepped back. “— um, what are you—“

“Just getting a couple of pictures,” he said simply.

“Sir,” Maggie started, tucking the stray hair behind her ear. She stepped away from the fireplace. “I would appreciate if—“

“I told you I’m a photographer, right?” He stepped forward again, and moved her back into place. “Just let me get a few pictures. There is an interesting contrast between you and how rugged everything in here is,” he played with her hair, and went so far as to reach out to undo the top button of her cardigan.

Maggie’s hand shot up and smacked him away, feeling the bitter dredges of rage burn her throat.

“Calm down, it’s just a button—“

“Get out. Now.”

“I said I’m a photogr—“

“And I said get out. We’re done.”

He sighed loudly and pulled the camera from around his neck.. “Look, ok, I’ll put the camera away—“

“I believe the lady said to get gone, boy.”

The voice caused them both to jump. It was as sudden as it was forceful. It was a low drawl that wasn’t at all common to the area. Maggie and the so-called photographer both turned to the origin of the voice, but the room was empty. Just as Maggie’s brows began to knit together in what could only be the most confusion she had ever felt in her life (the perv clearly heard the voice too), the lights in the living room flickered. The faucet in the kitchen turned on full blast. The photographer turned yet again, his eyes darting from the lights, to the sink -- there was a loud creak from the floorboards near the front door and he spun around just before his whole body pitched forward.

The man dropped like a sack of potatoes, landing heavily on his hands and knees. The camera bounced to the ground in the tumble, the flash going off. The lights flickered yet again, the cabinets in the kitchen swung open and Maggie hid. She wedged herself between the fireplace and the wall, sinking to her butt and pulling her legs to her chest as the room around her came to life in a surreal show of hostility. The camera shot across the floor, skidding against hardwood until it met the toes of her shoes. The photographer scrambled, desperately finding purchase on his feet before he high-tailed it to the front door. He was leaving - leaving her alone in the crazy house… but the second he cleared the doorway, the activity in the house stopped. The cupboards closed, the lights stopped flickering, and the water shut off. It was suddenly, abruptly, eerily quiet. Maggie was afraid to move. In the quiet of the room, she held her breath. Even when she heard the man’s car start up, she remained rooted in place. 

It wasn’t until the sound of the engine was long gone, did Maggie dare to take a soft breath and whisper, “Hello?”

Moments ticked by into minutes where there was no response, and as the silence dragged on, the fear and panic ebbed, and the familiar warmth returned. The tension that had gathered in her muscles eased. Her shoulders sagged and she released a heavy breath. Her eyes dropped to the camera. 

The thing had moved on its own. Just like the fluttering cupboards, just like the water faucet. As she reached for it, she half anticipated it to shoot across the floor, but it remained in place, quiet and unassuming and hopefully not haunted. It didn’t move, which was great, but the screen that was pulled up on the display made her stomach flip uncomfortably. 

It was a picture of her sitting in her car, sitting in front of the very first house she had met her client that day. She toggled the switch, flipping to the next image. It was her at the door to the cabin, her hand at the knob. 

“Oh God,” Maggie grumbled, glowering at the image. Photographer? Right. A total creep, more like. She thumbed the switch again. The final image was nothing but a blur; likely taken when the camera had fallen. She was in the image, her figure crumpled in the corner like a scared child but there was something in front of her, partially cutting off part of her form but it was too blurred to really nail down what it was. 

Her curiosity urged her to her feet. She moved a few paces from the corner, then turned to face the space, comparing the picture to the area she had vacated. There was nothing that could have been in the picture unless it had been the photographer, but the coloring was all off. Photographer was wearing bluejeans, the blur in the image was tan. It didn’t match with any of the colors in the cabin, either. The longer Maggie stared at the image, the easier it was to convince herself that she saw the blurry outline of a boot. Like someone had been standing between her and the photographer—

“Jesus, Mags,” she groused, turning the camera off. But even still, she was weary. She couldn’t explain away what had happened as easily as she could a blurry photograph. She could chalk up the photo as a searching and overactive imagination, but there was no explanation for what had happened. None. 

Maggie started for the door, then froze when a loud creak sounded behind her. It sounded just like a tired door opening in an old horror movie. When she turned her head she could see the bedroom door slowly opening. Wanting to debunk the day’s strange events she dropped her things on the kitchen counter and marched towards the room.

Was there a draft? There had to be a draft. As soon as she got to the bedroom she grabbed the door knob and closed the door. It latched closed. It didn’t budge when she pressed against it. She turned the knob, pushed it open just a bit and waited. 

Once again, the door didn’t budge. It was sturdy and solid and absolutely not swinging open ominously. She held up her hand towards the ceiling, feeling for any air flow and when that didn’t work she went into the bedroom. There was an old vent–

The door snikt shut behind her. 

A flare of fear sent her whipping back towards the door. She scrambled for the knob but it didn’t turn. Didn’t budge.

“Hello!” She called out, silently swearing to God that if that prick came back to this house and decided to fuck with her that she would do what she could to beat the living crap out of him. “Hey, open the door! Come on—“

She felt the sensation of warmth at her back and it caused her to still. She smelled wood smoke. It was gentle and lingering, reminding her of summer nights and camping trips. The gentle sweetness of cigar smoke came with it. Maggie’s hackles softened as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Despite the swelling fear she had felt moments before she was once again pulled into a feeling of comfort. 

She shuffled a step towards the door, feeling pressure at her back, feeling a breath rustle her hair and tickle her ear. She closed her eyes and couldn’t stop her imagination from trying to summon the voice from earlier, the low drawl, right at her ear. 

“Don’t need to be scared, girl. I’ll take good care of you—“

Heat pooled low in her belly, she started to lean back into the warm pressure. She had the urge to tilt her hips, to back her ass up against— her eyes shot open, and she turned. There was no one there. Despite being alone, her cheeks grew hot.

A cute house in the woods, and a ghost apparently. When she tried the door again it opened. She gathered her things, locked up the house, and after a final lingering glance she left. 

She didn’t return to the cabin again for a whole three weeks. 

This time she returned with a married couple. The circumstances of her last visit had been bizarre. While the events of that day didn’t exactly haunt her, she had spent plenty of time imagining what her return trip would be like. If strange phenomena happened again she would have to assume that the cabin was haunted, and if it didn’t… well, she would have to assume that she was crazy.  When she pulled into the driveway, Maggie anticipated a bit of anxiety to flare up. There was no anxiety. Only a bones deep yearning to be back inside the cabin. So without the typical fanfare, Maggie unlocked the door and led the couple inside. 

Maggie frowned, and despite her curiosity, she left, and didn’t return to the cabin for a whole three weeks. This time, she returned with a married couple. The moment she was on the property, she yearned to be inside. She sought the comfort the cabin seemed to give her, so without much prelude or fanfare, she unlocked the front door and led the couple inside.

The tour was quick, as it usually was.

Entryway drop zone. Hallway. Living room left, kitchen right. A wall separated the living room from the bedroom. Across from  the bedroom was the bathroom and utility space. And there was the outhouse. Of course.

The couple seemed entirely uninterested, probably looking for something that was a bit more up-to-date.

“The land isn’t bad. Good space.”

Maggie nodded her agreement, “Great space. The owners live nearby. They’ve been maintaining the land, making sure it hasn’t gotten too overgrown. They offered to help with the upkeep after purchase.”

“Suppose I can tear down the cabin, do a custom build—“ the husband started.

“Wait, what—“

“Build a pool—“ the wife continued.

“This cabin was originally built in 18–“

“And it shows! It really shows. I’m not going to buy a one bedroom shack with an outhouse. But I can buy the space. Get rid of the cabin. Build a farmhouse and sell it for —“

Something happened then. Something that made the husband yelp. Maggie whirled around to see one of his feet dropping through one of the floorboards. When he stepped back to find his balance, he fell to the ground with a force that seemed to shake the very foundation of the cabin. Then the lights flickered. The front door snapped open then slammed shut. The wife shrieked at the sound. Maggie watched, detached from the fear she should feel. The husband vaulted to his feet. While the woman went to the door and tried to open it, the man yanked his foot from the floor. When the door didn’t open, the woman began to shriek and the man called after her to try and calm her down.

Maggie proceeded to view the unfolding chaos. She didn’t want the cabin to be torn down. She didn’t want there to be a frickin’ pool. She wanted the cabin to be fixed up, while maintaining its rustic charm. She wanted it appreciated by someone who could see the beauty it held. She wanted these two long gone. Maggie finally moved. With far more calm than she should feel, Maggie skirted around the hole in the floorboard, and joined the frantic couple at the door. The cabinets slammed and rattled in the kitchen. The lights had stopped flickering and had gone completely dark. Maggie squeezed her frame between the man and the door.  She took hold of the handle and twisted it. The door unlatched and she pushed it open. The duo pushed their way past her making her stumble out the door with them. They practically raced to their car, and before she knew it they were driving away. 

Maggie watched them go. Once the tail lights were out of view, Maggie turned to assess the cabin. She stood at the front door, pressing her hand against the hardwood frame.

“What was that about?” She asked the home, in a gentle coo. 

There was a loud creak from the inside, like footsteps, and without an ounce of fear, she stepped back into the now quiet cabin. The place had yet to turn on her. Not once. With the photographer, it had defended her. With the married couple it seemed to defend itself. Maggie somehow immediately convinced herself that the cabin wouldn’t turn on her. No harm would come to her when she was there.

She moved with careful steps as if she were approaching a frightened dog. She navigated around the new hole in the floor, and once she came to a stop she heard the front door close softly.

The old flooring creaked. In one place, and then in another. Growing closer. As if someone was walking towards her. The wild scent of wood smoke tickled her nose. Maggie closed her eyes and breathed it in. The touch of sweetness that curled at the edges made her mouth water. The sensation of a presence at her back should have set her off, but all she knew was ease, comfort, and home. 

“I ain’t standin’ by and lettin’ folks tear down my home.”

The voice was a low, accented drawl. The same voice that had told off that perverted photographer. The same one she had fantasized about more than a time or two as she lay in bed at night.

“And I’m through with all of the disrespect–”

“I-I never meant to disrespect anything–” her voice was quiet and ragged, but frantic. She turned towards her accuser and saw a man. Or the impression of one. It was hard to determine what exactly she was seeing, or not. The image only lived in her periphery and the moment she attempted to look directly at the figure, it seemed to shift out of view or vanish all together. 

She thought she was seeing a man. Tall, and broad, with eyes so dark they looked black. His clothes looked old and worn, with hints of khaki or maybe canvas, an old linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the buttons at his chest undone. 

Maggie swallowed, closing her eyes hard. She repeated, “I’m sorry. I never meant any disrespect.”

“Nah, girl. Not you. Them. I built this cabin with my bare hands. I know these’re different times, but to come into a man’s home and call it a shithole…”

The man was edging closer, and Maggie matched his stride in the opposite direction. She wasn’t retreating out of fear, or she didn’t think so. She wasn’t scared. What she was feeling wasn’t fear. And yet, if what he was saying was true, if this was the man who built the cabin all those years back that could only mean one thing. She should be scared.

“You’re-you’re right—“ her back touched the wall. She trained her gaze to look away so she could see him better as he made his approach. His hair was dark, like charcoal. His skin was a beautiful sunkissed tan. Were those suspenders hanging from his hips? 

“And then what that little pissant did to you…”

“He didn’t—“

A hand extended to her, brushing her wrist with warm, calloused fingers. The contact surprised her. He was warm. He was gentle. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be cold? He took her hand, dragging his thumb over her palm. Maggie’s eyes flickered to the point of contact. There was no more impression of a person dancing in her vision. There was indeed someone standing before her, touching her. When she chanced a look up at his face, his eyes were trained on their hands. He looked just as surprised as she felt. 

His voice softened. “He did. He disrespected you. And that’s somethin’ I ain’t gonna tolerate, y’hear me Maggie Whittaker?”

Maggie nodded her head, slowly before she managed to find her voice. “Who are you?”

“Elias Jameson.”

“Your family owns this place.”

“They do.”

“Do they know about… you?”

“Nah. Tried to speak with one of the boys a few years back and he never came back…”

Again, Maggie nodded. Finding words was becoming increasingly difficult, and his proximity wasn’t helping. She was floored, she was stunned, and she was positive that she was dreaming. Elias’ eyes lifted from their hands to study her face. Christ, Maggie thought. That jawline is sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“Yer scared.”

“I’m… confused. If you’re a, well… how…?” She tried to gather her thoughts. “It feels like I’m dreaming.”

The rough pads of his fingers touched the skin inside her wrist. It probably would have tickled if the contact didn’t feel so sensual. She licked her lips as she recalled being locked in the bedroom, with the sensation of a presence at her back, and the urge to press and grind and–

“This ain’t no dream, Miss Whittaker.”

[signalwatch]

X - 2022

Watched:  10/27/2023

Format:  Paramount+

Viewing:  First

Director:  Ti West

A xerox of a xerox of movies you've seen before, the greatest sin of X, the 2022 horror smash, is that it's fundamentally boring.  

Look, I don't make the movies, I just watch them, and when you're drawing obvious comparisons to your own movie, in the movie, and you choose to draw the audience's attention to Psycho (which I happened to have just watched), you're soft-breaking the cardinal movie rule of not showing a better movie during your own movie.  But, yes, the movie is a slow build for literally the first hour of people making a porn film in a rustic cabin on some farmer's property in the middle of East Texas nowhere, with some light hints that something is up with the elderly owners of the farm/ ranch-land where the filming is taking place.

The problem with this, imho, is that Writer/ Director Ti West is under the impression that by borrowing Psycho's slow build and pivot, which he calls out, he's doing the same thing.  But we're 62 years on, we've all seen a lot of movies, and at this point I was looking at my watch instead of the movie when we don't get our first kill til 58 minutes into a 105 minute film.  I don't know how to tell Ti West - my man, Hitch did this 30 years into perfecting tension in movies.  This ain't that.

The actors are good enough, with only one of them doing anything resembling a Texas accent, and the rest doing movie-southern.  I won't get into the nuance of Houston accents, because that's tedious, but I will point out the suggestion is that they're in Houston at the start, but Ti West means Pasadena, where they filmed Urban Cowboy around the same time.  

Weirdly, the movie is filmed in New Zealand, doubling for East Texas, and it's a surprisingly good match, if you've driven through that region.  Flat with patches of tall trees and plenty cleared for farming and ranching.  What I can't buy is that a building built in the 1920's, let alone during the Civil War, would still be standing without major restoration effort, given the weather and mold of Texas anywhere within 3 hours of the Gulf.  

The pitch of the movie is essentially "old people are scary, and more so if it's clearly low-budget old-age makeup".  What drives the elderly woman, Pearl, to murder, is that she's horny, and unable to sate her endless desire as she once did with her husband, and, we assume, many other lovers.  I'm unsure if we're supposed to find old people having sexual desire frightening - I personally don't, and am perfectly aware old folk's homes can basically have the the same amount of hanky panky happening behind closed doors as freshmen dorms. 

Why lust turns to homicide, I can't say.  And the movie doesn't care to make it clear.  But we're told that seeing Maxine, played by new indie film darling Mia Goth as both Maxine and Pearl (under makeup) and catching bits of the filming, her desires are stoked, and when she's rebuffed, she gets stabby.

It's an interesting decision.  The way Pearl is played is as a frail old woman, and its kind of tough to buy she or her husband can do much but shuffle around the house hoping not to break a hip.  There's no magic or anything, just a misdirected libido and a too-understanding husband.  

But, yeah, you'll watch the movie and say "huh, that's Boogie Nights.  That's Lake Placid.  That's Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  That's Psycho." and so on and so forth.   In it's way, it's just another "ooooOOOoooOOoooo people who live in non-urban places are creeeeeepy" movie.  But the cast is small, they're all written to be morons.  It takes *forever* to get from death to death as the movie *finally* gets around to being a horror film.  But none of its that interesting (I did have a laugh at the reference to the actual farmer's daughter joke reference in the movie, even if it made literally no sense).  

I think maybe West is trying to say something about sex, but it's kind of like - nothing particularly interesting.  So.  

Anyway.. it's fine.  If all you're looking for is a movie where people get murdered, this is that.  I won't watch it again, but go nuts on your fandom here.  I found the pacing absolutely deadly, and the attempts to repackage better films kind of ill-conceived.  

Oh, yeah, this also has Jenna Ortega, who is having her breakout year, and she's pretty good!  As is the entire cast, I guess.  

[nastybuckybarnes]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky X Reader

Summary: During a summer away from school, you head back home to the small town you grew up in. You quickly resume your job on the Farm where you spent most of your teen years, reconnecting with people you thought you might never see again.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I like this idea. I like this title. I just like it. I hope y’all do too. 

~*~

Student loans most certainly don't pay themselves.

That's something people tell you but doesn't fully hit until you see the big bills in the mail. Instead of dwelling, you climb into your rusty old car and set out down the highway, heading back to the town where you grew up.

Your parents have been bugging you about coming to visit, and the town always has job openings somewhere, easily the best place to go to rake in some extra cash during your summer break.

And that's how you find yourself here, standing outside the big white farmhouse that's something straight out of a magazine.

Your dad dropped you off at the start of the long circular driveway, leaving you to walk to the front of the house in your old farm boots.

As you approach the house, you feel yourself getting nervous as you see the figure sitting on the yellow porch swing.

"My Goodness! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! Is that you?!" You smile at the familiar voice, hurrying towards her as she gets off the swing and clomps down the stairs towards you.

"You've grown so much! We've missed you 'round these parts!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around you as soon as you're in range.

"Hi, Winnie! I've missed you too." She keeps an arm around your shoulders and walks you up the step and through the blue front door of the huge house. You toe off your boots and she does the same, not bothering to put them away properly in her haste to get you comfortable.

"I'll get you something to drink. We've got so much to catch up on. And the boys! Oh! They'll be dyin' to see ya. James 'specially. He just ain’t been the same since you left for the big city. But look at you now, a grown woman, a big city girl." You grin, eyes flittering around the house.

It's changed over the years, but it hasn't lost its homey feel. The walls of the entryway are the same yellow-orange as they always were, the floors, the same deep oak.

You take a left, through the dining room and past George's office, through the kitchen and finally into the sitting room.

You take your time, admiring all the renovations they've done in the years since you've last been in here.

All the cupboards and counters are a bright pristine white, but the beams across the ceiling give it a rustic feel. The appliances are all stainless steel, and the hardwoods have been darkened since the last time you saw them.

Winnifred pulls you to sit down on the soft beige couch across from the windows, smiling brightly at you.

"I'll grab you a drink. Wanda squeezed some orange juice fresh this mornin' so we're in for a treat." She pours you a glass and you smile as she hands it to you, her hospitality warming your heart.

"How's the big city treated ya?" She asks, plopping down on the couch next to you. You take a sip of orange juice then sigh.

"It's... different than out here, that's for sure. The people mind their business and they don't stick out for each other the way we do. But I think that that's helped me really grow and become independent." She nods, smiling at you.

"Look at you. Always know you'd be somethin' great. And here you are, on the road to being a doctor. Hope you don't forget us while you're out there savin' lives." You shake your head.

"I could never forget you guys. This place is my home. You guys... you're my family." She nods, "you're darn right."

"That's uh... one of the reasons why I cam here, actually. Ma was tellin' me that you guys are looking for some extra help over the summer. I may not be as good as I was before, but I still remember how to take care of the animals and run the place."

"Oh Darlin', you'll always have a job here, whenever you want. You can help with paperwork or you can help the boys with the animals if you want." You nod, mulling over your options.

"Or if you're really up for it, you can help with both." You nod, liking that idea more than just picking one.

"And you'll stay here during the week. It's gonna be early mornings and late nights, just like before. But weekends you can go home to your family." You nod again, taking another sip of your juice.

"You'll be staying in the guest house with James. I hope you don't mind. There are two bedrooms so you won't have to bunk together. He got it done all nice and pretty, I think you'll really like it. And if you don't, I'll see if Wanda'll stay with him for the summer." You wave her off.

"I'm sure James and I will be fine to live under one roof for the summer." She nods with a grin, happy that you're back home where, in her opinion, you belong.

"The boys should be finished in the field soon. I'm sure they're hungry. Wanna help me whip up some lunch? It's been a while since we've had those grilled sandwiches you make. I'm sure the boys'll love 'em as a surprise." You nod, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, falling into the familiar task of making lunch for the farm boys.

You and Winifred talk about the growth of the farm and about the new girl, Wanda. "Her family's from Europe. She moved out here for school but got a job working on the farm. Decided to take a break from school and work with us for a couple years before going back to school. Isn't that so lovely? Everyone who gets a taste of this ol' farm just can't stay away. You're no exception, are ya?"

You shake your head, a grin on your lips as you plate the sandwiches.

Boots trudge against the stone by the door and your heart races in your chest. The door swings open and the conversation the two men are having comes to a halt when they see not one, but two pairs of women's boots at the door.

"Ma?" a familiar voice calls out. You hear them taking off their own shoes and then they're coming through the dining room and into the kitchen.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but this certainly isn't it.

The two scrawny boys you used to play on the tire swing with have grown into huge men. Steve, the boy that used to be so sick all the time, with nothing but skin on his bones, is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His head nearly hits the top of the doorway when he walks into the kitchen, eyes as blue as ever. And the accentuate his muscles, he's wearing a skintight blue shirt that shows off every single curve and crevice in his body.

His mouth opens in shock when he sees you before a grin spreads over his pink lips. He rushes to you and engulfs you in a tight and sweaty bear hug, squeezing you tight in his arms.

You giggle uncontrollably as he spins you around.

"God, it's been too long! What're you doing 'round these parts?" He sets you down on your feet, hands on your shoulders as he drinks in your figure.

Winifred answers before you have a chance to, and you take the moment to look around Steve's arm to where you know James is standing.

Standing in place of the lanky boy who stole your first kiss is a grown man. His hair's trimmed and slicked back, and he's got a short scruffy beard growing. He's almost as tall as Steve is, still several inches taller than you, and even thicker, biceps straining against the tight fabric of his flannel shirt. His thighs are sinfully thick in his dirty jeans, and there's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You can't help but devour his figure with your eyes, greedy to drink up every detail of him.

He does the same to you, pink bottom lip tucked between his white teeth as his eyes rake over your figure.

From the tight white tank top that hugs your chest, to those damn jeans that hug your legs so perfectly, to the mismatched socks on your feet. He's missed you, that much he'll admit.

"...I just hope that the two of you get along like you used to." The two of you tune back in, turning to his mother as she continues speaking, oblivious to the moment you just shared.

"Wait what?" He asks, voice deep. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You and (Y/n). I figured that you've got plenty of room for her to bunk with you. And with Wanda stayin' with us, there ain't a lotta room for her to stay." You glance over at the man in question and he swallows hard before nodding.

"Yeah. Of course." Winifred claps her hands together happily.

"Perfect. Now, you boys must be hungry. Eat up!" Steve grabs his plate of sandwiches and sits down on the couch, sighing and relaxing with ease. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn't move as quickly. He waits until his mother leaves to turn something on the tv before moving, and when he does he only moves towards you.

You lean back instinctively, inhaling sharply when you find yourself pinned against the countertop behind you.

He looks you up and down again, nodding to himself. He's so close that you can feel the familiar warmth of him through the few inches separating the two of you. He leans closer for a moment, lips just hovering over yours, and your eyelids fall closed. Until he pulls back.

A soft whine falls from your lips and he chuckles quietly, grabbing his plate of food and plopping down next to Steve on the couch. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before heading into the living room and sitting by Winnie.

"I suppose you'll need to go home and pick up some of your things, won't ya?" You nod, taking another sip of your orange juice. "I'll have my folks bring it over later on. If that's alright with you." She nods, grinning happily.

"You know what? I say we have a barbecue tonight. Invite your folks over, some old friends. Celebrate you comin' home for the summer." She's up and hurrying away before you can even say no.

It's silent for a painfully long moment before Steve clears his throat and speaks.

"So how's school been?" You almost roll your eyes. Same old awkward Steve.

"It's been good. I uh... finished my second year of med school. I've just got two years of clinical experience to go then I start my residency." He nods, leaning forward in interest.

"And you've chosen your specialty?" You nod, smiling as you talk about your passion.

"I'm going into Obstetrics and Gynaecology. So for my clinical I'll be pretty much just shadowing some doctors, delivering babies, helping and observing in the OR. Then it's a minimum of five years in residency before I can start my own practice." He nods thoughtfully, smiling suddenly.

"So in two years we'll be callin' ya 'Doctor (Y/l/n)'?" You nod, that fact scaring you more than it probably should.

"Yup." He shakes his head in disbelief. "You know, I have a hard time believing that the same girl who went to rodeo's with me and this punk when we were skinny little nobodies... can't believe she's a grown woman now, on her way to becoming a doctor. I've gotta say, (Y/n), I'm so proud of you. You've got no idea." Your eyes prickle and you blink furiously.

"Thank you, Steve. It feels so... surreal. Coming back here after all these years... it feels like nothing's really changed." He smiles, nodding.

"Yeah. Nothing's changed at all," Bucky mumbles, eyes on you. You look down at your lap, unsure what he means by that.

~*~

The first week of helping on the farm is exactly how you remembered it. Early mornings, heavy lifting, and the stench of animal crap that seems to stick to your hair even after you shower. But it feels like home. And spending time with your closest friends is worth it all.

You're walking through the tiny town's farmer's market, a list of groceries in your right hand, written by Winifred herself.

Just as you're paying for the last vegetables that you need, the sound of horse hooves on the gravel road makes you and everyone around you turn to the sound.

Sitting atop his prized mare is Bucky, a dark cowboy hat on his head and some fancy looking cowboy boots on his feet. He slows to a stop in front of you, grinning as you step closer.

"Well howdy," you tease. He chuckles and looks down for a moment.

"Ma wanted me to come pick you up. Says a storm's brewin'. She didn't want you walking home in it. Brought my pack so you can stash the groceries and we can ride back home." You purse your lips then nod, handing him the groceries so he can put them away.

"Now c'mon up. You remember how to ride?" The glimmer in his eyes makes you grin.

"As a matter of fact, James, I remember vividly how to ride." He chuckles softly and offers you his hand. You grab it with one hand and pull while bouncing to give yourself momentum. You grab onto his bicep with your other arm and swing your leg over the horse, pulling yourself up the rest of the way with ease.

"Huh, all that time in the big city hasn't made you forget," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at you while his mare starts a comfortable walk back to the house.

"I uh... I haven't had a chance to tell you, but your place looks great," you say awkwardly, hands twitching to reach for him.

He hums, his right hand reaching back and grabbing onto yours, pulling it around his waist. "You'd better hold on tight. Don't want you to fall." You bring your other hand around his waist and lean your head against his back.

The ride back home is quiet and peaceful, and gives you far too much to think about.

When you're finally back on the property, Bucky hops off of his mare then reaches up and grabs your waist instinctively. And you let him.

He helps you down and the two of you stand like that for a long moment, chests touching and eyes locked together, the tension palpable between the two of you.

Thunder booms in the distance and it snaps the two of you out of your moment. Bucky ducks his head and leads his mare to the stables and you make your way into the house that the two of you are sharing.

When Bucky finally comes inside, his hat damp with rain, you've got two mugs of tea waiting. You hand one to him then make your way into the sunroom to relax as the rain falls gently outside.

You're sipping your tea, watching the rain, when Bucky comes out and sits next to you on the worn old couch.

"I've missed you, (Y/n). I really have. It just.... it ain't the same without you here." You look over at him and smile sadly.

"I've missed you too, Buck. So much." He throws his arm over the back of the couch, eyes on you as he sets his mug down on the coffee table.

"When you left... I thought you'd come back and be too prissy for me. Thought you'd realize what you're worth and you wouldn't wanna speak to me again, that's assumin' you'd come back at all. And I know it's shallow of me, but I didn't know what to expect. But let me tell you that I'm so damn happy that you haven't changed. You've filled out a bit more, and you seem more confident, but you're still my (Y/n) in there."

You look over at him, see the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes, and find yourself falling head over heels all over again.

"Bucky, I'd never think myself 'too good' for you. Or for anyone here. You guys are my family... my friends.... and..." you trail off , eyes darting down to his lips for a long moment before finding his eyes again.

His arm slides from the couch to your shoulders, fingers squeezing your shoulder gently. You lean forward, setting your mug on the table beside his then nuzzle back against him, sighing softly.

"I'm glad you're home," he whispers, eyes finding your lips. You nod, instinctively shifting closer to him.

You lick your lips and his eyes dart down to the movement. He looks back up to your eyes, asking for permission. You grant it, leaning forward slightly. He meets you halfway, lips warm and slightly chapped.

You melt into it, moaning softly against his mouth. He takes advantage of your parted lips and gently lets his tongue explore, re-familiarizing himself with every inch of you.

His hands grip your waist and yanks you over to him, helping you situate yourself so that you're straddling his thighs. You cup his cheeks and kiss him harder, inhaling sharply when he grabs your ass.

"Let's get you outta these jeans, yeah?" He asks, his voice gravelly and deep with lust. You stand up, legs trembling slightly, and quickly rid yourself of your jeans. He does the same, kicking off his jeans and unbuttoning his flannel. You pull your t-shirt above your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him, except for your panties.

He has his hand down his boxers, stroking his hard length while his hooded eyes stay trained on you.

You drop to your knees between his legs and smile innocently up at him.

"Can I suck your cock, Bucky?" He moans at the way you say it, nodding his head furiously. You're quick to help him out of his boxers, your jaw dropping as his cock rests freely against his abdomen.

He's so much bigger than you remember. You take him in your dominant hand, stroking him slowly. He throws his head back, taking deep breaths as you continue to slowly torture him.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you lean forward and lick him from base to tip, then take him down your throat.

He lurches forward, hand grabbing onto your hair as you start bobbing your head up and down.

"Jesus fuck!" He watches you through hooded eyes as you give him what may be the best blowjob of his life.

"Fuck, stop." He pulls you off of his cock and takes a few shuddering breaths.

"As fucking fantastic as that feels, I wanna cum inside of you." You rub your thighs together as heat pools at your centre at his words.

He pulls you up onto his lap again and pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties, tearing them clean off of your body. He tosses them aside then pulls you closer to his chest, rutting his hips upwards to grind his cock against your folds. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, the feeling of his hot length against your wet heat only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You gonna let me fuck you hard? Huh? You gonna let me show you just how much I missed you?" You nod breathlessly, grinding your hips against his and moaning every time he bumps your clit.

He lifts you up slightly, just enough to snake his hand between your naked bodies, then lines his aching cock with your cunt.

He doesn't make any further move, allowing you to take the reins at your own pace, and for that you're more than grateful.

It takes a while, lowering on him slowly, before you can settle comfortably on his lap, and even then the two of you are straining.

"Fuck," he rasps, fingers digging into your waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

You give your hips an experimental rock and moan as he rubs right against your g-spot.

"God, you're tight," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. You glance down to where the two of you are connected then back up to his blissed-out face and make a decision in your head.

With determination and a loud moan, you lift your hips then drop them back down. He lets out a guttural groan and you repeat the action, gradually speeding up until you're bouncing in his lap, his cock hitting every single good place inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna cum," he whispers, moaning softly when you clench around him. You can feel yourself approaching the edge too, and when he brings his hand between your legs to rub your swollen clit, you see stars.

A long drawn out moan leaves your lips as your release slams into you like a brick wall. You collapse against his chest, eyes rolling back into your head as he grips your hips and fucks up into you, drawing out your orgasm while finally reaching his own.

His hips stutter a few more times before he stills, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest while the two of you stay locked together, his cock softening inside of you.

You push yourself up against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hums happily and hugs you tighter. Two fingers flick the tip of his hat and he chuckles, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

"Well, you know what they say," you whisper, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head. He shakes his head with a laugh. "No, what do they say?"

You grin and bring your mouth down so that it's just hovering over his.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

[atekasey]

My Top 5 Games of 2019

As I like to do every year, here’s some collected ramblings about my opinions of some games I played and really liked this year. While there were a lot more than 5 games that I enjoyed this year, I only had strong opinions about these 5. Without further ado, here are my thoughts on my top 5 games of the year of our lord 2019.

DISCO ELYSIUM

Full disclosure: I have not finished Disco Elysium; I am about three quarters of the way through the 3rd day. Regardless, I loved so much of what little I played that I consider it one of the best games of the year, based solely on the world-building and characterizations I’ve encountered so far.

Disco Elysium is an adventure game/RPG where the only stats you build up are personality stats and thought processes, which affects how you talk to people and interact with the environment. The main plot is about you playing as an amnesiac cop tasked with solving a murder at the centre of a labour dispute, but to be honest I couldn't really care less about the main plot. Not to say the plot is bad per se, it just didn't grab me like how the setting and individual characterizations did. The main plot was nothing more than a vehicle for me to explore and find out more about Revachol, its residents, and how all of them came to be who they are. The amazing writing that underpins every interaction is what makes the individual interactions so compelling.

When I woke up every morning (in the game world, mind you), the only thing I wanted to do is talk to people, conveniently ignoring the dialogue choices that furthered the plot until the end of the conversation. The pétanque-playing veterans who have some scathing opinions about communist theory, the paledriver who's mind is corrupted by nostalgia, the mysterious balcony smoker who I later learned was part of the homosexual underground, the Semanese race theorist who I wanted nothing more than to punch in the face if not for my low physical instrument stat, these are just some examples of the extremely varied characters you meet while you investigate some dead dude or whatever, I guess. Speaking of the paledriver, learning about the true nature of the pale from the White Pines rep was a pivotal moment for me personally, as it made the world feel both unique and existentially terrifying. All these little details and more create the rich tapestry that is Disco Elysium. Also, some dude was murdered??? Who cares about that, I need to make my sorry-cop sing depressing karaoke!

I should really get back and finish it.

CONTROL

I remember the first time I read SCP-087 back in the day, and it introduced me up to the horrifying (and sometimes comedic) world of SCP. For those who don't know SCP (which can stand for "special containment procedures" or "secure, contain, protect", depending where you look), is a collaborative fiction wiki about fake government reports on the supernatural and paranormal. It's the bureaucratic nature of SCPs that really drew me into reading them, making it feel like I was reading real government reports.

So imagine my delighted surprise when I first played Control, I picked up the first of many report-type collectible and saw that it was written almost exactly like an SCP entry. Control is a game that asks "what if the SCP Foundation was a real branch of the US government?" and goes off the deep-end with that premise in the best possible way. The bureaucratic mundanity of the Federal Bureau of Control really shines in these reports, as you read report after report of some other-worldly phenomenon while also reading reports about the monthly book club. Beyond that, actually playing control was fun and engaging... up until the end. Jesse is a great protagonist, and the characters you meet along the way have great personality and give life to the bureau. The Oldest House is a fascinating setting to explore, with it’s brutalist look and nooks and crannies that change and spiral off in otherworldly ways. Unfortunately, for all the build-up the story was leading to, it ends on a pretty lame whimper. But the lackluster ending did not sway my overall love for Control. No one makes games like Remedy at the AAA level, and I'm happy they are making games like Control. I cannot wait for the DLC for this game to get back into it.

Also, the PC version of control does a phenomenal job at showing off how ray-tracing really is the future of lighting and graphics. The real-time reflections alone, where the scene I was watching was reflected almost perfectly on a pane of glass like an actual reflection (in real-time, no less!) was a marvel to look at. And, not since Quake 2 did coloured lighting look so pretty. Suffice to say, Control justified my RTX 2080 purchase single-handedly.

AI: THE SOMNIUM FILES

I have what one can say a love/hate relationship with the Zero Escape series. The first entry, 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors, is one of my favourite games of all time (currently ranked 3rd, if you care at all, which you probably don't, sorry to bother you), and while the cliffhanger ending of the sequel, Virtue's Last Reward, made me excited to see where the series would go, Zero Time Dilemma ultimately did not offer a satisfying conclusion. Not only did ZTD barely resolve any of the threads started in VLR, but it was a very disappointing conclusion to the entire Zero Escape series as a whole (Junpei and Akane's story just getting a tossed-off mention after you beat the game about how "they lived happily ever after" and nothing else? THEY DESERVED BETTER!). So when it was announced that the creator of the Zero Escape series, Kotaro Uchikoshi, was making a new game called AI: The Somnium Files, I was cautiously optimistic. I hoped ZTD was just a one-off and not indicative of a downward trend starting to happen, and Uchikoshi still had it in him to tell a compelling story.

Very fortunately (for me at least), AI: The Somnium Files delivered in the best possible way, meeting and thoroughly exceeding my expectations.

It took some time before the game adhered itself to me as a truly great game, unlike Zero Escape. In the Zero Escape games, given the Saw-like murder games the characters were forced to participate in, there was an sense of urgency to the story that helped propel it right from minute one. AI, on the other hand, is more procedural, which makes sense given that you're playing as Kaname Date, a cop who has a fake eye that is also an AI named AIBA (trust me, it makes sense in context), trying to solve the murder of his adopted daughter's birth mom. Not to strip the act of murder from the seriousness it deserves, but AI ends up being more lighthearted than the Zero Escape games, which only made me enjoy the game more. AI takes its time to explore it's story and characters, letting scenes breath and focus on characters instead of the mystery at hand, allowing said characters to have more development and growth. I bring this up only so I can talk about Mizuki Okiura, Date's adoptive daughter, who quickly becomes the standout character from the game. A back-talking, street-wise 12-year-old punk who forces her way into becoming Date's "partner" as he unravels an ever-growing conspiracy of politics, missing eyeballs, and twitch streamers (again, please trust me, it makes sense in context).

She also has a lead pipe she likes to beat people with.

Mizuki is the best.

She is THE BEST!

Make an entire game about her YOU COWARDS!!

...Anyways, structurally, AI plays similarly to Zero Escape, but with more adventure game elements to it. You still follow a flow-chart that branches depending on story choices you make, and you need to see all branches to complete the story. Not to keep comparing AI to the Zero Escape games (that's why I'm playing this game, so that's the lens I'm analyzing this game through; this is my essay, I can do what I want, you’re not my real dad), but unlike the Zero Escape games, AI ends on a legitimate, no-fooling, unambiguous happy ending that couldn't have put a bigger smile on my face. Sure, it was corny, but the entire game was corny, and ultimately I didn't care! I was just happy that I wasn't uber-depressed after playing one of Uchikoshi's games! It even ends on a dance number consisting of the entire cast of characters!

AI is a good time all-around!

(Except for the murders. Those are bad...probably...)

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

Yes, this game came out last year, but honestly I don't care. I played it this year and that's all that matters. However, as I am coming to this game later than most, most of what can be said about Red Dead 2 has already been said by way smarter people than I am, so I won't retread any of that well-trodden ground. So, I'll keep this short: Arthur Morgan's journey is one of the best told story in AAA gaming to date, and never have I felt more like a rustic cowboy wandering the the old west. People harped on the sluggish nature of the controls, but I honestly liked it, as it added to that feeling of being a wandering cowboy. I took my time meandering through the the forests of Roanoke Ridge, the deserts of New Austin, and the red earth of Scarlet Meadows. There was nothing more that I enjoyed in this game than gearing up, getting on my horse and just riding aimlessly until I encountered something that catches my attention, whether that be a 3-star animal, a legendary fish, or even a dilapidated church on a civil war battlefield. I put in well over 100 hours on PS4 earlier this year, and I've put in another 100+ hours on PC, and I don't see myself putting it down anytime soon.

Fucking superb, you funky little cowboy game.

OUTER WILDS

Outer Wilds is not only the best game of 2019, but probably one of my top 5 favourite games of all time. It's hard to describe what makes Outer Wilds a truly one-of-a-kind experience for me without spoiling the ending. It's a game driven purely by exploration and discovery. Knowledge of the world and how it works is the sole "progression" system in the entire game; so much so that you can beat it in your very first first session if you happened to have the discoveries spoiled for you. Go into as blind as possible, that’s what I did and it made the experience all the more special. Play this game, you will not be disappointed.

At this point, I will be spoiling the major parts of the story of Outer Wilds, primarily the ending, because it is the thing that I have not been able to stop thinking about since I first experienced it. Be warned that there be major spoilers beyond this point. Given that Outer Wilds is all about discovery, I highly recommend you do not read anything beyond this point if you haven't beaten it. Again, play this game, you will not be disappointed.

One of my earliest existential fears was when I learned about the lifespan of stars in the second grade. I remember it vividly: sitting in class, hearing my teacher describe the stages of a star's life, going from normal-sized star to red giant, then eventually to a supernova, then explaining that will happen to our Sun as well. The dawning realization that the Sun will grow to a size that will envelop the Earth terrified me beyond anything that has ever terrified me up until that point in my albeit short life. I couldn't sleep for days without fearing that the sun will expand, consume the Earth and burn everyone I ever loved alive. It didn't matter that my teacher said it would take millions upon millions of years before the Sun ever reached this stage, this was my single-biggest fear.

Fast-forward 23 years later to beginning of June of 2019, I pick up Outer Wilds based on the buzz the game was getting. I knew the game was based around a time-loop à la Majora’s Mask, but had no idea about one of it’s biggest “mechanics,” so to speak. My first few runs in that game resulted in premature deaths, so it took me a little bit to realize that the Sun explodes after 22 minutes and envelops everything in a fiery blaze. Seeing my childhood fear unfolding right in from of me just drove me to unravel the mysteries of the universe I inhabited, if nothing more so that I could find a way to stop it. As I learned more about the ostensible precursor race, the Nomai, whom were fixated on finding something called the Eye of the Universe but perished before they could find it, I got it in my head that, if I can just do what the Nomai failed to do, I could stop all of this from happening. Every time the time loop started, I would run out into space and unraveling the mystery further and further, each time being obliterated by the sun at the end of 22 minutes (or dying in a really stupid physics-y way), getting closer and closer to finding out what’s really going on.

Eventually, I discovered enough information to accomplish the task of reaching the Eye of the Universe: I found the coordinates of the Eye, a ship with the necessary warp-drive to get there, and a power source to make it all happen. With the keys in-hand to finally unlocking the answer to this mystery, I set off on what would be my final run: I performed the necessary tasks, said one last goodbye to the Solar System, and barreled into what I would eventually learn is the quantum singularity of time and space, a.k.a the Eye of the Universe. I stepped out into a vast, cold emptiness of quantum existence that was the Eye and wondered around, looking for something, anything. After falling through what seemed to be a quantum vortex, I eventually found a museum not unlike the one you find at the beginning of the game; a museum that is part of the tutorial for the game. This museum contains a picture at the entrance showcasing the founders of the Outer Wilds Ventures space program, the in-universe space program your nameless, faceless alien character is a part of. However, in this quantum facsimile of this tutorial museum, which is cloaked in darkness save for the sole light emanating from your spacesuit, you're positioned to see the same picture you saw at the beginning of the game, only this time a new caption appears when inspecting it:

"Outer Wilds Ventures was founded by Feldspar, Gossan, Slate, and Hornfels to explore a solar system at the end of the universe."

I'm not trying to be hyperbolic when I say that: reading that caption started to make me go through the 5 stages of grief. I was immediately in denial of what I just read. “How could the universe be ending? The Hearthians just started their space program! How unfair it is for them for the universe they were just about to explore to end like that! Also, this is a video game! You’re supposed to give me the feel-good ending of being the hero and stopping the universe-ending event from ever happening!” As I explored the quantum museum more, the fact that the universe actually ending became more and more apparent and harder to ignore. Then, I recalled pieces of information I encountered during my travels that hinted (or plainly stated and I was too deluded to acknowledge them) that the universe was ending, and transitioned to the 2nd stage of grief: anger. Anger at myself for missing something so obvious and deluding myself into thinking that I could enact change on such a cosmic scale. I quickly entered the 3rd stage, bargaining, as I tried to snap myself out of it. “The game was pulling a fast one on me,” I told myself, “I hadn't reached the "end" of the ending yet, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Let’s not count all our chickens before they hatch!” I interacted with with the final prompt in the quantum museum, which transported me to a forest filled with galaxies. One by one, I watched these galaxies explode and fade from existence, until all that was left was darkness. It was at this point, I truly realized there was no stopping this, and I transitioned into the 4th stage: depression.

Through my depression, I stumbled across the dark, quantum glade to where I eventually found a quantum facsimile of myself, which no joke spooked me. Then all of a sudden, a campfire appears. The game asks me to settle, roasts some marshmallows, which I do, I guess. “What else can I do? It’s all pointless, the universe is over!” As I roast marshmallow after marshmallow, I'm eventually joined by a facsimile of the first Outer Wilds Ventures companion I met after launching into the stars for the first time: Esker. Esker  (”Feskermile? does that work?”) wants me to gather all the other facsimiles of the Outer Wilds Ventures folk I’ve met during my travels and have one last campfire jamboree. Still feeling defeated and hopeless, I begrudgingly set out into the darkness of the quantum forest to find Feldspar, Gabbro, Chert, and Riebeck, along with Solanum, the kinda-but-not-really-last-living Nomai I met on the Quantum Moon. Once everyone was gathered around the campfire, they started played the tune I've heard all throughout my travels in the solar system. A melody that immediately starts flooding my brain with memories of my adventures: seeing the islands of Giant’s Deep being flung into space by a storm of tornadoes; the asteroids of Hollow’s Lantern destroying the surface of Brittle Hollow, revealing a black hole core; traversing the endless fog of Dark Bramble while dodging giant eldritch anglerfish; watching the sand majestically trade places between the hourglass twins. All of these memories and more came rushing to the forefront of my mind as I listened to the characters I’ve come to know and love play the same blissful tune that propelled me on my journey up until this exact point.

As the members of the Outer Wilds Ventures space program and the both-living-and-dead Nomai finished playing their song, a new universe is born from the ashes of the doomed universe we're all currently in, which indicated to me that this is truly the end, not just for the universe, but also for the game in general. So, with a heavy sigh, I went around the campfire one last time and spoke with every character as a way to say goodbye. It was when I talked to Riebeck, the ever-optimistic banjo player, that I finally transitioned into the 5th and last stage of grief: acceptance.

"The past is past, now, but that's... you know, that's okay! It's never really gone completely. The future is always built on the past, even if we won't get to see it."

A wave of catharsis washed over my entire being. Grief is a feeling that I never truly felt while playing a video game before playing Outer Wilds. Sure, I've been sad when I character I liked gets killed and the like, but I never experienced grief so profound like the one I felt during the ending of Outer Wilds. It was grief for a universe still teeming with life about to end; it was grief for a species that just started looking at the stars not being able to fully explore their own domain; it was grief for a species that never saw the fruits of their scientific labour; ultimately, it was grief about the inevitability of death. Abject terror flooded my mind when I finally realized that the universe was truly ending and I was powerless to stop it. But that single line of dialogue from Riebeck allowed me to appreciate what was happening. I was finally happy, not because it was truly over, but because I was able to experience everything I did up until the very end. No ending, no matter the cosmic scale of it, can ever take away the memories I had existing in this universe.

With that, I collected myself, took one last look at everyone around the campfire, and collapsed the singularity, ending the current universe and giving birth to a new one, with the clearest sense of purpose I've ever had: I was finally able to confront and conquer one of my biggest fears.

[nickbrown35]

Week 3-History of Design

In this picture you can see the different shaped light structure. The lights are surrounded by wick balls that give off the illusion of them sparkling. The design is very pleasing to the eye and gives a different look. The sparkling illusion is a much better design quality and completely changes how you view lights.

The next image is of this yeti water bottle. This sleek design really appeals to people. The silver sleek outside with the mat black top looks really pleasing tot he eye. The insulation of the cup is really well designed and can keep drinks cold for hours.

This is a sign that is in my dorm but would belong out in a lake-house or somewhere near water. The metal exterior gives it a real rustic feeling yet feeling of warmth and comfort. The colors are’t super bright but appear to be faded just a little to make it appear older.

Here is a drawing of a fruit collage. The fruits are many different colors and have distinct shapes. It is drawn with oil pastels which made the colors more vibrant and appeal to the audience more.

Unlike the other picture this one was done only using stencils. There are color contrasts but they are from the different shadings done. This picture is simple yet speaks volume. There are no words but you can only imagine with the cowboy is thinking viewing off into the mountains.

This is a Marshall speaker. It has a retro look with the Marshall in cursive yet also modern with the sleek design and the buttons on the top. They also did a good job with he design by having the buttons and logo be chrome plated instead of just plastic. The stereo system has great sound and an elegant look, what more could you ask for.

This is a Woozoo fan. It is simple yet gets the job done. The black curved design makes it aerodynamic and it has 3 different levels of power. The small blades generate a lot of power considering their size.I’ve had this fan over a year and its been exactly the same, no problems whatsoever. 

This is a picture from my dorm. You can see here how the colors on the leaves are starting to change. You have the different color leaves mixed with the blueish gray sky contrast really well. It sums up fall perfectly as the days get shorter and colder as well.

This picture I drew is of a scorpion. It was done with stencil and you can see with the stingers and claws the shading is a lot darker. I wanted the design of the scorpion to be menacing yet simple. Sometimes too much detail gives off an impression but just a little bit helps the viewer paint a picture in his mind of what it could be.

The design of this hat is just all around perfect. The navy with the yellow and white trim compliments the hat really well. It’s a simple design with the glove spelling out the m and b for the Milwaukee Brewers. It’s a retro look that doesn’t appear to be out of style.

I really thought that this assignment showed me so much about the design of objects and art. Design is all around us and intricated in every part of our life.

[gymclassmagazine]

The Second Coming of The Wood Bar Feces

Unlike its costly, developer, leather, plastic, or hard plastic-trimmed equivalents, the timber bar stool, unfortunately, does not delight in the level of love and adoration as a result of it.

Neither does it bring in any of the snobby, pseudo-intellectual remarks typically guided to its spidery chrome counterpart. Typically, the wood bar feces has actually been the preserve of old male bars, sports bars, as well as home dining-room breakfast counters amongst the striving middle classes. Therefore, we might blame upon wood bar stools the mock, taunting, and derision which bar stools, in general, have needed to endure considering that the 1990s. You may also love reading one of our previous post Searching For Wheelchair Lift Vanschair. How many times have we remained in the furniture department of Walmart or Target only to listen to some person-- in a voluminous tracksuit, showing off a crew cut and also titanium-rimmed specifications-- cast a sorry yet scornful consider some inadequate, helpless wood bar feces, tremble his head, and also say loudly, "Oh my god! Check it out, guy. Timber bar stools! That is so '80s!"

Yee-ha! Yet who, pray do tell, was originally in charge of the homemade interior decoration perversion that was and could once more be the wood bar stool? In numerous nations around the western globe, particularly with the increase of suburbs, people tried to find the apparently "unique" in design, most likely to offset the monotony of their surrounding setting, their dull regimens, as well as their drab lives. Therefore it was that a countless ceremony of unique styles became the American house-- the faux Mediterranean home, the Ranch style cottage with its token half-buried wagon wheel in the side yard, and also the hacienda-style four-bedroom vacation home, with its curved straw double entrance and also those littles brown wood that protrude the walls to attempt as well as make your neighbors believe that you live in Mexico rather than La Crosse, Wisconsin. Then, the residence bar, as well as the kitchen area breakfast counter, were presented, and the wood bar feces ended up being the vital furnishings to enhance the luxurious, excessive installations.

The wood bar feces also helped strengthen the whole rustic western cowboy style. You may like: PULL UP A STOOL: TRADITIONAL & MODERN BAR STOOLS Back from the Grave So the vilification of the timber bar stool is not without validation. As we have actually mentioned previously, style as well as stylish do not depend on the homes of the material yet in the hands of the designer. And also boy, have today's designers been doing their job to desperately dig the timber bar feces out of the furniture-style cemetery! The initiative put in resurrecting the wood bar feces has been honorable and also absolutely nothing except brave.

Expensive wooden components such as oak timber floor covering, beechwood wall paneling, and redwood ceilings, among others, have actually been shamelessly introduced as well as provided by several an interior designer to happily accommodate the wood bar stool. Remarkably, however, the wood bar stool is a bit of a novelty, if you actually quit as well as take an excellent lengthy consider it. It's fresh, initial, and, if made of premium timber, fairly classy. With a matching counter or bar constructed from similarly good timber as well as a great, gleaming wood floor, you can have an instead cheery public house right in your really own home. You may want to forego the ugly swinging doors, though. You can just presume with the wood bar stool.

[cao-the-dreamer]

Dragons of justice

Fandom : Overwatch

Pairing : McHanzo

Rating : K

Summary : Because I think McHanzo is cute (like all the others Overwatch ships) and also because I have a problem by creating child OC and writing about happy family and all. XD Fluffy OS with a bit of Emergenji

Enjoy ! Cao ;)

Read it on Fanfiction

Running, running and not stopping, while the sun goes down.

It's the end of the afternoon. Her feet almost don't touch the ground, each jump closers her to the sky, then she has to get back to the earth, long brown hair dancing behind her back like a living wave.

It's so easy to get off the hill, while going up is more difficult, but who cares ? At this moment, only the excitement of the run matters.

The wind is sharp, but the woods enlightened. Tree branches slapping her face, nimble legs trying to avoid the roots.

Here comes the end.

She flows from the forest, lands into the light, onto the dusty road. Down the hill stands the village, first mark of civilization. It's a beautiful day, between the emerald mountains. A powerful breath of wind hits the hills and mountain range, and the tiny valley embedded between them. Green or black, there are only woods everywhere, imposing and impenetrable. Here and there are also some impressive ochre cliffs. In this place the wild nature has all rights, we humans are so meaningless against it. The wind has a strong blow, messing her hairs, but it's fresh and pleasant. She could swear it has a voice.

It's time to run again.

Jump and dodge the obstacles, land into a massive rock to fly away, then reduce the violent impact with the ground by catching branches. Rise on your feet, and continue.

Don't stop thinking. Always considering the next move, using the environment around to go faster, but you must control you speed.

Her father taught her so much.

Now, she's one with the wind.

She jumps again, to arrive on a roof. She left the altitude, here's the bottom town.

She knows how to control her weight, her balance so that she doesn't damage the shingles and won't fall. She catches a thin wall, playing funambulists, carefully, then runs again onto the next house.

She hears a cry, looks down. This idiot of Lewis is bullying a little one with his band of morons, again.

Welp. Don't say she didn't warn him.

She goes back, takes a run-up, and dips down, yelling her battle cry.

- It's HIGH NOON !

Fear paints on the teenagers' faces, while she lands between them.

- It's Dragonna ! shouts one of them. Run, run !

But she's faster and blocks the alley's exit, forbidding any escape. Her smile is creepy.

- Please ! beg almost all the teens. It was Lewis' idea, not ours !

She shrugs, demonstrating that they are all guilty. Then moves quickly and slaps all their faces, a warning for the future, before blocking Lewis against a wall. She's smaller than him, but also stronger. He sees with despair his band running away.

- Just you and me now. How many ?

- Wh-what ?

- How many children did you bully ?

- O-only this one, I-I swear !

- I will ask in town what you did these last days, and if I discover you've lied to me, you will wish not to have been born.

He swallows and gives three names, begging for mercy between two words. Then the pain comes between his legs, unbearable, and he collapses down onto the ground, breathless. She gripes his hair and rises carelessly his head. Her stare is easy to read.

- I won't start again, I promise…

She exhales and slams his face on the ground. When she gets up, the little child is looking at her, stars in his eyes.

- Thank you so very much ! You came from the sky like some cool superhero ! You're so badass, ma'am !

- I'm only thirteen.

- Oops, sorry ! But I insist, thank you for helping me, miss, uh… Dragonna !

- No, she says coldly.

- What ?

- The name's Sarah.

- Oh… Sorry again. But why do they call you Dragonna then ?

She gives no response, but points at her right arm. And at this moment only he notices the impressive tattoo. All the skin is covered by crimson dragons' scales, with here and there delicate pink petals flowers, and some touches of golden paint.

- I can't believe your parents let you make a tattoo…

She shrugs again. No need to tell him the true story. Then the boy rises a hand.

- My name is Thomas, I've just arrived in town. It's really nice to meet you !

New one here ? Well that would be interesting. She greets him with a smile and shakes friendlily his hand. Then she steps back, waves at him before climbing the wall like some incredible ninja, and disappearing from his gaze.

To climb the hill, she always takes her time. She likes to contemplate the landscape. This hour of the day is one of the most beautiful. The twilight is coming down, gently shadowing the atmosphere. The last sunsets stretch the silhouettes of trees and hers, as if some giants were hiding under an innocent-looking skin. A palette of gold, pink and purplish is coloring the sky, and the light makes the cloud purple, like some funny marshmallows. They look so easy to catch, as if they were in front of your nose. The leaves crack under feet and some rocks roll, before she enters into the woods.

While the humans go to sleep, life here is awakening. Owls are hooting, crickets are whispering a peaceful song, here a bat is flying quickly and there is the breath of a strong animal, ground cracking under its weight. The environment is dark, and she's surrounded by various sounds, leading her in the shadows.

Then, she hears someone shouting her name. She starts to hurry, and finally the trees spread apart. Between the trunks stands an half-rustic half-futurist house, and in front of it a man is cutting wood with an axe, shirtless, and calling sometimes the name of the girl.

- Good evening, dad Jesse !

The man gets up and smiles at his daughter, sweat running on the skin of his torso.

- Hello there, little fella ! I see ya've kept yer promise.

- Coming back before the night falls, yes sir ! Where is dad Hanzo ?

- He finished cookin' a quarter of hour ago, so he's practicin' with the bow behind the house. Go get 'im so we all can clean our faces before dinner.

- Sure you need a bath, you big stinking bear !

- I heard ya !

But she runs away before he can catch her. In the training area, filled with weapons, dummies and targets, Hanzo was shooting his arrows, focusing, when she arrives. Because he hears his daughter coming, the Japanese man stops what he's doing.

- Good evening, Tousan.

- Good evening, Sakura, he says tenderly as he patted her head.

When she was just a little baby, her fathers couldn't agree about her name, so they ended up with two instead of one, Sakura Sarah, because both almost sounded like the other.

Hanzo wasn't her biological father, Jesse was. But in her mind, a father is the one who takes care of her, she doesn't care about blood ties.

She is always laughing when her dads tell her how they got their daughter. They went to a marriage party, and as usual McCree drank too much and ended up drunk. But in the crowded place, Hanzo lost his partner because this big idiot thought it was Hanzo he was seducing, while it was an unknown woman looking like the Japanese. And then McCree woke up in her bed, without a single memory of how he came here and leaving the place in panic, while Hanzo was stressed as hell, alone in their house. After some explanations in front of an angry Hanzo, the Japanese forgave the cowboy, both forgetting the incident. So it was quite a surprise when the woman reappeared some months later, furious and pregnant. She didn't want to keep the baby and almost ordered them to raise the child. At Jesse's surprise, Hanzo agreed, with discret happiness in his eyes. The bowman had been thinking for a long time about having children. He talked sometimes about it with Jesse, and since the opportunity had been here, why refuse it ? When the baby was born, Jesse and Hanzo were recognised as the official fathers, and they never saw the woman again. Whenever he was telling this story, Hanzo always remembered the first time he took Sakura in his arms, a tiny creature looking at him with her huge, shining red eyes.

Although, after this memory, he also see the tattoo, beginning to draw itself on her daughter's skin, when she was seven. None of them understood this event ; Sarah wasn't a Shimada, and yet the dragons chose her, they marked her, making her shivering of pain for months. It was a painful and horrible process for the little one, but all of this disappeared with her laugh, when she summoned the dragons for the first time. These creatures aren't only powerful spirit, but also the "animal" part of their owner. The two crimson dragons played around her like kittens, nuzzling with each people in the room, making the day of the little girl.

Hanzo go back to present when Jesse kisses him on the nose.

- Whatcha thinking, darlin' ? Ya look absent.

- Oh, nothing. Just remembering the past.

Jesse chuckles and presses his lips against Hanzo's. Then the two men enter the house. Each person takes a quick shower, before setting up the table. The evening's menu is miso soup with chili con carne, and home-made ice cream. The advantage with a Japanese father and a Mexico-American father is the diversity of plates, and Sakura Sarah just loves it.

- So, sweetie, asks Jesse while they are eating, whadidya do downtown ?

- Hey, how do you know ?

- You smell like cement and concrete, answers Hanzo.

- I was just hanging around in the city. I also punched some bullies.

- Great job, cariña ! laughed Jesse. Justice ain't gonna dispense itself !

- Was it the same boy from the last time ? Lewis ?

- Yes, Tousan, but now he learned his lesson. There is also a newcomer in town, Thomas. Maybe I will see him at the back-to-school.

- Sakura-chan, the holidays are almost over. Is it the same for your homeworks ?

- Dad, come on, I finished them at the beginning of holidays! You can remember it, you are not senile !

Jesse starts to laugh while Hanzo pokes his daughter on the forehead. Of course he knows his daughter did them, she is clever, but only using her cleverness when she wants to, what a waste. Then the tablet rings, with the typical melody of Genji's call. Sarah is faster and literally throws herself onto the couch, grabbing the tablet on the low table before any of the two men could react. She answers to the video chat with a big smile.

- Good evening, uncle Genji !

- Hello Sakura-chan, responds the cyborg, an amused light into his eyes. Then Angela also arrives on the screen, carrying a young child.

- How are you doing, Süsse ? gently asks the swiss, while the little boy waves excitedly at the teen.

- Sasa ! Sasa ! the eight-years-old shouts happily.

- I'm fine, thanks Aunt Angie. Hallo, Erwin ! So, did you get better at dancing ?

- Yeah ! You promise you will come to see me at my performance ?

- Of course, I won't miss it for any reason !

- Hi everyone ! greets Jesse, sitting near to his daughter, Hanzo on the other side.

The whole family discuss for a long time, about anything and everything. Outside, the night is coming, with a half moon beginning to rise.

Then, it's time to clear the table and the kitchen, before going to bed. Teeth cleans and wearing a huge floating nightgown, Sakura gives a kiss on the cheek to both her dads before laying on her bed. They quietly close her room's door, then head to their.

The room is dark, but filled with soft shadows, and the pale moonlight falls onto their bed like a soft spotlight, as if it is indicating that it's bedtime. The two men prepare themselves to sleep, but Hanzo stays sitting on the mattress, looking at the wistful celestial body. Jesse pulls an arm around his shoulders.

- Still nostalgic 'bout past, darlin' ?

- No, he replies as he embraces his lover and tenderly kisses him on the lips.

I am happy with our present.

[godlessgeekblog]

Stunning hotels to stop at on one of the world’s finest road trips along the Pacific Coast Highway

Driving down the Californian coast is one of the world’s greatest road trips and features high on the must-do lists of thousands of Britons. 

But don’t wreck your dream drive along the Pacific Coast Highway by staying in dreary motels. 

Instead, take a look at our essential guide to the hidden-away accommodation gems that will make your trip memorable for all the right reasons.

1. Pearl Hotel, Point Loma

At The Pearl in Point Loma the 1960s pool is still there and rooms have a cool, retro vibe

Tell me more: In 2007, this classic 23-room motel behind Point Loma’s sleepy marina received a snazzy but sympathetic makeover. The 1960s pool is still here, as are the cool Cadillac-style wings either side of the main entrance. Rooms have a 1960s vibe, with G-plan furniture and colourful wallpaper. The bridal room has its own balcony overlooking the pool and a resident goldfish named Bruce Lee. Expect to run into a hip San Diego crowd on Wednesday nights when guests can lounge by the pool with a cocktail and enjoy classic movies played on the outdoor projector.

Cost: Doubles from £92 a night.

thepearlsd.com

2. Lodge at Torrey Pines, La Jolla

Tell me more: This California craftsman-style marvel is just off the San Diego freeway near surfing hub La Jolla. The bellhops in Scottish-style kilts direct you to the two restaurants with balconies overlooking the pool, ocean and golf course. Rooms and suites are huge, with dark wooden furniture and ocean views. It’s just a 20-minute walk to the 2,000-acre Torrey Pines State Park and its dramatic clifftop trails.

Cost: Doubles from £273 a night.

lodgetorreypines.com

3. The Inn, Rancho Santa Fe

Tell me more: Established in 1923, this 80-room ranch feels like a local hangout. Each airy cottage has firm, queen and king-size beds. Head to the cosy Huntsman Bar and have Dutch, the resident mixologist, rustle you up one of his smoked cocktails, then head to the Gatsby-esque dining room, with its stately leather booths and tasting menu. There’s a spa with an alfresco copper bathtub, and the beauty of Solana beach is only a ten-minute drive away.

Cost: Doubles from £295 a night.

theinnatrsf.com

A map showing where the hotels listed are located along the Pacific Coast Highway

4. Venice Beach House, Venice Beach

Tell me more: Venice Beach has lost some of its hippy charm recently, but Big Lebowski fans will find plenty of that original free-wheeling spirit at this historic ivy-clad B&B. Known locally as the Oasis of Venice Beach, the nine- bedroom residence was a private beach house, built by millionaire tycoon Abbot Kinney in 1911. Laidback staff and lush gardens help retain that private-house feel.

Charlie Chaplin set up home here while filming The Tramp in 1914 (ask for the Tramp’s Quarters room). Grab a smoothie at the nearby Cow’s End cafe on Washington Boulevard and head to the Venice Beach canals, or zoom along the boardwalk on an electric scooter.

Cost: Doubles from £195 a night.

venicebeachhouse.com

5. Hotel Shangri-La, Santa Monica

Tell me more: Escape the crowds at this elegant Art Deco gem. The cruise-liner-shaped structure has had a major revamp in recent years, but the original 1930s lifts and Bakelite phones still exist and rooms have a self-contained apartment vibe, with balconies overlooking the beach.

Shop at the nearby farmers’ market on Arizona Avenue and ask the resident hotel chef to cook you something in your private kitchen. Order cocktails at the only rooftop bar in Santa Monica, or ask for the romantic suite where Madonna and Sean Penn once stayed.

Cost: Doubles from £300 a night.

shangrila-hotel.com

6. Nobu Ryokan, Malibu

The minimalist interiors of Nobu Kyokan. The 16-room retreat is located on the beach with dreamy views of Malibu pier

Tell me more: It’s easy to miss this exclusive 16-room beachside retreat, but behind the nondescript frontage you’ll find a Japanese- inspired minimalist masterpiece. The best cabin-style rooms sit directly on the beach with views of Malibu pier. All feature luxuries such as iPads, remote-controlled fireplaces and heated loo seats. Nearby Nobu restaurant delivers fresh sushi to your door. Robert DeNiro is a co-founder, so expect a starry clientele.

Cost: Doubles from £1,567 a night.

noburyokanmalibu.com

7. Belmond El Encanto, Santa Barbara

An exterior shot of the former hippy commune of El Encanto, which is now a retreat spread across seven acres

Tell me more: Once a rundown hippy commune, El Encanto is now a retreat spread across seven acres of secluded gardens, with views over the American Riviera. There are 92 cottages, rooms and suites to choose from, all with elegant interiors and balconies. Take one of the hotel’s electric bikes and head down the hill to the 1786 Spanish Mission with gardens and period artefacts.

Cost: Doubles from £360 a night.

belmond.com/usa

8. Eagle Inn, Santa Barbara

Tell me more: This has a charmingly retro English seaside vibe, thanks to its swirly carpets and cheesy, 1970s-style sunken Jacuzzis. Stroll two blocks to Santa Barbara’s palm-fringed beach, however, and thoughts of a drizzly UK evaporate. Wine-lovers should head to the city’s ‘funk zone’, where nightly tastings include locally grown pinot noirs and chardonnays.

Cost: Doubles from £108 a night.

theeagleinn.com

9. El Capitan Canyon, Central Coast

If you venture to El Capitan Canyon, located 20 miles north of Santa Barbara, you will find 162 log cabins and yurts scattered across a wooded creek 

Tell me more: Keen to get back to nature but without the discomforts of traditional camping? El Capitan Canyon, 20 miles north of Santa Barbara, provides 162 log cabins and yurts set within a wooded creek rich in wildlife. 

Most cabins have en suite kitchens and showers. It’s quite remote but the lodge can provide ready-to-cook barbecue packages and bags of logs for the firepits. There is also a well-stocked shop for essentials. This is bear, raccoon and mountain lion country, so hide any food leftovers to avoid unwanted visitors. Grab one of the lodge’s beach cruisers and head down to windswept El Capitan beach just the other side of the Pacific Coast Highway.

Cost: Doubles from £152 a night.

elcapitancanyon.com

10. For Friends Inn, Santa Ynez

Tell me more: It’s a short detour off the PCH north of Santa Barbara to this family-run inn, on the edge of Santa Ynez, a small frontier town straight out of a classic western. Guests are treated like old friends, with informal wine tastings around the fire-pit, and home-cooked breakfasts. 

Choose from eight chintzy rooms and suites, some with balconies, then line-dance the night away at Santa Ynez bar Maverick, where cowboys come to strut their stuff. Look out for locals Jeff Bridges and David Crosby jamming along with the resident band.

Cost: Doubles from £215 a night.

forfriendsinn.com

11. Alisal Ranch, Solvang

Cowboy country: Get ready to saddle up for a spot of horse-riding if you decide to stay at the Alisal Ranch

Tell me more: Alisal is the local Chumash tribe word for ‘grove of sycamores’, and there are spectacular specimens at this 10,000-acre working ranch set in a valley near Solvang, a town founded by Danes in 1911. Airy rooms and suites are kitted out in rustic wood furniture and colourful Chumash fabrics. Ask for one of the original cowboy cabins by the pool, then saddle up with one of the ranch’s wranglers and enjoy a hack through the glades. Keep an eye out for eagles, cormorants and hawks as you picnic by the lake. This place is perfect for nature-loving families.

Cost: Doubles from £485 a night.

alisal.com

12. Lucia Lodge, Central Coast

Tell me more: Perched on a narrow ledge high above the pounding Pacific, 30 minutes south of Big Sur, these precariously positioned cabins retain their pioneering spirit. They come with outdoor seating areas – perfect for whale-watching. Cabins 7, 8, 9 and 10 have 180-degree views of the coast. Grab a bottle of wine and follow the winding path behind Cabin 10 to an oasis of wildflowers on the edge of the cliff. Magical.

Cost: Cabins from £155.

lucialodge.com

13. Ventana Big Sur, An Alila Resort, Big Sur

Tell me more: Hidden within a glade just south of Big Sur, Ventana’s architecture blends perfectly into the landscape. Choose from 60 wood-panelled rooms, all of them with open fireplaces, outdoor showers and hammocks. The Vista Hot Tub suite has its own indoor and outdoor Jacuzzi. Swimming costumes are optional at the infinity pool overlooking the forest.

Cost: Doubles from £529 a night.

ventanabigsur.com

14. Post Ranch Inn, Big Sur

Golden glow: The sun sets over Post Ranch Inn at Big Sur

Tell me more: This ultra-chilled hideaway has 39 guest rooms perched 1,200ft along a dramatic promontory above the ocean, two infinity pools and five on-site sports cars for guests to use. The on-site Sierra Mar is one of the most beautifully positioned restaurants in California – the glass walls allow stunning uninterrupted views.

Cost: Doubles from £779 a night.

postranchinn.com

15. Glen Oaks Motor Lodge, Big Sur

Tell me more: Californians love the great outdoors but they also enjoy creature comforts. Built in the 1950s, Glen Oaks has well-equipped cabins to suit every budget. Perfectly positioned to explore the drama of Big Sur, guests can marvel at the arboreal wonders from the luxury of their own bathtubs. Choose one of the more remote cabins along the Big Sur River where the redwoods are awesome. Cabins to the east have a more rocking-chair, folksy vibe.

Cost: Doubles from £317 a night.

glenoaksbigsur.com

16. Carmel Valley Ranch, Carm from trackrgadget https://bestessayseller.co.uk/stunning-hotels-to-stop-at-on-one-of-the-worlds-finest-road-trips-along-the-pacific-coast-highway/ https://bestessayseller.co.uk/stunning-hotels-to-stop-at-on-one-of-the-worlds-finest-road-trips-along-the-pacific-coast-highway/

[pursuedbear]

Kacey Musgraves - Golden Hour

2019 Best Album winner at the Grammys - Below is the review on Pitchfork

The mystical grandeur of Golden Hour creates a magnetic effect as Kacey Musgraves sings simply about the world as if she’s the first person to notice, and you’re the first one she’s telling.

Kacey Musgraves’ third album goes down so smoothly that it might not even scan as a total reinvention. Throughout the songs on Golden Hour, the East Texas singer-songwriter is radiant, awestruck, taking the scenic route to the bar just for the hell of it. After Musgraves’ previous two albums, which felt like they were cut from the same home-sewn flannel cloth, she now ventures beyond the front-porch hum of country music. The new Kacey Musgraves needs strings, vocoders, disco beats. And if this sounds like a left turn for the lovable cynic who once characterized the world as an absurd beauty contest, a vicious cycle, a bad party, and a toxic boys’ club, well, that’s kinda the point.

Since her last proper album, 2015’s Pageant Material, the now 29-year-old singer-songwriter has changed her perspective. There was a spirited Christmas record, a creatively charged acid trip, and a rustic country wedding. It’s like Musgraves’ life was given the season-finale treatment: a series of climactic turns that left her standing misty-eyed on a cliffside, bellowing “I get it!” at the sunrise. She’s updated her music accordingly. On Golden Hour, everything sprawls and swells and gushes, a gaping sky that makes the sonic landscapes of her previous albums feel like mere set dressing. For these songs of hope and wonder, she nods to meticulous folk epics like Beck’s Sea Change, or Sufjan Stevens’ Seven Swans if it was re-cut for an IMAX screen. She’s settled on enlightenment as a new resting state.

The result is Musgraves’ most accessible record and her most ambitious, a magnetic, comfortable culmination of her pop and country instincts. While dynamic enough to house both the stirring, alone-at-the-piano fragment “Mother” and a full-on country-disco kiss-off in “High Horse,” Golden Hour is alluringly cohesive, both lyrically and musically. In “Wonder Woman,” she confronts a partner’s unrealistic expectations and gives a simple counter: “All I need’s a place to land.” Throughout these songs, she finds one.

Despite the grandeur of its music, Golden Hour offers Musgraves’ most understated songwriting, a refreshing evolution as stars like Justin Timberlake and Lady Gaga accidentally turn Americana-pop into grim satire. In the stunning single “Space Cowboy,” she weaves in at least a dozen genre tropes without drawing any attention to them. Instead, you’re left dazzled by the way her bold, drawling voice can cut through simple ideas—“Sunsets fade/And love does too”—like she’s the first person to notice, and you’re the first one she’s telling.

Sometimes, that familiarity belies the complexity of these songs. Tracks like “Love Is a Wild Thing” and “Oh, What a World” swirl around the positive messages in their titles in a state of euphoria. Musgraves includes precious few of the subtle details that made her 2013 breakthrough, Same Trailer Different Park, feel so instantly familiar. On a previous record, she might have provided a tour of the neighborhood that landlocks the star-crossed home-bodies in “Lonely Weekend,” or cracked a stoner joke about the “plants that grow and open your mind” in “Oh, What a World.” In the places where you’d expect Musgraves to land her punches, she sometimes offers just a wistful sigh.

But if the tension in her earlier work came from her sharp observations and underdog spirit, there’s something more complicated at play here. “Is there a word for the way that I’m feeling tonight,” she asks in “Happy & Sad,” attempting to pinpoint the creeping melancholy undercutting an otherwise blissful evening. Golden Hour is an album-length ode to not having the right words, to being overcome by the moment and surrendering to it.

Musgraves’ songwriting melts seamlessly between celebration—in heart-eyed-emoji anthems like “Butterflies” and “Velvet Elvis”—and elegies for when those feelings start to dim. The cinematic arrangements rarely distinguish between those two modes, coating the album in a pristine, sepia glow that makes tales of solitude like “Lonely Weekend” seem downright inviting. There’s a subtle awareness throughout these songs of what happens as soon as the golden hour ends, how quickly that burst of light can fade without a trace. In the title track, Musgraves compares her contentment to a temporary trick of the light: “All that I know,” she admits, “Is you caught me at the right time.”

Less concerned with outside forces than internal balance, Golden Hour stands as an assured, artful snapshot of a particular rush of feelings, but its wisdom speaks volumes to Musgraves’ ongoing evolution. “If you’re ever gonna find a silver lining,” she sang in the first track on her major label debut, “It’s gotta be a cloudy day.” Even then, she suspected that ecstasy is most rewarding when it’s hard-won. On Golden Hour, she wears the sunlight well.

[davidoespailla]

Inside the 2019 HGTV Dream Home: What We Love—and What We Don’t

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

Who among us would turn down a free house—no less one that has breathtaking views, was designed and decorated by the best in the biz, and is worth millions?

Nobody, that’s who! That is the dream—and the whole point of the 2019 HGTV Dream Home, a modern mountain retreat valued at $2.3 million. It’s part of the largest grand prize package since the network began the giveaway in 1997.

And if you’re an HGTV fan, you’ve likely been waiting for the big reveal of this year’s home. It’s an excuse to ogle lavish design touches and fantasize about living, well, the dream.

But this year’s house made us ask: Is it really everyone’s fantasy?

The 3,650-square-foot house in Whitefish, MT, is a departure from the beachy modern themes of recent years. Perched on the edge of Glacier National Park with views of the Rocky Mountains and Whitefish Lake in the valley below, the three-bedroom, 3.5-bath home is all about that Montana lodge vibe—with a twist.

The design keeps you on your toes at every turn: It’s rustic, but modern. Elements of Scandinavian simplicity collide with farmhouse flair (there’s plenty of buffalo check print). And midcentury furniture shares space with Wild West accoutrements such as cowboy hats and cowhide stools.

“It’s important for me for the house to actually have the personality of its surroundings, and a lot of those things are made custom,” designer Brian Patrick Flynn told NBC Montana.

But as impressive as this showplace is, there are a few design choices that we can’t fully get behind.

We’ve highlighted some of the ones that are making us drool—along with a few that have us a bit perplexed. Like what you see? Go ahead, and enter for a chance to win the whole shebang (along with some cash) on the HGTV Dream Home Giveaway website. (The entry period runs from Dec. 28 to Feb. 18.)

4 dreamy design elements

1. Those magnificent views

The floor-to-ceiling windows make it feel like you’re living in the treetops.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

We’ll hand it to the HGTV team—it knows how to pick a location. This room could be filled with piles of smoldering garbage and we’d still long to lounge in it. The floor-to-ceiling accordion windows make the great outdoors the main design theme here.

2. The dining room ceiling

The reclaimed wood ceiling brings home the Montana cabin vibe.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

What mountain retreat is complete without rustic touches? This house is full of them—from the equestrian-inspired chandelier to the wood and iron bunk beds. But what we’re really lusting after is the reclaimed wood ceiling in the dining room, made from lumber from a local historic building.

3. Fearless color choices

This “bohemian library bedroom” will impress guests.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

It would be so easy to fall back on neutrals when designing a house for the masses. But no! The folks at HGTV didn’t pull any punches when it came to paint colors. We are fully on board with this bold, “barn” red—and the color-coded books to boot (those are trending in a big way, btw).

4. The outdoor breakfast bar

A retractable window from the kitchen opens to create a pass-through and outdoor bar.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

It’s hard to choose which outdoor feature we like best. The Scandinavian hot tub situated underneath towering evergreens? Don’t mind if we do. The cozy lounge space nestled around a brick fireplace? Yes, please.

But in the tightest of races, the al fresco breakfast bar takes the (pan)cake for us. And because the bar is underneath a covered area of deck, you can use it when it’s raining—or snowing. Fashionable and practical!

———

4 head-scratchers

1. Overflowing ‘spice cider’

Dubbed a “spice cider retreat,” the master bedroom contrasts rust tones and gray.

Tomas Espinoza/HGTV

We’re all for a cup of spiced (or spiked) cider every now and then, but moderation is key. That’s how we feel about this master bedroom, which Flynn calls a “spice cider retreat”—full of autumnal tones meant to remind you that you’re in a rustic, wooded setting.

But all we’re getting is terra-cotta vibes, more fitting for an adobe in New Mexico. Or worse, flashes of the Tuscan-taupe onslaught of the early 2000s. We applaud the effort to go bold (see above), but this particular shade feels out of place to us, especially slathered on all four walls.

Expect to see more of this color in the future, though—Sherwin-Williams recently named a similar shade as its Color of the Year.

2. Textile taxidermy

The locally made faux moosehead is meant to be a conversation starter. It certainly may be.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

Faux taxidermy (fauxidermy!) is nothing new. With the influx of Scandinavian design, we’ve been seeing fake antlers and mooseheads above fireplaces for some time now. But in an effort to jazz them up (because they needed jazzing up?), there’s a whole new category emerging: textile taxidermy.

Instead of ceramic or resin, you can now take your pick of weird patterns to embellish your animal heads with. We get it—sort of. But we don’t have to like it.

3. The vanilla kitchen

The open-concept kitchen showcases charcoal gray and white cabinets.

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

In a house with so much personality, why stop at the kitchen? Let’s be clear: We don’t dislike this look, but it feels bland and sterile—especially compared with the rest of the home. We’d love to see a few more splashes of color here, perhaps a fun backsplash or a painted island. But if the rest of the house has left you craving a neutral space, this is your retreat.

4. Eclectic overload

The view from the kitchen to the dining area and great room

Robert Peterson, Rustic White Photography/HGTV

The HGTV Dream Home no doubt combines more than a few decor schemes. (And we love that!) But eclectic decor can be tricky, sliding easily from coordinated to chaotic. Some rooms in this house have a beautiful balance, while others feel a bit overwhelming. We appreciate the intent, but would like to see it scaled back a notch.

The post Inside the 2019 HGTV Dream Home: What We Love—and What We Don’t appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

Inside the 2019 HGTV Dream Home: What We Love—and What We Don’t

[mcwilliamsroach8-blog]

Yosemite Ranch Restaurant

After a day of saddle-rides and uphill walking, what much better (and also most appropriate) way to end the day compared to a luxurious dish at a Yosemite ranch dining establishment? little caesars near So hold on to those cowboy boots as well as hat, as well as find out to state "yee-haw" like a true-blue cowboy. The Bonnie B Ranch is among Yosemite Cattle ranch Restaurants readily available to those who want really feel that luxury dining runs out area. For a much more outback setting, the Bonnie B Cattle ranch is preferably situated in the Sierra Nevada Hills in California. For those who intend to have the opportunity to walk around, this Yosemite Cattle Ranch Dining Establishment has to do with 18 miles from the park's south entryway and also about an hour drive from Fresno. It is surrounded by several popular locations like Oakhurst, Mariposa, and Bass Lake, making it feasible for them to use visitors a vast variety of leisure activities. It's not daily that some people have the possibility to get up and locate steeds grazing outside, with fishing ponds sparkling under the sunny skies as the excellent backdrop. The Bonnie B Cattle ranch provides you that experience, and far more. The area has a "barn" ambience to it, and is a best area to have a feel of the country setup. An additional renowned Yosemite ranch restaurant is the Sierra Sky Cattle Ranch. This more than a century-old hill cattle ranch has a rustic yet relaxing environment which guests find extremely enticing. The Sierra Skies Cattle ranch is practically 10 miles from Yosemite National forest's south entry, and a brief drive to Bass Lake, a well-known vacationer area. Other than its dining services, the Sierra Sky Ranch is also known for giving guests with accommodations that have ageless charms. The Branding Iron Steakhouse and also Saloon is the Yosemite ranch restaurant housed within the Sierra Sky Ranch. It opens its door at 5:00 pm from Wednesdays till Sundays as well as bookings could be done by calling 559 658-2644. This Yosemite cattle ranch dining establishment offers food from appetizers, to salads, to the main course, as well as to the treats. Its huge food selection of steak recipes will certainly make you wish to go there for supper each and every single evening. Kids will appreciate eating in this area too, as it has its own collection of Kid's Menu, ideal for those twelve-year olds as well as under. And also who claims the Grannies won't like this Yosemite cattle ranch restaurant? Their Elderly Menu, that includes different steak meals, will certainly delight those beyond 65 years old. While the Yosemite location houses a number of modern-day as well as luxurious eating places, people still find it more appealing to dress down for dinner and also favor Yosemite ranch restaurants instead. Besides, when you decided to come to Yosemite to "harsh it out", you possibly made certain you're up for the challenges of the wilderness.

[gustavsenerlandsen3-blog]

Yosemite Cattle Ranch Restaurant

After a day of saddle-rides as well as uphill walking, what much better (as well as most suitable) method to end the day than a luxurious meal at a Yosemite ranch dining establishment? So hold on to those cowboy boots and hat, and also learn how to state "yee-haw" like a true-blue cowboy. The Bonnie B Cattle ranch is one of Yosemite Cattle ranch Restaurants readily available to those who desire feel that luxury eating is out of location. For a much more outback ambiance, the Bonnie B Cattle ranch is preferably situated in the Sierra Nevada Hills in The Golden State. For those who wish to have the opportunity to move about, this Yosemite Cattle Ranch Dining Establishment is about 18 miles from the park's south entryway and also about an hour drive from Fresno. It is surrounded by numerous popular locations like Oakhurst, Mariposa, and also Bass Lake, making it possible for them to provide guests a large array of recreational activities. It's not daily that some people have the chance to get up as well as locate equines grazing outside, with angling ponds sparkling under the sunny skies as the ideal backdrop. The Bonnie B Cattle ranch offers you that experience, and also a lot extra. The place has a "barn" environment to it, as well as is a best place to have a feel of the nation setup. An additional renowned Yosemite ranch dining establishment is the Sierra Skies Cattle Ranch. This greater than a century-old mountain cattle ranch has a rustic yet comfy ambience which guests locate very appealing. The Sierra Skies Cattle ranch is almost 10 miles from Yosemite National Park's south entrance, as well as a brief drive to Bass Lake, a well-known visitor area. Besides its eating solutions, the Sierra Sky Ranch is likewise known for supplying guests with holiday accommodations that have ageless beauties. The Branding Iron Steakhouse as well as Watering Hole is the Yosemite ranch dining establishment housed within the Sierra Sky Ranch. It opens its door at 5:00 pm from Wednesdays till Sundays and also bookings can be done by calling 559 658-2644. This Yosemite ranch dining establishment serves food from appetisers, to salads, to the major recipe, and down to the treats. Its massive food selection of steak dishes will certainly make you wish to go there for dinner every evening. buffalo wild wings lakewood near Youngsters will enjoy eating in this area also, as it has its own collection of Children's Menu, best for those twelve-year olds and also under. As well as that says the Grannies will not like this Yosemite ranch dining establishment too? Their Senior Menu, that includes diverse steak meals, will certainly delight those beyond 65 years old. While the Yosemite location houses a number of modern as well as glamorous dining places, individuals still discover it much more enticing to clothe down for dinner as well as prefer Yosemite cattle ranch restaurants instead. Besides, when you decided to come to Yosemite to "rough it out", you possibly made certain you're up for the obstacles of the outback.